,transcriber's note3 ,a few             
typographical errors have been          
corrected3 they   are listed at the end 
of the text4    ,chapter headings were  
originally constructed as side-notes4   
,they were   placed here at the head of 
their respective paragraphs1 and moved  
to   paragraph's start where given at   
paragraph's middle4 ,see ,,html version 
for the original headers placement4     
,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 ,,painters4                    
,,by                           ,a       
,,graduate ,,of ,,oxford4               
,,vol4 ,i4                              
,,part ,i--,,ii4                        
,,to                     ,,the          
,,landscape ,,artists ,,of ,,england    
,this ,work                        ,,is 
,,respectfully ,,dedicated              
,,by ,,their ,,sincere ,,admirer1       
,,the ,,author                          
,,preface ,,to ,,the ,,first ,,edition4 
,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    
refers4 ,it was intended to be a short  
pamphlet1 reprobating the matter and    
style of those critiques1 and pointing  
out their perilous tendency1 as guides  
of public feeling4 ,but1 as point after 
point presented itself for              
demonstration1 ,i found myself compelled

 to amplify what was at first a letter  
to the ,editor of a ,review1 into       
something very like a treatise on art1  
to which ,i was obliged to give the more
 consistency and completeness1 because  
it advocated opinions which1 to the     
ordinary connoisseur1 will sound        
heretical4 ,i now scarcely know whether 
,i should announce it is an ,essay on   
,landscape ,painting1 and apologize for 
its frequent reference to the works of a
 particular master2 or1 announcing it as
 a critique on particular works1        
apologize for its lengthy discussion of 
general principles4 ,but of whatever    
character the work may be considered1   
the motives which led me to undertake it
 must not be mistaken4 ,no zeal for the 
reputation of any individual1 no        
personal feeling of any kind1 has the   
slightest weight or influence with me4  
,the reputation of the great artist to  
whose works ,i have chiefly referred1 is
 established on too legitimate grounds  
among all whose admiration is honorable1

 to be in any way affected by the       
ignorant sarcasms of pretension and     
affectation4 ,but when public taste     
seems plunging deeper and deeper into   
degradation day by day1 and when the    
press universally exerts such power as  
it possesses to direct the feeling of   
the nation more completely to all that  
is theatrical1 affected1 and false in   
art2 while it vents its ribald          
buffooneries on the most exalted truth1 
and the highest ideal of landscape1 that
 this or any other age has ever         
witnessed1 it becomes the imperative    
duty of all who have any perception or  
knowledge of what is really great in    
art1 and any desire for its advancement 
in ,england1 to come fearlessly forward1
 regardless of such individual interests
 as are likely to be injured by the     
knowledge of what is good and right1 to 
declare and demonstrate1 wherever they  
exist1 the essence and the authority of 
the ,beautiful and the ,true4  ,whatever
 may seem invidious or partial in the   

execution of my task is dependent not so
 much on the tenor of the work1 as on   
its incompleteness4 ,i have not entered 
into systematic criticism of all the    
painters of the present day2 but ,i have
 illustrated each particular excellence 
and truth of art by the works in which  
it exists in the highest degree1 resting
 satisfied that if it be once rightly   
felt and enjoyed in these1 it will be   
discovered and appreciated wherever it  
exists in others4 ,and although ,i have 
never suppressed any conviction of the  
superiority of one artist over another1 
which ,i believed to be grounded on     
truth1 and necessary to the             
understanding of truth1 ,i have been    
cautious never to undermine positive    
rank1 while ,i disputed relative rank4  
,my uniform desire and aim have been1   
not that the present favorite should be 
admired less1 but that the neglected    
master should be admired more4 ,and ,i  
know that an increased perception and   
sense of truth and beauty1 though it may

 interfere with our estimate of the     
comparative rank of painters1 will      
invariably tend to increase our         
admiration of all who are really great2 
and he who now places ,stanfield and    
,callcott above ,turner1 will admire    
,stanfield and ,callcott more than he   
does now1 when he has learned to place  
,turner far above them both4  ,in three 
instances only have ,i spoken in direct 
depreciation of the works of living     
artists1 and these are all cases in     
which the reputation is so firm and     
extended1 as to suffer little injury    
from the opinion of an individual1 and  
where the blame has been warranted and  
deserved by the desecration of the      
highest powers4  ,of the old masters ,i 
have spoken with far greater freedom2   
but let it be remembered that only a    
portion of the work is now presented to 
the public1 and it must not be supposed1
 because in that particular portion1 and
 with reference to particular           
excellencies1 ,i have spoken in constant

 depreciation1 that ,i have no feeling  
of other excellencies of which          
cognizance can only be taken in future  
parts of the work4 ,let me not be       
understood to mean more than ,i have    
said1 nor be made responsible for       
conclusions when ,i have only stated    
facts4 ,i have said that the old masters
 did not give the truth of ,nature2 if  
the reader chooses1 thence1 to infer    
that they were not masters at all1 it is
 his conclusion1 not mine4  ,whatever ,i
 have asserted throughout the work1 ,i  
have endeavored to ground altogether on 
demonstrations which must stand or fall 
by their own strength1 and which ought  
to involve no more reference to         
authority or character than a           
demonstration in ,euclid4 ,yet it is    
proper for the public to know1 that the 
writer is no mere theorist1 but has been
 devoted from his youth to the laborious
 study of practical art4  ,whatever has 
been generally affirmed of the old      
schools of landscape-painting is founded

 on familiar acquaintance with every    
important work of art1 from ,antwerp to 
,naples4 ,but it would be useless1 where
 close and immediate comparison with    
works in our own ,academy is desirable1 
to refer to the details of pictures at  
,rome or ,munich2 and it would be       
impossible to speak at once with just   
feeling1 as regarded the possessor1 and 
just freedom1 as regarded the public1 of
 pictures in private galleries4         
,whatever particular references have    
been made for illustration1 have been   
therefore confined1 as far as was in my 
power1 to works in the ,national and    
,dulwich ,galleries4  ,finally1 ,i have 
to apologize for the imperfection of a  
work which ,i could have wished not to  
have executed1 but with years of        
reflection and revisal4 ,it is owing to 
my sense of the necessity of such       
revisal1 that only a portion of the work
 is now presented to the public2 but    
that portion is both complete in itself1
 and is more peculiarly directed against

 the crying evil which called for       
instant remedy4 ,whether ,i ever        
completely fulfil my intention1 will    
partly depend upon the spirit in which  
the present volume is received4 ,if it  
be attributed to an invidious spirit1 or
 a desire for the advancement of        
individual interests1 ,i could hope to  
effect little good by farther effort4   
,if1 on the contrary1 its real feeling  
and intention be understood1 ,i shall   
shrink from no labor in the execution of
 a task which may tend1 however feebly1 
to the advancement of the cause of real 
art in ,england1 and to the honor of    
those great living ,masters whom we now 
neglect or malign1 to pour our flattery 
into the ear of ,death1 and exalt1 with 
vain acclamation1 the names of those who
 neither demand our praise1 nor regard  
our gratitude4                          
,,the ,,author4                         
,,preface ,,to ,,the ,,second ,,edition4
  ,it is allowed by the most able       
writers on naval and military tactics1  

that although the attack by successive  
divisions absolutely requires in the    
attacking party such an inherent        
superiority in quality of force1 and    
such consciousness of that superiority1 
as may enable his front columns1 or his 
leading ships1 to support themselves for
 a considerable period against          
overwhelming numbers2 it yet insures1 if
 maintained with constancy1 the most    
total ruin of the opposing force4       
,convinced of the truth1 and therefore  
assured of the ultimate prevalence and  
victory of the principles which ,i have 
advocated1 and equally confident that   
the strength of the cause must give     
weight to the strokes of even the       
weakest of its defenders1 ,i permitted  
myself to yield to a somewhat hasty and 
hot-headed desire of being1 at whatever 
risk1 in the thick of the fire1 and     
began the contest with a part1 and that 
the weakest and least considerable part1
 of the forces at my disposal4 ,and ,i  
now find the volume thus boldly laid    

before the public in a position much    
resembling that of the ,royal ,sovereign
 at ,trafalgar1 receiving1 unsupported1 
the broadsides of half the enemy's      
fleet1 while unforeseen circumstances   
have hitherto prevented1 and must yet   
for a time prevent1 my heavier ships of 
the line from taking any part in the    
action4 ,i watched the first moments of 
the struggle with some anxiety for the  
solitary vessel1--an anxiety which ,i   
have now ceased to feel1--for the flag  
of truth waves brightly through the     
smoke of the battle1 and my antagonists1
 wholly intent on the destruction of the
 leading ship1 have lost their position1
 and exposed themselves in defenceless  
disorder to the attack of the following 
columns4  ,if1 however1 ,i have had no  
reason to regret my hasty advance1 as   
far as regards the ultimate issue of the
 struggle1 ,i have yet found it to      
occasion much misconception of the      
character1 and some diminution of the   
influence1 of the present essay4 ,for   

though the work has been received as    
only in sanguine moments ,i had ventured
 to hope1 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   
truth1 and that1 even where it has had  
no other influence1 it has excited      
interest1 suggested inquiry1 and        
prompted to a just and frank comparison 
of ,art with ,nature2 yet this effect   
would have been greater still1 had not  
the work been supposed1 as it seems to  
have been by many readers1 a completed  
treatise1 containing a systematized     
statement of the whole of my views on   
the subject of modern art4 ,considered  
as such1 it surprises me that the book  
should have received the slightest      
attention4 ,for what respect could be   
due to a writer who pretended to        
criticise and classify the works of the 
great painters of landscape1 without    
developing1 or even alluding to1 one    

single principle of the beautiful or    
sublime8 ,so far from being a completed 
essay1 it is little more than the       
introduction to the mass of evidence and
 illustration which ,i have yet to bring
 forward2 it treats of nothing but the  
initiatory steps of art1 states nothing 
but the elementary rules of criticism1  
touches only on merits attainable by    
accuracy of eye and fidelity of hand1   
and leaves for future consideration     
every one of the eclectic qualities of  
pictures1 all of good that is prompted  
by feeling1 and of great that is guided 
by judgment2 and its function and scope 
should the less have been mistaken1     
because ,i have not only most carefully 
arranged the subject in its             
commencement1 but have given frequent   
references throughout to the essays by  
which it is intended to be succeeded1 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 beauty1 or to the lessons which
 may be derived from them4  ,yet1 to    
prevent such misconception in future1 ,i
 may perhaps be excused for occupying   
the reader's time with a fuller         
statement of the feelings with which the
 work was undertaken1 of its general    
plan1 and of the conclusions and        
positions which ,i hope to be able      
finally to deduce and maintain4         
,nothing1 perhaps1 bears on the face of 
it more appearance of folly1 ignorance1 
and impertinence1 than any attempt to   
diminish the honor of those to whom the 
assent of many generations has assigned 
a throne2 for the truly great of later  
times have1 almost without exception1   
fostered in others the veneration of    
departed power which they felt          
themselves1 satisfied in all humility to
 take their seat at the feet of those   
whose honor is brightened by the        
hoariness of time1 and to wait for the  
period when the lustre of many departed 

days may accumulate on their own heads1 
in the radiance which culminates as it  
recedes4 ,the envious and incompetent   
have usually been the leaders of attack1
 content if1 like the foulness of the   
earth1 they may attract to themselves   
notice by their noisomeness1 or1 like   
its insects1 exalt themselves by        
virulence into visibility4 ,while1      
however1 the envy of the vicious1 and   
the insolence of the ignorant1 are      
occasionally shown in their nakedness by
 futile efforts to degrade the dead1 it 
is worthy of consideration whether they 
may not more frequently escape detection
 in successful efforts to degrade the   
living1--whether the very same malice   
may not be gratified1 the very same     
incompetence demonstrated in the unjust 
lowering of present greatness1 and the  
unjust exaltation of a perished power1  
as1 if exerted and manifested in a less 
safe direction1 would have classed the  
critic with ,nero and ,caligula1 with   
,zoilus and ,perrault4 ,be it           

remembered1 that the spirit of          
detraction is detected only when        
unsuccessful1 and receives least        
punishment where it effects the greatest
 injury2 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 unseen1 as that those   
throned in heaven should be darkened by 
the clouds which are visible4  ,there   
is1 ,i fear1 so much malice in the      
hearts of most men1 that they are       
chiefly jealous of that praise which can
 give the greatest pleasure1 and are    
then most liberal of eulogium when it   
can no longer be enjoyed4 ,they grudge  
not the whiteness of the sepulchre1     
because by no honor they can bestow upon
 it can the senseless corpse be rendered
 an object of envy2 but they are        
niggardly of the reputation which       
contributes to happiness1 or advances to
 fortune4 ,they are glad to obtain      
credit for generosity and humility by   
exalting those who are beyond the reach 

of praise1 and thus to escape the more  
painful necessity of doing homage to a  
living rival4 ,they are rejoiced to set 
up a standard of imaginary excellence1  
which may enable them1 by insisting on  
the inferiority of a contemporary work  
to the things that have been1 to        
withdraw the attention from its         
superiority to the things that are4 ,the
 same undercurrent of jealousy operates 
in our reception of animadversion4 ,men 
have commonly more pleasure in the      
criticism which hurts than in that which
 is innocuous1 and are more tolerant of 
the severity which breaks hearts and    
ruins fortunes1 than of that which falls
 impotently on the grave4  ,and thus    
well says the good and deep-minded      
,richard ,hooker3 ,to the best and      
wisest1 while they live1 the world is   
continually a froward opposite2 and a   
curious observer of their defects and   
imperfections1 their virtues afterwards 
it as much admireth4 ,and for this      
cause1 many times that which deserveth  

admiration would hardly be able to find 
favor1 if they which propose it were not
 content to profess themselves therein  
scholars and followers of the ancient4  
,for the world will not endure to hear  
that we are wiser than any have been    
which went before4--,book v4 ch4 vii4   
#c4 ,he therefore who would maintain the
 cause of contemporary excellence       
against that of elder time1 must have   
almost every class of men arrayed       
against him4 ,the generous1 because they
 would not find matter of accusation    
against established dignities2 the      
envious1 because they like not the sound
 of a living man's praise2 the wise1    
because they prefer the opinion of      
centuries to that of days2 and the      
foolish1 because they are incapable of  
forming an opinion of their own4        
,obloquy so universal is not lightly to 
be risked1 and the few who make an      
effort to stem the torrent1 as it is    
made commonly in favor of their own     
works1 deserve the contempt which is    

their only reward4 ,nor is this to be   
regretted1 in its influence on the      
progress and preservation of things     
technical and communicable4 ,respect for
 the ancients is the salvation of art1  
though it sometimes blinds us to its    
ends4 ,it increases the power of the    
painter1 though it diminishes his       
liberty2 and if it be sometimes an      
incumbrance to the essays of invention1 
it is oftener a protection from the     
consequences of audacity4 ,the whole    
system and discipline of art1 the       
collected results of the experience of  
ages1 might1 but for the fixed authority
 of antiquity1 be swept away by the rage
 of fashion1 or lost in the glare of    
novelty2 and the knowledge which it had 
taken centuries to accumulate1 the      
principles which mighty minds had       
arrived at only in dying1 might be      
overthrown by the frenzy of a faction1  
and abandoned in the insolence of an    
hour4  ,neither1 in its general         
application1 is the persuasion of the   

superiority of former works less just   
than useful4 ,the greater number of them
 are1 and must be1 immeasurably nobler  
than any of the results of present      
effort1 because that which is best of   
the productions of four thousand years  
must necessarily be in its accumulation1
 beyond all rivalry from the works of   
any given generation2 but it should     
always be remembered that it is         
improbable that many1 and impossible    
that all1 of such works1 though the     
greatest yet produced1 should approach  
abstract perfection2 that there is      
certainly something left for us to carry
 farther1 or complete2 that any given   
generation has just the same chance of  
producing some individual mind of       
first-rate calibre1 as any of its       
predecessors2 and that if such a mind   
should arise1 the chances are1 that with
 the assistance of experience and       
example1 it would1 in its particular and
 chosen path1 do greater things than had
 been before done4  ,we must therefore  

be cautious not to lose sight of the    
real use of what has been left us by    
antiquity1 nor to take that for a model 
of perfection which is1 in many cases1  
only a guide to it4 ,the picture which  
is looked to for an interpretation of   
nature is invaluable1 but the picture   
which is taken as a substitute for      
nature1 had better be burned2 and the   
young artist1 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 ancients1 and leave him in a        
liberated childhood1 may be equally     
certain of being betrayed by those who  
would give him the power and the        
knowledge of past time1 and then fetter 
his strength from all advance1 and bend 
his eyes backward on a beaten path--who 
would thrust canvas between him and the 
sky1 and tradition between him and ,god4
  ,and such conventional teaching is the
 more to be dreaded1 because all that is
 highest in art1 all that is creative   

and imaginative1 is formed and created  
by every great master for himself1 and  
cannot be repeated or imitated by       
others4 ,we judge of the excellence of a
 rising writer1 not so much by the      
resemblance of his works to what has    
been done before1 as by their difference
 from it2 and while we advise him1 in   
his first trials of strength1 to set    
certain models before him with respect  
to inferior points1--one for            
versification1 another for arrangement1 
another for treatment1--we yet admit not
 his greatness until he has broken away 
from all his models1 and struck forth   
versification1 arrangement1 and         
treatment of his own4  ,three points1   
therefore1 ,i would especially insist   
upon as necessary to be kept in mind in 
all criticism of modern art4 ,first1    
that there are few1 very few of even the
 best productions of antiquity1 which   
are not visibly and palpably imperfect  
in some kind or way1 and conceivably    
improvable by farther study2 that every 

nation1 perhaps every generation1 has in
 all probability some peculiar gift1    
some particular character of mind1      
enabling it to do something different   
from1 or something in some sort better  
than what has been before done2 and that
 therefore1 unless art be a trick1 or a 
manufacture1 of which the secrets are   
lost1 the greatest minds of existing    
nations1 if exerted with the same       
industry1 passion1 and honest aim as    
those of past time1 have a chance in    
their particular walk of doing something
 as great1 or1 taking the advantage of  
former example into account1 even       
greater and better4 ,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 principle1--a denial    
such as their own conventional and      
shallow criticism of modern works       
invariably implies4 ,i have said that   
nothing has been for centuries          
consecrated by public admiration without

 possessing in a high degree some       
species of sterling excellence4 ,does it
 thence follow that it possesses in the 
highest degree every species of sterling
 excellence8 ,yet thus1 says the sapient
 reviewer1 he admits the fact against   
which he mainly argues1--namely1 the    
superiority of these time-honored       
productions4 ,as if the possession of an
 abstract excellence of some kind       
necessarily implied the possession of an
 incomparable excellence of every kind6 
,there are few works of man so perfect  
as to admit of no conception of their   
being excelled1,a--there are thousands  
which have been for centuries1 and will 
be for centuries more1 consecrated by   
public admiration1 which are yet        
imperfect in many respects1 and have    
been excelled1 and may be excelled      
again4 ,do my opponents mean to assert  
that nothing good can ever be bettered1 
and that what is best of past time is   
necessarily best of all time8 ,perugino1
 ,i suppose1 possessed some species of  

sterling excellence1 but ,perugino was  
excelled by ,raffaelle2 and so ,claude  
possesses some species of sterling      
excellence1 but it follows not that he  
may not be excelled by ,turner4  ,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 ages1 the productions of such a    
mind would1 in all probability1 be      
totally different in manner and matter  
from all former productions2 for the    
more powerful the intellect1 the less   
will its works resemble those of other  
men1 whether predecessors or            
contemporaries4 ,instead of reasoning1  
therefore1 as we commonly do1 in matters
 of art1 that because such and such a   
work does not resemble that which has   
hitherto been a canon1 therefore it must
 be inferior and wrong in principle2 let
 us rather admit that there is in its   
very dissimilarity an increased chance  
of its being itself a new1 and perhaps1 

a higher canon4 ,if any production of   
modern art can be shown to have the     
authority of nature on its side1 and to 
be based on eternal truths1 it is all so
 much more in its favor1 so much farther
 proof of its power1 that it is totally 
different from all that have been before
 seen4,b  ,the third point on which ,i  
would insist1 is that if such a mind    
were to arise1 it would necessarily     
divide the world of criticism into two  
factions2 the one1 necessarily the      
largest and loudest1 composed of men    
incapable of judging except by          
precedent1 ignorant of general truth1   
and acquainted only with such particular
 truths as may have been illustrated or 
pointed out to them by former works1    
which class would of course be violent  
in vituperation1 and increase in        
animosity as the master departed farther
 from their particular and preconceived 
canons of right1--thus wounding their   
vanity by impugning their judgment2 the 
other1 necessarily narrow of number1    

composed of men of general knowledge and
 unbiassed habits of thought1 who would 
recognize in the work of the daring     
innovator a record and illustration of  
facts before unseized1 who would justly 
and candidly estimate the value of the  
truths so rendered1 and would increase  
in fervor of admiration as the master   
strode farther and deeper1 and more     
daringly into dominions before          
unsearched or unknown2 yet diminishing  
in multitude as they increased in       
enthusiasm3 for by how much their leader
 became more impatient in his step--more
 impetuous in his success--more exalted 
in his research1 by so much must the    
number capable of following him become  
narrower1 until at last1 supposing him  
never to pause in his advance1 he might 
be left in the very culminating moment  
of his consummate achievement1 with but 
a faithful few by his side1 his former  
disciples fallen away1 his former       
enemies doubled in numbers and          
virulence1 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 recorded4  ,such a mind  
has arisen in our days4 ,it has gone on 
from strength to strength1 laying open  
fields of conquest peculiar to itself4  
,it has occasioned such schism in the   
schools of criticism as was beforehand  
to be expected1 and it is now at the    
zenith of its power1 and1 consequently1 
in the last phase of declining          
popularity4  ,this ,i know1 and can     
prove4 ,no man1 says ,southey1 was ever 
yet convinced of any momentous truth    
without feeling in himself the power1 as
 well as the desire of communicating it4
 ,in asserting and demonstrating the    
supremacy of this great master1 ,i shall
 both do immediate service to the cause 
of right art1 and shall be able to      
illustrate many principles of landscape 
painting which are of general           
application1 and have hitherto been     
unacknowledged4  ,for anything like     

immediate effect on the public mind1 ,i 
do not hope4 ,we mistake men's diseases1
 says ,richard ,baxter1 when we think   
there needeth nothing to cure them of   
their errors but the evidence of truth4 
,alas6 there are many distempers of mind
 to be removed before they receive that 
evidence4 ,nevertheless1 when it is     
fully laid before them1 my duty will be 
done4 ,conviction will follow in due    
time4 ,i do not consider myself as in   
any way addressing1 or having to do     
with1 the ordinary critics of the press4
 ,their writings are not the guide1 but 
the expression1 of public opinion4 ,a   
writer for a newspaper naturally and    
necessarily endeavors to meet1 as nearly
 as he can1 the feelings of the majority
 of his readers2 his bread depends on   
his doing so4 ,precluded by the nature  
of his occupations from gaining any     
knowledge of art1 he is sure that he can
 gain credit for it by expressing the   
opinions of his readers4 ,he mocks the  
picture which the public pass1 and      

bespatters with praise the canvas which 
a crowd concealed from him4  ,writers   
like the present critic of ,blackwood's 
,magazine,c deserve more respect--the   
respect due to honest1 hopeless1        
helpless imbecility4 ,there is something
 exalted in the innocence of their      
feeblemindedness3 one cannot suspect    
them of partiality1 for it implies      
feeling2 nor of prejudice1 for it       
implies some previous acquaintance with 
their subject4 ,i do not know that even 
in this age of charlatanry1 ,i could    
point to a more barefaced instance of   
imposture on the simplicity of the      
public1 than the insertion of these     
pieces of criticism in a respectable    
periodical4 ,we are not insulted with   
opinions on music from persons ignorant 
of its notes2 nor with treatises on     
philology by persons unacquainted with  
the alphabet2 but here is page after    
page of criticism1 which one may read   
from end to end1 looking for something  
which the writer knows1 and finding     

nothing4 ,not his own language1 for he  
has to look in his dictionary1 by his   
own confession1 for a word,d occurring  
in one of the most important chapters of
 his ,bible2 not the commonest          
traditions of the schools1 for he does  
not know why ,poussin was called        
learned2,e not the most simple canons of
 art1 for he prefers ,lee to            
,gainsborough2,f not the most ordinary  
facts of nature1 for we find him puzzled
 by the epithet silver1 as applied to   
the orange blossom1--evidently never    
having seen anything silvery about an   
orange in his life1 except a spoon4     
,nay1 he leaves us not to conjecture his
 calibre from internal evidence2 he     
candidly tells us 7,oct4 #ahdb7 that he 
has been studying trees only for the    
last week1 and bases his critical       
remarks chiefly on his practical        
experience of birch4 ,more disinterested
 than our friend ,sancho1 he would      
disenchant the public from the magic of 
,turner by virtue of his own            

flagellation2 ,xanthias-like1 he would  
rob his master of immortality by his own
 powers of endurance4 ,what is          
,christopher ,north about8 ,does he     
receive his critiques from ,eaton or    
,harrow--based on the experience of a   
week's birds'-nesting and its           
consequences8 ,how low must art and its 
interests sink1 when the public mind is 
inadequate to the detection of this     
effrontery of incapacity6 ,in all       
kindness to ,maga1 we warn her1 that1   
though the nature of this work precludes
 us from devoting space to the exposure1
 there may come a time when the public  
shall be themselves able to distinguish 
ribaldry from reasoning1 and may require
 some better and higher qualifications  
in their critics of art1 than the       
experience of a school-boy1 and the     
capacities of a buffoon4  ,it is not1   
however1 merely to vindicate the        
reputation of those whom writers like   
these defame1 which would but be to     
anticipate by a few years the natural   

and inevitable reaction of the public   
mind1 that ,i am devoting years of labor
 to the development of the principles on
 which the great productions of recent  
art are based4 ,i have a higher end in  
view--one which may1 ,i think1 justify  
me1 not only in the sacrifice of my own 
time1 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 master1 or the spirit  
of a particular age4  ,it is a question 
which1 in spite of the claims of        
,painting to be called the ,sister of   
,poetry1 appears to me to admit of      
considerable doubt1 whether art has     
ever1 except in its earliest and rudest 
stages1 possessed anything like         
efficient moral influence on mankind4   
,better the state of ,rome when magnorum
 artificum frangebat pocula miles1 ut   
phaleris gauderet equus1 than when her  
walls flashed with the marble and the   
gold1 nec cessabat luxuria id agere1 ut 

quam plurimum incendiis perdat4 ,better 
the state of religion in ,italy1 before 
,giotto had broken on one barbarism of  
the ,byzantine schools1 than when the   
painter of the ,last ,judgment1 and the 
sculptor of the ,perseus1 sat revelling 
side by side4 ,it appears to me that a  
rude symbol is oftener more efficient   
than a refined one in touching the      
heart1 and that as pictures rise in rank
 as works of art1 they are regarded with
 less devotion and more curiosity4      
,but1 however this may be1 and whatever 
influence we may be disposed to admit in
 the great works of sacred art1 no doubt
 can1 ,i think1 be reasonably           
entertained as to the utter inutility of
 all that has been hitherto accomplished
 by the painters of landscape4 ,no moral
 end has been answered1 no permanent    
good effected1 by any of their works4   
,they may have amused the intellect1 or 
exercised the ingenuity1 but they never 
have spoken to the heart4 ,landscape art
 has never taught us one deep or holy   

lesson2 it has not recorded that which  
is fleeting1 nor penetrated that which  
was hidden1 nor interpreted that which  
was obscure2 it has never made us feel  
the wonder1 nor the power1 nor the      
glory1 of the universe2 it has not      
prompted to devotion1 nor touched with  
awe2 its power to move and exalt the    
heart has been fatally abused1 and      
perished in the abusing4 ,that which    
ought to have been a witness to the     
omnipotence of ,god1 has become an      
exhibition of the dexterity of man1 and 
that which should have lifted our       
thoughts to the throne of the ,deity1   
has encumbered them with the inventions 
of his creatures4  ,if we stand for a   
little time before any of the more      
celebrated works of landscape1 listening
 to the comments of the passers-by1 we  
shall hear numberless expressions       
relating to the skill of the artist1 but
 very few relating to the perfection of 
nature4 ,hundreds will be voluble in    
admiration1 for one who will be silent  

in delight4 ,multitudes will laud the   
composition1 and depart with the praise 
of ,claude on their lips1--not one will 
feel as if it were no composition1 and  
depart with the praise of ,god in his   
heart4  ,these are the signs of a       
debased1 mistaken1 and false school of  
painting4 ,the skill of the artist1 and 
the perfection of his art1 are never    
proved until both are forgotten4 ,the   
artist has done nothing till he has     
concealed himself1--the art is imperfect
 which is visible1--the feelings are but
 feebly touched1 if they permit us to   
reason on the methods of their          
excitement4 ,in the reading of a great  
poem1 in the hearing of a noble oration1
 it is the subject of the writer1 and   
not his skill1--his passion1 not his    
power1 on which our minds are fixed4 ,we
 see as he sees1 but we see not him4 ,we
 become part of him1 feel with him1     
judge1 behold with him2 but we think of 
him as little as of ourselves4 ,do we   
think of ,aeschylus while we wait on the

 silence of ,cassandra1,g or of         
,shakspeare1 while we listen to the     
wailing of ,lear8 ,not so4 ,the power of
 the masters is shown by their          
self-annihilation4 ,it is commensurate  
with the degree in which they themselves
 appear not in their work4 ,the harp of 
the minstrel is untruly touched1 if his 
own glory is all that it records4 ,every
 great writer may be at once known by   
his guiding the mind far from himself1  
to the beauty which is not of his       
creation1 and the knowledge which is    
past his finding out4  ,and must it ever
 be otherwise with painting1 for        
otherwise it has ever been4 ,her        
subjects have been regarded as mere     
themes on which the artist's power is to
 be displayed2 and that power1 be it of 
imitation1 composition1 idealization1 or
 of whatever other kind1 is the chief   
object of the spectator's observation4  
,it is man and his fancies1 man and his 
trickeries1 man and his                 
inventions1--poor1 paltry1 weak1        

self-sighted man1--which the connoisseur
 forever seeks and worships4 ,among     
potsherds and dunghills1 among drunken  
boors and withered beldames1 through    
every scene of debauchery and           
degradation1 we follow the erring       
artist1 not to receive one wholesome    
lesson1 not to be touched with pity1 nor
 moved with indignation1 but to watch   
the dexterity of the pencil1 and gloat  
over the glittering of the hue4  ,i     
speak not only of the works of the      
,flemish ,school--,i wage no war with   
their admirers2 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             
speak1--works in which there are        
evidences of genius and workings of     
power1--works which have been held up as
 containing all of the beautiful that   
art can reach or man conceive4 ,and ,i  
assert with sorrow1 that all hitherto   
done in landscape1 by those commonly    
conceived its masters1 has never        

prompted one holy thought in the minds  
of nations4 ,it has begun and ended in  
exhibiting the dexterities of           
individuals1 and conventionalities of   
systems4 ,filling the world with the    
honor of ,claude and ,salvator1 it has  
never once tended to the honor of ,god4 
,does the reader start in reading these 
last words1 as if they were those of    
wild enthusiasm1--as if ,i were lowering
 the dignity of religion by supposing   
that its cause could be advanced by such
 means8 ,his surprise proves my         
position4 ,it does sound like wild1 like
 absurd enthusiasm1 to expect any       
definite moral agency in the painters of
 landscape2 but ought it so to sound8   
,are the gorgeousness of the visible    
hue1 the glory of the realized form1    
instruments in the artist's hand so     
ineffective1 that they can answer no    
nobler purpose than the amusement of    
curiosity1 or the engagement of         
idleness8 ,must it not be owing to gross
 neglect or misapplication of the means 

at his command1 that while words and    
tones 7means of representing nature     
surely less powerful than lines and     
colors7 can kindle and purify the very  
inmost souls of men1 the painter can    
only hope to entertain by his efforts at
 expression1 and must remain forever    
brooding over his incommunicable        
thoughts8  ,the cause of the evil lies1 
,i believe1 deep-seated in the system of
 ancient landscape art2 it consists1 in 
a word1 in the painter's taking upon him
 to modify ,god's works at his pleasure1
 casting the shadow of himself on all he
 sees1 constituting himself arbiter     
where it is honor to be a disciple1 and 
exhibiting his ingenuity by the         
attainment of combinations whose highest
 praise is that they are impossible4 ,we
 shall not pass through a single gallery
 of old art1 without hearing this topic 
of praise confidently advanced4 ,the    
sense of artificialness1 the absence of 
all appearance of reality1 the          
clumsiness of combination by which the  

meddling of man is made evident1 and the
 feebleness of his hand branded on the  
inorganization of his monstrous         
creature1 is advanced as a proof of     
inventive power1 as an evidence of      
abstracted conception2--nay1 the        
violation of specific form1 the utter   
abandonment of all organic and          
individual character of object1         
7numberless examples of which from the  
works of the old masters are given in   
the following pages17 is constantly held
 up by the unthinking critic as the     
foundation of the grand or historical   
style1 and the first step to the        
attainment of a pure ideal4 ,now1 there 
is but one grand style1 in the treatment
 of all subjects whatsoever1 and that   
style is based on the perfect knowledge1
 and consists in the simple1            
unencumbered rendering1 of the specific 
characters of the given object1 be it   
man1 beast1 or flower4 ,every change1   
caricature1 or abandonment of such      
specific character1 is as destructive of

 grandeur as it is of truth1 of beauty  
as of propriety4 ,every alteration of   
the features of nature has its origin   
either in powerless indolence or blind  
audacity1 in the folly which forgets1 or
 the insolence which desecrates1 works  
which it is the pride of angels to know1
 and their privilege to love4  ,we      
sometimes hear such infringement of     
universal laws justified on the plea1   
that the frequent introduction of       
mythological abstractions into ancient  
landscape requires an imaginary         
character of form in the material       
objects with which they are associated4 
,something of this kind is hinted in    
,reynolds's #adth ,discourse2 but       
nothing can be more false than such     
reasoning4 ,if there be any truth or    
beauty in the original conception of the
 spiritual being so introduced1 there   
must be a true and real connection      
between that abstract idea,h and the    
features of nature as she was and is4   
,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 shrines4 
,with their visible and actual forms was
 his imagination filled1 and the beauty 
of its incarnate creatures can only be  
understood among the pure realities     
which originally modelled their         
conception4 ,if divinity be stamped upon
 the features1 or apparent in the form  
of the spiritual creature1 the mind will
 not be shocked by its appearing to ride
 upon the whirlwind1 and trample on the 
storm2 but if mortality1 no violation of
 the characters of the earth will forge 
one single link to bind it to the       
heaven4  ,is there then no such thing as
 elevated ideal character of landscape8 
,undoubtedly2 and ,sir ,joshua1 with the
 great master of this character1 ,nicolo
 ,poussin1 present to his thoughts1     
ought to have arrived at more true      
conclusions respecting its essence than1
 as we shall presently see1 are         
deducible from his works4 ,the true     

ideal of landscape is precisely the same
 as that of the human form2 it is the   
expression of the specific--not the     
individual1 but the specific--characters
 of every object1 in their perfection2  
there is an ideal form of every herb1   
flower1 and tree3 it is that form to    
which every individual of the species   
has a tendency to arrive1 freed from the
 influence of accident or disease4      
,every landscape painter should know the
 specific characters of every object he 
has to represent1 rock1 flower1 or      
cloud2 and in his highest ideal works1  
all their distinctions will be perfectly
 expressed1 broadly or delicately1      
slightly or completely1 according to the
 nature of the subject1 and the degree  
of attention which is to be drawn to the
 particular object by the part it plays 
in the composition4 ,where the sublime  
is aimed at1 such distinctions will be  
indicated with severe simplicity1 as the
 muscular markings in a colossal statue2
 where beauty is the object1 they must  

be expressed with the utmost refinement 
of which the hand is capable4  ,this may
 sound like a contradiction of          
principles advanced by the highest      
authorities2 but it is only a           
contradiction of a particular and most  
mistaken application of them4 ,much evil
 has been done to art by the remarks of 
historical painters on landscape4       
,accustomed themselves to treat their   
backgrounds slightly and boldly1 and    
feeling 7though1 as ,i shall presently  
show1 only in consequence of their own  
deficient powers7 that any approach to  
completeness of detail therein1 injures 
their picture by interfering with its   
principal subject1 they naturally lose  
sight of the peculiar and intrinsic     
beauties of things which to them are    
injurious1 unless subordinate4 ,hence   
the frequent advice given by ,reynolds  
and others1 to neglect specific form in 
landscape1 and treat its materials in   
large masses1 aiming only at general    
truths1--the flexibility of foliage1 but

 not its kind2 the rigidity of rock1 but
 not its mineral character4 ,in the     
passage more especially bearing on this 
subject 7in the eleventh lecture of ,sir
 ,j4 ,reynolds71 we are told that the   
landscape painter works not for the     
virtuoso or the naturalist1 but for the 
general observer of life and nature4    
,this is true1 in precisely the same    
sense that the sculptor does not work   
for the anatomist1 but for the common   
observer of life and nature4 ,yet the   
sculptor is not1 for this reason1       
permitted to be wanting either in       
knowledge or expression of anatomical   
detail2 and the more refined that       
expression can be rendered1 the more    
perfect is his work4 ,that which1 to the
 anatomist1 is the end1--is1 to the     
sculptor1 the means4 ,the former desires
 details1 for their own sake2 the       
latter1 that by means of them1 he may   
kindle his work with life1 and stamp it 
with beauty4 ,and so in                 
landscape2--botanical or geological     

details are not to be given as matter of
 curiosity or subject of search1 but as 
the ultimate elements of every species  
of expression and order of loveliness4  
,in his observations on the foreground  
of the ,st4 ,pietro ,martire1 ,sir      
,joshua advances1 as matter of praise1  
that the plants are discriminated just  
as much as was necessary for variety1   
and no more4 ,had this foreground been  
occupied by a group of animals1 we      
should have been surprised to be told   
that the lion1 the serpent1 and the     
dove1 or whatever other creatures might 
have been introduced1 were distinguished
 from each other just as much as was    
necessary for variety1 and no more4 ,yet
 is it to be supposed that the          
distinctions of the vegetable world are 
less complete1 less essential1 or less  
divine in origin1 than those of the     
animal8 ,if the distinctive forms of    
animal life are meant for our reverent  
observance1 is it likely that those of  
vegetable life are made merely to be    

swept away8 ,the latter are indeed less 
obvious and less obtrusive2 for which   
very reason there is less excuse for    
omitting them1 because there is less    
danger of their disturbing the attention
 or engaging the fancy4  ,but ,sir      
,joshua is as inaccurate in fact1 as    
false in principle4 ,he himself         
furnishes a most singular instance of   
the very error of which he accuses      
,vaseni1--the seeing what he expects2   
or1 rather1 in the present case1 not    
seeing what he does not expect4 ,the    
great masters of ,italy1 almost without 
exception1 and ,titian perhaps more than
 any1 7for he had the highest knowledge 
of landscape17 are in the constant habit
 of rendering every detail of their     
foregrounds with the most laborious     
botanical fidelity3 witness the ,bacchus
 and ,ariadne1 in which the foreground  
is occupied by the common blue iris1 the
 aquilegia1 and the wild rose2 every    
stamen of which latter is given1 while  
the blossoms and leaves of the columbine

 7a difficult flower to draw7 have been 
studied with the most exquisite         
accuracy4 ,the foregrounds of           
,raffaelle's two cartoons1--,the        
,miraculous ,draught of ,fishes and ,the
 ,charge to ,peter1--are covered with   
plants of the common sea colewort1      
7crambe maritima17 of which the sinuated
 leaves and clustered blossoms would    
have exhausted the patience of any other
 artist2 but have appeared worthy of    
prolonged and thoughtful labor to the   
great mind of ,raffaelle4  ,it appears  
then1 not only from natural principles1 
but from the highest of all authority1  
that thorough knowledge of the lowest   
details is necessary and full expression
 of them right1 even in the highest     
class of historical painting2 that it   
will not take away from1 nor interfere  
with1 the interest of the figures2 but1 
rightly managed1 must add to and        
elucidate it2 and1 if further proof be  
wanting1 ,i would desire the reader to  
compare the background of ,sir ,joshua's

 ,holy ,family1 in the ,national        
,gallery1 with that of ,nicolo          
,poussin's ,nursing of ,jupiter1 in the 
,dulwich ,gallery4 ,the first1 owing to 
the utter neglect of all botanical      
detail1 has lost every atom of ideal    
character1 and reminds us of nothing but
 an ,english fashionable flower         
garden2--the formal pedestal adding     
considerably to the effect4 ,poussin's1 
in which every vine leaf is drawn with  
consummate skill and untiring diligence1
 produces not only a tree group of the  
most perfect grace and beauty1 but one  
which1 in its pure and simple truth1    
belongs to every age of nature1 and     
adapts itself to the history of all     
time4 ,if1 then1 such entire rendering  
of specific character be necessary to   
the historical painter1 in cases where  
these lower details are entirely        
subordinate to his human subject1 how   
much more must it be necessary in       
landscape1 where they themselves        
constitute the subject1 and where the   

undivided attention is to be drawn to   
them4  ,there is a singular sense in    
which the child may peculiarly be said  
to be father of the man4 ,in many arts  
and attainments1 the first and last     
stages of progress--the infancy and the 
consummation--have many features in     
common2 while the intermediate stages   
are wholly unlike either1 and are       
farthest from the right4 ,thus it is in 
the progress of a painter's handling4   
,we see the perfect child1--the absolute
 beginner1 using of necessity a broken1 
imperfect1 inadequate line1 which1 as he
 advances1 becomes gradually firm1      
severe1 and decided4 ,yet before he     
becomes a perfect artist1 this severity 
and decision will again be exchanged for
 a light and careless stroke1 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 means4 ,so it is  
in many matters of opinion4 ,our first  

and last coincide1 though on different  
grounds2 it is the middle stage which is
 farthest from the truth4 ,childhood    
often holds a truth with its feeble     
fingers1 which the grasp of manhood     
cannot retain1--which it is the pride of
 utmost age to recover4  ,perhaps this  
is in no instance more remarkable than  
in the opinion we form upon the subject 
of detail in works of art4 ,infants in  
judgment1 we look for specific          
character1 and complete finish--we      
delight in the faithful plumage of the  
well-known bird--in the finely drawn    
leafage of the discriminated flower4 ,as
 we advance in judgment1 we scorn such  
detail altogether2 we look for          
impetuosity of execution1 and breadth of
 effect4 ,but1 perfected in judgment1 we
 return in a great measure to our early 
feelings1 and thank ,raffaelle for the  
shells upon his sacred beach1 and for   
the delicate stamens of the herbage     
beside his inspired ,st4 ,catherine4,i  
,of those who take interest in art1 nay1

 even of artists themselves1 there are  
an hundred in the middle stage of       
judgment1 for one who is in the last2   
and this not because they are destitute 
of the power to discover1 or the        
sensibility to enjoy the truth1 but     
because the truth bears so much         
semblance of error--the last stage of   
the journey to the first1--that every   
feeling which guides to it is checked in
 its origin4 ,the rapid and powerful    
artist necessarily looks with such      
contempt on those who seek minutiae of  
detail rather than grandeur of          
impression1 that it is almost impossible
 for him to conceive of the great last  
step in art1 by which both become       
compatible4 ,he has so often to dash the
 delicacy out of the pupil's work1 and  
to blot the details from his encumbered 
canvas2 so frequently to lament the loss
 of breadth and unity1 and so seldom to 
reprehend the imperfection of minutiae1 
that he necessarily looks upon complete 
parts as the very sign of error1        

weakness1 and ignorance4 ,thus1         
frequently to the latest period of his  
life1 he separates1 like ,sir ,joshua1  
as chief enemies1 the details and the   
whole1 which an artist cannot be great  
unless he reconciles2 and because       
details alone1 and unreferred to a final
 purpose1 are the sign of a tyro's work1
 he loses sight of the remoter truth1   
that details perfect in unity1 and1     
contributing to a final purpose1 are the
 sign of the production of a consummate 
master4  ,it is not1 therefore1 detail  
sought for its own sake1--not the       
calculable bricks of the ,dutch         
house-painters1 nor the numbered hairs  
and mapped wrinkles of ,denner1 which   
constitute great art1--they are the     
lowest and most contemptible art2 but it
 is detail referred to a great          
end1--sought for the sake of the        
inestimable beauty which exists in the  
slightest and least of ,god's works1 and
 treated in a manly1 broad1 and         
impressive manner4 ,there may be as much

 greatness of mind1 as much nobility of 
manner in a master's treatment of the   
smallest features1 as in his management 
of the most vast2 and this greatness of 
manner chiefly consists in seizing the  
specific character of the object1       
together with all the great qualities of
 beauty which it has in common with     
higher orders of existence1,j while he  
utterly rejects the meaner beauties     
which are accidentally peculiar to the  
object1 and yet not specifically        
characteristic of it4 ,i cannot give a  
better instance than the painting of the
 flowers in ,titian's picture above     
mentioned4 ,while every stamen of the   
rose is given1 because this was         
necessary to mark the flower1 and while 
the curves and large characters of the  
leaves are rendered with exquisite      
fidelity1 there is no vestige of        
particular texture1 of moss1 bloom1     
moisture1 or any other accident--no     
dew-drops1 nor flies1 nor trickeries of 
any kind2 nothing beyond the simple     

forms and hues of the flowers1--even    
those hues themselves being simplified  
and broadly rendered4 ,the varieties of 
aquilegia have1 in reality1 a grayish   
and uncertain tone of color2 and1 ,i    
believe1 never attain the intense purity
 of blue with which ,titian has gifted  
his flower4 ,but the master does not aim
 at the particular color of individual  
blossoms2 he seizes the type of all1 and
 gives it with the utmost purity and    
simplicity of which color is capable4   
,these laws being observed1 it will not 
only be in the power1 it will be the    
duty1--the imperative duty1--of the     
landscape painter1 to descend to the    
lowest details with undiminished        
attention4 ,every herb and flower of the
 field has its specific1 distinct1 and  
perfect beauty2 it has its peculiar     
habitation1 expression1 and function4   
,the highest art is that which seizes   
this specific character1 which develops 
and illustrates it1 which assigns to it 
its proper position in the landscape1   

and which1 by means of it1 enhances and 
enforces the great impression which the 
picture is intended to convey4 ,nor is  
it of herbs and flowers alone that such 
scientific representation is required4  
,every class of rock1 every kind of     
earth1 every form of cloud1 must be     
studied with equal industry1 and        
rendered with equal precision4 ,and thus
 we find ourselves unavoidably led to a 
conclusion directly opposed to that     
constantly enunciated dogma of the      
parrot-critic1 that the features of     
nature must be generalized1--a dogma    
whose inherent and broad absurdity would
 long ago have been detected1 if it had 
not contained in its convenient         
falsehood an apology for indolence1 and 
a disguise for incapacity4 ,generalized6
 ,as if it were possible to generalize  
things generically different4 ,of such  
common cant of criticism ,i extract a   
characteristic passage from one of the  
reviews of this work1 that in this      
year's ,athenaeum for ,february #ajth3  

,he 7the author7 would have geological  
landscape painters1 dendrologic1        
meteorologic1 and doubtless entomologic1
 ichthyologic1 every kind of physiologic
 painter united in the same person2 yet1
 alas1 for true poetic art among all    
these learned ,thebans6 ,no2 landscape  
painting must not be reduced to mere    
portraiture of inanimate substances1    
,denner-like portraiture of the earth's 
face4 99  99  99  99  99  ,ancient      
landscapists took a broader1 deeper1    
higher view of their art2 they neglected
 particular traits1 and gave only       
general features4 ,thus they attained   
mass and force1 harmonious union and    
simple effect1 the elements of grandeur 
and beauty4  ,to all such criticism as  
this 7and ,i notice it only because it  
expresses the feelings into which many  
sensible and thoughtful minds have been 
fashioned by infection7 the answer is   
simple and straightforward4 ,it is just 
as impossible to generalize granite and 
slate1 as it is to generalize a man and 

a cow4 ,an animal must be either one    
animal or another animal2 it cannot be a
 general animal1 or it is no animal2 and
 so a rock must be either one rock or   
another rock2 it cannot be a general    
rock1 or it is no rock4 ,if there were a
 creature in the foreground of a        
picture1 of which he could not decide   
whether it were a pony or a pig1 the    
,athenaeum critic would perhaps affirm  
it to be a generalization of pony and   
pig1 and consequently a high example of 
harmonious union and simple effect4 ,but
 ,i should call it simple bad drawing4  
,and so when there are things in the    
foreground of ,salvator of which ,i     
cannot pronounce whether they be granite
 or slate1 or tufa1 ,i affirm that there
 is in them neither harmonious union nor
 simple effect1 but simple monstrosity4 
,there is no grandeur1 no beauty of any 
sort or kind2 nothing but destruction1  
disorganization1 and ruin1 to be        
obtained by the violation of natural    
distinctions4 ,the elements of brutes   

can only mix in corruption1 the elements
 of inorganic nature only in            
annihilation4 ,we may1 if we choose1 put
 together centaur monsters2 but they    
must still be half man1 half horse2 they
 cannot be both man and horse1 nor      
either man or horse4 ,and so1 if        
landscape painters choose1 they may give
 us rocks which shall be half granite   
and half slate2 but they cannot give us 
rocks which shall be either granite or  
slate1 nor which shall be both granite  
and slate4 ,every attempt to produce    
that which shall be any rock1 ends in   
the production of that which is no rock4
  ,it is true that the distinctions of  
rocks and plants and clouds are less    
conspicuous1 and less constantly        
subjects of observation than those of   
the animal creation2 but the difficulty 
of observing them proves not the merit  
of overlooking them4 ,it only accounts  
for the singular fact1 that the world   
has never yet seen anything like a      
perfect school of landscape4 ,for just  

as the highest historical painting is   
based on perfect knowledge of the       
workings of the human form1 and human   
mind1 so must the highest landscape     
painting be based on perfect cognizance 
of the form1 functions1 and system of   
every organic or definitely structured  
existence which it has to represent4    
,this proposition is self-evident to    
every thinking mind2 and every principle
 which appears to contradict it is      
either misstated or misunderstood4 ,for 
instance1 the ,athenaeum critic calls   
the right statement of generic          
difference ,denner-like portraiture4 ,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 theory4 ,no2          
,denner-like portraiture would be the   
endeavor to paint the separate crystals 
of quartz and felspar in the granite1   
and the separate flakes of mica in the  
mica slate1--an attempt just as far     

removed from what ,i assert to be great 
art1 7the bold rendering of the generic 
characters of form in both rocks17 as   
modern sculpture of lace and            
button-holes is from the ,elgin marbles4
 ,martin has attempted this ,denner-like
 portraiture of sea-foam with the       
assistance of an acre of canvas--with   
what success1 ,i believe the critics of 
his last year's ,canute had1 for once1  
sense enough to decide4  ,again1 it does
 not follow that because such accurate  
knowledge is necessary to the painter   
that it should constitute the painter1  
nor that such knowledge is valuable in  
itself1 and without reference to high   
ends4 ,every kind of knowledge may be   
sought from ignoble motives1 and for    
ignoble ends2 and in those who so       
possess it1 it is ignoble knowledge2    
while the very same knowledge is in     
another mind an attainment of the       
highest dignity1 and conveying the      
greatest blessing4 ,this is the         
difference between the mere botanist's  

knowledge of plants1 and the great      
poet's or painter's knowledge of them4  
,the one notes their distinctions for   
the sake of swelling his herbarium1 the 
other1 that he may render them vehicles 
of expression and emotion4 ,the one     
counts the stamens1 and affixes a name1 
and is content2 the other observes every
 character of the plant's color and     
form2 considering each of its attributes
 as an element of expression1 he seizes 
on its lines of grace or energy1        
rigidity or repose2 notes the feebleness
 or the vigor1 the serenity or          
tremulousness of its hues2 observes its 
local habits1 its love or fear of       
peculiar places1 its nourishment or     
destruction by particular influences2 he
 associates it in his mind with all the 
features of the situations it inhabits1 
and the ministering agencies necessary  
to its support4 ,thenceforward the      
flower is to him a living creature1 with
 histories written on its leaves1 and   
passions breathing in its motion4 ,its  

occurrence in his picture is no mere    
point of color1 no meaningless spark of 
light4 ,it is a voice rising from the   
earth1--a new chord of the mind's       
music1--a necessary note in the harmony 
of his picture1 contributing alike to   
its tenderness and its dignity1 nor less
 to its loveliness than its truth4  ,the
 particularization of flowers by        
,shakspeare and ,shelley affords us the 
most frequent examples of the exalted   
use of these inferior details4 ,it is   
true that the painter has not the same  
power of expressing the thoughts with   
which his symbols are connected2 he is  
dependent in some degree on the         
knowledge and feeling of the spectator2 
but1 by the destruction of such details1
 his foreground is not rendered more    
intelligible to the ignorant1 although  
it ceases to have interest for the      
informed4 ,it is no excuse for illegible
 writing that there are persons who     
could not have read it had it been      
plain4  ,i repeat then1 generalization1 

as the word is commonly understood1 is  
the act of a vulgar1 incapable1 and     
unthinking mind4 ,to see in all         
mountains nothing but similar heaps of  
earth2 in all rocks1 nothing but similar
 concretions of solid matter2 in all    
trees1 nothing but similar accumulations
 of leaves1 is no sign of high feeling  
or extended thought4 ,the more we know1 
and the more we feel1 the more we       
separate2 we separate to obtain a more  
perfect unity4 ,stones1 in the thoughts 
of the peasant1 lie as they do on his   
field1 one is like another1 and there is
 no connection between any of them4 ,the
 geologist distinguishes1 and in        
distinguishing connects them4 ,each     
becomes different from its fellow1 but  
in differing from1 assumes a relation to
 its fellow2 they are no more each the  
repetition of the other1--they are parts
 of a system1 and each implies and is   
connected with the existence of the     
rest4 ,that generalization then is      
right1 true1 and noble1 which is based  

on the knowledge of the distinctions and
 observance of the relations of         
individual kinds4 ,that generalization  
is wrong1 false1 and contemptible1 which
 is based on ignorance of the one1 and  
disturbance of the other4 ,it is indeed 
no generalization1 but confusion and    
chaos2 it is the generalization of a    
defeated army into indistinguishable    
impotence--the generalization of the    
elements of a dead carcass into dust4   
,let us1 then1 without farther notice of
 the dogmata of the schools of art1     
follow forth those conclusions to which 
we are led by observance of the laws of 
nature4  ,i have just said that every   
class of rock1 earth and cloud1 must be 
known by the painter1 with geologic and 
meteorologic accuracy4,k ,nor is this   
merely for the sake of obtaining the    
character of these minor features       
themselves1 but more especially for the 
sake of reaching that simple1 earnest1  
and consistent character which is       
visible in the whole effect of every    

natural landscape4 ,every geological    
formation has features entirely peculiar
 to itself2 definite lines of fracture1 
giving rise to fixed resultant forms of 
rock and earth2 peculiar vegetable      
products1 among which still farther     
distinctions are wrought out by         
variations of climate and elevation4    
,from such modifying circumstances arise
 the infinite varieties of the orders of
 landscape1 of which each one shows     
perfect harmony among its several       
features1 and possesses an ideal beauty 
of its own2 a beauty not distinguished  
merely by such peculiarities as are     
wrought on the human form by change of  
climate1 but by generic differences the 
most marked and essential2 so that its  
classes cannot be generalized or        
amalgamated by any expedients           
whatsoever4 ,the level marshes and rich 
meadows of the tertiary1 the rounded    
swells and short pastures of the chalk1 
the square-built cliffs and cloven dells
 of the lower limestone1 the soaring    

peaks and ridgy precipices of the       
primaries1 having nothing in common     
among them--nothing which is not        
distinctive and incommunicable4 ,their  
very atmospheres are different--their   
clouds are different--their humors of   
storm and sunshine are different--their 
flowers1 animals and forests are        
different4 ,by each order of            
landscape--and its orders1 ,i repeat1   
are infinite in number1 corresponding   
not only to the several species of rock1
 but to the particular circumstances of 
the rocks' deposition or after          
treatment1 and to the incalculable      
varieties of climate1 aspect1 and human 
interference3--by each order of         
landscape1 ,i say1 peculiar lessons are 
intended to be taught1 and distinct     
pleasures to be conveyed2 and it is as  
utterly futile to talk of generalizing  
their impressions into an ideal         
landscape1 as to talk of amalgamating   
all nourishment into one ideal food1    
gathering all music into one ideal      

movement1 or confounding all thought    
into one ideal idea4  ,there is1        
however1 such a thing as composition of 
different orders of landscape1 though   
there can be no generalization of them4 
,nature herself perpetually brings      
together elements of various expression4
 ,her barren rocks stoop through wooded 
promontories to the plain2 and the      
wreaths of the vine show through their  
green shadows the wan light of          
unperishing snow4  ,the painter1        
therefore1 has the choice of either     
working out the isolated character of   
some one distinct class of scene1 or of 
bringing together a multitude of        
different elements1 which may adorn each
 other by contrast4  ,i believe that the
 simple and uncombined landscape1 if    
wrought out with due attention to the   
ideal beauty of the features it         
includes1 will always be the most       
powerful in its appeal to the heart4    
,contrast increases the splendor of     
beauty1 but it disturbs its influence2  

it adds to its attractiveness1 but      
diminishes its power4 ,on this subject  
,i shall have much to say hereafter2 at 
present ,i merely wish to suggest the   
possibility1 that the single-minded     
painter1 who is working out on broad and
 simple principles1 a piece of unbroken1
 harmonious landscape character1 may be 
reaching an end in art quite as high as 
the more ambitious student who is always
 within five minutes' walk of           
everywhere1 making the ends of the earth
 contribute to his pictorial            
guazzetto2,l and the certainty1 that    
unless the composition of the latter be 
regulated by severe judgment1 and its   
members connected by natural links1 it  
must become more contemptible in its    
motley1 than an honest study of roadside
 weeds4  ,let me1 at the risk of        
tediously repeating what is universally 
known1 refer to the common principles of
 historical composition1 in order that  
,i may show their application to that of
 landscape4 ,the merest tyro in art     

knows that every figure which is        
unnecessary to his picture1 is an       
encumbrance to it1 and that every figure
 which does not sympathize with the     
action1 interrupts it4 ,he that         
gathereth not with me1 scattereth1--is1 
or ought to be1 the ruling principle of 
his plan3 and the power and grandeur of 
his result will be exactly proportioned 
to the unity of feeling manifested in   
its several parts1 and to the propriety 
and simplicity of the relations in which
 they stand to each other4  ,all this is
 equally applicable to the materials of 
inanimate nature4 ,impressiveness is    
destroyed by a multitude of             
contradictory facts1 and the            
accumulation1 which is not harmonious1  
is discordant4 ,he who endeavors to     
unite simplicity with magnificence1 to  
guide from solitude to festivity1 and to
 contrast melancholy with mirth1 must   
end by the production of confused       
inanity4 ,there is a peculiar spirit2   
possessed by every kind of scene2 and   

although a point of contrast may        
sometimes enhance and exhibit this      
particular feeling more intensely1 it   
must be only a point1 not an equalized  
opposition4 ,every introduction of new  
and different feeling weakens the force 
of what has already been impressed1 and 
the mingling of all emotions must       
conclude in apathy1 as the mingling of  
all colors in white4  ,let us test by   
these simple rules one of the ideal     
landscape compositions of ,claude1 that 
known to the ,italians as ,il ,mulino4  
,the foreground is a piece of very      
lovely and perfect forest scenery1 with 
a dance of peasants by a brookside2     
quite enough subject to form1 in the    
hands of a master1 an impressive and    
complete picture4 ,on the other side of 
the brook1 however1 we have a piece of  
pastoral life1 a man with some bulls and
 goats tumbling headforemost into the   
water1 owing to some sudden paralytic   
affection of all their legs4 ,even this 
group is one too many2 the shepherd had 

no business to drive his flock so near  
the dancers1 and the dancers will       
certainly frighten the cattle4 ,but when
 we look farther into the picture1 our  
feelings receive a sudden and violent   
shock1 by the unexpected appearance1    
amidst things pastoral and musical1 of  
the military3 a number of ,roman        
soldiers riding in on hobby-horses1 with
 a leader on foot1 apparently           
encouraging them to make an immediate   
and decisive charge on the musicians4   
,beyond the soldiers is a circular      
temple1 in exceedingly bad repair1 and  
close beside it1 built against its very 
walls1 a neat water-mill in full work4  
,by the mill flows a large river1 with a
 weir all across it4 ,the weir has not  
been made for the mill1 7for that       
receives its water from the hills by a  
trough carried over the temple17 but it 
is particularly ugly and monotonous in  
its line of fall1 and the water below   
forms a dead-looking pond1 on which some
 people are fishing in punts4 ,the banks

 of this river resemble in contour the  
later geological formations around      
,london1 constituted chiefly of broken  
pots and oyster-shells4 ,at an          
inconvenient distance from the          
water-side stands a city1 composed of   
twenty-five round towers and a pyramid4 
,beyond the city is a handsome bridge2  
beyond the bridge1 part of the          
,campagna1 with fragments of aqueducts2 
beyond the ,campagna1 the chain of the  
,alps2 on the left1 the cascades of     
,tivoli4  ,this is1 ,i believe1 a fair  
example of what is commonly called an   
ideal landscape1 i4e41 a group of the   
artist's studies from nature1           
individually spoiled1 selected with such
 opposition of character as may insure  
their neutralizing each other's effect1 
and united with sufficient unnaturalness
 and violence of association to insure  
their producing a general sensation of  
the impossible4 ,let us analyze the     
separate subjects a little in this ideal
 work of ,claude's4  ,perhaps there is  

no more impressive scene on earth than  
the solitary extent of the ,campagna of 
,rome under evening light4 ,let the     
reader imagine himself for a moment     
withdrawn from the sounds and motion of 
the living world1 and sent forth alone  
into this wild and wasted plain4 ,the   
earth yields and crumbles beneath his   
foot1 tread he never so lightly1 for its
 substance is white1 hollow1 and        
carious1 like the dusty wreck of the    
bones of men4,m ,the long knotted grass 
waves and tosses feebly in the evening  
wind1 and the shadows of its motion     
shake feverishly along the banks of ruin
 that lift themselves to the sunlight4  
,hillocks of mouldering earth heave     
around him1 as if the dead beneath were 
struggling in their sleep2 scattered    
blocks of black stone1 four-square1     
remnants of mighty edifices1 not one    
left upon another1 lie upon them to keep
 them down4 ,a dull purple1 poisonous   
haze stretches level along the desert1  
veiling its spectral wrecks of massy    

ruins1 on whose rents the red light     
rests like dying fire on defiled altars4
 ,the blue ridge of the ,alban mount    
lifts itself against a solemn space of  
green1 clear1 quiet sky4 ,watch-towers  
of dark clouds stand steadfastly along  
the promontories1 of the ,apennines4    
,from the plain to the mountains1 the   
shattered aqueducts1 pier beyond pier1  
melt into the darkness1 like shadowy and
 countless troops of funeral mourners1  
passing from a nation's grave4  ,let us1
 with ,claude1 make a few ideal         
alterations in this landscape4 ,first1  
we will reduce the multitudinous        
precipices of the ,apennines to four    
sugar-loaves4 ,secondly1 we will remove 
the ,alban mount1 and put a large       
dust-heap in its stead4 ,next1 we will  
knock down the greater part of the      
aqueducts1 and leave only an arch or    
two1 that their infinity of length may  
no longer be painful from its monotony4 
,for the purple mist and declining sun1 
we will substitute a bright blue sky1   

with round white clouds4 ,finally1 we   
will get rid of the unpleasant ruins in 
the foreground2 we will plant some      
handsome trees therein1 we will send for
 some fiddlers1 and get up a dance1 and 
a picnic party4  ,it will be found1     
throughout the picture1 that the same   
species of improvement is made on the   
materials which ,claude had ready to his
 hand4 ,the descending slopes of the    
city of ,rome1 towards the pyramid of   
,caius ,cestius1 supply not only lines  
of the most exquisite variety and       
beauty1 but matter for contemplation and
 reflection in every fragment of their  
buildings4 ,this passage has been       
idealized by ,claude into a set of      
similar round towers1 respecting which  
no idea can be formed but that they are 
uninhabitable1 and to which no interest 
can be attached1 beyond the difficulty  
of conjecturing what they could have    
been built for4 ,the ruins of the temple
 are rendered unimpressive by the       
juxtaposition of the water-mill1 and    

inexplicable by the introduction of the 
,roman soldiers4 ,the glide of the muddy
 streams of the melancholy ,tiber and   
,anio through the ,campagna1 is         
impressive in itself1 but altogether    
ceases to be so1 when we disturb their  
stillness of motion by a weir1 adorn    
their neglected flow with a handsome    
bridge1 and cover their solitary surface
 with punts1 nets1 and fishermen4  ,it  
cannot1 ,i think1 be expected1 that     
landscapes like this should have any    
effect on the human heart1 except to    
harden or to degrade it2 to lead it from
 the love of what is simple1 earnest and
 pure1 to what is as sophisticated and  
corrupt in arrangement1 as erring and   
imperfect in detail4 ,so long as such   
works are held up for imitation1        
landscape painting must be a            
manufacture1 its productions must be    
toys1 and its patrons must be children4 
,my purpose then1 in the present work1  
is to demonstrate the utter falseness   
both of the facts and principles2 the   

imperfection of material1 and error of  
arrangement1 on which works such as     
these are based2 and to insist on the   
necessity1 as well as the dignity1 of an
 earnest1 faithful1 loving1 study of    
nature as she is1 rejecting with        
abhorrence all that man has done to     
alter and modify her4 ,and the praise   
which1 in this first portion of the     
work1 is given to many ,english artists1
 would be justifiable on this ground    
only1 that although frequently with     
little power and desultory effort1 they 
have yet1 in an honest and good heart1  
received the word of ,god from clouds1  
and leaves1 and waves1 and kept it1,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 good1 or its labor    
deserving of gratitude4  ,if1 however1  
,i shall have frequent occasion to      
insist on the necessity of this         
heartfelt love of1 and unqualified      
submission to1 the teaching of nature1  

it will be no less incumbent upon me to 
reprobate the careless rendering of     
casual impression1 and the mechanical   
copyism of unimportant subject1 which   
are too frequently visible in our modern
 school4,o ,their lightness and         
desultoriness of intention1 their       
meaningless multiplication of unstudied 
composition1 and their want of          
definiteness and loftiness of aim1 bring
 discredit on their whole system of     
study1 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 garret4 ,not   
every casual idea caught from the flight
 of a shower or the fall of a sunbeam1  
not every glowing fragment of harvest   
light1 nor every flickering dream of    
copsewood coolness1 is to be given to   
the world as it came1 unconsidered1     
incomplete1 and forgotten by the artist 
as soon as it has left his easel4 ,that 
only should be considered a picture1 in 
which the spirit1 7not the materials1   

observe17 but the animating emotion of  
many such studies is concentrated1 and  
exhibited by the aid of long-studied1   
painfully-chosen forms2 idealized in the
 right sense of the word1 not by        
audacious liberty of that faculty of    
degrading ,god's works which man calls  
his imagination1 but by perfect         
assertion of entire knowledge of every  
part and character and function of the  
object1 and in which the details are    
completed to the last line compatible   
with the dignity and simplicity of the  
whole1 wrought out with that noblest    
industry which concentrates profusion   
into point1 and transforms accumulation 
into structure2 neither must this labor 
be bestowed on every subject which      
appears to afford a capability of good1 
but on chosen subjects in which nature  
has prepared to the artist's hand the   
purest sources of the impression he     
would convey4 ,these may be humble in   
their order1 but they must be perfect of
 their kind4 ,there is a perfection of  

the hedgerow and cottage1 as well as of 
the forest and the palace1 and more     
ideality in a great artist's selection  
and treatment of roadside weeds and     
brook-worn pebbles1 than in all the     
struggling caricature of the meaner mind
 which heaps its foreground with        
colossal columns1 and heaves impossible 
mountains into the encumbered sky4      
,finally1 these chosen subjects must not
 be in any way repetitions of one       
another1 but each founded on a new idea1
 and developing a totally distinct train
 of thought2 so that the work of the    
artist's life should form a consistent  
series of essays1 rising through the    
scale of creation from the humblest     
scenery to the most exalted2 each       
picture being a necessary link in the   
chain1 based on what preceded1          
introducing to what is to follow1 and   
all1 in their lovely system1 exhibiting 
and drawing closer the bonds of nature  
to the human heart4 ,since1 then1 ,i    
shall have to reprobate the absence of  

study in the moderns nearly as much as  
its false direction in the ancients1 my 
task will naturally divide itself into  
three portions4 ,in the first1 ,i shall 
endeavor to investigate and arrange the 
facts of nature with scientific         
accuracy2 showing as ,i proceed1 by what
 total neglect of the very first base   
and groundwork of their art the         
idealities of some among the old masters
 are produced4 ,this foundation once    
securely laid1 ,i shall proceed1 in the 
second portion of the work1 to analyze  
and demonstrate the nature of the       
emotions of the ,beautiful and ,sublime2
 to examine the particular characters of
 every kind of scenery1 and to bring to 
light1 as far as may be in my power1    
that faultless1 ceaseless1              
inconceivable1 inexhaustible loveliness1
 which ,god has stamped upon all things1
 if man will only receive them as ,he   
gives them4 ,finally1 ,i shall endeavor 
to trace the operation of all this on   
the hearts and minds of men2 to exhibit 

the moral function and end of art1 to   
prove the share which it ought to have  
in the thoughts1 and influence on the   
lives of all of us2 to attach to the    
artist the responsibility of a preacher1
 and to kindle in the general mind that 
regard which such an office must demand4
  ,it must be evident that the first    
portion of this task1 which is all that 
,i have yet been enabled to offer to the
 reader1 cannot but be the least        
interesting and the most laborious1     
especially because it is necessary that 
it should be executed without reference 
to any principles of beauty or          
influences of emotion4 ,it is the hard1 
straightforward classification of       
material things1 not the study of       
thought or passion2 and therefore let me
 not be accused of the feelings which ,i
 choose to repress4 ,the consideration  
of the high qualities of art must not be
 interrupted by the work of the hammer  
and the eudiometer4  ,again1 ,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           
expression4 ,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 name2 and therefore that 
the devoted love which ,i profess for   
the works of the great historical and   
sacred painters is sincere and          
well-grounded4 ,and indeed every        
principle of art which ,i may advocate1 
,i shall be able to illustrate by       
reference to the works of men           
universally allowed to be the masters of
 masters2 and the public1 so long as my 
teaching leads them to higher           
understanding and love of the works of  
,buonaroti1 ,leonardo1 ,raffaelle1      
,titian1 and ,cagliari1 may surely      
concede to me without fear1 the right of
 striking such blows as ,i may deem     
necessary to the establishment of my    
principles1 at ,gasper ,poussin1 or     
,vandevelde4  ,indeed1 ,i believe there 

is nearly as much occasion1 at the      
present day1 for advocacy of ,michael   
,angelo against the pettiness of the    
moderns1 as there is for support of     
,turner against the conventionalities of
 the ancients4 ,for1 though the names of
 the fathers of sacred art are on all   
our lips1 our faith in them is much like
 that of the great world in its         
religion--nominal1 but dead4 ,in vain   
our lecturers sound the name of         
,raffaelle in the ears of their pupils1 
while their own works are visibly at    
variance with every principle deducible 
from his4 ,in vain is the young student 
compelled to produce a certain number of
 school copies of ,michael ,angelo1 when
 his bread must depend on the number of 
gewgaws he can crowd into his canvas4   
,and ,i could with as much zeal exert   
myself against the modern system of     
,english historical art1 as ,i have in  
favor of our school of landscape1 but   
that it is an ungrateful and painful    
task to attack the works of living      

painters1 struggling with adverse       
circumstances of every kind1 and        
especially with the false taste of a    
nation which regards matters of art     
either with the ticklishness of an      
infant1 or the stolidity of a           
,megatherium4  ,i have been accused1 in 
the execution of this first portion of  
my work1 of irreverent and scurrile     
expression towards the works which ,i   
have depreciated4 ,possibly ,i may have 
been in some degree infected by reading 
those criticisms of our periodicals1    
which consist of nothing else2 but ,i   
believe in general that my words will be
 found to have sufficient truth in them 
to excuse their familiarity2 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 reason4 ,my
 answer is that given long ago to a     
similar complaint1 uttered under the    
same circumstances by the foiled        
sophist3--,greek3 7,hos d'estin ho      

anthropos2 hos apaideutos tis1 os ouio  
phaula onomata onomazein tolma en semno 
pragmati47 ,toioutos tis1 o ,hippia1    
ouden allo phrontizon e to alethes4  ,it
 is with more surprise that ,i have     
heard myself accused of thoughtless     
severity with respect to the works of   
contemporary painters1 for ,i fully     
believe that whenever ,i attack them1 ,i
 give myself far more pain than ,i can  
possibly inflict2 and1 in many          
instances1 ,i have withheld reprobation 
which ,i considered necessary to the    
full understanding of my work1 in the   
fear of grieving or injuring men of     
whose feelings and circumstances ,i was 
ignorant4 ,indeed1 the apparently false 
and exaggerated bias of the whole book  
in favor of modern art1 is in great     
degree dependent on my withholding the  
animadversions which would have given it
 balance1 and keeping silence where ,i  
cannot praise4 ,but ,i had rather be a  
year or two longer in effecting my      
purposes1 than reach them by trampling  

on men's hearts and hearths2 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 him4  ,and    
now--but one word more4 ,for many a year
 we have heard nothing with respect to  
the works of ,turner but accusations of 
their want of truth4 ,to every          
observation on their power1 sublimity1  
or beauty1 there has been but one reply3
 ,they are not like nature4 ,i therefore
 took my opponents on their own ground1 
and demonstrated1 by thorough           
investigation of actual facts1 that     
,turner is like nature1 and paints more 
of nature than any man who ever lived4  
,i expected this proposition 7the       
foundation of all my future efforts7    
would have been disputed with desperate 
struggles1 and that ,i should have had  
to fight my way to my position inch by  
inch4 ,not at all4 ,my opponents yield  
me the field at once4 ,one 7the writer  

for the ,athenaeum7 has no other        
resource than the assertion1 that he    
disapproves the natural style in        
painting4 ,if people want to see nature1
 let them go and look at herself4 ,why  
should they see her at second-hand on a 
piece of canvas8 ,the other1            
7,blackwood17 still more utterly        
discomfited1 is reduced to a still more 
remarkable line of defence4 ,it is not1 
he says1 what things in all respects    
really are1 but how they are convertible
 by the mind into what they are not1    
that we have to consider4 7,october1    
#ahdc1 p4 #dhe47 ,i leave therefore the 
reader to choose whether1 with          
,blackwood and his fellows1 he will     
proceed to consider how things are      
convertible by the mind into what they  
are not1 or whether1 with me1 he will   
undergo the harder1 but perhaps on the  
whole more useful1 labor of             
ascertaining--,what they are4           
,,footnotes    ,a ,one or two fragments 
of ,greek sculpture1 the works of       

,michael     ,angelo1 considered with   
reference to their general conception   
and     power1 and the ,madonna di ,st4 
,sisto1 are all that ,i should myself   
put into such a category1 not that even 
these are without defect1     but their 
defects are such as mortality could     
never hope to rectify4    ,b ,this      
principle is dangerous1 but not the less
 true1 and     necessary to be kept in  
mind4 ,there is scarcely any truth which
 does     not admit of being wrested to 
purposes of evil1 and we must not deny  
the desirableness of originality1       
because men may err in seeking for      
it1 or because a pretence to it may be  
made1 by presumption1 a cloak     for   
its incompetence4 ,nevertheless1        
originality is never to be     sought   
for its own sake--otherwise it will be  
mere aberration--it     should arise    
naturally out of hard1 independent study
 of nature2 and     it should be        
remembered that in many things          
technical1 it is     impossible to alter

 without being inferior1 for therein1 as
 says     ,spencer1 ,truth is one1 and  
right is ever one2 but wrongs are       
various and multitudinous4 ,vice1 says  
,byron1 in ,marino ,faliero1     must   
have variety2 but ,virtue stands like   
the sun1 and all which     rolls around 
drinks life from her aspect4    ,c ,it  
is with regret that1 in a work of this  
nature1 ,i take notice     of           
criticisms1 which1 after all1 are merely
 intended to amuse the     careless     
reader1 and be forgotten as soon as     
read2 but ,i do so in     compliance    
with wishes expressed to me since the   
publication of this     work1 by persons
 who have the interests of art deeply at
 heart1 and     who1 ,i find1 attach    
more importance to the matter than ,i   
should have     been disposed to do4 ,i 
have1 therefore1 marked two or three    
passages     which may enable the public
 to judge for themselves of the quality 
of these critiques2 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 do4 ,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 him4    ,d ,chrysoprase1 7,vide    
,no4 for ,october1 #ahdc1 p4 #ejb47     
,e ,every school-boy knows that this    
epithet was given to ,poussin in        
allusion to the profound classical      
knowledge of the painter4 ,the          
reviewer1 however1 7,september1 #ahda17 
informs us that the expression          
refers to his skill in ,composition4    
,f ,critique on ,royal ,academy1 #ahdb4 
,he 7,mr4 ,lee7 often reminds     us of 
,gainsborough's best manner2 but he is  
superior to him always     in subject1  
composition1 and variety4--,shade of    
,gainsborough6--deep-thoughted1 solemn  
,gainsborough1--forgive us for          
re-writing this sentence2 we do so to   
gibbet its perpetrator     forever1--and
 leave him swinging in the winds of the 

,fool's     ,paradise4 ,it is with great
 pain that ,i ever speak with severity  
of     the works of living masters1     
especially when1 like ,mr4 ,lee's1 they 
are well-intentioned1 simple1 free from 
affectation or imitation1     and       
evidently painted with constant         
reference to nature4 ,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 guidance1 and
 answer his     efforts with delight2   
and therefore1 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    
admiration4 ,gainsborough's     power of
 color 7it is mentioned by ,sir ,joshua 
as his peculiar gift7     is capable of 
taking rank beside that of ,rubens2 he  
is the purest     colorist--,sir ,joshua
 himself not excepted--of the whole     
,english     school2 with him1 in fact1 

the art of painting did in great part   
die1 and exists not now in ,europe4     
,evidence enough will be seen in     the
 following pages of my devoted          
admiration of ,turner2 but ,i           
hesitate not to say1 that in management 
and quality of single and     particular
 tint1 in the purely technical part of  
painting1 ,turner is     a child of     
,gainsborough4 ,now1 ,mr4 ,lee never    
aims at color2 he does     not make it  
his object in the slightest degree--the 
spring green of     vegetation is all   
that he desires2 and it would be about  
as rational     to compare his works    
with studied pieces of coloring1 as the 
modulation of the ,calabrian pipe to the
 harmony of a full orchestra4           
,gainsborough's hand is as light as the 
sweep of a cloud--as swift as     the   
flash of a sunbeam2 ,lee's execution is 
feeble and spotty4     ,gainsborough's  
masses are as broad as the first        
division in heaven     of light from    
darkness2 ,lee's 7perhaps necessarily1  

considering the     effects of          
flickering sunlight at which he aims7   
are as fragmentary     as his leaves1   
and as numerous4 ,gainsborough's forms  
are grand1     simple1 and ideal2 ,lee's
 are small1 confused1 and unselected4   
,gainsborough never loses sight of his  
picture as a whole2 ,lee is but     too 
apt to be shackled by its parts4 ,in a  
word1 ,gainsborough is an     immortal  
painter2 and ,lee1 though on the right  
road1 is yet in the     early stages of 
his art2 and the man who could imagine  
any     resemblance or point of         
comparison between them1 is not only a  
novice in art1 but has not capacity ever
 to be anything more4 ,he may     be    
pardoned for not comprehending ,turner1 
for long preparation and     discipline 
are necessary before the abstract and   
profound philosophy     of that artist  
can be met2 but ,gainsborough's         
excellence is based on     principles of
 art long acknowledged1 and facts of    
nature universally     apparent2 and ,i 

insist more particularly on the         
reviewer's want of     feeling for his  
works1 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 times1   
are equally incapable of perceiving the 
real excellence of established canons1  
are ignorant of the commonest     and   
most acknowledged principia of the art1 
blind to the most     palpable and      
comprehensible of its beauties1         
incapable of     distinguishing1 if left
 to themselves1 a master's work from the
     vilest school copy1 and founding   
their applause of those great works     
which they praise1 either in pure       
hypocrisy1 or in admiration of     their
 defects4    ,g ,there is a fine touch  
in the ,frogs in ,aristophanes1 alluding
     probably to this part of the       
,agamemnon4 ,greek3 ,ego d' hechairon te
     siope kai me tout' heterpeu ouk    
hettou e nun hoi lalountes4 ,the        
same remark might be well applied to the

 seemingly vacant or                    
incomprehensible portions of ,turner's  
canvas4 ,in their mysterious1     and   
intense fire1 there is much             
correspondence between the mind of      
,aeschylus and that of our great        
painter4 ,they share at least one       
thing in common--unpopularity4 ,greek3  
',ho demos aneboa krisin     poiein1    
,,xa4 o ton panourgon2 ,ai4 ne ,di1     
ouranion g' hoson4 ,,xa4 met'           
,aischylou ho ouk esan heteroi          
symmachoi2 ,,ai4 oligon to chreston     
estin4    ,h ,i do not know any passage 
in ancient literature in which this     
connection is more exquisitely          
illustrated than in the lines1          
burlesque though they be1 descriptive of
 the approach of the chorus     in the  
,clouds of ,aristophanes1--a writer1 by 
the way1 who1 ,i     believe1 knew and  
felt more of the noble landscape        
character of his     country than any   
whose works have come down to us except 
,homer4 ,the     individuality and      

distinctness of conception--the visible 
cloud     character which every word of 
this particular passage brings out      
into more dewy and bright existence1 are
 to me as refreshing as the     real    
breathing of mountain winds4 ,the line  
,greek3 dia ton koilon     kai ton      
daseon1 plagiai1 could have been written
 by none but an     ardent lover of hill
 scenery--one who had watched1 hour     
after hour1     the peculiar oblique1   
sidelong action of descending clouds1 as
 they     form along the hollows and    
ravines of the hills4 ,there are no     
lumpish solidities--no pillowy          
protuberances here4 ,all is melting1    
drifting1 evanescent1--full of air1 and 
light1 and dew4    ,i ,let not this     
principle be confused with ,fuseli's1   
love for what     is called deception in
 painting marks either the infancy or   
decrepitude of a nation's taste4        
,realization to the mind                
necessitates not deception of the eye4  
,j ,i shall show1 in a future portion of

 the work1 that there are     principles
 of universal beauty common to all the  
creatures of ,god2     and that it is by
 the greater or less share of these that
 one form     becomes nobler or meaner  
than another4    ,k ,is not this--it may
 be asked--demanding more from him than 
life     can accomplish8 ,not one whit4 
,nothing more than knowledge of         
external characteristics is absolutely  
required2 and even if1 which     were   
more desirable1 thorough scientific     
knowledge had to be     attained1 the   
time which our artists spend in         
multiplying crude     sketches1 or      
finishing their unintelligent embryos of
 the study1     would render them       
masters of every science that modern    
investigations have organized1 and      
familiar with every form that           
,nature manifests4 ,martin1 if the time 
which he must have spent on     the     
abortive bubbles of his ,canute had been
 passed in working on the     seashore1 
might have learned enough to enable him 

to produce1 with a     few strokes1 a   
picture which would have smote like the 
sound of the     sea1 upon men's hearts 
forever4    ,l         ,a green field is
 a sight which makes us pardon          
,the absence of that more sublime       
construction                ,which mixes
 up vines1 olive1 precipices1           
,glaciers1 volcanoes1 oranges1 and ices4
                                        
,don ,juan4    ,m ,the vegetable soil of
 the ,campagna is chiefly formed by     
decomposed lavas1 and under it lies a   
bed of white pumice1 exactly            
resembling remnants of bones4    ,n ,the
 feelings of ,constable with respect to 
his art might be     almost a model for 
the young student1 were it not that they
 err a     little on the other side1 and
 are perhaps in need of chastening and  
guiding from the works of his           
fellow-men4 ,we should use pictures not 
as authorities1 but as comments on      
nature1 just as we use divines1     not 
as authorities1 but as comments on the  

,bible4 ,constable1 in his     dread of 
saint-worship1 excommunicates himself   
from all benefit of     the ,church1 and
 deprives himself of much instruction   
from the     ,scripture to which he     
holds1 because he will not accept aid in
 the     reading of it from the learning
 of other men4 ,sir ,george ,beaumont1  
on the contrary1 furnishes1 in the      
anecdotes given of him in               
,constable's life1 a melancholy instance
 of the degradation into     which the  
human mind may fall1 when it suffers    
human works to     interfere between it 
and its ,master4 ,the recommending the  
color of     an old ,cremona fiddle for 
the prevailing tone of everything1 and  
the     vapid inquiry of the            
conventionalist1 ,where do you put your 
brown     tree8 show a prostration of   
intellect so laughable and lamentable1  
that they are at once1 on all1 and to   
all1 students of the gallery1     a     
satire and a warning4 ,art so followed  
is the most servile     indolence in    

which life can be wasted4 ,there are    
then two dangerous     extremes to be   
shunned1--forgetfulness of the          
,scripture1 and scorn     of the        
divine--slavery on the one hand1        
free-thinking on the other4     ,the    
mean is nearly as difficult to determine
 or keep in art as in     religion1 but 
the great danger is on the side of      
superstition4 ,he     who walks humbly  
with ,nature will seldom be in danger of
 losing     sight of ,art4 ,he will     
commonly find in all that is truly great
 of     man's works1 something of their 
original1 for which he will regard      
them with gratitude1 and sometimes      
follow them with respect2 while     he  
who takes ,art for his authority may    
entirely lose sight of all     that it  
interprets1 and sink at once into the   
sin of an idolater1     and the         
degradation of a slave4    ,o ,i should 
have insisted more on this fault 7for it
 is a fatal     one7 in the following   
,essay1 but the cause of it rests rather

 with     the public than with the      
artist1 and in the necessities of the   
public as much as in their will4 ,such  
pictures as artists themselves     would
 wish to paint1 could not be executed   
under very high prices2     and it must 
always be easier1 in the present state  
of society1 to     find ten purchasers  
of ten-guinea sketches1 than one        
purchaser for a     hundred-guinea      
picture4 ,still1 ,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 reward4 ,in the     water-color
 exhibition of last year there was a    
noble work of ,david     ,cox's1 ideal  
in the right sense--a forest hollow with
 a few sheep     crushing down through  
its deep fern1 and a solemn opening of  
evening     sky above its dark masses of
 distance4 ,it was worth all his little 
bits on the walls put together4 ,yet the

 public picked up all the     little    
bits--blots and splashes1 ducks1        
chickweed1 ears of corn--all     that   
was clever and petite2 and the real     
picture--the full     development of the
 artist's mind--was left on his hands4  
,how can ,i1     or any one else1 with a
 conscience1 advise him after this to   
aim at     anything more than may be    
struck out by the cleverness of a       
quarter     of an hour4 ,cattermole1 ,i 
believe1 is earthed and shackled in the 
same manner4 ,he began his career with  
finished and studied pictures1          
which1 ,i believe1 never paid him--he   
now prostitutes his fine talent     to  
the superficialness of public taste1 and
 blots his way to     emolument and     
oblivion4 ,there is commonly1 however1  
fault on both     sides2 in the artist  
for exhibiting his dexterity by         
mountebank     tricks of the brush1     
until chaste finish1 requiring ten times
 the     knowledge and labor1 appears   
insipid to the diseased taste which he  

has himself formed in his patrons1 as   
the roaring and ranting of a     common 
actor will oftentimes render apparently 
vapid the finished     touches of       
perfect nature2 and in the public1 for  
taking less real     pains to become    
acquainted with1 and discriminate1 the  
various     powers of a great artist1   
than they would to estimate the         
excellence     of a cook or develop the 
dexterity of a dancer4                  
,,preface ,,to ,,the ,,third ,,edition4 
,it is with much regret1 and partly     
against my own judgment1 that ,i        
republish the following chapters in     
their present form4 ,the particular     
circumstances 7stated in the first      
preface7 under which they were          
originally written1 have rendered them  
so unfit for the position they now hold 
as introductory to a serious examination
 of the general functions of art1 that  
,i should have wished first to complete 
the succeeding portions of the essay1   
and then to write another introduction  

of more fitting character4 ,but as it   
may be long before ,i am able to do     
this1 and as ,i believe what ,i have    
already written may still be of some    
limited and partial service1 ,i have    
suffered it to reappear1 trusting to the
 kindness of the reader to look to its  
intention rather than its temper1 and   
forgive its inconsideration in its      
earnestness4  ,thinking it of too little
 substance to bear mending1 wherever ,i 
have found a passage which ,i thought   
required modification or explanation1 ,i
 have cut it out2 what ,i have left1    
however imperfect1 cannot ,i think be   
dangerously misunderstood3 something ,i 
have added1 not under the idea of       
rendering the work in any wise          
systematic or complete1 but to supply   
gross omissions1 answer inevitable      
objections1 and give some substance to  
passages of mere declamation4  ,whatever
 inadequacy or error there may be1      
throughout1 in materials or modes of    
demonstration1 ,i have no doubt of the  

truth and necessity of the main result2 
and though the reader may1 perhaps1 find
 me frequently hereafter showing other  
and better grounds for what is here     
affirmed1 yet the point and bearing of  
the book1 its determined depreciation of
 ,claude1 ,salvator1 ,gaspar1 and       
,canaletto1 and its equally determined  
support of ,turner as the greatest of   
all landscape painters1 and of ,turner's
 recent works as his finest1 are good   
and right2 and if the prevalence        
throughout of attack and eulogium be    
found irksome or offensive1 let it be   
remembered that my object thus far has  
not been either the establishment or the
 teaching of any principles of art1 but 
the vindication1 most necessary to the  
prosperity of our present schools1 of   
the uncomprehended rank of their        
greatest artist1 and the diminution1    
equally necessary as ,i think to the    
prosperity of our schools1 of the       
unadvised admiration of the landscape of
 the seventeenth century4 ,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 7and that not in art 
alone1 but in all other matters with    
which the contemplative faculties are   
concerned7 from the works of those elder
 men4 ,on the continent all landscape   
art has been utterly annihilated by     
them1 and with it all sense of the power
 of nature4 ,we in ,england have only   
done better because our artists have had
 strength of mind enough to form a      
school withdrawn from their influence4  
,these points are somewhat farther      
developed in the general sketch of      
ancient and modern landscape1 which ,i  
have added to the first section of the  
second part4 ,some important additions  
have also been made to the chapters on  
the painting of sea4 ,throughout the    
rest of the text1 though something is   
withdrawn1 little is changed2 and the   
reader may rest assured that if ,i were 
now to bestow on this feeble essay the  

careful revision which it much needs1   
but little deserves1 it would not be to 
alter its tendencies1 or modify its     
conclusions1 but to prevent indignation 
from appearing virulence on the one     
side1 and enthusiasm partisanship on the
 other4                      ,,preface  
,,to ,,new ,,edition 7#ahgc74  ,i have  
been lately so often asked by friends on
 whose judgment ,i can rely1 to permit  
the publication of another edition of   
,modern ,painters in its original form1 
that ,i have at last yielded1 though    
with some violence to my own feelings2  
for many parts of the first and second  
volumes are written in a narrow         
enthusiasm1 and the substance of their  
metaphysical and religious speculation  
is only justifiable on the ground of its
 absolute honesty4 ,of the third1       
fourth1 and fifth volumes ,i indeed mean
 eventually to rearrange what ,i think  
of permanent interest1 for the complete 
edition of my works1 but with fewer and 
less elaborate illustrations3 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 written1 since of the art-teaching  
and landscape description it contains ,i
 have little to retrench1 and nothing to
 retract4  ,this final edition must1    
however1 be limited to a thousand       
copies1 for some of the more delicate   
plates are already worn1 that of the    
,mill ,stream in the fifth volume1 and  
of the ,loire ,side very injuriously2   
while that of the ,shores of ,wharfe had
 to be retouched by an engraver after   
the removal of the mezzotint for        
reprinting4 ,but ,mr4 ,armytage's1 ,mr4 
,cousen's1 and ,mr4 ,cuff's magnificent 
plates are still in good state1 and my  
own etchings1 though injured1 are still 
good enough to answer their purpose4    
,,synopsis ,,of ,,contents4             
,,part ,i4                     ,,of     
,,general ,,principles4                 
,,section ,i4             ,,of ,,the    
,,nature ,,of ,,the ,,ideas ,,conveyable

 ,,by ,,art4   ,,chapter                
,i4--,introductory4                     
,,page   ,sec4  #a4 ,public opinion no  
criterion of excellence1 except after   
long           periods of time4         
#a   ,sec4  #b4 ,and therefore obstinate
 when once formed4                      
#d   ,sec4  #c4 ,the author's reasons   
for opposing it in particular instances4
    #e   ,sec4  #d4 ,but only on points 
capable of demonstration4               
#e   ,sec4  #e4 ,the author's partiality
 to modern works excusable4             
#f   ,,chapter ,,ii4--,definition of    
,greatness in ,art4    ,sec4  #a4       
,distinction between the painter's      
intellectual power and                  
technical knowledge4                    
#h   ,sec4  #b4 ,painting1 as such1 is  
nothing more than language4             
#h   ,sec4  #c4 ,painter1 a term        
corresponding to versifier4             
#i   ,sec4  #d4 ,example in a painting  
of ,e4 ,landseer's4                     
#i   ,sec4  #e4 ,difficulty of fixing an

 exact limit between language and       
thought4                                
#i   ,sec4  #f4 ,distinction between    
decorative and expressive language4     
#aj   ,sec4  #g4 ,instance in the ,dutch
 and early ,italian schools4            
#aj   ,sec4  #h4 ,yet there are certain 
ideas belonging to language itself4     
#aa   ,sec4  #i4 ,the definition4       
#ab   ,,chapter ,,iii4--,of ,ideas of   
,power4    ,sec4  #a4 ,what classes of  
ideas are conveyable by art4            
#ac   ,sec4  #b4 ,ideas of power vary   
much in relative dignity4               
#ac   ,sec4  #c4 ,but are received from 
whatever has been the subject of        
power4 ,the meaning of the word         
excellence4                  #ad   ,sec4
  #d4 ,what is necessary to the         
distinguishing of excellence4           
#ae   ,sec4  #e4 ,the pleasure attendant
 on conquering difficulties is right4   
#af   ,,chapter ,,iv4--,of ,ideas of    
,imitation4    ,sec4  #a4 ,false use of 
the term imitation by many writers on   

art4       #ag   ,sec4  #b4 ,real       
meaning of the term4                    
#ah   ,sec4  #c4 ,what is requisite to  
the sense of imitation4                 
#ah   ,sec4  #d4 ,the pleasure resulting
 from imitation the most contemptible   
that can be derived from art4           
#ai   ,sec4  #e4 ,imitation is only of  
contemptible subjects4                  
#ai   ,sec4  #f4 ,imitation is          
contemptible because it is easy4        
#bj   ,sec4  #g4 ,recapitulation4       
#bj   ,,chapter ,v4--,of ,ideas of      
,truth4    ,sec4  #a4 ,meaning of the   
word truth as applied to art4           
#ba   ,sec4  #b4 ,first difference      
between truth and imitation4            
#ba   ,sec4  #c4 ,second difference4    
#ba   ,sec4  #d4 ,third difference4     
#bb   ,sec4  #e4 ,no accurate truths    
necessary to imitation4                 
#bb   ,sec4  #f4 ,ideas of truth are    
inconsistent with ideas of imitation4   
#bd   ,,chapter ,,vi4--,of ,ideas of    
,beauty4    ,sec4  #a4 ,definition of   

the term beautiful4                     
#bf   ,sec4  #b4 ,definition of the term
 taste4                                 
#bf   ,sec4  #c4 ,distinction between   
taste and judgment4                     
#bg   ,sec4  #d4 ,how far beauty may    
become intellectual4                    
#bg   ,sec4  #e4 ,the high rank and     
function of ideas of beauty4            
#bh   ,sec4  #f4 ,meaning of the term   
ideal beauty4                           
#bh   ,,chapter ,,vii4--,of ,ideas of   
,relation4    ,sec4  #a4 ,general       
meaning of the term4                    
#bi   ,sec4  #b4 ,what ideas are to be  
comprehended under it4                  
#bi   ,sec4  #c4 ,the exceeding nobility
 of these ideas4                        
#cj   ,sec4  #d4 ,why no subdivision of 
so extensive a class is necessary4      
#ca                                     
,,section ,,ii4                         
,,of ,,power4   ,,chapter ,i4--,general 
,principles respecting ,ideas of ,power4
    ,sec4  #a4 ,no necessity for        

detailed study of ideas of imitation4   
#cb   ,sec4  #b4 ,nor for separate study
 of ideas of power4                     
#cb   ,sec4  #c4 ,except under one      
particular form4                        
#cc   ,sec4  #d4 ,there are two modes of
 receiving ideas of power1 commonly     
inconsistent4                           
#cc   ,sec4  #e4 ,first reason of the   
inconsistency4                          
#cc   ,sec4  #f4 ,second reason for the 
inconsistency4                          
#cd   ,sec4  #g4 ,the sensation of power
 ought not to be sought in imperfect    
art4 #cd   ,sec4  #h4 ,instances in     
pictures of modern artists4             
#ce   ,sec4  #i4 ,connection between    
ideas of power and modes of execution4  
#ce   ,,chapter ,,ii4--,of ,ideas of    
,power1 as they are dependent upon      
,execution4    ,sec4  #a4 ,meaning of   
the term execution4                     
#cf   ,sec4  #b4 ,the first quality of  
execution is truth4                     
#cf   ,sec4  #c4 ,the second1           

simplicity4                             
#cf   ,sec4  #d4 ,the third1 mystery4   
#cg   ,sec4  #e4 ,the fourth1           
inadequacy2 and the fifth1 decision4    
#cg   ,sec4  #f4 ,the sixth1 velocity4  
#cg   ,sec4  #g4 ,strangeness an        
illegitimate source of pleasure in      
execution4    #cg   ,sec4  #h4 ,yet even
 the legitimate sources of pleasure in  
execution are           inconsistent    
with each other4                        
#ch   ,sec4  #i4 ,and fondness for ideas
 of power leads to the adoption of the  
lowest4                                 
#ci   ,sec4 #aj4 ,therefore perilous4   
#dj   ,sec4 #aa4 ,recapitulation4       
#dj   ,,chapter ,,iii4--,of the         
,sublime4    ,sec4  #a4 ,sublimity is   
the effect upon the mind of anything    
above it4     #da   ,sec4  #b4 ,burke's 
theory of the nature of the sublime     
incorrect1 and why4 #da   ,sec4  #c4    
,danger is sublime1 but not the fear of 
it4                      #db   ,sec4    
#d4 ,the highest beauty is sublime4     

#db   ,sec4  #e4 ,and generally whatever
 elevates the mind4                     
#db   ,sec4  #f4 ,the former division of
 the subject is therefore sufficient4   
#db                                     
,,part ,,ii4                            
,,of ,,truth4                           
,,section ,i4                  ,,general
 ,,principles ,,respecting ,,ideas ,,of 
,,truth4   ,,chapter ,i4--,of ,ideas of 
,truth in their connection with those of
             ,beauty and ,relation4     
,sec4  #a4 ,the two great ends of       
landscape painting are the              
representation           of facts and   
thoughts4                               
#dd   ,sec4  #b4 ,they induce a         
different choice of material subjects4  
#de   ,sec4  #c4 ,the first mode of     
selection apt to produce sameness and   
repetition4                             
#de   ,sec4  #d4 ,the second            
necessitating variety4                  
#de   ,sec4  #e4 ,yet the first is      
delightful to all4                      

#df   ,sec4  #f4 ,the second only to a  
few4                                    
#df   ,sec4  #g4 ,the first necessary to
 the second4                            
#dg   ,sec4  #h4 ,the exceeding         
importance of truth4                    
#dh   ,sec4  #i4 ,coldness or want of   
beauty no sign of truth4                
#dh   ,sec4 #aj4 ,how truth may be      
considered a just criterion of all art4 
#dh   ,,chapter ,,ii4--,that the ,truth 
of ,nature is not to be discerned by the
             ,uneducated ,senses4       
,sec4  #a4 ,the common self-deception of
 men with respect to their              
power of discerning truth4              
#ej   ,sec4  #b4 ,men usually see little
 of what is before their eyes4          
#ea   ,sec4  #c4 ,but more or less in   
proportion to their natural sensibility 
to           what is beautiful4         
#eb   ,sec4  #d4 ,connected with a      
perfect state of moral feeling4         
#eb   ,sec4  #e4 ,and of the            
intellectual powers4                    

#ec   ,sec4  #f4 ,how sight depends upon
 previous knowledge4                    
#ed   ,sec4  #g4 ,the difficulty        
increased by the variety of truths in   
nature4    #ee   ,sec4  #h4 ,we         
recognize objects by their least        
important attributes4           ,compare
 ,part ,i4 ,sect4 ,i4 ,chap4 #d4        
#ee   ,,chapter ,,iii4--,of the         
,relative ,importance of                
,truths3--,first1 that                  
,particular ,truths are more important  
than ,general ,ones4    ,sec4  #a4      
,necessity of determining the relative  
importance of truths4     #eh   ,sec4   
#b4 ,misapplication of the aphorism3    
,general truths are more                
important than particular ones4         
#eh   ,sec4  #c4 ,falseness of this     
maxim1 taken without explanation4       
#ei   ,sec4  #d4 ,generality important  
in the subject1 particularity in the    
predicate4                              
#ei   ,sec4  #e4 ,the importance of     
truths of species is not owing to their 

generality4                             
#fj   ,sec4  #f4 ,all truths valuable as
 they are characteristic4               
#fa   ,sec4  #g4 ,otherwise truths of   
species are valuable1 because beautiful4
    #fa   ,sec4  #h4 ,and many truths1  
valuable if separate1 may be            
objectionable           in connection   
with others4                            
#fb   ,sec4  #i4 ,recapitulation4       
#fc   ,,chapter ,,iv4--,of the ,relative
 ,importance of ,truths3--,secondly1    
that             ,rare ,truths are more 
important than ,frequent ,ones4    ,sec4
  #a4 ,no accidental violation of       
nature's principles should be           
represented4                            
#fd   ,sec4  #b4 ,but the cases in which
 those principles have been strikingly  
exemplified4                            
#fe   ,sec4  #c4 ,which are             
comparatively rare4                     
#fe   ,sec4  #d4 ,all repetition is     
blamable4                               
#fe   ,sec4  #e4 ,the duty of the       

painter is the same as that of a        
preacher4      #ff   ,,chapter ,v4--,of 
the ,relative ,importance of            
,truths3--,thirdly1 that                
,truths of ,color are the least         
important of all ,truths4    ,sec4  #a4 
,difference between primary and         
secondary qualities in bodies4   #fg    
,sec4  #b4 ,the first are fully         
characteristic1 the second imperfectly  
so4  #fg   ,sec4  #c4 ,color is a       
secondary quality1 therefore less       
important than           form4          
#fh   ,sec4  #d4 ,color no distinction  
between objects of the same species4    
#fh   ,sec4  #e4 ,and different in      
association from what it is alone4      
#fi   ,sec4  #f4 ,it is not certain     
whether any two people see the same     
colors           in things4             
#fi   ,sec4  #g4 ,form1 considered as an
 element of landscape1 includes light   
and shade4                              
#fi   ,sec4  #h4 ,importance of light   
and shade in expressing the character of

           bodies1 and unimportance of  
color4                            #gj   
,sec4  #i4 ,recapitulation4             
#ga   ,,chapter ,,vi4--,recapitulation4 
,sec4  #a4 ,the importance of historical
 truths4                            #gb 
,sec4  #b4 ,form1 as explained by light 
and shade1 the first of all truths4     
,tone1 light1 and color1 are secondary4 
#gb   ,sec4  #c4 ,and deceptive         
chiaroscuro the lowest of all4          
#gc   ,,chapter ,,vii4--,general        
,application of the ,foregoing          
,principles4    ,sec4  #a4 ,the         
different selection of facts consequent 
on the several aims           at        
imitation or at truth4                  
#gd   ,sec4  #b4 ,the old masters1 as a 
body1 aim only at imitation4            
#gd   ,sec4  #c4 ,what truths they gave4
                                        
#ge   ,sec4  #d4 ,the principles of     
selection adopted by modern artists4    
#gf   ,sec4  #e4 ,general feeling of    
,claude1 ,salvator1 and ,g4 ,poussin1   

contrasted           with the freedom   
and vastness of nature4                 
#gg   ,sec4  #f4 ,inadequacy of the     
landscape of ,titian and ,tintoret4     
#gh   ,sec4  #g4 ,causes of its want of 
influence on subsequent schools4        
#gi   ,sec4  #h4 ,the value of inferior 
works of art1 how to be estimated4      
#hj   ,sec4  #i4 ,religious landscape of
 ,italy4 ,the admirableness of its      
completion4                             
#ha   ,sec4 #aj4 ,finish1 and the want  
of it1 how right--and how wrong4        
#hb   ,sec4 #aa4 ,the open skies of the 
religious schools1 how valuable4        
,mountain           drawing of          
,masaccio4 ,landscape of the ,bellinis  
and ,giorgione4 #hd   ,sec4 #ab4        
,landscape of ,titian and ,tintoret4    
#hf   ,sec4 #ac4 ,schools of ,florence1 
,milan1 and ,bologna4                   
#hh   ,sec4 #ad4 ,claude1 ,salvator1 and
 the ,poussins4                         
#hi   ,sec4 #ae4 ,german and ,flemish   
landscape4                              

#ij   ,sec4 #af4 ,the lower ,dutch      
schools4                                
#ib   ,sec4 #ag4 ,english school1       
,wilson and ,gainsborough4              
#ic   ,sec4 #ah4 ,constable1 ,callcott4 
#id   ,sec4 #ai4 ,peculiar tendency of  
recent landscape4                       
#ie   ,sec4 #bj4 ,g4 ,robson1 ,d4 ,cox4 
,false use of the term style4           
#ie   ,sec4 #ba4 ,copley ,fielding4     
,phenomena of distant color4            
#ig   ,sec4 #bb4 ,beauty of mountain    
foreground4                             
#ii   ,sec4 #bc4 ,de ,wint4             
#aja   ,sec4 #bd4 ,influence of         
,engraving4 ,j4 ,d4 ,harding4           
#aja   ,sec4 #be4 ,samuel ,prout4 ,early
 painting of architecture1 how          
deficient4   #ajc   ,sec4 #bf4 ,effects 
of age upon buildings1 how far          
desirable4              #ajd   ,sec4    
#bg4 ,effects of light1 how necessary to
 the understanding of           detail4 
#ajf   ,sec4 #bh4 ,architectural        
painting of ,gentile ,bellini and       

,vittor           ,carpaccio4           
#ajg   ,sec4 #bi4 ,and of the ,venetians
 generally4                             
#aji   ,sec4 #cj4 ,fresco painting of   
the ,venetian exteriors4 ,canaletto4    
#aaj   ,sec4 #ca4 ,expression of the    
effects of age on ,architecture by ,s4  
,prout4  #aab   ,sec4 #cb4 ,his         
excellent composition and color4        
#aad   ,sec4 #cc4 ,modern architectural 
painting generally4 ,g4 ,cattermole4    
#aae   ,sec4 #cd4 ,the evil in an       
archaeological point of view of         
misapplied           invention1 in      
architectural subject4                  
#aag   ,sec4 #ce4 ,works of ,david      
,roberts3 their fidelity and grace4     
#aah   ,sec4 #cf4 ,clarkson ,stanfield4 
#aba   ,sec4 #cg4 ,j4 ,m4 ,w4 ,turner4  
,force of national feeling in all great 
painters4                               
#abc   ,sec4 #ch4 ,influence of this    
feeling on the choice of ,landscape     
subject4  #abe   ,sec4 #ci4 ,its        
peculiar manifestation in ,turner4      

#abe   ,sec4 #dj4 ,the domestic subjects
 of the ,liber ,studiorum4              
#abg   ,sec4 #da4 ,turner's painting of 
,french and ,swiss landscape4 ,the      
latter           deficient4             
#abi   ,sec4 #db4 ,his rendering of     
,italian character still less           
successful4 ,his           large        
compositions how failing                
#acj   ,sec4 #dc4 ,his views of ,italy  
destroyed by brilliancy and redundant   
quantity4                               
#acc   ,sec4 #dd4 ,changes introduced by
 him in the received system of art4     
#acc   ,sec4 #de4 ,difficulties of his  
later manner4 ,resultant deficiencies4  
#acd   ,sec4 #df4 ,reflection of his    
very recent works4                      
#acg   ,sec4 #dg4 ,difficulty of        
demonstration in such subjects4         
#aci                                    
,,section ,,ii4                         
,,of ,,general ,,truths4   ,,chapter    
,i4--,of ,truth of ,tone4    ,sec4  #a4 
,meanings of the word tone3--,first1 the

 right relation of           objects in 
shadow to the principal light4          
#adj   ,sec4  #b4 ,secondly1 the quality
 of color by which it is felt to owe    
part           of its brightness to the 
hue of light upon it4               #adj
   ,sec4  #c4 ,difference between tone  
in its first sense and aerial           
perspective4                            
#ada   ,sec4  #d4 ,the pictures of the  
old masters perfect in relation of      
middle           tints to light4        
#ada   ,sec4  #e4 ,and consequently     
totally false in relation of middle     
tints to           darkness4            
#ada   ,sec4  #f4 ,general falsehood of 
such a system4                          
#adc   ,sec4  #g4 ,the principle of     
,turner in this respect4                
#adc   ,sec4  #h4 ,comparison of ,n4    
,poussin's ,phocion4                    
#add   ,sec4  #i4 ,with ,turner's       
,mercury and ,argus4                    
#ade   ,sec4 #aj4 ,and with the ,datur  
,hora ,quieti4                          

#ade   ,sec4 #aa4 ,the second sense of  
the word tone4                          
#adf   ,sec4 #ab4 ,remarkable difference
 in this respect between the paintings  
and drawings of ,turner4                
#adf   ,sec4 #ac4 ,not owing to want of 
power over the material                 
#adf   ,sec4 #ad4 ,the two distinct     
qualities of light to be considered     
#adg   ,sec4 #ae4 ,falsehoods by which  
,titian attains the appearance of       
quality           in light4             
#adh   ,sec4 #af4 ,turner will not use  
such means4                             
#adh   ,sec4 #ag4 ,but gains in         
essential truth by the sacrifice4       
#adh   ,sec4 #ah4 ,the second quality of
 light4                                 
#adh   ,sec4 #ai4 ,the perfection of    
,cuyp in this respect interfered with by
           numerous solecisms4          
#aej   ,sec4 #bj4 ,turner is not so     
perfect in parts--far more so in the    
whole4   #aea   ,sec4 #ba4 ,the power in
 ,turner of uniting a number of tones4  

#aeb   ,sec4 #bb4 ,recapitulation4      
#aec   ,,chapter ,,ii4--,of ,truth of   
,color4    ,sec4  #a4 ,observations on  
the color of ,g4 ,poussin's ,la ,riccia4
           #aee   ,sec4  #b4 ,as        
compared with the actual scene4         
#aee   ,sec4  #c4 ,turner himself is    
inferior in brilliancy to nature4       
#aeg   ,sec4  #d4 ,impossible colors of 
,salvator1 ,titian4                     
#aeg   ,sec4  #e4 ,poussin1 and ,claude4
                                        
#aeh   ,sec4  #f4 ,turner's translation 
of colors4                              
#afj   ,sec4  #g4 ,notice of effects in 
which no brilliancy of art can even     
approach that of reality4               
#afa   ,sec4  #h4 ,reasons for the usual
 incredulity of the observer with       
respect           to their              
representation                          
#afb   ,sec4  #i4 ,color of the         
,napoleon4                              
#afc   ,sec4 #aj4 ,necessary discrepancy
 between the attainable brilliancy of   

color and light4                        
#afd   ,sec4 #aa4 ,this discrepancy less
 in ,turner than in other colorists4    
#afe   ,sec4 #ab4 ,its great extent in a
 landscape attributed to ,rubens4       
#afe   ,sec4 #ac4 ,turner scarcely ever 
uses pure or vivid color4               
#aff   ,sec4 #ad4 ,the basis of gray1   
under all his vivid hues4               
#afg   ,sec4 #ae4 ,the variety and      
fulness even of his most simple tones4  
#afh   ,sec4 #af4 ,following the        
infinite and unapproachable variety of  
nature4   #afh   ,sec4 #ag4 ,his dislike
 of purple1 and fondness for the        
opposition of           yellow and      
black4 ,the principles of nature in this
 respect4  #afi   ,sec4 #ah4 ,his early 
works are false in color4               
#agj   ,sec4 #ai4 ,his drawings         
invariably perfect4                     
#aga   ,sec4 #bj4 ,the subjection of his
 system of color to that of chiaroscuro4
  #aga   ,,chapter ,,iii4--,of ,truth of
 ,chiaroscuro4    ,sec4  #a4 ,we are not

 at present to examine particular       
effects of light4  #agd   ,sec4  #b4    
,and therefore the distinctness of      
shadows is the chief means           of 
expressing vividness of light4          
#age   ,sec4  #c4 ,total absence of such
 distinctness in the works of the       
,italian           school4              
#age   ,sec4  #d4 ,and partial absence  
in the ,dutch4                          
#agf   ,sec4  #e4 ,the perfection of    
,turner's works in this respect4        
#agg   ,sec4  #f4 ,the effect of his    
shadows upon the light4                 
#agh   ,sec4  #g4 ,the distinction holds
 good between almost all the works of   
the           ancient and modern        
schools4                                
#agi   ,sec4  #h4 ,second great         
principle of chiaroscuro4 ,both high    
light and           deep shadow are used
 in equal quantity1 and only in points4 
#ahj   ,sec4  #i4 ,neglect or           
contradiction of this principle by      
writers on art4  #ahj   ,sec4 #aj4 ,and 

consequent misguiding of the student4   
#aha   ,sec4 #aa4 ,the great value of a 
simple chiaroscuro4                     
#ahb   ,sec4 #ab4 ,the sharp separation 
of nature's lights from her middle tint4
  #ahb   ,sec4 #ac4 ,the truth of       
,turner4                                
#ahc   ,,chapter ,,iv4--,of ,truth of   
,space3--,first1 as ,dependent on the   
,focus of              the ,eye4        
,sec4  #a4 ,space is more clearly       
indicated by the drawing of objects than
           by their hue4                
#ahe   ,sec4  #b4 ,it is impossible to  
see objects at unequal distances        
distinctly at one moment4               
#ahf   ,sec4  #c4 ,especially such as   
are both comparatively near4            
#ahf   ,sec4  #d4 ,in painting1         
therefore1 either the foreground or     
distance must           be partially    
sacrificed4                             
#ahg   ,sec4  #e4 ,which not being done 
by the old masters1 they could not      
express space4                          

#ahg   ,sec4  #f4 ,but modern artists   
have succeeded in fully carrying out    
this           principle4               
#ahh   ,sec4  #g4 ,especially of        
,turner4                                
#ahi   ,sec4  #h4 ,justification of the 
want of drawing in ,turner's figures4   
#ahi   ,,chapter ,v4--,of ,truth of     
,space3--,secondly1 as its ,appearance  
is             dependent on the ,power  
of the ,eye4    ,sec4  #a4 ,the peculiar
 indistinctness dependent on the        
retirement of           objects from the
 eye4                                   
#aia   ,sec4  #b4 ,causes confusion1 but
 not annihilation of details4           
#aia   ,sec4  #c4 ,instances in various 
objects4                                
#aib   ,sec4  #d4 ,two great resultant  
truths2 that nature is never distinct1  
and never vacant4                       
#aic   ,sec4  #e4 ,complete violation of
 both these principles by the old       
masters4 ,they are either distinct or   
vacant4                 #aic   ,sec4    

#f4 ,instances from ,nicholas ,poussin4 
#aid   ,sec4  #g4 ,from ,claude4        
#aid   ,sec4  #h4 ,and ,g4 ,poussin4    
#aie   ,sec4  #i4 ,the imperative       
necessity1 in landscape painting1 of    
fulness           and finish4           
#aif   ,sec4 #aj4 ,breadth is not       
vacancy4                                
#aig   ,sec4 #aa4 ,the fulness and      
mystery of ,turner's distances4         
#aih   ,sec4 #ab4 ,farther illustrations
 in architectural drawing4              
#aii   ,sec4 #ac4 ,in near objects as   
well as distances4                      
#aii   ,sec4 #ad4 ,vacancy and falsehood
 of ,canaletto4                         
#bjj   ,sec4 #ae4 ,still greater fulness
 and finish in landscape foregrounds4   
#bjj   ,sec4 #af4 ,space and size are   
destroyed alike by distinctness and by  
vacancy4                                
#bjb   ,sec4 #ag4 ,swift execution best 
secures perfection of details4          
#bjb   ,sec4 #ah4 ,finish is far more   
necessary in landscape than in          

historical           subjects4          
#bjb   ,sec4 #ai4 ,recapitulation of the
 section4                               
#bjc                                    
,,section ,,iii4                        
,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,skies4   ,,chapter  
,i4--,of the ,open ,sky4    ,sec4  #a4  
,the peculiar adaptation of the sky to  
the pleasing and           teaching of  
man4                                    
#bjd   ,sec4  #b4 ,the carelessness with
 which its lessons are received4        
#bje   ,sec4  #c4 ,the most essential of
 these lessons are the gentlest4        
#bje   ,sec4  #d4 ,many of our ideas of 
sky altogether conventional4            
#bje   ,sec4  #e4 ,nature1 and essential
 qualities of the open blue4            
#bjf   ,sec4  #f4 ,its connection with  
clouds4                                 
#bjg   ,sec4  #g4 ,its exceeding depth4 
#bjg   ,sec4  #h4 ,these qualities are  
especially given by modern masters4     
#bjg   ,sec4  #i4 ,and by ,claude4      
#bjh   ,sec4 #aj4 ,total absence of them

 in ,poussin4 ,physical errors in his   
general treatment of open sky4          
#bjh   ,sec4 #aa4 ,errors of ,cuyp in   
graduation of color4                    
#bji   ,sec4 #ab4 ,the exceeding value  
of the skies of the early ,italian and  
,dutch schools4 ,their qualities are    
unattainable in modern           times4 
#baj   ,sec4 #ac4 ,phenomena of visible 
sunbeams4 ,their nature and cause4      
#baa   ,sec4 #ad4 ,they are only        
illuminated mist1 and cannot appear when
 the sky           is free from vapor1  
nor when it is without clouds4          
#baa   ,sec4 #ae4 ,erroneous tendency in
 the representation of such phenomena by
           the old masters4             
#bab   ,sec4 #af4 ,the ray which appears
 in the dazzled eye should not be       
represented4                            
#bac   ,sec4 #ag4 ,the practice of      
,turner4 ,his keen perception of the    
more           delicate phenomena of    
rays4                                   
#bac   ,sec4 #ah4 ,the total absence of 

any evidence of such perception in the  
works of the old masters4               
#bac   ,sec4 #ai4 ,truth of the skies of
 modern drawings4                       
#bad   ,sec4 #bj4 ,recapitulation4 ,the 
best skies of the ancients are1 in      
quality1 inimitable1 but in rendering of
 various truth1           childish4     
#bae   ,,chapter ,,ii4--,of ,truth of   
,clouds3--,first1 of the ,region of the 
,cirrus4    ,sec4  #a4 ,difficulty of   
ascertaining wherein the truth of clouds
           consists4                    
#baf   ,sec4  #b4 ,variation of their   
character at different elevations4 ,the 
three regions to which they may         
conveniently be considered           as 
belonging4                              
#baf   ,sec4  #c4 ,extent of the upper  
region4                                 
#bag   ,sec4  #d4 ,the symmetrical      
arrangement of its clouds4              
#bag   ,sec4  #e4 ,their exceeding      
delicacy4                               
#bah   ,sec4  #f4 ,their number4        

#bah   ,sec4  #g4 ,causes of their      
peculiarly delicate coloring4           
#bai   ,sec4  #h4 ,their variety of     
form4                                   
#bai   ,sec4  #i4 ,total absence of even
 the slightest effort at their          
representation1 in ancient landscape4   
#bbj   ,sec4 #aj4 ,the intense and      
constant study of them by ,turner4      
#bba   ,sec4 #aa4 ,his vignette1        
,sunrise on the ,sea4                   
#bbb   ,sec4 #ab4 ,his use of the cirrus
 in expressing mist4                    
#bbc   ,sec4 #ac4 ,his consistency in   
every minor feature4                    
#bbd   ,sec4 #ad4 ,the color of the     
upper clouds4                           
#bbd   ,sec4 #ae4 ,recapitulation4      
#bbe   ,,chapter ,,iii4--,of  ,truth of 
,clouds3--,secondly1 of the ,central    
,cloud               ,region4    ,sec4  
#a4 ,extent and typical character of the
 central cloud region4      #bbf   ,sec4
  #b4 ,its characteristic clouds1       
requiring no attention nor thought      

for their representation1 are therefore 
favorite subjects           with the old
 masters4                               
#bbf   ,sec4  #c4 ,the clouds of        
,salvator and ,poussin4                 
#bbg   ,sec4  #d4 ,their essential      
characters4                             
#bbg   ,sec4  #e4 ,their angular forms  
and general decision of outline4        
#bbh   ,sec4  #f4 ,the composition of   
their minor curves4                     
#bbi   ,sec4  #g4 ,their characters1 as 
given by ,s4 ,rosa4                     
#bcj   ,sec4  #h4 ,monotony and         
falsehood of the clouds of the ,italian 
school           generally4             
#bcj   ,sec4  #i4 ,vast size of         
congregated masses of cloud4            
#bca   ,sec4 #aj4 ,demonstrable by      
comparison with mountain ranges4        
#bca   ,sec4 #aa4 ,and consequent       
divisions and varieties of feature4     
#bcb   ,sec4 #ab4 ,not lightly to be    
omitted4                                
#bcb   ,sec4 #ac4 ,imperfect conceptions

 of this size and extent in ancient     
landscape4                              
#bcc   ,sec4 #ad4 ,total want of        
transparency and evanescence in the     
clouds of           ancient landscape4  
#bcd   ,sec4 #ae4 ,farther proof of     
their deficiency in space4              
#bce   ,sec4 #af4 ,instance of perfect  
truth in the sky of ,turner's ,babylon4 
#bcf   ,sec4 #ag4 ,and in his ,pools of 
,solomon4                               
#bcg   ,sec4 #ah4 ,truths of outline and
 character in his ,como4                
#bcg   ,sec4 #ai4 ,association of the   
cirrostratus with the cumulus4          
#bch   ,sec4 #bj4 ,the deep-based       
knowledge of the ,alps in ,turner's     
,lake of           ,geneva4             
#bch   ,sec4 #ba4 ,farther principles of
 cloud form exemplified in his ,amalfi4 
#bci   ,sec4 #bb4 ,reasons for insisting
 on the infinity of ,turner's works4    
,infinity is almost an unerring test of 
all truth4          #bci   ,sec4 #bc4   
,instances of the total want of it in   

the works of ,salvator4    #bdj   ,sec4 
#bd4 ,and of the universal presence of  
it in those of ,turner4 ,the            
conclusions which may be arrived at from
 it4                 #bdj   ,sec4 #be4  
,the multiplication of objects1 or      
increase of their size1 will            
not give the impression of infinity1 but
 is the resource of           novices4  
#bda   ,sec4 #bf4 ,farther instances of 
infinity in the gray skies of ,turner4  
#bdb   ,sec4 #bg4 ,the excellence of the
 cloud-drawing of ,stanfield4           
#bdb   ,sec4 #bh4 ,the average standing 
of the ,english school4                 
#bdc   ,,chapter ,,iv4--,of ,truth of   
,clouds3--,thirdly1 of the ,region of   
the              ,rain-,cloud4    ,sec4 
#a4 ,the apparent difference in         
character between the lower and         
central clouds is dependent chiefly on  
proximity4            #bdd   ,sec4  #b4 
,their marked differences in color4     
#bdd   ,sec4  #c4 ,and in definiteness  
of form4                                

#bde   ,sec4  #d4 ,they are subject to  
precisely the same great laws4          
#bde   ,sec4  #e4 ,value1 to the        
painter1 of the rain-cloud4             
#bdf   ,sec4  #f4 ,the old masters have 
not left a single instance of the       
painting of the rain-cloud1 and very few
 efforts at it4           ,gaspar       
,poussin's storms4                      
#bdg   ,sec4  #g4 ,the great power of   
the moderns in this respect4            
#bdh   ,sec4  #h4 ,works of ,copley     
,fielding4                              
#bdh   ,sec4  #i4 ,his peculiar truth4  
#bdh   ,sec4 #aj4 ,his weakness1 and its
 probable cause4                        
#bdi   ,sec4 #aa4 ,impossibility of     
reasoning on the rain-clouds of ,turner 
from           engravings4              
#bej   ,sec4 #ab4 ,his rendering of     
,fielding's particular moment in the    
,jumieges4 #bej   ,sec4 #ac4            
,illustration of the nature of clouds in
 the opposed forms of           smoke   
and steam4                              

#bej   ,sec4 #ad4 ,moment of retiring   
rain in the ,llanthony4                 
#bea   ,sec4 #ae4 ,and of commencing1   
chosen with peculiar meaning for ,loch  
,coriskin4                              
#beb   ,sec4 #af4 ,the drawing of       
transparent vapor in the ,land's ,end4  
#bec   ,sec4 #ag4 ,the individual       
character of its parts4                 
#bec   ,sec4 #ah4 ,deep-studied form of 
swift rain-cloud in the ,coventry4      
#bed   ,sec4 #ai4 ,compared with forms  
given by ,salvator4                     
#bed   ,sec4 #bj4 ,entire expression of 
tempest by minute touches and           
circumstances in the ,coventry4         
#bee   ,sec4 #ba4 ,especially by        
contrast with a passage of extreme      
repose4       #bee   ,sec4 #bb4 ,the    
truth of this particular passage4       
,perfectly pure blue sky           only 
seen after rain1 and how seen4          
#bef   ,sec4 #bc4 ,absence of this      
effect in the works of the old masters4 
#bef   ,sec4 #bd4 ,success of our       

water-color artists in its rendering4   
,use of it           by ,turner4        
#beg   ,sec4 #be4 ,expression of near   
rain-cloud in the ,gosport1 and other   
works4 #beg   ,sec4 #bf4 ,contrasted    
with ,gaspar ,poussin's rain-cloud in   
the ,dido and           ,aeneas4        
#beh   ,sec4 #bg4 ,turner's power of    
rendering mist4                         
#beh   ,sec4 #bh4 ,his effects of mist  
so perfect1 that if not at once         
understood1 they can no more be         
explained or reasoned on           than 
nature herself4                         
#bei   ,sec4 #bi4 ,various instances4   
#bei   ,sec4 #cj4 ,turner's more violent
 effects of tempest are never rendered  
by engravers4                           
#bfj   ,sec4 #ca4 ,general system of    
landscape engraving4                    
#bfj   ,sec4 #cb4 ,the storm in the     
,stonehenge4                            
#bfj   ,sec4 #cc4 ,general character of 
such effects as given by ,turner4 ,his  
expression of falling rain4             

#bfa   ,sec4 #cd4 ,recapitulation of the
 section4                               
#bfa   ,sec4 #ce4 ,sketch of a few of   
the skies of nature1 taken as a whole1  
compared with the works of ,turner and  
of the old masters4           ,morning  
on the plains4                          
#bfb   ,sec4 #cf4 ,noon with gathering  
storms4                                 
#bfc   ,sec4 #cg4 ,sunset in tempest4   
,serene midnight4                       
#bfd   ,sec4 #ch4 ,and sunrise on the   
,alps4                                  
#bfd   ,,chapter ,v4--,effects of ,light
 rendered by ,modern ,art4    ,sec4  #a4
 ,reasons for merely1 at present1       
naming1 without examining the           
particular effects of light rendered by 
,turner4              #bff   ,sec4  #b4 
,hopes of the author for assistance in  
the future investigation           of   
them4                                   
#bff                                    
,,section ,,iv4                         
,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,earth4   ,,chapter  

,i4--,of ,general ,structure4    ,sec4  
#a4 ,first laws of the organization of  
the earth1 and their                    
importance in art4                      
#bgj   ,sec4  #b4 ,the slight attention 
ordinarily paid to them4 ,their careful 
study by modern artists4                
#bga   ,sec4  #c4 ,general structure of 
the earth4 ,the hills are its action1   
the           plains its rest4          
#bga   ,sec4  #d4 ,mountains come out   
from underneath the plains1 and are     
their           support4                
#bgb   ,sec4  #e4 ,structure of the     
plains themselves4 ,their perfect level1
 when           deposited by quiet      
water4                                  
#bgc   ,sec4  #f4 ,illustrated by       
,turner's ,marengo4                     
#bgc   ,sec4  #g4 ,general divisions of 
formation resulting from this           
arrangement4 ,plan of investigation4    
#bgd   ,,chapter ,,ii4--,of the ,central
 ,mountains4    ,sec4  #a4 ,similar     
character of the central peaks in all   

parts of the           world4           
#bge   ,sec4  #b4 ,their arrangements in
 pyramids or wedges1 divided by vertical
           fissures4                    
#bge   ,sec4  #c4 ,causing groups of    
rock resembling an artichoke or rose4   
#bgf   ,sec4  #d4 ,the faithful         
statement of these facts by ,turner in  
his ,alps           at ,daybreak4       
#bgf   ,sec4  #e4 ,vignette of the      
,andes and others4                      
#bgg   ,sec4  #f4 ,necessary distance1  
and consequent aerial effect on all such
           mountains4                   
#bgg   ,sec4  #g4 ,total want of any    
rendering of their phenomena in ancient 
art4 #bgh   ,sec4  #h4 ,character of the
 representations of ,alps in the        
distances of           ,claude4         
#bgh   ,sec4  #i4 ,their total want of  
magnitude and aerial distance4          
#bgi   ,sec4 #aj4 ,and violation of     
specific form4                          
#bhj   ,sec4 #aa4 ,even in his best     
works4                                  

#bhj   ,sec4 #ab4 ,farther illustration 
of the distant character of mountain    
chains4                                 
#bha   ,sec4 #ac4 ,their excessive      
appearance of transparency4             
#bha   ,sec4 #ad4 ,illustrated from the 
works of ,turner and ,stanfield4 ,the   
,borromean ,islands of the latter4      
#bhb   ,sec4 #ae4 ,turner's ,arona4     
#bhc   ,sec4 #af4 ,extreme distance of  
large objects always characterized by   
very sharp outline4                     
#bhc   ,sec4 #ag4 ,want of this decision
 in ,claude4                            
#bhd   ,sec4 #ah4 ,the perpetual        
rendering of it by ,turner4             
#bhe   ,sec4 #ai4 ,effects of snow1 how 
imperfectly studied4                    
#bhe   ,sec4 #bj4 ,general principles of
 its forms on the ,alps4                
#bhg   ,sec4 #ba4 ,average paintings of 
,switzerland4 ,its real spirit has      
scarcely yet been caught4               
#bhi   ,,chapter ,,iii4--,of the        
,inferior ,mountains4    ,sec4  #a4 ,the

 inferior mountains are distinguished   
from the central1 by           being    
divided into beds4                      
#bij   ,sec4  #b4 ,farther division of  
these beds by joints4                   
#bij   ,sec4  #c4 ,and by lines of      
lamination4                             
#bia   ,sec4  #d4 ,variety and seeming  
uncertainty under which these laws are  
manifested4                             
#bia   ,sec4  #e4 ,the perfect          
expression of them in ,turner's ,loch   
,coriskin4      #bib   ,sec4  #f4       
,glencoe and other works4               
#bic   ,sec4  #g4 ,especially the ,mount
 ,lebanon4                              
#bic   ,sec4  #h4 ,compared with the    
work of ,salvator4                      
#bid   ,sec4  #i4 ,and of ,poussin4     
#bie   ,sec4 #aj4 ,effects of external  
influence on mountain form4             
#bif   ,sec4 #aa4 ,the gentle convexity 
caused by aqueous erosion4              
#big   ,sec4 #ab4 ,and the effect of the
 action of torrents4                    

#big   ,sec4 #ac4 ,the exceeding        
simplicity of contour caused by these   
influences4                             
#bih   ,sec4 #ad4 ,and multiplicity of  
feature4                                
#bii   ,sec4 #ae4 ,both utterly         
neglected in ancient art4               
#bii   ,sec4 #af4 ,the fidelity of      
treatment in ,turner's ,daphne and      
,leucippus4    #cjj   ,sec4 #ag4 ,and in
 the ,avalanche and ,inundation4        
#cjj   ,sec4 #ah4 ,the rarity among     
secondary hills of steep slopes or high 
precipices4                             
#cja   ,sec4 #ai4 ,and consequent       
expression of horizontal distance in    
their           ascent4                 
#cjb   ,sec4 #bj4 ,full statement of all
 these facts in various works of        
,turner4--,caudebec1 etc4               
#cjb   ,sec4 #ba4 ,the use of           
considering geological truths4          
#cjc   ,sec4 #bb4 ,expression of        
retiring surface by ,turner contrasted  
with the           work of ,claude4     

#cjd   ,sec4 #bc4 ,the same moderation  
of slope in the contours of his higher  
hills4                                  
#cjd   ,sec4 #bd4 ,the peculiar         
difficulty of investigating the more    
essential           truths of hill      
outline4                                
#cje   ,sec4 #be4 ,works of other modern
 artists4--,clarkson ,stanfield4        
#cje   ,sec4 #bf4 ,importance of        
particular and individual truth in hill 
drawing4 #cjf   ,sec4 #bg4 ,works of    
,copley ,fielding4 ,his high feeling4   
#cjg   ,sec4 #bh4 ,works of ,j4 ,d4     
,harding and others4                    
#cjh   ,,chapter ,,iv4--,of the         
,foreground4    ,sec4  #a4 ,what rocks  
were the chief components of ancient    
landscape           foreground4         
#cji   ,sec4  #b4 ,salvator's           
limestones4 ,the real characters of the 
rock4 ,its           fractures1 and     
obtuseness of angles4                   
#cji   ,sec4  #c4 ,salvator's acute     
angles caused by the meeting of concave 

curves4                                 
#caj   ,sec4  #d4 ,peculiar distinctness
 of light and shade in the rocks of     
nature4                                 
#caa   ,sec4  #e4 ,peculiar confusion of
 both in the rocks of ,salvator4        
#caa   ,sec4  #f4 ,and total want of any
 expression of hardness or brittleness4 
#caa   ,sec4  #g4 ,instances in         
particular pictures4                    
#cab   ,sec4  #h4 ,compared with the    
works of ,stanfield4                    
#cab   ,sec4  #i4 ,their absolute       
opposition in every particular4         
#cac   ,sec4 #aj4 ,the rocks of ,j4 ,d4 
,harding4                               
#cac   ,sec4 #aa4 ,characters of loose  
earth and soil4                         
#cad   ,sec4 #ab4 ,its exceeding grace  
and fulness of feature4                 
#cae   ,sec4 #ac4 ,the ground of        
,teniers4                               
#cae   ,sec4 #ad4 ,importance of these  
minor parts and points4                 
#caf   ,sec4 #ae4 ,the observance of    

them is the real distinction between the
           master and the novice4       
#caf   ,sec4 #af4 ,ground of ,cuyp4     
#cag   ,sec4 #ag4 ,and of ,claude4      
#cag   ,sec4 #ah4 ,the entire weakness  
and childishness of the latter4         
#cah   ,sec4 #ai4 ,compared with the    
work of ,turner4                        
#cah   ,sec4 #bj4 ,general features of  
,turner's foreground4                   
#cai   ,sec4 #ba4 ,geological structure 
of his rocks in the ,fall of the ,tees4 
#cai   ,sec4 #bb4 ,their convex surfaces
 and fractured edges4                   
#cai   ,sec4 #bc4 ,and perfect unity4   
#cbj   ,sec4 #bd4 ,various parts whose  
history is told us by the details of the
           drawing4                     
#cba   ,sec4 #be4 ,beautiful instance of
 an exception to general rules in the   
,llanthony4                             
#cba   ,sec4 #bf4 ,turner's drawing of  
detached blocks of weathered stone4     
#cbb   ,sec4 #bg4 ,and of complicated   
foreground4                             

#cbc   ,sec4 #bh4 ,and of loose soil4   
#cbc   ,sec4 #bi4 ,the unison of all in 
the ideal foregrounds of the ,academy   
pictures4                               
#cbd   ,sec4 #cj4 ,and the great lesson 
to be received from all4                
#cbd                                    
,,section ,v4                           
,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,water4   ,,chapter  
,i4--,of ,water1 as ,painted by the     
,ancients4    ,sec4  #a4 ,sketch of the 
functions and infinite agency of water4 
#cbe   ,sec4  #b4 ,the ease with which a
 common representation of it may be     
given4 ,the impossibility of a faithful 
one4                  #cbe   ,sec4  #c4 
,difficulty of properly dividing the    
subject4                   #cbf   ,sec4 
#d4 ,inaccuracy of study of water-effect
 among all painters4        #cbf   ,sec4
  #e4 ,difficulty of treating this part 
of the subject4               #cbh      
,sec4  #f4 ,general laws which regulate 
the phenomena of water4 ,first1 ,the    
imperfection of its reflective surface4 

#cbi   ,sec4  #g4 ,the inherent hue of  
water modifies dark reflections1 and    
does           not affect right ones4   
#ccj   ,sec4  #h4 ,water takes no       
shadow4                                 
#cca   ,sec4  #i4 ,modification of dark 
reflections by shadow4                  
#ccb   ,sec4 #aj4 ,examples on the      
waters of the ,rhone4                   
#ccc   ,sec4 #aa4 ,effect of ripple on  
distant water4                          
#cce   ,sec4 #ab4 ,elongation of        
reflections by moving water4            
#cce   ,sec4 #ac4 ,effect of rippled    
water on horizontal and inclined images4
     #ccf   ,sec4 #ad4 ,to what extent  
reflection is visible from above4       
#ccf   ,sec4 #ae4 ,deflection of images 
on agitated water4                      
#ccg   ,sec4 #af4 ,necessity of         
watchfulness as well as of science4     
,licenses1 how           taken by great 
men4                                    
#ccg   ,sec4 #ag4 ,various licenses or  
errors in water painting of ,claude1    

,cuyp1           ,vandevelde4           
#cci   ,sec4 #ah4 ,and ,canaletto4      
#cda   ,sec4 #ai4 ,why unpardonable4    
#cdb   ,sec4 #bj4 ,the ,dutch painters  
of sea4                                 
#cdc   ,sec4 #ba4 ,ruysdael1 ,claude1   
and ,salvator4                          
#cdd   ,sec4 #bb4 ,nicolo ,poussin4     
#cde   ,sec4 #bc4 ,venetians and        
,florentines4 ,conclusion4              
#cdf   ,,chapter ,,ii4--,of ,water1 as  
,painted by the ,moderns4    ,sec4  #a4 
,general power of the moderns in        
painting quiet water4 ,the              
lakes of ,fielding4                     
#cdh   ,sec4  #b4 ,the calm rivers of   
,de ,wint1 ,j4 ,holland1 c4             
#cdh   ,sec4  #c4 ,the character of     
bright and violent falling water4       
#cdi   ,sec4  #d4 ,as given by          
,nesfield4                              
#cdi   ,sec4  #e4 ,the admirable        
water-drawing of ,j4 ,d4 ,harding4      
#cej   ,sec4  #f4 ,his color2 and       
painting of sea4                        

#cej   ,sec4  #g4 ,the sea of ,copley   
,fielding4 ,its exceeding grace and     
rapidity4  #cea   ,sec4  #h4 ,its high  
aim at character4                       
#cea   ,sec4  #i4 ,but deficiency in the
 requisite quality of grays4            
#ceb   ,sec4 #aj4 ,variety of the grays 
of nature4                              
#ceb   ,sec4 #aa4 ,works of ,stanfield4 
,his perfect knowledge and power4       
#cec   ,sec4 #ab4 ,but want of feeling4 
,general sum of truth presented by      
modern           art4                   
#cec   ,,chapter ,,iii4--,of ,water1 as 
,painted by ,turner4    ,sec4  #a4 ,the 
difficulty of giving surface to smooth  
water4              #cee   ,sec4  #b4   
,is dependent on the structure of the   
eye1 and the focus by           which   
the reflected rays are perceived4       
#cee   ,sec4  #c4 ,morbid clearness     
occasioned in painting of water by      
distinctness of reflections4            
#cef   ,sec4  #d4 ,how avoided by       
,turner4                                

#ceg   ,sec4  #e4 ,all reflections on   
distant water are distinct4             
#ceg   ,sec4  #f4 ,the error of         
,vandevelde4                            
#ceh   ,sec4  #g4 ,difference in        
arrangement of parts between the        
reflected           object and its      
image4                                  
#cei   ,sec4  #h4 ,illustrated from the 
works of ,turner4                       
#cei   ,sec4  #i4 ,the boldness and     
judgment shown in the observance of it4 
#cfj   ,sec4 #aj4 ,the texture of       
surface in ,turner's painting of calm   
water4   #cfa   ,sec4 #aa4 ,its united  
qualities4                              
#cfa   ,sec4 #ab4 ,relation of various  
circumstances of past agitation1 c41 by 
the most trifling incidents1 as in the  
,cowes4                #cfc   ,sec4 #ac4
 ,in scenes on the ,loire and ,seine4   
#cfc   ,sec4 #ad4 ,expression of        
contrary waves caused by recoil from    
shore4      #cfd   ,sec4 #ae4 ,various  
other instances4                        

#cfd   ,sec4 #af4 ,turner's painting of 
distant expanses of water4--,calm1      
interrupted by ripple4                  
#cfe   ,sec4 #ag4 ,and rippled1 crossed 
by sunshine4                            
#cfe   ,sec4 #ah4 ,his drawing of       
distant rivers4                         
#cff   ,sec4 #ai4 ,and of surface       
associated with mist4                   
#cfg   ,sec4 #bj4 ,his drawing of       
falling water1 with peculiar expression 
of           weight4                    
#cfg   ,sec4 #ba4 ,the abandonment and  
plunge of great cataracts4 ,how given by
           him4                         
#cfh   ,sec4 #bb4 ,difference in the    
action of water1 when continuous and    
when           interrupted4 ,the        
interrupted stream fills the hollows of 
its bed4                                
#cfi   ,sec4 #bc4 ,but the continuous   
stream takes the shape of its bed4      
#cgj   ,sec4 #bd4 ,its exquisite curved 
lines4                                  
#cgj   ,sec4 #be4 ,turner's careful     

choice of the historical truth4         
#cgj   ,sec4 #bf4 ,his exquisite drawing
 of the continuous torrent in the       
,llanthony ,abbey4                      
#cga   ,sec4 #bg4 ,and of the           
interrupted torrent in the ,mercury and 
,argus4       #cgb   ,sec4 #bh4 ,various
 cases4                                 
#cgb   ,sec4 #bi4 ,sea painting4        
,impossibility of truly representing    
foam4        #cgc   ,sec4 #cj4          
,character of shore-breakers1 also      
inexpressible4               #cgd       
,sec4 #ca4 ,their effect how injured    
when seen from the shore4               
#cge   ,sec4 #cb4 ,turner's expression  
of heavy rolling sea4                   
#cgf   ,sec4 #cc4 ,with peculiar        
expression of weight4                   
#cgf   ,sec4 #cd4 ,peculiar action of   
recoiling waves4                        
#cgg   ,sec4 #ce4 ,and of the stroke of 
a breaker on the shore4                 
#cgg   ,sec4 #cf4 ,general character of 
sea on a rocky coast given by ,turner in

           the ,land's ,end4            
#cgh   ,sec4 #cg4 ,open seas of         
,turner's earlier time4                 
#cgi   ,sec4 #ch4 ,effect of sea after  
prolonged storm4                        
#chj   ,sec4 #ci4 ,turner's noblest     
work1 the painting of the deep open sea 
in           the ,slave ,ship4          
#chb   ,sec4 #dj4 ,its united           
excellences and perfection as a whole4  
#chc                                    
,,section ,,vi4                     ,,of
 ,,truth ,,of                           
,,vegetation4--,,conclusion4   ,,chapter
 ,i4--,of ,truth of ,vegetation4        
,sec4  #a4 ,frequent occurrence of      
foliage in the works of the old         
masters4                                
#chd   ,sec4  #b4 ,laws common to all   
forest trees4 ,their branches do not    
taper1           but only divide4       
#che   ,sec4  #c4 ,appearance of        
tapering caused by frequent buds4       
#che   ,sec4  #d4 ,and care of nature to
 conceal the parallelism4               

#chf   ,sec4  #e4 ,the degree of        
tapering which may be represented as    
continuous4 #chf   ,sec4  #f4 ,the trees
 of ,gaspar ,poussin4                   
#chf   ,sec4  #g4 ,and of the ,italian  
school generally1 defy this law4        
#chg   ,sec4  #h4 ,the truth1 as it is  
given by ,j4 ,d4 ,harding4              
#chg   ,sec4  #i4 ,boughs1 in           
consequence of this law1 must diminish  
where they           divide4 ,those of  
the old masters often do not4           
#chh   ,sec4 #aj4 ,boughs must multiply 
as they diminish4 ,those of the old     
masters do not4                         
#chi   ,sec4 #aa4 ,bough-drawing of     
,salvator4                              
#cij   ,sec4 #ab4 ,all these errors     
especially shown in ,claude's sketches1 
and           concentrated in a work of 
,g4 ,poussin's4                         
#cia   ,sec4 #ac4 ,impossibility of the 
angles of boughs being taken out of them
           by wind4                     
#cib   ,sec4 #ad4 ,bough-drawing of     

,titian4                                
#cib   ,sec4 #ae4 ,bough-drawing of     
,turner4                                
#cid   ,sec4 #af4 ,leafage4 ,its variety
 and symmetry4                          
#cid   ,sec4 #ag4 ,perfect regularity of
 ,poussin4                              
#cie   ,sec4 #ah4 ,exceeding intricacy  
of nature's foliage4                    
#cif   ,sec4 #ai4 ,how contradicted by  
the tree-patterns of ,g4 ,poussin4      
#cif   ,sec4 #bj4 ,how followed by      
,creswick4                              
#cig   ,sec4 #ba4 ,perfect unity in     
nature's foliage4                       
#cih   ,sec4 #bb4 ,total want of it in  
,both and ,hobbima4                     
#cih   ,sec4 #bc4 ,how rendered by      
,turner4                                
#cii   ,sec4 #bd4 ,the near leafage of  
,claude4 ,his middle distances are good4
     #cii   ,sec4 #be4 ,universal       
termination of trees in symmetrical     
curves4          #djj   ,sec4 #bf4      
,altogether unobserved by the old       

masters4 ,always given by               
,turner4                                
#dja   ,sec4 #bg4 ,foliage painting on  
the ,continent4                         
#dja   ,sec4 #bh4 ,foliage of ,j4 ,d4   
,harding4 ,its deficiencies4            
#djb   ,sec4 #bi4 ,his brilliancy of    
execution too manifest4                 
#djc   ,sec4 #cj4 ,his bough-drawing1   
and choice of form4                     
#djd   ,sec4 #ca4 ,local color1 how far 
expressible in black and white1 and with
           what advantage4              
#djd   ,sec4 #cb4 ,opposition between   
great manner and great knowledge4       
#djf   ,sec4 #cc4 ,foliage of ,cox1     
,fielding1 and ,cattermole4             
#djf   ,sec4 #cd4 ,hunt and ,creswick4  
,green1 how to be rendered expressive of
           light1 and offensive if      
otherwise4                              
#djg   ,sec4 #ce4 ,conclusion4 ,works of
 ,j4 ,linnel and ,s4 ,palmer4           
#djg   ,,chapter ,,ii4--,general remarks
 respecting the ,truth of ,turner4      

,sec4  #a4 ,no necessity of entering    
into discussion of architectural        
truth4                                  
#dji   ,sec4  #b4 ,extreme difficulty of
 illustrating or explaining the highest 
truth4                                  
#daj   ,sec4  #c4 ,the positive rank of 
,turner is in no degree shown in the    
foregoing pages1 but only his relative  
rank4                 #daj   ,sec4  #d4 
,the exceeding refinement of his truth4 
#daa   ,sec4  #e4 ,there is nothing in  
his works which can be enjoyed without  
knowledge4                              
#daa   ,sec4  #f4 ,and nothing which    
knowledge will not enable us to enjoy4  
#dab   ,sec4  #g4 ,his former rank and  
progress4                               
#dab   ,sec4  #h4 ,standing of his      
present works4 ,their mystery is the    
consequence of their fulness4           
#dac   ,,chapter                        
,,iii4--,conclusion4--,modern ,art and  
,modern ,criticism4    ,sec4  #a4 ,the  
entire prominence hitherto given to the 

works of one           artist caused    
only by our not being able to take      
cognizance of character4                
#dad   ,sec4  #b4 ,the feelings of      
different artists are incapable of full 
comparison4                             
#dae   ,sec4  #c4 ,but the fidelity and 
truth of each are capable of real       
comparison4                             
#dae   ,sec4  #d4 ,especially because   
they are equally manifested in the      
treatment of all subjects4              
#dae   ,sec4  #e4 ,no man draws one     
thing well1 if he can draw nothing else4
      #daf   ,sec4  #f4 ,general        
conclusions to be derived from our past 
investigation4 #dag   ,sec4  #g4 ,truth1
 a standard of all excellence4          
#dag   ,sec4  #h4 ,modern criticism4    
,changefulness of public taste4         
#dah   ,sec4  #i4 ,yet associated with a
 certain degree of judgment4            
#dah   ,sec4 #aj4 ,duty of the press4   
#dah   ,sec4 #aa4 ,qualifications       
necessary for discharging it4           

#dah   ,sec4 #ab4 ,general incapability 
of modern critics4                      
#dai   ,sec4 #ac4 ,and inconsistency    
with themselves4                        
#dai   ,sec4 #ad4 ,how the press may    
really advance the cause of art4        
#dbj   ,sec4 #ae4 ,morbid fondness at   
the present day for unfinished works4   
#dbj   ,sec4 #af4 ,by which the public  
defraud themselves4                     
#dba   ,sec4 #ag4 ,and in pandering to  
which1 artists ruin themselves4         
#dba   ,sec4 #ah4 ,necessity of         
finishing works of art perfectly4       
#dba   ,sec4 #ai4 ,sketches not         
sufficiently encouraged4                
#dbb   ,sec4 #bj4 ,brilliancy of        
execution or efforts at invention not to
 be           tolerated in young        
artists4                                
#dbb   ,sec4 #ba4 ,the duty and after   
privileges of all students4             
#dbc   ,sec4 #bb4 ,necessity among our  
greater artists of more singleness of   
aim4 #dbc   ,sec4 #bc4 ,what should be  

their general aim4                      
#dbe   ,sec4 #bd4 ,duty of the press    
with respect to the works of ,turner4   
#dbg                            ,,list  
,,of ,,plates ,,to ,,volume ,i4         
,page4    ,casa ,contarini ,fasan1      
,venice                                 
#aaj                        ,from a     
drawing by ,ruskin4    ,the ,dogana1 and
 ,santa ,maria della ,salute1 ,venice   
#acf                        ,from a     
painting by ,turner4    ,okehampton     
,castle                                 
#beh                        ,from a     
painting by ,turner4    ,port ,ruysdael 
#cgf                        ,from a     
painting by ,turner4                    
,,modern ,,painters4                    
,,part ,i                           ,,of
 ,,general ,,principles4                
,,section ,i4                ,,of ,,the 
,,nature ,,of ,,the ,,ideas ,,conveyable
 ,,by ,,art4                            
,,chapter ,i4                           
,,introductory4   ,sec4 #a4 ,public     

opinion no criterion of excellence1     
except after long        periods of     
time4  ,if it be true1 and it can       
scarcely be disputed1 that nothing has  
been for centuries consecrated by public
 admiration1 without possessing in a    
high degree some kind of sterling       
excellence1 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   
excellent1 but because all erroneous    
opinion is inconsistent1 and all        
ungrounded opinion transitory2 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 time1 the     
opinions formed on right grounds by     
those few who are in reality competent  
judges1 being necessarily stable1       
communicate themselves gradually from   
mind to mind1 descending lower as they  
extend wider1 until they leaven the     

whole lump1 and rule by absolute        
authority1 even where the grounds and   
reasons for them cannot be understood4  
,on this gradual victory of what is     
consistent over what is vacillating1    
depends the reputation of all that is   
highest in art and literature4 ,for ,it 
is an insult to what is really great in 
either1 to suppose that it in any way   
addresses itself to mean or uncultivated
 faculties4 ,it is a matter of the      
simplest demonstration1 that no man can 
be really appreciated but by his equal  
or superior4 ,his inferior may          
over-estimate him in enthusiasm2 or1 as 
is more commonly the case1 degrade him1 
in ignorance2 but he cannot form a      
grounded and just estimate4 ,without    
proving this1 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 opinions1 wrong individually1 can 
become right merely by their            
multitude4#a ,if ,i stand by a picture  

in the ,academy1 and hear twenty persons
 in succession admiring some paltry     
piece of mechanism or imitation in the  
lining of a cloak1 or the satin of a    
slipper1 it is absurd to tell me that   
they reprobate collectively what they   
admire individually3 or1 if they pass   
with apathy by a piece of the most noble
 conception or most perfect truth1      
because it has in it no tricks of the   
brush nor grimace of expression1 it is  
absurd to tell me that they collectively
 respect what they separately scorn1 or 
that the feelings and knowledge of such 
judges1 by any length of time or        
comparison of ideas1 could come to any  
right conclusion with respect to what is
 really high in art4 ,the question is   
not decided by them1 but for            
them2--decided at first by few3 by fewer
 in proportion as the merits of the work
 are of a higher order4 ,from these few 
the decision is communicated to the     
number next below them in rank of mind1 
and by these again to a wider and lower 

circle2 each rank being so far cognizant
 of the superiority of that above it1 as
 to receive its decision with respect2  
until1 in process of time1 the right and
 consistent opinion is communicated to  
all1 and held by all as a matter of     
faith1 the more positively in proportion
 as the grounds of it are less          
perceived4#b   ,sec4 #b4 ,and therefore 
obstinate when once formed4  ,sec4 #c4  
,the author's reasons for opposing it in
 particular instances4  ,sec4 #d4 ,but  
only on points capable of demonstration4
  ,but when this process has taken      
place1 and the work has become          
sanctified by time in the minds of men1 
it is impossible that any new work of   
equal merit can be impartially compared 
with it1 except by minds not only       
educated and generally capable of       
appreciating merit1 but strong enough to
 shake off the weight of prejudice and  
association1 which invariably incline   
them to the older favorite4 ,it is much 
easier1 says ,barry1 to repeat the      

character recorded of ,phidias1 than to 
investigate the merits of ,agasias4 ,and
 when1 as peculiarly in the case of     
painting1 much knowledge of what is     
technical and practical is necessary to 
a right judgment1 so that those alone   
are competent to pronounce a true       
verdict who are themselves the persons  
to be judged1 and who therefore can give
 no opinion1 centuries may elapse before
 fair comparison can be made between two
 artists of different ages2 while the   
patriarchal excellence exercises during 
the interval a tyrannical--perhaps1 even
 a blighting1 influence over the minds1 
both of the public and of those to whom1
 properly understood1 it should serve   
for a guide and example4 ,in no city of 
,europe where art is a subject of       
attention1 are its prospects so         
hopeless1 or its pursuits so resultless1
 as in ,rome2 because there1 among all  
students1 the authority of their        
predecessors in art is supreme and      
without appeal1 and the mindless copyist

 studies ,raffaelle1 but not what       
,raffaelle studied4 ,it thus becomes the
 duty of every one capable of           
demonstrating any definite points of    
superiority in modern art1 and who is in
 a position in which his doing so will  
not be ungraceful1 to encounter without 
hesitation whatever opprobrium may fall 
upon him from the necessary prejudice   
even of the most candid minds1 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  
reasons4 ,it is my purpose1 therefore1  
believing that there are certain points 
of superiority in modern artists1 and   
especially in one or two of their       
number1 which have not yet been fully   
understood1 except by those who are     
scarcely in a position admitting the    
declaration of their conviction1 to     
institute a close comparison between the

 great works of ancient and modern      
landscape art1 to raise1 as far as      
possible1 the deceptive veil of         
imaginary light through which we are    
accustomed to gaze upon the patriarchal 
work1 and to show the real relations1   
whether favorable or otherwise1         
subsisting between it and our own4 ,i am
 fully aware that this is not to be done
 lightly or rashly2 that it is the part 
of every one proposing to undertake such
 a task strictly to examine1 with       
prolonged doubt and severe trial1 every 
opinion in any way contrary to the      
sacred verdict of time1 and to advance  
nothing which does not1 at least in his 
own conviction1 rest on surer ground    
than mere feeling or taste4 ,i have     
accordingly advanced nothing in the     
following pages but with accompanying   
demonstration1 which may indeed be true 
or false--complete or conditional1 but  
which can only be met on its own        
grounds1 and can in no way be borne down
 or affected by mere authority of great 

names4 ,yet even thus ,i should scarcely
 have ventured to speak so decidedly as 
,i have1 but for my full conviction that
 we ought not to class the historical   
painters of the fifteenth1 and landscape
 painters of the seventeenth1 centuries1
 together1 under the general title of   
old masters1 as if they possessed       
anything like corresponding rank in     
their respective walks of art4 ,i feel  
assured that the principles on which    
they worked are totally opposed1 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 painters1 whose principles of
 conception and composition they        
entirely reversed4 ,the course of study 
which has led me reverently to the feet 
of ,michael ,angelo and ,da ,vinci1 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 science1 and the    

mannerism of undisciplined imagination4 
,and let it be understood that whenever 
hereafter ,i speak depreciatingly of the
 old masters as a body1 ,i refer to none
 of the historical painters1 for whom ,i
 entertain a veneration1 which though ,i
 hope reasonable in its grounds1 is     
almost superstitious in degree4         
,neither1 unless he be particularly     
mentioned1 do ,i intend to include      
,nicholas ,poussin1 whose landscapes    
have a separate and elevated character1 
which renders it necessary to consider  
them apart from all others4 ,speaking   
generally of the older masters1 ,i refer
 only to ,claude1 ,gaspar ,poussin1     
,salvator ,rosa1 ,cuyp1 ,berghem1 ,both1
 ,ruysdael1 ,hobbima1 ,teniers1 7in his 
landscapes17 ,p4 ,potter1 ,canaletti1   
and the various ,van somethings1 and    
,back somethings1 more especially and   
malignantly those who have libelled the 
sea4  ,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 founded4 ,these introductory
 chapters ,i should wish to be read     
carefully1 because all criticism must be
 useless when the terms or grounds of it
 are in any degree ambiguous2 and the   
ordinary language of connoisseurs and   
critics1 granting that they understand  
it themselves1 is usually mere jargon to
 others1 from their custom of using     
technical terms1 by which everything is 
meant1 and nothing is expressed4   ,sec4
 #e4 ,the author's partiality to modern 
works excusable4  ,and if1 in the       
application of these principles1 in     
spite of my endeavor to render it       
impartial1 the feeling and fondness     
which ,i have for some works of modern  
art escape me sometimes where it should 
not1 let it be pardoned as little more  
than a fair counterbalance to that      
peculiar veneration with which the work 
of the older master1 associated as it   
has ever been in our ears with the      
expression of whatever is great or      

perfect1 must be usually regarded by the
 reader4 ,i do not say that this        
veneration is wrong1 nor that we should 
be less attentive to the repeated words 
of time3 but let us not forget1 that if 
honor be for the dead1 gratitude can    
only be for the living4 ,he who has once
 stood beside the grave1 to look back   
upon the companionship which has been   
forever closed1 feeling how impotent    
there are the wild love1 or the keen    
sorrow1 to give one instant's pleasure  
to the pulseless heart1 or atone in the 
lowest measure to the departed spirit   
for the hour of unkindness1 will        
scarcely for the future incur that debt 
to the heart1 which can only be         
discharged to the dust4 ,but the lesson 
which men receive as individuals1 they  
do not learn as nations4 ,again and     
again they have seen their noblest      
descend into the grave1 and have thought
 it enough to garland the tombstone when
 they had not crowned the brow1 and to  
pay the honor to the ashes1 which they  

had denied to the spirit4 ,let it not   
displease them that they are bidden1    
amidst the tumult and the dazzle of     
their busy life1 to listen for the few  
voices1 and watch for the few lamps1    
which ,god has toned and lighted to     
charm and to guide them1 that they may  
not learn their sweetness by their      
silence1 nor their light by their decay4
   ,,footnotes    #a ,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     wrong1 as in the case of a jury4 
,where it is more probable1 with        
respect to each individual1 that he     
should be wrong than right1 the         
opinion of the minority is the true one4
 ,thus it is in art4    #b ,there are1  
however1 a thousand modifying           
circumstances which     render this     
process sometimes                       
unnecessary1--sometimes rapid and       
certain--sometimes impossible4 ,it is   
unnecessary in rhetoric and the         

drama1 because the multitude is the only
 proper judge of those arts     whose   
end is to move the multitude 7though    
more is necessary to a     fine play    
than is essentially dramatic1 and it is 
only of the     dramatic part that the  
multitude are cognizant74 ,it is        
unnecessary1     when1 united with the  
higher qualities of a work1 there are   
appeals     to universal passion1 to all
 the faculties and feelings which are   
general in man as an animal4 ,the       
popularity is then as sudden as it      
is well grounded1--it is hearty and     
honest in every mind1 but it is         
based in every mind on a different      
species of excellence4 ,such will       
often be the case with the noblest works
 of literature4 ,take ,don     ,quixote 
for example4 ,the lowest mind would find
 in it perpetual and     brutal         
amusement in the misfortunes of the     
knight1 and perpetual     pleasure in   
sympathy with the squire4 ,a mind of    
average feeling     would perceive the  

satirical meaning and force of the book1
 would     appreciate its wit1 its      
elegance1 and its truth4 ,but only      
elevated     and peculiar minds         
discover1 in addition to all this1 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 hero1    
and pass over the rude adventure and    
scurrile jest in haste--perhaps     in  
pain1 to penetrate beneath the rusty    
corselet1 and catch from the            
wandering glance the evidence and       
expression of fortitude1                
self-devotion1 and universal love4 ,so1 
again1 with the works of     ,scott and 
,byron2 popularity was as instant as it 
was deserved1     because there is in   
them an appeal to those passions which  
are     universal in all men1 as well as
 an expression of such thoughts as      
can be received only by the few4 ,but   
they are admired by the     majority of 
their advocates for the weakest parts of

 their works1 as     a popular preacher 
by the majority of his congregation for 
the worst     part of his sermon4       
,the process is rapid and certain1 when1
 though there may be little     to catch
 the multitude at once1 there is much   
which they can enjoy     when their     
attention is authoritatively directed to
 it4 ,so rests the     reputation of    
,shakspeare4 ,no ordinary mind can      
comprehend wherein     his undisputed   
superiority consists1 but there is yet  
quite as much     to amuse1 thrill1 or  
excite1--quite as much of what is1 in   
the     strict sense of the word1       
dramatic1 in his works as in any one    
else's4 ,they were received1 therefore1 
when first written1 with     average    
approval1 as works of common merit3 but 
when the high     decision was made1 and
 the circle spread1 the public took up  
the hue     and cry conscientiously     
enough4 ,let them have daggers1 ghosts1 
clowns1 and kings1 and with such real   
and definite sources of     enjoyment1  

they will take the additional trouble to
 learn half a     dozen quotations1     
without understanding them1 and admit   
the     superiority of ,shakspeare      
without further demur4 ,nothing1        
perhaps1     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  
,hamlet4      ,the process is impossible
 when there is in the work nothing to   
attract and something to disgust the    
vulgar mind4 ,neither their             
intrinsic excellence1 nor the authority 
of those who can judge of     it1 will  
ever make the poems of ,wordsworth or   
,george ,herbert     popular1 in the    
sense in which ,scott and ,byron are    
popular1 because     it is to the vulgar
 a labor instead of a pleasure to read  
them2 and     there are parts in them   
which to such judges cannot but be vapid
 or     ridiculous4 ,most works of the  
highest art1--those of ,raffaelle1 ,m4  

,angelo1 or ,da ,vinci1--stand as       
,shakspeare does1--that which is        
commonplace and feeble in their         
excellence being taken for its          
essence by the uneducated1 imagination  
assisting the impression1     7for we   
readily fancy that we feel1 when feeling
 is a matter of     pride or            
conscience17 and affectation and        
pretension increasing the     noise of  
the rapture1 if not its degree4 ,giotto1
 ,orgagna1 ,angelico1     ,perugino1    
stand1 like ,george ,herbert1 only with 
the few4 ,wilkie     becomes popular1   
like ,scott1 because he touches passions
 which all     feel1 and expresses      
truths which all can recognize4         
,,chapter ,,ii4                         
,,definition ,,of ,,greatness ,,in      
,,art4   ,sec4 #a4 ,distinction between 
the painter's intellectual power and    
technical        knowledge4  ,in the    
#aeth ,lecture of ,sir ,joshua          
,reynolds1 incidental notice is taken of
 the distinction between those          

excellences in the painter which belong 
to him as such1 and those which belong  
to him in common with all men of        
intellect1 the general and exalted      
powers of which art is the evidence and 
expression1 not the subject4 ,but the   
distinction is not there dwelt upon as  
it should be1 for it is owing to the    
slight attention ordinarily paid to it1 
that criticism is open to every form of 
coxcombry1 and liable to every phase of 
error4 ,it is a distinction on which    
depend all sound judgment of the rank of
 the artist1 and all just appreciation  
of the dignity of art4   ,sec4 #b4      
,painting1 as such1 is nothing more than
 language4  ,painting1 or art generally1
 as such1 with all its technicalities1  
difficulties1 and particular ends1 is   
nothing but a noble and expressive      
language1 invaluable as the vehicle of  
thought1 but by itself nothing4 ,he who 
has learned what is commonly considered 
the whole art of painting1 that is1 the 
art of representing any natural object  

faithfully1 has as yet only learned the 
language by which his thoughts are to be
 expressed4 ,he has done just as much   
towards being that which we ought to    
respect as a great painter1 as a man who
 has learned how to express himself     
grammatically and melodiously has       
towards being a great poet4 ,the        
language is1 indeed1 more difficult of  
acquirement in the one case than in the 
other1 and possesses more power of      
delighting the sense1 while it speaks to
 the intellect1 but it is1 nevertheless1
 nothing more than language1 and all    
those excellences which are peculiar to 
the painter as such1 are merely what    
rhythm1 melody1 precision and force are 
in the words of the orator and the poet1
 necessary to their greatness1 but not  
the tests of their greatness4 ,it is not
 by the mode of representing and saying1
 but by what is represented and said1   
that the respective greatness either of 
the painter or the writer is to be      
finally determined4   ,sec4 #c4         

,painter1 a term corresponding to       
versifier4  ,speaking with strict       
propriety1 therefore1 we should call a  
man a great painter only as he excelled 
in precision and force in the language  
of lines1 and a great versifier1 as he  
excelled in precision or force in the   
language of words4 ,a great poet would  
then be a term strictly1 and in         
precisely the same sense applicable to  
both1 if warranted by the character of  
the images or thoughts which each in    
their respective languages convey4      
,sec4 #d4 ,example in a painting of ,e4 
,landseer's4  ,take1 for instance1 one  
of the most perfect poems or pictures   
7,i use the words as synonymous7 which  
modern times have seen3--the ,old       
,shepherd's ,chief-mourner4 ,here the   
exquisite execution of the glossy and   
crisp hair of the dog1 the bright sharp 
touching of the green bough beside it1  
the clear painting of the wood of the   
coffin and the folds of the blanket1 are
 language--language clear and expressive

 in the highest degree4 ,but the close  
pressure of the dog's breast against the
 wood1 the convulsive clinging of the   
paws1 which has dragged the blanket off 
the trestle1 the total powerlessness of 
the head laid1 close and motionless1    
upon its folds1 the fixed and tearful   
fall of the eye in its utter            
hopelessness1 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-lid1 the quietness and gloom of  
the chamber1 the spectacles marking the 
place where the ,bible was last closed1 
indicating how lonely has been the      
life--how unwatched the departure of him
 who is now laid solitary in his        
sleep2--these are all thoughts--thoughts
 by which the picture is separated at   
once from hundreds of equal merit1 as   
far as mere painting goes1 by which it  
ranks as a work of high art1 and stamps 
its author1 not as the neat imitator of 
the texture of a skin1 or the fold of a 

drapery1 but as the ,man of ,mind4      
,sec4 #e4 ,difficulty of fixing an exact
 limit between language and thought4    
,it is not1 however1 always easy1 either
 in painting or literature1 to determine
 where the influence of language stops1 
and where that of thought begins4 ,many 
thoughts are so dependent upon the      
language in which they are clothed1 that
 they would lose half their beauty if   
otherwise expressed4 ,but the highest   
thoughts are those which are least      
dependent on language1 and the dignity  
of any composition and praise to which  
it is entitled1 are in exact proportion 
to its independency of language or      
expression4 ,a composition is indeed    
usually most perfect1 when to such      
intrinsic dignity is added all that     
expression can do to attract and adorn2 
but in every case of supreme excellence 
this all becomes as nothing4 ,we are    
more gratified by the simplest lines or 
words which can suggest the idea in its 
own naked beauty1 than by the robe or   

the gem which conceal while they        
decorate2 we are better pleased to feel 
by their absence how little they would  
bestow1 than by their presence how much 
they can destroy4   ,sec4 #f4           
,distinction between decorative and     
expressive language4  ,there is         
therefore a distinction to be made      
between what is ornamental in language  
and what is expressive4 ,that part of it
 which is necessary to the embodying and
 conveying the thought is worthy of     
respect and attention as necessary to   
excellence1 though not the test of it4  
,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 it4 ,and
 this caution in distinguishing between 
the ornamental and the expressive is    
peculiarly necessary in painting2 for in
 the language of words it is nearly     
impossible for that which is not        
expressive to be beautiful1 except by   
mere rhythm or melody1 any sacrifice to 

which is immediately stigmatized as     
error4 ,but the beauty of mere language 
in painting is not only very attractive 
and entertaining to the spectator1 but  
requires for its attainment no small    
exertion of mind and devotion of time by
 the artist4 ,hence1 in art1 men have   
frequently fancied that they were       
becoming rhetoricians and poets when    
they were only learning to speak        
melodiously1 and the judge has over and 
over again advanced to the honor of     
authors those who were never more than  
ornamental writing-masters4   ,sec4 #g4 
,instance in the ,dutch and early       
,italian schools4  ,most pictures of the
 ,dutch school1 for instance1 and       
excepting always those of ,rubens1      
,vandyke1 and ,rembrandt1 are           
ostentatious exhibitions of the artist's
 power of speech1 the clear and vigorous
 elocution of useless and senseless     
words3 while the early efforts of       
,cimabue and ,giotto are the burning    
messages of prophecy1 delivered by the  

stammering lips of infants4 ,it is not  
by ranking the former as more than      
mechanics1 or the latter as less than   
artists1 that the taste of the          
multitude1 always awake to the lowest   
pleasures which art can bestow1 and     
blunt to the highest1 is to be formed or
 elevated4 ,it must be the part of the  
judicious critic carefully to           
distinguish what is language1 and what  
is thought1 and to rank and praise      
pictures chiefly for the latter1        
considering the former as a totally     
inferior excellence1 and one which      
cannot be compared with nor weighed     
against thought in any way nor in any   
degree whatsoever4 ,the picture which   
has the nobler and more numerous ideas1 
however awkwardly expressed1 is a       
greater and a better picture than that  
which has the less noble and less       
numerous ideas1 however beautifully     
expressed4 ,no weight1 nor mass1 nor    
beauty of execution can outweigh one    
grain or fragment of thought4 ,three    

penstrokes of ,raffaelle are a greater  
and a better picture than the most      
finished work that ever ,carlo ,dolci   
polished into inanity4 ,a finished work 
of a great artist is only better than   
its sketch1 if the sources of pleasure  
belonging to color and                  
realization--valuable in                
themselves1--are so employed as to      
increase the impressiveness of the      
thought4 ,but if one atom of thought has
 vanished1 all color1 all finish1 all   
execution1 all ornament1 are too dearly 
bought4 ,nothing but thought can pay for
 thought1 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 idea1 
that instant all refinement or finish is
 an excrescence1 and a deformity4       
,sec4 #h4 ,yet there are certain ideas  
belonging to language itself4  ,sec4 #i4
 ,the definition4  ,yet although in all 
our speculations on art1 language is    
thus to be distinguished from1 and held 

subordinate to1 that which it conveys1  
we must still remember that there are   
certain ideas inherent in language      
itself1 and that strictly speaking1     
every pleasure connected with art has in
 it some reference to the intellect4    
,the mere sensual pleasure of the eye1  
received from the most brilliant piece  
of coloring1 is as nothing to that which
 it receives from a crystal prism1      
except as it depends on our perception  
of a certain meaning and intended       
arrangement of color1 which has been the
 subject of intellect4 ,nay1 the term   
idea1 according to ,locke's definition  
of it1 will extend even to the sensual  
impressions themselves as far as they   
are things which the mind occupies      
itself about in thinking1 that is1 not  
as they are felt by the eye only1 but as
 they are received by the mind through  
the eye4 ,so that1 if ,i say that the   
greatest picture is that which conveys  
to the mind of the spectator the        
greatest number of the greatest ideas1  

,i have a definition which will include 
as subjects of comparison every pleasure
 which art is capable of conveying4 ,if 
,i were to say1 on the contrary1 that   
the best picture was that which most    
closely imitated nature1 ,i should      
assume that art could only please by    
imitating nature1 and ,i should cast out
 of the pale of criticism those parts of
 works of art which are not imitative1  
that is to say1 intrinsic beauties of   
color and form1 and those works of art  
wholly1 which1 like the arabesques of   
,raffaelle in the ,loggias1 are not     
imitative at all4 ,now ,i want a        
definition of art wide enough to include
 all its varieties of aim3 ,i do not say
 therefore that the art is greatest     
which gives most pleasure1 because      
perhaps there is some art whose end is  
to teach1 and not to please4 ,i do not  
say that the art is greatest which      
teaches us most1 because perhaps there  
is some art whose end is to please1 and 
not to teach4 ,i do not say that the art

 is greatest which imitates best1       
because perhaps there is some art whose 
end is to create1 and not to imitate4   
,but ,i say that the art is greatest1   
which conveys to the mind of the        
spectator1 by any means whatsoever1 the 
greatest number of the greatest ideas1  
and ,i call an idea great in proportion 
as it is received by a higher faculty of
 the mind1 and as it more fully         
occupies1 and in occupying1 exercises   
and exalts1 the faculty by which it is  
received4  ,if this then be the         
definition of great art1 that of a great
 artist naturally follows4 ,he is the   
greatest artist who has embodied1 in the
 sum of his works1 the greatest number  
of the greatest ideas4                  
,,chapter ,,iii4                        
,,of ,,ideas ,,of ,,power4   ,the       
definition of art which ,i have just    
given1 requires me to determine what    
kinds of ideas can be received from     
works of art1 and which of these are the
 greatest1 before proceeding to any     

practical application of the test4      
,sec4 #a4 ,what classes of ideas are    
conveyable by art4  ,i think that all   
the sources of pleasure1 or any other   
good1 to be derived from works of art1  
may be referred to five distinct heads4 
,i4 ,ideas of ,power4--,the perception  
or conception of the mental or          
bodily powers by which the work has been
 produced4     ,,ii4 ,ideas of          
,imitation4--,the perception that the   
thing produced          resembles       
something else4    ,,iii4 ,ideas of     
,truth4--,the perception of faithfulness
 in a statement          of facts by the
 thing produced4     ,,iv4 ,ideas of    
,beauty4--,the perception of beauty1    
either in the thing          produced1  
or in what it suggests or resembles4    
,v4 ,ideas of ,relation4--,the          
perception of intellectual relations1 in
          the thing produced1 or in what
 it suggests or resembles4  ,i shall    
briefly distinguish the nature and      
effects of each of these classes of     

ideas4   ,sec4 #b4 ,ideas of power vary 
much in relative dignity4  ,i4 ,ideas of
 ,power4--,these are the simple         
perception of the mental or bodily      
powers exerted in the production of any 
work of art4 ,according to the dignity  
and degree of the power perceived is the
 dignity of the idea2 but the whole     
class of ideas is received by the       
intellect1 and they excite the best of  
the moral feelings1 veneration1 and the 
desire of exertion4 ,as a species1      
therefore1 they are one of the noblest  
connected with art2 but the differences 
in degree of dignity among themselves   
are infinite1 being correspondent with  
every order of power1--from that of the 
fingers to that of the most exalted     
intellect4 ,thus1 when we see an        
,indian's paddle carved from the handle 
to the blade1 we have a conception of   
prolonged manual labor1 and are         
gratified in proportion to the supposed 
expenditure of time and exertion4 ,these
 are1 indeed1 powers of a low order1 yet

 the pleasure arising from the          
conception of them enters very largely  
indeed into our admiration of all       
elaborate ornament1 architectural       
decoration1 etc4 ,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 production4   
,but it is a right1 that is1 an         
ennobling pleasure1 even in this its    
lowest phase2 and even the pleasure felt
 by those persons who praise a drawing  
for its finish1 or its work1 which is   
one precisely of the same kind1 would be
 right1 if it did not imply a want of   
perception of the higher powers which   
render work unnecessary4 ,if to the     
evidence of labor be added that of      
strength or dexterity1 the sensation of 
power is yet increased2 if to strength  
and dexterity be added that of ingenuity
 and judgment1 it is multiplied tenfold1
 and so on1 through all the subjects of 
action of body or mind1 we receive the  

more exalted pleasure from the more     
exalted power4   ,sec4 #c4 ,but are     
received from whatever has been the     
subject of power4 ,the        meaning of
 the word excellence4  ,so far the      
nature and effects of ideas of power    
cannot but be admitted by all4 ,but the 
circumstance which ,i wish especially to
 insist upon1 with respect to them1 is  
one which may not1 perhaps1 be so       
readily allowed1 namely1 that they are  
independent of the nature or worthiness 
of the object from which they are       
received1 and that whatever has been the
 subject of a great power1 whether there
 be intrinsic and apparent worthiness in
 itself or not1 bears with it the       
evidence of having been so1 and is      
capable of giving the ideas of power1   
and the consequent pleasures1 in their  
full degree4 ,for observe1 that a thing 
is not properly said to have been the   
result of a great power1 on which only  
some part of that power has been        
expended4 ,a nut may be cracked by a    

steam-engine1 but it has not1 in being  
so1 been the subject of the power of the
 engine4 ,and thus it is falsely said of
 great men1 that they waste their lofty 
powers on unworthy objects3 the object  
may be dangerous or useless1 but1 as far
 as the phrase has reference to         
difficulty of performance1 it cannot be 
unworthy of the power which it brings   
into exertion1 because nothing can      
become a subject of action to a greater 
power which can be accomplished by a    
less1 any more than bodily strength can 
be exerted where there is nothing to    
resist it4  ,so then1 men may let their 
great powers lie dormant1 while they    
employ their mean and petty powers on   
mean and petty objects2 but it is       
physically impossible to employ a great 
power1 except on a great object4        
,consequently1 wherever power of any    
kind or degree has been exerted1 the    
marks and evidence of it are stamped    
upon its results3 it is impossible that 
it should be lost or wasted1 or without 

record1 even in the estimation of a     
hair3 and therefore1 whatever has been  
the subject of a great power bears about
 with it the image of that which created
 it1 and is what is commonly called     
excellent4 ,and this is the true meaning
 of the word excellent1 as distinguished
 from the terms1 beautiful1 useful1     
good1 etc42 and we shall always1 in     
future1 use the word excellent1 as      
signifying that the thing to which it is
 applied required a great power for its 
production4#c   ,sec4 #d4 ,what is      
necessary to the distinguishing of      
excellence4  ,the faculty of perceiving 
what powers are required for the        
production of a thing1 is the faculty of
 perceiving excellence4 ,it is this     
faculty in which men1 even of the most  
cultivated taste1 must always be        
wanting1 unless they have added practice
 to reflection2 because none can        
estimate the power manifested in        
victory1 unless they have personally    
measured the strength to be overcome4   

,though1 therefore1 it is possible1 by  
the cultivation of sensibility and      
judgment1 to become capable of          
distinguishing what is beautiful1 it is 
totally impossible1 without practice and
 knowledge1 to distinguish or feel what 
is excellent4 ,the beauty or the truth  
of ,titian's flesh-tint may be          
appreciated by all2 but it is only to   
the artist1 whose multiplied hours of   
toil have not reached the slightest     
resemblance of one of its tones1 that   
its excellence is manifest4   ,sec4 #e4 
,the pleasure attendant on conquering   
difficulties is right4  ,wherever1 then1
 difficulty has been overcome1 there is 
excellence3 and therefore1 in order to  
prove excellent1 we have only to prove  
the difficulty of its production3       
whether it be useful or beautiful is    
another question2 its excellence depends
 on its difficulty alone4 ,for is it a  
false or diseased taste which looks for 
the overcoming of difficulties1 and has 
pleasure in it1 even without any view to

 resultant good4 ,it has been made part 
of our moral nature that we should have 
a pleasure in encountering and          
conquering opposition1 for the sake of  
the struggle and the victory1 not for   
the sake of any after result2 and not   
only our own victory1 but the perception
 of that of another1 is in all cases the
 source of pure and ennobling pleasure4 
,and if we often hear it said1 and truly
 said1 that an artist has erred by      
seeking rather to show his skill in     
overcoming technical difficulties1 than 
to reach a great end1 be it observed    
that he is only blamed because he has   
sought to conquer an inferior difficulty
 rather than a great one2 for it is much
 easier to overcome technical           
difficulties than to reach a great end4 
,whenever the visible victory over      
difficulties is found painful or in     
false taste1 it is owing to the         
preference of an inferior to a great    
difficulty1 or to the false estimate of 
what is difficult and what is not4 ,it  

is far more difficult to be simple than 
to be complicated2 far more difficult to
 sacrifice skill and cease exertion in  
the proper place1 than to expend both   
indiscriminately4 ,we shall find1 in the
 course of our investigation1 that      
beauty and difficulty go together2 and  
that they are only mean and paltry      
difficulties which it is wrong or       
contemptible to wrestle with4 ,be it    
remembered then--,power is never wasted4
 ,whatever power has been employed1     
produces excellence in proportion to its
 own dignity and exertion2 and the      
faculty of perceiving this exertion1 and
 appreciating this dignity1 is the      
faculty of perceiving excellence4       
,,footnotes    #c ,of course the word   
excellent is primarily a mere synonym   
with     surpassing1 and when applied to
 persons1 has the general meaning       
given by ,johnson--the state of         
abounding in any good quality4 ,but     
when applied to things it has always    
reference to the power by which     they

 are produced4 ,we talk of excellent    
music or poetry1 because it     is      
difficult to compose or write such1 but 
never of excellent     flowers1 because 
all flowers being the result of the same
 power1     must be equally excellent4  
,we distinguish them only as beautiful  
or     useful1 and therefore1 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  
power1 and as the term excellent is more
 frequently used     in this sense than 
in any other1 ,i choose to limit it at  
once to     this sense1 and ,i wish it1 
when ,i use it in future1 to be so      
understood4                             
,,chapter ,,iv4                         
,,of ,,ideas ,,of ,,imitation4   ,sec4  
#a4 ,false use of the term imitation by 
many writers of art4  ,fuseli1 in his   
lectures1 and many other persons of     
equally just and accurate habits of     
thought1 7among others1 ,s4 ,t4         
,coleridge17 make a distinction between 

imitation and copying1 representing the 
first as the legitimate function of     
art--the latter as its corruption2 but  
as such a distinction is by no means    
warranted1 or explained by the common   
meaning of the words themselves1 it is  
not easy to comprehend exactly in what  
sense they are used by those writers4   
,and though1 reasoning from the context1
 ,i can understand what ideas those     
words stand for in their minds1 ,i      
cannot allow the terms to be properly   
used as symbols of those ideas1 which   
7especially in the case of the word     
,imitation7 are exceedingly complex1 and
 totally different from what most people
 would understand by the term4 ,and by  
men of less accurate thought1 the word  
is used still more vaguely or falsely4  
,for instance1 ,burke 7,treatise on the 
,sublime1 part i4 sect4 #af7 says1 ,when
 the object represented in poetry or    
painting is such as we could have no    
desire of seeing in the reality1 then we
 may be sure that its power in poetry or

 painting is owing to the power of      
imitation4 ,in which case the real      
pleasure may be in what we have been    
just speaking of1 the dexterity of the  
artist's hand2 or it may be in a        
beautiful or singular arrangement of    
colors1 or a thoughtful chiaroscuro1 or 
in the pure beauty of certain forms     
which art forces on our notice1 though  
we should not have observed them in the 
reality2 and ,i conceive that none of   
these sources of pleasure are in any way
 expressed or intimated by the term     
imitation4  ,but there is one source of 
pleasure in works of art totally        
different from all these1 which ,i      
conceive to be properly and accurately  
expressed by the word imitation3 one    
which1 though constantly confused in    
reasoning1 because it is always         
associated in fact1 with other means of 
pleasure1 is totally separated from them
 in its nature1 and is the real basis of
 whatever complicated or various meaning
 may be afterwards attached to the word 

in the minds of men4   ,sec4 #b4 ,real  
meaning of the term4  ,sec4 #c4 ,what is
 requisite to the sense of imitation4   
,i wish to point out this distinct      
source of pleasure clearly at once1 and 
only to use the word imitation in       
reference to it4 ,whenever anything     
looks like what it is not1 the          
resemblance being so great as nearly to 
deceive1 we feel a kind of pleasurable  
surprise1 an agreeable excitement of    
mind1 exactly the same in its nature as 
that which we receive from juggling4    
,whenever we perceive this in something 
produced by art1 that is to say1        
whenever the work is seen to resemble   
something which we know it is not1 we   
receive what ,i call an idea of         
imitation4 ,why such ideas are pleasing1
 it would be out of our present purpose 
to inquire2 we only know that there is  
no man who does not feel pleasure in his
 animal nature from gentle surprise1 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 be4#d ,now two things are    
requisite to our complete and more      
pleasurable perception of this3 first1  
that the resemblance be so perfect as to
 amount to a deception2 secondly1 that  
there be some means of proving at the   
same moment that it is a deception4 ,the
 most perfect ideas and pleasures of    
imitation are1 therefore1 when one sense
 is contradicted by another1 both       
bearing as positive evidence on the     
subject as each is capable of alone2 as 
when the eye says a thing is round1 and 
the finger says it is flat2 they are1   
therefore1 never felt in so high a      
degree as in painting1 where appearance 
of projection1 roughness1 hair1 velvet1 
etc41 are given with a smooth surface1  
or in wax-work1 where the first evidence
 of the senses is perpetually           
contradicted by their experience2 but   
the moment we come to marble1 our       
definition checks us1 for a marble      
figure does not look like what it is    

not3 it looks like marble1 and like the 
form of a man1 but then it is marble1   
and it is the form of a man4 ,it does   
not look like a man1 which it is not1   
but like the form of a man1 which it is4
 ,form is form1 bona fide and actual1   
whether in marble or in flesh--not an   
imitation or resemblance of form1 but   
real form4 ,the chalk outline of the    
bough of a tree on paper1 is not an     
imitation2 it looks like chalk and      
paper--not like wood1 and that which it 
suggests to the mind is not properly    
said to be like the form of a bough1 it 
is the form of a bough4 ,now1 then1 we  
see the limits of an idea of imitation2 
it extends only to the sensation of     
trickery and deception occasioned by a  
thing's intentionally seeming different 
from what it is2 and the degree of the  
pleasure depends on the degree of       
difference and the perfection of the    
resemblance1 not on the nature of the   
thing resembled4 ,the simple pleasure in
 the imitation would be precisely of the

 same degree1 7if the accuracy could be 
equal17 whether the subject of it were  
the hero or his horse4 ,there are other 
collateral sources of pleasure1 which   
are necessarily associated with this1   
but that part of the pleasure which     
depends on the imitation is the same in 
both4   ,sec4 #d4 ,the pleasure         
resulting from imitation the most       
contemptible that        can be derived 
from art4  ,ideas of imitation1 then1   
act by producing the simple pleasure of 
surprise1 and that not of surprise in   
its higher sense and function1 but of   
the mean and paltry surprise which is   
felt in jugglery4 ,these ideas and      
pleasures are the most contemptible     
which can be received from art2 first1  
because it is necessary to their        
enjoyment that the mind should reject   
the impression and address of the thing 
represented1 and fix itself only upon   
the reflection that it is not what it   
seems to be4 ,all high or noble emotion 
or thought are thus rendered physically 

impossible1 while the mind exults in    
what is very like a strictly sensual    
pleasure4 ,we may consider tears as a   
result of agony or of art1 whichever we 
please1 but not of both at the same     
moment4 ,if we are surprised by them as 
an attainment of the one1 it is         
impossible we can be moved by them as a 
sign of the other4   ,sec4 #e4          
,imitation is only of contemptible      
subjects4  ,ideas of imitation are      
contemptible in the second place1       
because not only do they preclude the   
spectator from enjoying inherent beauty 
in the subject1 but they can only be    
received from mean and paltry subjects1 
because it is impossible to imitate     
anything really great4 ,we can paint a  
cat or a fiddle1 so that they look as if
 we could take them up2 but we cannot   
imitate the ocean1 or the ,alps4 ,we can
 imitate fruit1 but not a tree2 flowers1
 but not a pasture2 cut-glass1 but not  
the rainbow4 ,all pictures in which     
deceptive powers of imitation are       

displayed are therefore either of       
contemptible subjects1 or have the      
imitation shown in contemptible parts of
 them1 bits of dress1 jewels1 furniture1
 etc4   ,sec4 #f4 ,imitation is         
contemptible because it is easy4        
,thirdly1 these ideas are contemptible1 
because no ideas of power are associated
 with them2 to the ignorant1 imitation1 
indeed1 seems difficult1 and its success
 praiseworthy1 but even they can by no  
possibility see more in the artist than 
they do in a juggler1 who arrives at a  
strange end by means with which they are
 unacquainted4 ,to the instructed1 the  
juggler is by far the more respectable  
artist of the two1 for they know sleight
 of hand to be an art of immensely more 
difficult acquirement1 and to imply more
 ingenuity in the artist than a power of
 deceptive imitation in painting1 which 
requires nothing more for its attainment
 than a true eye1 a steady hand1 and    
moderate industry--qualities which in no
 degree separate the imitative artist   

from a watch-maker1 pin-maker1 or any   
other neat-handed artificer4 ,these     
remarks do not apply to the art of the  
,diorama1 or the stage1 where the       
pleasure is not dependent on the        
imitation1 but is the same which we     
should receive from nature herself1 only
 far inferior in degree4 ,it is a noble 
pleasure2 but we shall see in the course
 of our investigation1 both that it is  
inferior to that which we receive when  
there is no deception at all1 and why it
 is so4   ,sec4 #g4 ,recapitulation4    
,whenever then in future1 ,i speak of   
ideas of imitation1 ,i wish to be       
understood to mean the immediate and    
present perception that something       
produced by art is not what it seems to 
be4 ,i prefer saying that it is not what
 it seems to be1 to saying that it seems
 to be what it is not1 because we       
perceive at once what it seems to be1   
and the idea of imitation1 and the      
consequent pleasure1 result from the    
subsequent perception of its being      

something else--flat1 for instance1 when
 we thought it was round4   ,,footnotes 
#d ,greek3 syllogismos ettig1 hoti touto
 ekeino4--,arist4 ,rhet4 #a1     #aa1   
#bc4                                    
,,chapter ,v4                           
,,of ,,ideas ,,of ,,truth4  ,the word   
truth1 as applied to art1 signifies the 
faithful statement1 either to the mind  
or senses1 of any fact of nature4       
,sec4 #a4 ,meaning of the word truth as 
applied to art4  ,we receive an idea of 
truth1 then1 when we perceive the       
faithfulness of such a statement4  ,the 
difference between ideas of truth and of
 imitation lies chiefly in the following
 points4   ,sec4 #b4 ,first difference  
between truth and imitation4            
,first1--,imitation can only be of      
something material1 but truth has       
reference to statements both of the     
qualities of material things1 and of    
emotions1 impressions1 and thoughts4    
,there is a moral as well as material   
truth1--a truth of impression as well as

 of form1--of thought as well as of     
matter2 and the truth of impression and 
thought is a thousand times the more    
important of the two4 ,hence1 truth is a
 term of universal application1 but     
imitation is limited to that narrow     
field of art which takes cognizance only
 of material things4   ,sec4 #c4 ,second
 difference4  ,secondly1--,truth may be 
stated by any signs or symbols which    
have a definite signification in the    
minds of those to whom they are         
addressed1 although such signs be       
themselves no image nor likeness of     
anything4 ,whatever can excite in the   
mind the conception of certain facts1   
can give ideas of truth1 though it be in
 no degree the imitation or resemblance 
of those facts4 ,if there be--we do not 
say there is--but if there be in        
painting anything which operates1 as    
words do1 not by resembling anything1   
but by being taken as a symbol and      
substitute for it1 and thus inducing the
 effect of it1 then this channel of     

communication can convey uncorrupted    
truth1 though it do not in any degree   
resemble the facts whose conception it  
induces4 ,but ideas of imitation1 of    
course1 require the likeness of the     
object4 ,they speak to the perceptive   
faculties only3 truth to the conceptive4
   ,sec4 #d4 ,third difference4         
,thirdly1--,and in consequence of what  
is above stated1 an idea of truth exists
 in the statement of one attribute of   
anything1 but an idea of imitation      
requires the resemblance of as many     
attributes as we are usually cognizant  
of in its real presence4 ,a pencil      
outline of the bough of a tree on white 
paper is a statement of a certain number
 of facts of form4 ,it does not yet     
amount to the imitation of anything4    
,the idea of that form is not given in  
nature by lines at all1 still less by   
black lines with a white space between  
them4 ,but those lines convey to the    
mind a distinct impression of a certain 
number of facts1 which it recognizes as 

agreeable with its previous impressions 
of the bough of a tree2 and it receives1
 therefore1 an idea of truth4 ,if1      
instead of two lines1 we give a dark    
form with the brush1 we convey          
information of a certain relation of    
shade between the bough and sky1        
recognizable for another idea of truth2 
but we have still no imitation1 for the 
white paper is not the least like air1  
nor the black shadow like wood4 ,it is  
not until after a certain number of     
ideas of truth have been collected      
together1 that we arrive at an idea of  
imitation4   ,sec4 #e4 ,no accurate     
truths necessary to imitation4  ,hence  
it might at first sight appear1 that an 
idea of imitation1 inasmuch as several  
ideas of truth were united in it1 was   
nobler than a simple idea of truth4 ,and
 if it were necessary that the ideas of 
truth should be perfect1 or should be   
subjects of contemplation as such1 it   
would be so4 ,but1 observe1 we require  
to produce the effect of imitation only 

so many and such ideas of truth as the  
senses are usually cognizant of4 ,now   
the senses are not usually1 nor unless  
they be especially devoted to the       
service1 cognizant1 with accuracy1 of   
any truths but those of space and       
projection4 ,it requires long study and 
attention before they give certain      
evidence of even the simplest truths of 
form4 ,for instance1 the quay on which  
the figure is sitting1 with his hand at 
his eyes1 in ,claude's seaport1 ,no4    
#ad1 in the ,national ,gallery1 is      
egregiously out of perspective4 ,the eye
 of this artist1 with all his study1 had
 thus not acquired the power of taking  
cognizance of the apparent form even of 
a simple parallelopiped4 ,how much less 
of the complicated forms of boughs1     
leaves1 or limbs8 ,although1 therefore1 
something resembling the real form is   
necessary to deception1 this something  
is not to be called a truth of form2    
for1 strictly speaking1 there are no    
degrees of truth1 there are only degrees

 of approach to it2 and an approach to  
it1 whose feebleness and imperfection   
would instantly offend and give pain to 
a mind really capable of distinguishing 
truth1 is yet quite sufficient for all  
the purposes of deceptive imagination4  
,it is the same with regard to color4   
,if we were to paint a tree sky-blue1 or
 a dog rose-pink1 the discernment of the
 public would be keen enough to discover
 the falsehood2 but1 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 minds1 that is to say1 if the  
trees be all bright green1 and flesh    
unbroken buff1 and ground unbroken      
brown1 though all the real and refined  
truths of color be wholly omitted1 or   
rather defied and contradicted1 there is
 yet quite enough for all purposes of   
imitation4 ,the only facts then1 which  
we are usually and certainly cognizant  
of1 are those of distance and           
projection1 and if these be tolerably   
given1 with something like truth of form

 and color to assist them1 the idea of  
imitation is complete4 ,i would         
undertake to paint an arm1 with every   
muscle out of its place1 and every bone 
of false form and dislocated            
articulation1 and yet to observe certain
 coarse and broad resemblances of true  
outline1 which1 with careful shading1   
would induce deception1 and draw down   
the praise and delight of the discerning
 public4 ,the other day at ,bruges1     
while ,i was endeavoring to set down in 
my note-book something of the ineffable 
expression of the ,madonna in the       
cathedral1 a ,french amateur came up to 
me1 to inquire if ,i had seen the modern
 ,french pictures in a neighboring      
church4 ,i had not1 but felt little     
inclined to leave my marble for all the 
canvas that ever suffered from ,french  
brushes4 ,my apathy was attacked with   
gradually increasing energy of praise4  
,rubens never executed--,titian never   
colored anything like them4 ,i thought  
this highly probable1 and still sat     

quiet4 ,the voice continued at my ear4  
,parbleu1 ,monsieur1 ,michel ,ange n'a  
rien produit de plus beau6 ,de plus     
beau8 repeated ,i1 wishing to know what 
particular excellences of ,michael      
,angelo were to be intimated by this    
expression4 ,monsieur1 on ne pent       
plus--c'est un tableau                  
admirable--inconcevable3 ,monsieur1 said
 the ,frenchman1 lifting up his hands to
 heaven1 as he concentrated in one      
conclusive and overwhelming proposition 
the qualities which were to outshine    
,rubens and overpower                   
,buonaroti--,monsieur1 ,,il ,,sort6     
,this gentleman could only perceive two 
truths--flesh color and projection4     
,these constituted his notion of the    
perfection of painting2 because they    
unite all that is necessary for         
deception4 ,he was not therefore        
cognizant of many ideas of truth1 though
 perfectly cognizant of ideas of        
imitation4   ,sec4 #f4 ,ideas of truth  
are inconsistent with ideas of          

imitation4  ,we shall see1 in the course
 of our investigation of ideas of truth1
 that ideas of imitation not only do not
 imply their presence1 but even are     
inconsistent with it2 and that pictures 
which imitate so as to deceive1 are     
never true4 ,but this is not the place  
for the proof of this2 at present we    
have only to insist on the last and     
greatest distinction between ideas of   
truth and of imitation--that the mind1  
in receiving one of the former1 dwells  
upon its own conception of the fact1 or 
form1 or feeling stated1 and is occupied
 only with the qualities and character  
of that fact or form1 considering it as 
real and existing1 being all the while  
totally regardless of the signs or      
symbols by which the notion of it has   
been conveyed4 ,these signs have no     
pretence1 nor hypocrisy1 nor legerdemain
 about them2--there is nothing to be    
found out1 or sifted1 or surprised in   
them2--they bear their message simply   
and clearly1 and it is that message     

which the mind takes from them and      
dwells upon1 regardless of the language 
in which it is delivered4 ,but the mind1
 in receiving an idea of imitation1 is  
wholly occupied in finding out that what
 has been suggested to it is not what it
 appears to be3 it does not dwell on the
 suggestion1 but on the perception that 
it is a false suggestion3 it derives its
 pleasure1 not from the contemplation of
 a truth1 but from the discovery of a   
falsehood4 ,so that the moment ideas of 
truth are grouped together1 so as to    
give rise to an idea of imitation1 they 
change their very nature--lose their    
essence as ideas of truth--and are      
corrupted and degraded1 so as to share  
in the treachery of what they have      
produced4 ,hence1 finally1 ideas of     
truth are the foundation1 and ideas of  
imitation the destruction1 of all art4  
,we shall be better able to appreciate  
their relative dignity after the        
investigation which we propose of the   
functions of the former2 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       
imitation1 for the very reason that     
nothing can be beautiful which is not   
true4                                   
,,chapter ,,vi4                         
,,of ,,ideas ,,of ,,beauty4   ,sec4 #a4 
,definition of the term beautiful4  ,any
 material object which can give us      
pleasure in the simple contemplation of 
its outward qualities without any direct
 and definite exertion of the intellect1
 ,i call in some way1 or in some degree1
 beautiful4 ,why we receive pleasure    
from some forms and colors1 and not from
 others1 is no more to be asked or      
answered than why we like sugar and     
dislike wormwood4 ,the utmost subtilty  
of investigation will only lead us to   
ultimate instincts and principles of    
human nature1 for which no farther      
reason can be given than the simple will
 of the ,deity that we should be so     
created4 ,we may1 indeed1 perceive1 as  

far as we are acquainted with ,his      
nature1 that we have been so constructed
 as1 when in a healthy and cultivated   
state of mind1 to derive pleasure from  
whatever things are illustrative of that
 nature2 but we do not receive pleasure 
from them because they are illustrative 
of it1 nor from any perception that they
 are illustrative of it1 but            
instinctively and necessarily1 as we    
derive sensual pleasure from the scent  
of a rose4 ,on these primary principles 
of our nature1 education and accident   
operate to an unlimited extent2 they may
 be cultivated or checked1 directed or  
diverted1 gifted by right guidance with 
the most acute and faultless sense1 or  
subjected by neglect to every phase of  
error and disease4 ,he who has followed 
up these natural laws of aversion and   
desire1 rendering them more and more    
authoritative by constant obedience1 so 
as to derive pleasure always from that  
which ,god originally intended should   
give him pleasure1 and who derives the  

greatest possible sum of pleasure from  
any given object1 is a man of taste4    
,sec4 #b4 ,definition of the term taste4
  ,this1 then1 is the real meaning of   
this disputed word4 ,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          
perfection4 ,he who receives little     
pleasure from these sources1 wants      
taste2 he who receives pleasure from any
 other sources1 has false or bad taste4 
,sec4 #c4 ,distinction between taste and
 judgment4  ,and it is thus that the    
term taste is to be distinguished from  
that of judgment1 with which it is      
constantly confounded4 ,judgment is a   
general term1 expressing definite action
 of the intellect1 and applicable to    
every kind of subject which can be      
submitted to it4 ,there may be judgment 
of congruity1 judgment of truth1        
judgment of justice1 and judgment of    
difficulty and excellence4 ,but all     

these exertions of the intellect are    
totally distinct from taste1 properly so
 called1 which is the instinctive and   
instant preferring of one material      
object to another without any obvious   
reason1 except that it is proper to     
human nature in its perfection so to do4
   ,sec4 #d4 ,how far beauty may become 
intellectual4  ,observe1 however1 ,i do 
not mean by excluding direct exertion of
 the intellect from ideas of beauty1 to 
assert that beauty has no effect upon   
nor connection with the intellect4 ,all 
our moral feelings are so in-woven with 
our intellectual powers1 that we cannot 
affect the one without in some degree   
addressing the other2 and in all high   
ideas of beauty1 it is more than        
probable that much of the pleasure      
depends on delicate and untraceable     
perceptions of fitness1 propriety1 and  
relation1 which are purely intellectual1
 and through which we arrive at our     
noblest ideas of what is commonly and   
rightly called intellectual beauty4 ,but

 there is yet no immediate exertion of  
the intellect2 that is to say1 if a     
person receiving even the noblest ideas 
of simple beauty be asked why he likes  
the object exciting them1 he will not be
 able to give any distinct reason1 nor  
to trace in his mind any formed thought1
 to which he can appeal as a source of  
pleasure4 ,he will say that the thing   
gratifies1 fills1 hallows1 exalts his   
mind1 but he will not be able to say    
why1 or how4 ,if he can1 and if he can  
show that he perceives in the object any
 expression of distinct thought1 he has 
received more than an idea of beauty--it
 is an idea of relation4   ,sec4 #e4    
,the high rank and function of ideas of 
beauty4  ,ideas of beauty are among the 
noblest which can be presented to the   
human mind1 invariably exalting and     
purifying it according to their degree2 
and it would appear that we are intended
 by the ,deity to be constantly under   
their influence1 because there is not   
one single object in nature which is not

 capable of conveying them1 and which1  
to the rightly perceiving mind1 does not
 present an incalculably greater number 
of beautiful than of deformed parts2    
there being in fact scarcely anything1  
in pure1 undiseased nature1 like        
positive deformity1 but only degrees of 
beauty1 or such slight and rare points  
of permitted contrast as may render all 
around them more valuable by their      
opposition1 spots of blackness in       
creation1 to make its colors felt4      
,sec4 #f4 ,meaning of the term ideal    
beauty4  ,but although everything in    
nature is more or less beautiful1 every 
species of object has its own kind and  
degree of beauty2 some being in their   
own nature more beautiful than others1  
and few1 if any1 individuals possessing 
the utmost degree of beauty of which the
 species is capable4 ,this utmost degree
 of specific beauty1 necessarily        
coexistent with the utmost perfection of
 the object in other respects1 is the   
ideal of the object4  ,ideas of beauty1 

then1 be it remembered1 are the subjects
 of moral1 but not of intellectual      
perception4 ,by the investigation of    
them we shall be led to the knowledge of
 the ideal subjects of art4             
,,chapter ,,vii4                        
,,of ,,ideas ,,of ,,relation4   ,sec4   
#a4 ,general meaning of the term4  ,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  
it1 namely1 all those conveyable by art1
 which are the subjects of distinct     
intellectual perception and action1 and 
which are therefore worthy of the name  
of thoughts4 ,but as every thought1 or  
definite exertion of intellect1 implies 
two subjects1 and some connection or    
relation inferred between them1 the term
 ideas of relation is not incorrect1    
though it is inexpressive4   ,sec4 #b4  
,what ideas are to be comprehended under
 it4  ,under this head must be arranged 
everything productive of expression1    

sentiment1 and character1 whether in    
figures or landscapes1 7for there may be
 as much definite expression and marked 
carrying out of particular thoughts in  
the treatment of inanimate as of animate
 nature17 everything relating to the    
conception of the subject and to the    
congruity and relation of its parts2 not
 as they enhance each other's beauty by 
known and constant laws of composition1 
but as they give each other expression  
and meaning1 by particular application1 
requiring distinct thought to discover  
or to enjoy3 the choice1 for instance1  
of a particular lurid or appalling      
light1 to illustrate an incident in     
itself terrible1 or of a particular tone
 of pure color to prepare the mind for  
the expression of refined and delicate  
feeling2 and1 in a still higher sense1  
the invention of such incidents and     
thoughts as can be expressed in words as
 well as on canvas1 and are totally     
independent of any means of art but such
 as may serve for the bare suggestion of

 them4 ,the principal object in the     
foreground of ,turner's ,building of    
,carthage is a group of children sailing
 toy boats4 ,the exquisite choice of    
this incident1 as expressive of the     
ruling passion1 which was to be the     
source of future greatness1 in          
preference to the tumult of busy        
stone-masons or arming soldiers1 is     
quite as appreciable when it is told as 
when it is seen1--it has nothing to do  
with the technicalities of painting2 a  
scratch of the pen would have conveyed  
the idea and spoken to the intellect as 
much as the elaborate realizations of   
color4 ,such a thought as this is       
something far above all art2 it is epic 
poetry of the highest order4 ,claude1 in
 subjects of the same kind1 commonly    
introduces people carrying red trunks   
with iron locks about1 and dwells1 with 
infantine delight1 on the lustre of the 
leather and the ornaments of the iron4  
,the intellect can have no occupation   
here2 we must look to the imitation or  

to nothing4 ,consequently1 ,turner rises
 above ,claude in the very first instant
 of the conception of his picture1 and  
acquires an intellectual superiority    
which no powers of the draughtsman or   
the artist 7supposing that such existed 
in his antagonist7 could ever wrest from
 him4   ,sec4 #c4 ,the exceeding        
nobility of these ideas4  ,such are the 
function and force of ideas of relation4
 ,they are what ,i have asserted in the 
second chapter of this section to be the
 noblest subjects of art4 ,dependent    
upon it only for expression1 they cause 
all the rest of its complicated sources 
of pleasure to take1 in comparison with 
them1 the place of mere language or     
decoration2 nay1 even the noblest ideas 
of beauty sink at once beside these into
 subordination and subjection4 ,it would
 add little to the influence of         
,landseer's picture above instanced1    
,chap4 ,,ii41 ,sec4 #d1 that the form of
 the dog should be conceived with every 
perfection of curve and color which its 

nature was capable of1 and that the     
ideal lines should be carried out with  
the science of a ,praxiteles2 nay1 the  
instant that the beauty so obtained     
interfered with the impression of agony 
and desolation1 and drew the mind away  
from the feeling of the animal to its   
outward form1 that instant would the    
picture become monstrous and degraded4  
,the utmost glory of the human body is a
 mean subject of contemplation1 compared
 to the emotion1 exertion and character 
of that which animates it2 the lustre of
 the limbs of the ,aphrodite is faint   
beside that of the brow of the ,madonna2
 and the divine form of the ,greek god1 
except as it is the incarnation and     
expression of divine mind1 is degraded  
beside the passion and the prophecy of  
the vaults of the ,sistine4   ,sec4 #d4 
,why no subdivision of so extensive a   
class is necessary4  ,ideas of relation 
are of course1 with respect to art      
generally1 the most extensive as the    
most important source of pleasure2 and  

if we proposed entering upon the        
criticism of historical works1 it would 
be absurd to attempt to do so without   
further subdivision and arrangement4    
,but the old landscape painters got over
 so much canvas without either exercise 
of1 or appeal to1 the intellect1 that we
 shall be little troubled with the      
subject as far as they are concerned2   
and whatever subdivision we may adopt1  
as it will therefore have particular    
reference to the works of modern        
artists1 will be better understood when 
we have obtained some knowledge of them 
in less important points4  ,by the term 
ideas of relation1 then1 ,i mean in     
future to express all those sources of  
pleasure1 which involve and require1 at 
the instant of their perception1 active 
exertion of the intellectual powers4    
,,section ,,ii4                         
,,of ,,power4                           
,,chapter ,i4                  ,,general
 ,,principles ,,respecting ,,ideas ,,of 
,,power4   ,sec4 #a4 ,no necessity for  

detailed study of ideas of imitation4   
,we have seen in the last section1 what 
classes of ideas may be conveyed by art1
 and we have been able so far to        
appreciate their relative worth as to   
see1 that from the list1 as it is to be 
applied to the purposes of legitimate   
criticism1 we may at once throw out the 
ideas of imitation2 first1 because1 as  
we have shown1 they are unworthy the    
pursuit of the artist2 and secondly1    
because they are nothing more than the  
result of a particular association of   
ideas of truth4 ,in examining the truth 
of art1 therefore1 we shall be compelled
 to take notice of those particular     
truths1 whose association gives rise to 
the ideas of imitation4 ,we shall then  
see more clearly the meanness of those  
truths1 and we shall find ourselves able
 to use them as tests of vice in art1   
saying of a picture1--,it deceives1     
therefore it must be bad4   ,sec4 #b4   
,nor for separate study of ideas of     
power4  ,ideas of power1 in the same    

way1 cannot be completely viewed as a   
separate class2 not because they are    
mean or unimportant1 but because they   
are almost always associated with1 or   
dependent upon1 some of the higher ideas
 of truth1 beauty1 or relation1 rendered
 with decision or velocity4 ,that power 
which delights us in the chalk sketch of
 a great painter is not one of the      
fingers1 not like that of the           
writing-master1 mere dexterity of hand4 
,it is the accuracy and certainty of the
 knowledge1 rendered evident by its     
rapid and fearless expression1 which is 
the real source of pleasure2 and so upon
 each difficulty of art1 whether it be  
to know1 or to relate1 or to invent1 the
 sensation of power is attendant1 when  
we see that difficulty totally and      
swiftly vanquished4 ,hence1 as we       
determine what is otherwise desirable in
 art1 we shall gradually develop the    
sources of the ideas of power2 and if   
there be anything difficult which is not
 otherwise desirable1 it must be        

afterwards considered separately4       
,sec4 #c4 ,except under one particular  
form4  ,but it will be necessary at     
present to notice a particular form of  
the ideas of power1 which is partially  
independent of knowledge of truth1 or   
difficulty1 and which is apt to corrupt 
the judgment of the critic1 and debase  
the work of the artist4 ,it is evident  
that the conception of power which we   
receive from a calculation of unseen    
difficulty1 and an estimate of unseen   
strength1 can never be so impressive as 
that which we receive from the present  
sensation or sight of the one resisting1
 and the other overwhelming4 ,in the one
 case the power is imagined1 and in the 
other felt4   ,sec4 #d4 ,there are two  
modes of receiving ideas of power1      
commonly        inconsistent4  ,there   
are thus two modes in which we receive  
the conception of power2 one1 the most  
just1 when by a perfect knowledge of the
 difficulty to be overcome1 and the     
means employed1 we form a right estimate

 of the faculties exerted2 the other1   
when without possessing such intimate   
and accurate knowledge1 we are impressed
 by a sensation of power in visible     
action4 ,if these two modes of receiving
 the impression agree in the result1 and
 if the sensation be equal to the       
estimate1 we receive the utmost possible
 idea of power4 ,but this is the case   
perhaps with the works of only one man  
out of the whole circle of the fathers  
of art1 of him to whom we have just     
referred1 ,michael ,angelo4 ,in others1 
the estimate and the sensation are      
constantly unequal1 and often           
contradictory4   ,sec4 #e4 ,first reason
 of the inconsistency4  ,the first      
reason of this inconsistency is1 that in
 order to receive a sensation of power1 
we must see it in operation4 ,its       
victory1 therefore1 must not be         
achieved1 but achieving1 and therefore  
imperfect4 ,thus we receive a greater   
sensation of power from the half-hewn   
limbs of the ,twilight to the ,day of   

the ,cappella de' ,medici1 than even    
from the divine inebriety of the        
,bacchus in the gallery--greater from   
the life dashed out along the ,friezes  
of the ,parthenon1 than from the        
polished limbs of the ,apollo1--greater 
from the ink sketch of the head of      
,raffaelle's ,st4 ,catherine1 than from 
the perfection of its realization4      
,sec4 #f4 ,second reason for the        
inconsistency4  ,another reason of the  
inconsistency is1 that the sensation of 
power is in proportion to the apparent  
inadequacy of the means to the end2 so  
that the impression is much greater from
 a partial success attained with slight 
effort1 than from perfect success       
attained with greater proportional      
effort4 ,now1 in all art1 every touch or
 effort does individually less in       
proportion as the work approaches       
perfection4 ,the first five chalk       
touches bring a head into existence out 
of nothing4 ,no five touches in the     
whole course of the work will ever do so

 much as these1 and the difference made 
by each touch is more and more          
imperceptible as the work approaches    
completion4 ,consequently1 the ratio    
between the means employed and the      
effect produced is constantly           
decreasing1 and therefore the least     
sensation of power is received from the 
most perfect work4   ,sec4 #g4 ,the     
sensation of power ought not to be      
sought in imperfect art4  ,it is thus   
evident that there are sensations of    
power about imperfect art1 so that it be
 right art as far as it goes1 which must
 always be wanting in its perfection2   
and that there are sources of pleasure  
in the hasty sketch and rough hewn      
block1 which are partially wanting in   
the tinted canvas and the polished      
marble4 ,but it is nevertheless wrong to
 prefer the sensation of power to the   
intellectual perception of it4 ,there is
 in reality greater power in the        
completion than in the commencement2 and
 though it be not so manifest to the    

senses1 it ought to have higher         
influence on the mind2 and therefore in 
praising pictures for the ideas of power
 they convey1 we must not look to the   
keenest sensation1 but to the highest   
estimate1 accompanied with as much of   
the sensation as is compatible with it2 
and thus we shall consider those        
pictures as conveying the highest ideas 
of power which attain the most perfect  
end with the slightest possible means2  
not1 observe1 those in which1 though    
much has been done with little1 all has 
not been done1 but from the picture1 in 
which all has been done1 and yet not a  
touch thrown away4 ,the quantity of work
 in the sketch is necessarily less in   
proportion to the effect obtained than  
in the picture2 but yet the picture     
involves the greater power1 if out of   
all the additional labor bestowed on it1
 not a touch has been lost4   ,sec4 #h4 
,instances in pictures of modern        
artists4  ,for instance1 there are few  
drawings of the present day that involve

 greater sensations of power than those 
of ,frederick ,tayler4 ,every dash      
tells1 and the quantity of effect       
obtained is enormous1 in proportion to  
the apparent means4 ,but the effect     
obtained is not complete4 ,brilliant1   
beautiful1 and right1 as a sketch1 the  
work is still far from perfection1 as a 
drawing4 ,on the contrary1 there are few
 drawings of the present day that bear  
evidence of more labor bestowed1 or more
 complicated means employed1 than those 
of ,john ,lewis4 ,the result does not1  
at first1 so much convey an impression  
of inherent power as of prolonged       
exertion2 but the result is complete4   
,water-color drawing can be carried no  
farther2 nothing has been left          
unfinished or untold4 ,and on           
examination of the means employed1 it is
 found and felt that not one touch out  
of the thousands employed has been      
thrown away2--that not one dot nor dash 
could be spared without loss of         
effect2--and that the exertion has been 

as swift as it has been prolonged--as   
bold as it has been persevering4 ,the   
power involved in such a picture is of  
the highest order1 and the enduring     
pleasure following on the estimate of it
 pure4   ,sec4 #i4 ,connection between  
ideas of power and modes of execution4  
,but there is still farther ground for  
caution in pursuing the sensation of    
power1 connected with the particular    
characters and modes of execution4 ,this
 we shall be better able to understand  
by briefly reviewing the various        
excellences which may belong to         
execution1 and give pleasure in it2     
though the full determination of what is
 desirable in it1 and the critical      
examination of the execution of         
different artists1 must be deferred1 as 
will be immediately seen1 until we are  
more fully acquainted with the          
principles of truth4                    
,,chapter ,,ii4             ,,of ,,ideas
 ,,of ,,power1 ,,as ,,they ,,are        
,,dependent ,,upon ,,execution4   ,sec4 

#a4 ,meaning of the term execution4  ,by
 the term execution1 ,i understand the  
right mechanical use of the means of art
 to produce a given end4   ,sec4 #b4    
,the first quality of execution is      
truth4  ,all qualities of execution1    
properly so called1 are influenced by1  
and in a great degree dependent on1 a   
far higher power than that of mere      
execution1--knowledge of truth4 ,for    
exactly in proportion as an artist is   
certain of his end1 will he be swift and
 simple in his means2 and1 as he is     
accurate and deep in his knowledge1 will
 he be refined and precise in his touch4
 ,the first merit of manipulation1 then1
 is that delicate and ceaseless         
expression of refined truth which is    
carried out to the last touch1 and      
shadow of a touch1 and which makes every
 hairsbreadth of importance1 and every  
gradation full of meaning4 ,it is not1  
properly speaking1 execution2 but it is 
the only source of difference between   
the execution of a commonplace and of a 

perfect artist4 ,the lowest draughtsman1
 if he have spent the same time in      
handling the brush1 may be equal to the 
highest in the other qualities of       
execution 7in swiftness1 simplicity1 and
 decision27 but not in truth4 ,it is in 
the perfection and precision of the     
instantaneous line that the claim to    
immortality is laid4 ,and if this truth 
of truths be present1 all the other     
qualities of execution may well be      
spared2 and to those artists who wish to
 excuse their ignorance and inaccuracy  
by a species of execution which is a    
perpetual proclamation1 qu'ils n'ont    
demeure qu'un quart d'heure a le faire1 
we may reply with the truthful ,alceste1
 ,monsieur1 le temps ne fait rien a     
l'affaire4   ,sec4 #c4 ,the second1     
simplicity4  ,the second quality of     
execution is simplicity4 ,the more      
unpretending1 quiet1 and retiring the   
means1 the more impressive their effect4
 ,any ostentation1 brilliancy1 or       
pretension of touch1--any exhibition of 

power or quickness1 merely as such1     
above all1 any attempt to render lines  
attractive at the expense of their      
meaning1 is vice4   ,sec4 #d4 ,the third
 mystery4  ,the third is mystery4       
,nature is always mysterious and secret 
in the use of her means2 and art is     
always likest her when it is most       
inexplicable4 ,that execution which is  
the most incomprehensible1 and which    
therefore defies imitation1 7other      
qualities being supposed alike17 is the 
best4   ,sec4 #e4 ,the fourth1          
inadequacy2 and the fifth1 decision4    
,the fourth is inadequacy4 ,the less    
sufficient the means appear to the end1 
the greater 7as has been already        
noticed7 will be the sensation of power4
  ,the fifth is decision3 the           
appearance1 that is1 that whatever is   
done1 has been done fearlessly and at   
once2 because this gives us the         
impression that both the fact to be     
represented1 and the means necessary to 
its representation1 were perfectly      

known4   ,sec4 #f4 ,the sixth1 velocity4
  ,the sixth is velocity4 ,not only is  
velocity1 or the appearance of it1      
agreeable as decision is1 because it    
gives ideas of power and knowledge2 but 
of two touches1 as nearly as possible   
the same in other respects1 the quickest
 will invariably be the best4 ,truth    
being supposed equally present in the   
shape and direction of both1 there will 
be more evenness1 grace and variety1 in 
the quick one than in the slow one4 ,it 
will be more agreeable to the eye as a  
touch or line1 and will possess more of 
the qualities of the lines of           
nature--gradation1 uncertainty1 and     
unity4   ,sec4 #g4 ,strangeness an      
illegitimate source of pleasure in      
execution4  ,these six qualities are the
 only perfectly legitimate sources of   
pleasure in execution2 but ,i might have
 added a seventh--strangeness1 which in 
many cases is productive of a pleasure  
not altogether mean or degrading1 though
 scarcely right4 ,supposing the other   

higher qualities first secured1 it adds 
in no small degree to our impression of 
the artist's knowledge1 if the means    
used be such as we should never have    
thought of1 or should have thought      
adapted to a contrary effect4 ,let us1  
for instance1 compare the execution of  
the bull's head in the left hand lowest 
corner of the ,adoration of the ,magi1  
in the ,museum at ,antwerp1 with that in
 ,berghem's landscape1 ,no4 #acb in the 
,dulwich ,gallery4 ,rubens first        
scratches horizontally over his canvas a
 thin grayish brown1 transparent and    
even1 very much the color of light      
wainscot2 the horizontal strokes of the 
bristles being left so evident1 that the
 whole might be taken for an imitation  
of wood1 were it not for its            
transparency4 ,on this ground the eye1  
nostril1 and outline of the cheek are   
given with two or three rude1 brown     
touches1 7about three or four minutes'  
work in all17 though the head is        
colossal4 ,the background is then laid  

in with thick1 solid1 warm white1       
actually projecting all round the head1 
leaving it in dark intaglio4 ,finally1  
five thin and scratchy strokes of very  
cold bluish white are struck for the    
high light on the forehead and nose1 and
 the head is complete4 ,seen within a   
yard of the canvas1 it looks actually   
transparent--a flimsy1 meaningless1     
distant shadow2 while the background    
looks solid1 projecting and near4 ,from 
the right distance1 7ten or twelve yards
 off1 whence alone the whole of the     
picture can be seen17 it is a complete1 
rich1 substantial1 and living           
realization of the projecting head of   
the animal2 while the background falls  
far behind4 ,now there is no slight nor 
mean pleasure in perceiving such a      
result attained by means so strange4 ,by
 ,berghem1 on the other hand1 a dark    
background is first laid in with        
exquisite delicacy and transparency1 and
 on this the cow's head is actually     
modelled in luminous white1 the separate

 locks of hair projecting from the      
canvas4 ,no surprise1 nor much pleasure 
of any kind1 would be attendant on this 
execution1 even were the result equally 
successful2 and what little pleasure we 
had in it1 vanishes1 when on retiring   
from the picture1 we find the head      
shining like a distant lantern1 instead 
of substantial or near4 ,yet strangeness
 is not to be considered as a legitimate
 source of pleasure4 ,that means which  
is most conducive to the end1 should    
always be the most pleasurable2 and that
 which is most conducive to the end1 can
 be strange only to the ignorance of the
 spectator4 ,this kind of pleasure is   
illegitimate1 therefore1 because it     
implies and requires1 in those who feel 
it1 ignorance of art4   ,sec4 #h4 ,yet  
even the legitimate sources of pleasure 
in execution are        inconsistent    
with each other4  ,sec4 #i4 ,and        
fondness for ideas of power leads to the
 adoption of the        lowest4  ,sec4  
#aj4 ,therefore perilous4  ,the         

legitimate sources of pleasure in       
execution are therefore truth1          
simplicity1 mystery1 inadequacy1        
decision1 and velocity4 ,but of these1  
be it observed1 some are so far         
inconsistent with others1 that they     
cannot be united in high degrees4       
,mystery with inadequacy1 for instance2 
since to see that the means are         
inadequate1 we must see what they are4  
,now the first three are the great      
qualities of execution1 and the last    
three are the attractive ones1 because  
on them are chiefly attendant the ideas 
of power4 ,by the first three the       
attention is withdrawn from the means   
and fixed on the result3 by the last    
three1 withdrawn from the result and    
fixed on the means4 ,to see that        
execution is swift or that it is        
decided1 we must look away from its     
creation to observe it in the act of    
creating2 we must think more of the     
pallet than of the picture1 but         
simplicity and mystery compel the mind  

to leave the means and fix itself on the
 conception4 ,hence the danger of too   
great fondness for those sensations of  
power which are associated with the     
three last qualities of execution2 for  
although it is most desirable that these
 should be present as far as they are   
consistent with the others1 and though  
their visible absence is always painful 
and wrong1 yet the moment the higher    
qualities are sacrificed to them in the 
least degree1 we have a brilliant vice4 
,berghem and ,salvator ,rosa are good   
instances of vicious execution dependent
 on too great fondness for sensations of
 power1 vicious because intrusive and   
attractive in itself1 instead of being  
subordinate to its results and forgotten
 in them4 ,there is perhaps no greater  
stumbling-block in the artist's way1    
than the tendency to sacrifice truth and
 simplicity to decision and velocity1#e 
captivating qualities1 easy of          
attainment1 and sure to attract         
attention and praise1 while the delicate

 degree of truth which is at first      
sacrificed to them is so totally        
unappreciable by the majority of        
spectators1 so difficult of attainment  
to the artist1 that it is no wonder that
 efforts so arduous and unrewarded      
should be abandoned4 ,but if the        
temptation be once yielded to1 its      
consequences are fatal2 there is no     
pause in the fall4 ,i could name a      
celebrated modern artist--once a man of 
the highest power and promise1 who is a 
glaring instance of the peril of such a 
course4 ,misled by the undue popularity 
of his swift execution1 he has          
sacrificed to it1 first precision1 and  
then truth1 and her associate1 beauty4  
,what was first neglect of nature1 has  
become contradiction of her2 what was   
once imperfection1 is now falsehood2 and
 all that was meritorious in his manner1
 is becoming the worst1 because the most
 attractive of vices2 decision without a
 foundation1 and swiftness without an   
end4   ,sec4 #aa4 ,recapitulation4      

,such are the principal modes in which  
the ideas of power may become a         
dangerous attraction to the artist--a   
false test to the critic4 ,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   
great1 but concealed one2 and so that we
 keep this distinction constantly in    
view1 7whether with reference to        
execution or to any other quality of    
art17 between the sensation and the     
intellectual estimate of power1 we shall
 always find the ideas of power a just  
and high source of pleasure in every    
kind and grade of art4   ,,footnotes    
#e ,i have here noticed only noble      
vices1 the sacrifices of one            
excellence to another legitimate but    
inferior one4 ,there are1 on the        
other hand1 qualities of execution which
 are often sought for and     praised1  
though scarcely by the class of persons 
for whom ,i am     writing1 in which    

everything is sacrificed to illegitimate
 and     contemptible sources of        
pleasure1 and these are vice throughout1
 and     have no redeeming quality nor  
excusing aim4 ,such is that which is    
often thought so desirable in the       
,drawing-master1 under the title of     
boldness1 meaning that no touch is ever 
to be made less than the     tenth of an
 inch broad2 such1 on the other hand1   
the softness and     smoothness which   
are the great attraction of ,carlo      
,dolci1 and such     the exhibition of  
particular powers and tricks of the hand
 and     fingers1 in total forgetfulness
 of any end whatsoever to be attained   
thereby1 which is especially            
characteristic of modern engraving4     
,compare ,sect4 ,,ii4 ,chap4 ,,ii4 ,sec4
 #ba4 ,note4                            
,,chapter ,,iii4                        
,,of ,,the ,,sublime4  ,it may perhaps  
be wondered that in the division we have
 made of our subject1 we have taken no  
notice of the sublime in art1 and that  

in our explanation of that division we  
have not once used the word4   ,sec4 #a4
 ,sublimity is the effect upon the mind 
of anything above it4  ,the fact is1    
that sublimity is not a specific        
term1--not a term descriptive of the    
effect of a particular class of ideas4  
,anything which elevates the mind is    
sublime1 and elevation of mind is       
produced by the contemplation of        
greatness of any kind2 but chiefly1 of  
course1 by the greatness of the noblest 
things4 ,sublimity is1 therefore1 only  
another word for the effect of greatness
 upon the feelings4 ,greatness of       
matter1 space1 power1 virtue1 or beauty1
 are thus all sublime2 and there is     
perhaps no desirable quality of a work  
of art1 which in its perfection is not1 
in some way or degree1 sublime4   ,sec4 
#b4 ,burke's theory of the nature of the
 sublime incorrect1 and why4  ,sec4 #c4 
,danger is sublime1 but not the fear of 
it4  ,sec4 #d4 ,the highest beauty is   
sublime4  ,sec4 #e4 ,and generally      

whatever elevates the mind4  ,i am fully
 prepared to allow of much ingenuity in 
,burke's theory of the sublime1 as      
connected with self-preservation4 ,there
 are few things so great as death2 and  
there is perhaps nothing which banishes 
all littleness of thought and feeling in
 an equal degree with its contemplation4
 ,everything1 therefore1 which in any   
way points to it1 and1 therefore1 most  
dangers and powers over which we have   
little control1 are in some degree      
sublime4 ,but it is not the fear1       
observe1 but the contemplation of death2
 not the instinctive shudder and        
struggle of self-preservation1 but the  
deliberate measurement of the doom1     
which are really great or sublime in    
feeling4 ,it is not while we shrink1 but
 while we defy1 that we receive or      
convey the highest conceptions of the   
fate4 ,there is no sublimity in the     
agony of terror4 ,whether do we trace it
 most in the cry to the mountains1 fall 
on us1 and to the hills1 cover us1 or in

 the calmness of the prophecy--,and     
though after my skin worms destroy this 
body1 yet in my flesh ,i shall see ,god8
 ,a little reflection will easily       
convince any one1 that so far from the  
feelings of self-preservation being     
necessary to the sublime1 their greatest
 action is totally destructive of it2   
and that there are few feelings less    
capable of its perception than those of 
a coward4 ,but the simple conception or 
idea of greatness of suffering or extent
 of destruction is sublime1 whether     
there be any connection of that idea    
with ourselves or not4 ,if we were      
placed beyond the reach of all peril or 
pain1 the perception of these agencies  
in their influence on others would not  
be less sublime1 not because peril or   
pain are sublime in their own nature1   
but because their contemplation1        
exciting compassion or fortitude1       
elevates the mind1 and renders meanness 
of thought impossible4 ,beauty is not so
 often felt to be sublime2 because1 in  

many kinds of purely material beauty    
there is some truth in ,burke's         
assertion1 that littleness is one of its
 elements4 ,but he who has not felt that
 there may be beauty without littleness1
 and that such beauty is a source of the
 sublime1 is yet ignorant of the meaning
 of the ideal in art4 ,i do not mean1 in
 tracing the source of the sublime to   
greatness1 to hamper myself with any    
fine-spun theory4 ,i take the widest    
possible ground of investigation1 that  
sublimity is found wherever anything    
elevates the mind2 that is1 wherever it 
contemplates anything above itself1 and 
perceives it to be so4 ,this is the     
simple philological signification of the
 word derived from sublimis2 and will   
serve us much more easily1 and be a far 
clearer and more evident ground of      
argument1 than any mere metaphysical or 
more limited definition1 while the proof
 of its justness will be naturally      
developed by its application to the     
different branches of art4   ,sec4 #f4  

,the former division of the subject is  
therefore sufficient4  ,as1 therefore1  
the sublime is not distinct from what is
 beautiful1 nor from other sources of   
pleasure in art1 but is only a          
particular mode and manifestation of    
them1 my subject will divide itself into
 the investigation of ideas of truth1   
beauty1 and relation2 and to each of    
these classes of ideas ,i destine a     
separate part of the work4 ,the         
investigation of ideas of truth will    
enable us to determine the relative rank
 of artists as followers and historians 
of nature4  ,that of ideas of beauty    
will lead us to compare them in their   
attainment1 first of what is agreeable  
in technical matters1 then in color and 
composition1 finally and chiefly1 in the
 purity of their conceptions of the     
ideal4  ,and that of ideas of relation  
will lead us to compare them as         
originators of just thought4            
,,part ,,ii4                            
,,of ,,truth4                           

,,section ,i4                  ,,general
 ,,principles ,,respecting ,,ideas ,,of 
,,truth4                                
,,chapter ,i4    ,,of ,,ideas ,,of      
,,truth ,,in ,,their ,,connection ,,with
 ,,those ,,of ,,beauty ,,and ,,relation4
   ,sec4 #a4 ,the two great ends of     
landscape painting are the              
representation of        facts and      
thoughts4  ,it cannot but be evident    
from the above division of the ideas    
conveyable by art1 that the landscape   
painter must always have two great and  
distinct ends2 the first1 to induce in  
the spectator's mind the faithful       
conception of any natural objects       
whatsoever2 the second1 to guide the    
spectator's mind to those objects most  
worthy of its contemplation1 and to     
inform him of the thoughts and feelings 
with which these were regarded by the   
artist himself4  ,in attaining the first
 end1 the painter only places the       
spectator where he stands himself2 he   
sets him before the landscape and leaves

 him4 ,the spectator is alone4 ,he may  
follow out his own thoughts as he would 
in the natural solitude1 or he may      
remain untouched1 unreflecting and      
regardless1 as his disposition may      
incline him4 ,but he has nothing of     
thought given to him1 no new ideas1 no  
unknown feelings1 forced on his         
attention or his heart4 ,the artist is  
his conveyance1 not his companion1--his 
horse1 not his friend4 ,but in attaining
 the second end1 the artist not only    
places the spectator1 but talks to him2 
makes him a sharer in his own strong    
feelings and quick thoughts2 hurries him
 away in his own enthusiasm2 guides him 
to all that is beautiful2 snatches him  
from all that is base1 and leaves him   
more than delighted1--ennobled and      
instructed1 under the sense of having   
not only beheld a new scene1 but of     
having held communion with a new mind1  
and having been endowed for a time with 
the keen perception and the impetuous   
emotion of a nobler and more penetrating

 intelligence4   ,sec4 #b4 ,they induce 
a different choice of material subjects4
  ,each of these different aims of art  
will necessitate a different system of  
choice of objects to be represented4    
,the first does not indeed imply choice 
at all1 but it is usually united with   
the selection of such objects as may be 
naturally and constantly pleasing to all
 men1 at all times2 and this selection1 
when perfect and careful1 leads to the  
attainment of the pure ideal4 ,but the  
artist aiming at the second end1 selects
 his objects for their meaning and      
character1 rather than for their beauty2
 and uses them rather to throw light    
upon the particular thought he wishes to
 convey1 than as in themselves objects  
of unconnected admiration4   ,sec4 #c4  
,the first mode of selection apt to     
produce sameness and repetition4  ,now1 
although the first mode of selection1   
when guided by deep reflection1 may rise
 to the production of works possessing a
 noble and ceaseless influence on the   

human mind1 it is likely to degenerate  
into1 or rather1 in nine cases out of   
ten1 it never goes beyond1 a mere appeal
 to such parts of our animal nature as  
are constant and common--shared by all1 
and perpetual in all2 such1 for         
instance1 as the pleasure of the eye in 
the opposition of a cold and warm color1
 or of a massy form with a delicate one4
 ,it also tends to induce constant      
repetition of the same ideas1 and       
reference to the same principles2 it    
gives rise to those rules of art which  
properly excited ,reynolds's indignation
 when applied to its higher efforts2 it 
is the source of1 and the apology for1  
that host of technicalities and         
absurdities which in all ages have been 
the curse of art and the crown of the   
connoisseur4   ,sec4 #d4 ,the second    
necessitating variety4  ,but art1 in its
 second and highest aim1 is not an      
appeal to constant animal feelings1 but 
an expression and awakening of          
individual thought3 it is therefore as  

various and as extended in its efforts  
as the compass and grasp of the         
directing mind2 and we feel1 in each of 
its results1 that we are looking1 not at
 a specimen of a tradesman's wares1 of  
which he is ready to make us a dozen to 
match1 but at one coruscation of a      
perpetually active mind1 like which     
there has not been1 and will not be     
another4   ,sec4 #e4 ,yet the first is  
delightful to all4  ,sec4 #f4 ,the      
second only to a few4  ,hence1 although 
there can be no doubt which of these    
branches of art is the highest1 it is   
equally evident that the first will be  
the most generally felt and appreciated4
 ,for the simple statement of the truths
 of nature must in itself be pleasing to
 every order of mind2 because every     
truth of nature is more or less         
beautiful2 and if there be just and     
right selection of the more important of
 these truths--based1 as above          
explained1 on feelings and desires      
common to all mankind--the facts so     

selected must1 in some degree1 be       
delightful to all1 and their value      
appreciable by all3 more or less1       
indeed1 as their senses and instinct    
have been rendered more or less acute   
and accurate by use and study2 but in   
some degree by all1 and in the same way 
by all4 ,but the highest art1 being     
based on sensations of peculiar minds1  
sensations occurring to them only at    
particular times1 and to a plurality of 
mankind perhaps never1 and being        
expressive of thoughts which could only 
rise out of a mass of the most extended 
knowledge1 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 themselves4 ,he alone can  
appreciate the art1 who could comprehend
 the conversation of the painter1 and   
share in his emotion1 in moments of his 

most fiery passion and most original    
thought4 ,and whereas the true meaning  
and end of his art must thus be sealed  
to thousands1 or misunderstood by them2 
so also1 as he is sometimes obliged1 in 
working out his own peculiar end1 to set
 at defiance those constant laws which  
have arisen out of our lower and        
changeless desires1 that whose purpose  
is unseen1 is frequently in its means   
and parts displeasing4   ,sec4 #g4 ,the 
first necessary to the second4  ,sec4   
#h4 ,the exceeding importance of truth4 
,but this want of extended influence in 
high art1 be it especially observed1    
proceeds from no want of truth in the   
art itself1 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   
another4 ,for 7and this is what ,i wish 
at present especially to insist upon7   
although it is possible to reach what ,i
 have stated to be the first end of art1
 the representation of facts1 without   

reaching the second1 the representation 
of thoughts1 yet it is altogether       
impossible to reach the second without  
having previously reached the first4 ,i 
do not say that a man cannot think1     
having false basis and material for     
thought2 but that a false thought is    
worse than the want of thought1 and     
therefore is not art4 ,and this is the  
reason why1 though ,i consider the      
second as the real and only important   
end of all art1 ,i call the             
representation of facts the first end2  
because it is necessary to the other1   
and must be attained before it4 ,it is  
the foundation of all art2 like real    
foundations it may be little thought of 
when a brilliant fabric is raised on it2
 but it must be there3 and as few       
buildings are beautiful unless every    
line and column of their mass have      
reference to their foundation1 and are  
suggestive of its existence and         
strength1 so nothing can be beautiful in
 art which does not in all its parts    

suggest and guide to the foundation1    
even where no undecorated portion of it 
is visible2 while the noblest edifices  
of art are built of such pure and fine  
crystal that the foundation may all be  
seen through them2 and then many1 while 
they do not see what is built upon that 
first story1 yet much admire the        
solidity of its brickwork2 thinking they
 understand all that is to be understood
 of the matter2 while others stand      
beside them1 looking not at the low     
story1 but up into the heaven at that   
building of crystal in which the        
builder's spirit is dwelling4 ,and thus1
 though we want the thoughts and        
feelings of the artist as well as the   
truth1 yet they must be thoughts arising
 out of the knowledge of truth1 and     
feelings raising out of the             
contemplation of truth4 ,we do not want 
his mind to be as badly blown glass1    
that distorts what we see through it2   
but like a glass of sweet and strange   
color1 that gives new tones to what we  

see through it2 and a glass of rare     
strength and clearness too1 to let us   
see more than we could ourselves1 and   
bring nature up to us and near to us4   
,nothing can atone for the want of      
truth1 not the most brilliant           
imagination1 the most playful fancy1 the
 most pure feeling1 7supposing that     
feeling could be pure and false at the  
same time27 not the most exalted        
conception1 nor the most comprehensive  
grasp of intellect1 can make amends for 
the want of truth1 and that for two     
reasons2 first1 because falsehood is in 
itself revolting and degrading2 and     
secondly1 because nature is so          
immeasurably superior to all that the   
human mind can conceive1 that every     
departure from her is a fall beneath    
her1 so that there can be no such thing 
as an ornamental falsehood4 ,all        
falsehood must be a blot as well as a   
sin1 an injury as well as a deception4  
,sec4 #i4 ,coldness or want of beauty no
 sign of truth4  ,we shall1 in          

consequence1 find that no artist can be 
graceful1 imaginative1 or original1     
unless he be truthful2 and that the     
pursuit of beauty1 instead of leading us
 away from truth1 increases the desire  
for it and the necessity of it tenfold2 
so that those artists who are really    
great in imaginative power1 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 use4 ,coldness and
 want of passion in a picture1 are not  
signs of the accuracy1 but of the       
paucity of its statements2 true vigor   
and brilliancy are not signs of         
audacity1 but of knowledge4   ,sec4 #aj4
 ,how truth may be considered a just    
criterion of all art4  ,hence it follows
 that it is in the power of all1 with   
care and time1 to form something like a 
just judgment of the relative merits of 
artists2 for although with respect to   
the feeling and passion of pictures1 it 

is often as impossible to criticise as  
to appreciate1 except to such as are in 
some degree equal in powers of mind1 and
 in some respects the same in modes of  
mind1 with those whose works they judge2
 yet1 with respect to the representation
 of facts1 it is possible for all1 by   
attention1 to form a right judgment of  
the respective powers and attainments of
 every artist4 ,truth is a bar of       
comparison at which they may all be     
examined1 and according to the rank they
 take in this examination1 will almost  
invariably be that which1 if capable of 
appreciating them in every respect1 we  
should be just in assigning them2 so    
strict is the connection1 so constant   
the relation between the sum of         
knowledge and the extent of thought1    
between accuracy of perception and      
vividness of idea4  ,i shall endeavor1  
therefore1 in the present portion of the
 work1 to enter with care and           
impartiality into the investigation of  
the claims of the schools of ancient and

 modern landscape to faithfulness in    
representing nature4 ,i shall pay no    
regard whatsoever to what may be thought
 beautiful1 or sublime1 or imaginative4 
,i shall look only for truth2 bare1     
clear1 downright statement of facts2    
showing in each particular1 as far as ,i
 am able1 what the truth of nature is1  
and then seeking for the plain          
expression of it1 and for that alone4   
,and ,i shall thus endeavor1 totally    
regardless of fervor of imagination or  
brilliancy of effect1 or any other of   
their more captivating qualities1 to    
examine and to judge the works of the   
great living painter1 who is1 ,i        
believe1 imagined by the majority of the
 public to paint more falsehood and less
 fact than any other known master4 ,we  
shall see with what reason4             
,,chapter ,,ii4        ,,that ,,the     
,,truth ,,of ,,nature ,,is ,,not ,,to   
,,be ,,discerned ,,by ,,the ,,uneducated
                                        
,,senses4   ,sec4 #a4 ,the common       

self-deception of men with respect to   
their power of        discerning truth4 
,it may be here inquired by the reader1 
with much appearance of reason1 why ,i  
think it necessary to devote a separate 
portion of the work to the showing of   
what is truthful in art4 ,cannot we1 say
 the public1 see what nature is with our
 own eyes1 and find out for ourselves   
what is like her8 ,it will be as well to
 determine this question before we go   
farther1 because if this were possible1 
there would be little need of criticism 
or teaching with respect to art4  ,now  
,i have just said that it is possible   
for all men1 by care and attention1 to  
form a just judgment of the fidelity of 
artists to nature4 ,to do this1 no      
peculiar powers of mind are required1 no
 sympathy with particular feelings1     
nothing which every man of ordinary     
intellect does not in some degree       
possess1--powers1 namely1 of observation
 and intelligence1 which by cultivation 
may be brought to a high degree of      

perfection and acuteness4 ,but until    
this cultivation has been bestowed1 and 
until the instrument thereby perfected  
has been employed in a consistent series
 of careful observation1 it is as absurd
 as it is audacious to pretend to form  
any judgment whatsoever respecting the  
truth of art3 and my first business1    
before going a step farther1 must be to 
combat the nearly universal error of    
belief among the thoughtless and        
unreflecting1 that they know either what
 nature is1 or what is like her1 that   
they can discover truth by instinct1 and
 that their minds are such pure ,venice 
glass as to be shocked by all treachery4
 ,i have to prove to them that there are
 more things in heaven and earth than   
are dreamed of in their philosophy1 and 
that the truth of nature is a part of   
the truth of ,god2 to him who does not  
search it out1 darkness1 as it is to him
 who does1 infinity4   ,sec4 #b4 ,men   
usually see little of what is before    
their eyes4  ,the first great mistake   

that people make in the matter1 is the  
supposition that they must see a thing  
if it be before their eyes4 ,they forget
 the great truth told them by ,locke1   
,book ii4 chap4 #i1 ,sec4 #c3--,this is 
certain1 that whatever alterations are  
made in the body1 if they reach not the 
mind1 whatever impressions are made on  
the outward parts1 if they are not taken
 notice of within1 there is no          
perception4 ,fire may burn our bodies1  
with no other effect than it does a     
billet1 unless the motion be continued  
to the brain1 and there the sense of    
heat or idea of pain be produced in the 
mind1 wherein consists actual           
perception4 ,how often may a man observe
 in himself1 that while his mind is     
intently employed in the contemplation  
of some subjects and curiously surveying
 some ideas that are there1 it takes no 
notice of impressions of sounding       
bodies1 made upon the organ of hearing1 
with the same attention that uses to be 
for the producing the ideas of sound6 ,a

 sufficient impulse there may be on the 
organ1 but it not reaching the          
observation of the mind1 there follows  
no perception1 and though the motion    
that uses to produce the idea of sound  
be made in the ear1 yet no sound is     
heard4 ,and what is here said1 which all
 must feel by their own experience to be
 true1 is more remarkably and           
necessarily the case with sight than    
with any other of the senses1 for this  
reason1 that the ear is not accustomed  
to exercise constantly its functions of 
hearing2 it is accustomed to stillness1 
and the occurrence of a sound of any    
kind whatsoever is apt to awake         
attention1 and be followed with         
perception1 in proportion to the degree 
of sound2 but the eye1 during our waking
 hours1 exercises constantly its        
function of seeing2 it is its constant  
habit2 we always1 as far as the bodily  
organ is concerned1 see something1 and  
we always see in the same degree1 so    
that the occurrence of sight1 as such1  

to the eye1 is only the continuance of  
its necessary state of action1 and      
awakes no attention whatsoever1 except  
by the particular nature and quality of 
the sight4 ,and thus1 unless the minds  
of men are particularly directed to the 
impressions of sight1 objects pass      
perpetually before the eyes without     
conveying any impression to the brain at
 all2 and so pass actually unseen1 not  
merely unnoticed1 but in the full1 clear
 sense of the word1 unseen4 ,and numbers
 of men being pre-occupied with business
 or care of some description1 totally   
unconnected with the impressions of     
sight1 such is actually the case with   
them1 they receiving from nature only   
the inevitable sensations of blueness1  
redness1 darkness1 light1 etc41 and     
except at particular and rare moments1  
no more whatsoever4   ,sec4 #c4 ,but    
more or less in proportion to their     
natural sensibility to what        is   
beautiful4  ,sec4 #d4 ,connected with a 
perfect state of moral feeling4  ,the   

degree of ignorance of external nature  
in which men may thus remain1 depends1  
therefore1 partly on the number and     
character of the subjects with which    
their minds may be otherwise occupied1  
and partly on a natural want of         
sensibility to the power of beauty of   
form1 and the other attributes of       
external objects4 ,i do not think that  
there is ever such absolute incapacity  
in the eye for distinguishing and       
receiving pleasure from certain forms   
and colors1 as there is in persons who  
are technically said to have no ear1 for
 distinguishing notes1 but there is     
naturally every degree of bluntness and 
acuteness1 both for perceiving the truth
 of form1 and for receiving pleasure    
from it when perceived4 ,and although ,i
 believe even the lowest degree of these
 faculties can be expanded almost       
unlimitedly by cultivation1 the pleasure
 received rewards not the labor         
necessary1 and the pursuit is abandoned4
 ,so that while in those whose          

sensations are naturally acute and      
vivid1 the call of external nature is so
 strong that it must be obeyed1 and is  
ever heard louder as the approach to her
 is nearer1--in those whose sensations  
are naturally blunt1 the call is        
overpowered at once by other thoughts1  
and their faculties of perception1 weak 
originally1 die of disuse4 ,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 minds1
 and as the chief spring of real poetry4
 ,i believe this kind of sensibility may
 be entirely resolved into the acuteness
 of bodily sense of which ,i have been  
speaking1 associated with love1 love ,i 
mean in its infinite and holy functions1
 as it embraces divine and human and    
brutal intelligences1 and hallows the   
physical perception of external objects 
by association1 gratitude1 veneration1  
and other pure feelings of our moral    
nature4 ,and although the discovery of  

truth is in itself altogether           
intellectual1 and dependent merely on   
our powers of physical perception and   
abstract intellect1 wholly independent  
of our moral nature1 yet these          
instruments 7perception and judgment7   
are so sharpened and brightened1 and so 
far more swiftly and effectively used1  
when they have the energy and passion of
 our moral nature to bring them into    
action--perception is so quickened by   
love1 and judgment so tempered by       
veneration1 that1 practically1 a man of 
deadened moral sensation is always dull 
in his perception of truth1 and         
thousands of the highest and most divine
 truths of nature are wholly concealed  
from him1 however constant and          
indefatigable may be his intellectual   
search4 ,thus1 then1 the farther we     
look1 the more we are limited in the    
number of those to whom we should choose
 to appeal as judges of truth1 and the  
more we perceive how great a number of  
mankind may be partially incapacitated  

from either discovering or feeling it4  
,sec4 #e4 ,and of the intellectual      
powers4  ,sec4 #f4 ,how sight depends   
upon previous knowledge4  ,next to      
sensibility1 which is necessary for the 
perception of facts1 come reflection and
 memory1 which are necessary for the    
retention of them1 and recognition of   
their resemblances4 ,for a man may      
receive impression after impression1 and
 that vividly and with delight1 and yet1
 if he take no care to reason upon those
 impressions and trace them to their    
sources1 he may remain totally ignorant 
of the facts that produced them2 nay1   
may attribute them to facts with which  
they have no connection1 or may coin    
causes for them that have no existence  
at all4 ,and the more sensibility and   
imagination a man possesses1 the more   
likely will he be to fall into error2   
for then he will see whatever he        
expects1 and admire and judge with his  
heart1 and not with his eyes4 ,how many 
people are misled1 by what has been said

 and sung of the serenity of ,italian   
skies1 to suppose they must be more blue
 than the skies of the north1 and think 
that they see them so2 whereas1 the sky 
of ,italy is far more dull and gray in  
color than the skies of the north1 and  
is distinguished only by its intense    
repose of light4 ,and this is confirmed 
by ,benvenuto ,cellini1 who1 ,i         
remember1 on his first entering ,france1
 is especially struck with the clearness
 of the sky1 as contrasted with the mist
 of ,italy4 ,and what is more strange   
still1 when people see in a painting    
what they suppose to have been the      
source of their impressions1 they will  
affirm it to be truthful1 though they   
feel no such impression resulting from  
it4 ,thus1 though day after day they may
 have been impressed by the tone and    
warmth of an ,italian sky1 yet not      
having traced the feeling to its source1
 and supposing themselves impressed by  
its blueness1 they will affirm a blue   
sky in a painting to be truthful1 and   

reject the most faithful rendering of   
all the real attributes of ,italy as    
cold or dull4 ,and this influence of the
 imagination over the senses1 is        
peculiarly observable in the perpetual  
disposition of mankind to suppose that  
they see what they know1 and vice versa 
in their not seeing what they do not    
know4 ,thus1 if a child be asked to draw
 the corner of a house1 he will lay down
 something in the form of the letter ,t4
 ,he has no conception that the two     
lines of the roof1 which he knows to be 
level1 produce on his eye the impression
 of a slope4 ,it requires repeated and  
close attention before he detects this  
fact1 or can be made to feel that the   
lines on his paper are false4 ,and the  
,chinese1 children in all things1       
suppose a good perspective drawing to be
 as false as we feel their plate        
patterns to be1 or wonder at the strange
 buildings which come to a point at the 
end4 ,and all the early works1 whether  
of nations or of men1 show1 by their    

want of shade1 how little the eye1      
without knowledge1 is to be depended    
upon to discover truth4 ,the eye of a   
,red ,indian1 keen enough to find the   
trace of his enemy or his prey1 even in 
the unnatural turn of a trodden leaf1 is
 yet so blunt to the impressions of     
shade1 that ,mr4 ,catlin mentions his   
once having been in great danger from   
having painted a portrait with the face 
in half-light1 which the untutored      
observers imagined and affirmed to be   
the painting of half a face4 ,barry1 in 
his sixth lecture1 takes notice of the  
same want of actual sight in the early  
painters of ,italy4 ,the imitations1 he 
says1 of early art are like those of    
children--nothing is seen in the        
spectacle before us1 unless it be       
previously known and sought for2 and    
numberless observable differences       
between the age of ignorance and that of
 knowledge1 show how much the           
contraction or extension of our sphere  
of vision depends upon other            

considerations than the mere returns of 
our natural optics4 ,and the deception  
which takes place so broadly in cases   
like these1 has infinitely greater      
influence over our judgment of the more 
intricate and less tangible truths of   
nature4 ,we are constantly supposing    
that we see what experience only has    
shown us1 or can show us1 to have       
existence1 constantly missing the sight 
of what we do not know beforehand to be 
visible3 and painters1 to the last hour 
of their lives1 are apt to fall in some 
degree into the error of painting what  
exists1 rather than what they can see4  
,i shall prove the extent of this error 
more completely hereafter4   ,sec4 #g4  
,the difficulty increased by the variety
 of truths in nature4  ,be it also      
observed1 that all these difficulties   
would lie in the way1 even if the truths
 of nature were always the same1        
constantly repeated and brought before  
us4 ,but the truths of nature are one   
eternal change--one infinite variety4   

,there is no bush on the face of the    
globe exactly like another bush2--there 
are no two trees in the forest whose    
boughs bend into the same network1 nor  
two leaves on the same tree which could 
not be told one from the other1 nor two 
waves in the sea exactly alike4 ,and out
 of this mass of various1 yet agreeing  
beauty1 it is by long attention only    
that the conception of the constant     
character--the ideal form--hinted at by 
all1 yet assumed by none1 is fixed upon 
the imagination for its standard of     
truth4  ,it is not singular1 therefore1 
nor in any way disgraceful1 that the    
majority of spectators are totally      
incapable of appreciating the truth of  
nature1 when fully set before them2 but 
it is both singular and disgraceful that
 it is so difficult to convince them of 
their own incapability4 ,ask the        
connoisseur1 who has scampered over all 
,europe1 the shape of the leaf of an    
elm1 and the chances are ninety to one  
that he cannot tell you2 and yet he will

 be voluble of criticism on every       
painted landscape from ,dresden to      
,madrid1 and pretend to tell you whether
 they are like nature or not4 ,ask an   
enthusiastic chatterer in the ,sistine  
,chapel how many ribs he has1 and you   
get no answer2 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 drawn6   ,sec4 #h4 
,we recognize objects by their least    
important attributes4 ,compare          
,part ,i41 ,sect4 ,i41 ,chap4 #d4  ,a   
few such interrogations as these might  
indeed convict1 if not convince the mass
 of spectators of incapability1 were it 
not for the universal reply1 that they  
can recognize what they cannot describe1
 and feel what is truthful1 though they 
do not know what is truth4 ,and this is1
 to a certain degree1 true3 a man may   
recognize the portrait of his friend1   
though he cannot1 if you ask him apart1 
tell you the shape of his nose or the   
height of his forehead2 and every one   

could tell nature herself from an       
imitation2 why not then1 it will be     
asked1 what is like her from what is    
not8 ,for this simple reason1 that we   
constantly recognize things by their    
least important attributes1 and by help 
of very few of those1 and if these      
attributes exist not in the imitation1  
though there may be thousands of others 
far higher and more valuable1 yet if    
those be wanting1 or imperfectly        
rendered1 by which we are accustomed to 
recognize the object1 we deny the       
likeness2 while if these be given1      
though all the great and valuable and   
important attributes may be wanting1 we 
affirm the likeness4 ,recognition is no 
proof of real and intrinsic resemblance4
 ,we recognize our books by their       
bindings1 though the true and essential 
characteristics lie inside4 ,a man is   
known to his dog by the smell--to his   
tailor by the coat--to his friend by the
 smile3 each of these know him1 but how 
little1 or how much1 depends on the     

dignity of the intelligence4 ,that which
 is truly and indeed characteristic of  
the man1 is known only to ,god4 ,one    
portrait of a man may possess exact     
accuracy of feature1 and no atom of     
expression2 it may be1 to use the       
ordinary terms of admiration bestowed on
 such portraits by those whom they      
please1 as like as it can stare4        
,everybody1 down to his cat1 would know 
this4 ,another portrait may have        
neglected or misrepresented the         
features1 but may have given the flash  
of the eye1 and the peculiar radiance of
 the lip1 seen on him only in his hours 
of highest mental excitement4 ,none but 
his friends would know this4 ,another   
may have given none of his ordinary     
expressions1 but one which he wore in   
the most excited instant of his life1   
when all his secret passions and all his
 highest powers were brought into play  
at once4 ,none but those who had then   
seen him might recognize this as like4  
,but which would be the most truthful   

portrait of the man8 ,the first gives   
the accidents of body--the sport of     
climate1 and food1 and time--which      
corruption inhabits1 and the worm waits 
for4 ,the second gives the stamp of the 
soul upon the flesh2 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 habit1 and education1 and    
accident--a gloze1 whether purposely    
worn or unconsciously assumed1 perhaps  
totally contrary to all that is rooted  
and real in the mind that it conceals4  
,the third has caught the trace of all  
that was most hidden and most mighty1   
when all hypocrisy1 and all habit1 and  
all petty and passing emotion--the ice1 
and the bank1 and the foam of the       
immortal river--were shivered1 and      
broken1 and swallowed up in the         
awakening of its inward strength2 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 summon1 
nor its consciousness comprehend2 which 
,god only knew1 and ,god only could     
awaken1 the depth and the mystery of its
 peculiar and separating attributes4    
,and so it is with external ,nature3 she
 has a body and a soul like man2 but her
 soul is the ,deity4 ,it is possible to 
represent the body without the spirit2  
and this shall be like to those whose   
senses are only cognizant of body4 ,it  
is possible to represent the spirit in  
its ordinary and inferior               
manifestations2 and this shall be like  
to those who have not watched for its   
moments of power4 ,it is possible to    
represent the spirit in its secret and  
high operations2 and this shall be like 
only to those to whose watching they    
have been revealed4 ,all these are      
truth2 but according to the dignity of  
the truths he can represent or feel1 is 
the power of the painter1--the justice  
of the judge4                           
,,chapter ,,iii4      ,,of ,,the        

,,relative ,,importance ,,of            
,,truths3--,,first1 ,,that ,,particular 
,,truths                      ,,are     
,,more ,,important ,,than ,,general     
,,ones4   ,sec4 #a4 ,necessity of       
determining the relative importance of  
truths4  ,i have in the last chapter    
affirmed that we usually recognize      
objects by their least essential        
characteristics4 ,this very naturally   
excites the inquiry what ,i consider    
their important characteristics1 and why
 ,i call one truth more important than  
another4 ,and this question must be     
immediately determined1 because it is   
evident1 that in judging of the truth of
 painters1 we shall have to consider not
 only the accuracy with which individual
 truths are given1 but the relative     
importance of the truths themselves2 for
 as it constantly happens that the      
powers of art are unable to render all  
truths1 that artist must be considered  
the most truthful who has preserved the 
most important at the expense of the    

most trifling4   ,sec4 #b4              
,misapplication of the aphorism3        
,general truths are more important      
than particular ones4  ,sec4 #c4        
,falseness of this maxim taken without  
explanation4  ,sec4 #d4 ,generality     
important in the subject1 particularity 
in the        predicate4  ,now if we are
 to begin our investigation in          
,aristotle's way1 and look at the       
,greek3 phainomena of the subject1 we   
shall immediately stumble over a maxim  
which is in everybody's mouth1 and      
which1 as it is understood in practice1 
is true and useful1 as it is usually    
applied in argument1 false and          
misleading4 ,general truths are more    
important than particular ones4 ,often1 
when in conversation1 ,i have been      
praising ,turner for his perpetual      
variety1 and for giving so particular   
and separate a character to each of his 
compositions1 that the mind of the      
painter can only be estimated by seeing 
all that he has ever done1 and that     

nothing can be prophesied of a picture  
coming into existence on his easel1 but 
that it will be totally different in    
idea from all that he has ever done     
before2 and when ,i have opposed this   
inexhaustible knowledge or imagination1 
whichever it may be1 to the perpetual   
repetition of some half-dozen           
conceptions by ,claude and ,poussin1 ,i 
have been met by the formidable         
objection1 enunciated with much dignity 
and self-satisfaction on the part of my 
antagonist--,that is not painting       
general truths1 that is painting        
particular truths4 ,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       
writer1 the greatest sign of error in   
the painter2 and we shall accordingly   
see1 by an application of it to other   
matters1 that1 taken without limitation1
 the whole proposition is utterly false4
 ,for instance1 ,mrs4 ,jameson somewhere

 mentions the exclamation of a lady of  
her acquaintance1 more desirous to fill 
a pause in conversation than abundant in
 sources of observation3 ,what an       
excellent book the ,bible is6 ,this was 
a very general truth indeed1 a truth    
predicable of the ,bible in common with 
many other books1 but it certainly is   
neither striking nor important4 ,had the
 lady exclaimed--,how evidently is the  
,bible a divine revelation6 she would   
have expressed a particular truth1 one  
predicable of the ,bible only2 but      
certainly far more interesting and      
important4 ,had she1 on the contrary1   
informed us that the ,bible was a book1 
she would have been still more general1 
and still less entertaining4 ,if ,i ask 
any one who somebody else is1 and       
receive for answer that he is a man1 ,i 
get little satisfaction for my pains2   
but if ,i am told that he is ,sir ,isaac
 ,newton1 ,i immediately thank my       
neighbor for his information4 ,the fact 
is1 and the above instances may serve at

 once to prove it if it be not          
self-evident1 that generality gives     
importance to the subject1 and          
limitation or particularity to the      
predicate4 ,if ,i say that such and such
 a man in ,china is an opium-eater1 ,i  
say nothing very interesting1 because my
 subject 7such a man7 is particular4 ,if
 ,i say that all men in ,china are      
opium-eaters1 ,i say something          
interesting1 because my subject 7all    
men7 is general4 ,if ,i say that all men
 in ,china eat1 ,i say nothing          
interesting1 because my predicate 7eat7 
is general4 ,if ,i say that all men in  
,china eat opium1 ,i say something      
interesting1 because my predicate 7eat  
opium7 is particular4  ,now almost      
everything which 7with reference to a   
given subject7 a painter has to ask     
himself whether he shall represent or   
not1 is a predicate4 ,hence in art1     
particular truths are usually more      
important than general ones4  ,how is it
 then that anything so plain as this    

should be contradicted by one of the    
most universally received aphorisms     
respecting art8 ,a little reflection    
will show us under what limitations this
 maxim may be true in practice4   ,sec4 
#e4 ,the importance of truths of species
 is not owing to their                  
generality4  ,sec4 #f4 ,all truths      
valuable as they are characteristic4    
,it is self-evident that when we are    
painting or describing anything1 those  
truths must be the most important which 
are most characteristic of what is to be
 told or represented4 ,now that which is
 first and most broadly characteristic  
of a thing1 is that which distinguishes 
its genus1 or which makes it what it is4
 ,for instance1 that which makes drapery
 be drapery1 is not its being made of   
silk or worsted or flax1 for things are 
made of all these which are not drapery1
 but the ideas peculiar to drapery2 the 
properties which1 when inherent in a    
thing1 make it drapery1 are extension1  
non-elastic flexibility1 unity and      

comparative thinness4 ,everything which 
has these properties1 a waterfall1 for  
instance1 if united and extended1 or a  
net of weeds over a wall1 is drapery1 as
 much as silk or woollen stuff is4 ,so  
that these ideas separate drapery in our
 minds from everything else2 they are   
peculiarly characteristic of it1 and    
therefore are the most important group  
of ideas connected with it2 and so with 
everything else1 that which makes the   
thing what it is1 is the most important 
idea1 or group of ideas connected with  
the thing4 ,but as this idea must       
necessarily be common to all individuals
 of the species it belongs to1 it is a  
general idea with respect to that       
species2 while other ideas1 which are   
not characteristic of the species1 and  
are therefore in reality general1 7as   
black or white are terms applicable to  
more things than drapery17 are yet      
particular with respect to that species1
 being predicable only of certain       
individuals of it4 ,hence it is         

carelessly and falsely said1 that       
general ideas are more important than   
particular ones2 carelessly and falsely1
 ,i say1 because the so-called general  
idea is important1 not because it is    
common to all the individuals of that   
species1 but because it separates that  
species from everything else4 ,it is the
 distinctiveness1 not the universality  
of the truth1 which renders it          
important4 ,and the so-called particular
 idea is unimportant1 not because it is 
not predicable of the whole species1 but
 because it is predicable of things out 
of that species4 ,it is not its         
individuality1 but its generality which 
renders it unimportant4 ,so1 then1      
truths are important just in proportion 
as they are characteristic1 and are     
valuable1 primarily1 as they separate   
the species from all other created      
things secondarily1 as they separate the
 individuals of that species from one   
another3 thus silken or woollen are     
unimportant ideas with respect to       

drapery1 because they neither separate  
the species from other things1 nor even 
the individuals of that species from one
 another1 since1 though not common to   
the whole of it1 they are common to     
indefinite numbers of it2 but the       
particular folds into which any piece of
 drapery may happen to fall1 being      
different in many particulars from those
 into which any other piece of drapery  
will fall1 are expressive not only of   
the characters of the species1          
flexibility1 7non-elasticity1 etc417 but
 of individuality and definite character
 in the case immediately observed1 and  
are consequently most important and     
necessary ideas4 ,so in a man1 to be    
short-legged or long-nosed or anything  
else of accidental quality1 does not    
distinguish him from other short-legged 
or long-nosed animals2 but the important
 truths respecting a man are1 first1 the
 marked development of that distinctive 
organization which separates him as man 
from other animals1 and secondly1 that  

group of qualities which distinguish the
 individual from all other men1 which   
make him ,paul or ,judas1 ,newton or    
,shakspeare4   ,sec4 #g4 ,otherwise     
truths of species are valuable because  
beautiful4  ,such are the real sources  
of importance in truths as far as they  
are considered with reference merely to 
their being general1 or particular2 but 
there are other sources of importance   
which give farther weight to the        
ordinary opinion of the greater value of
 those which are general1 and which     
render this opinion right in practice2  
,i mean the intrinsic beauty of the     
truths themselves1 a quality which it is
 not here the place to investigate1 but 
which must just be noticed1 as          
invariably adding value to truths of    
species rather than to those of         
individuality4 ,the qualities and       
properties which characterize man or any
 other animal as a species1 are the     
perfection of his or its form of mind1  
almost all individual differences       

arising from imperfections2 hence a     
truth of species is the more valuable to
 art1 because it must always be a       
beauty1 while a truth of individuals is 
commonly1 in some sort or way1 a defect4
   ,sec4 #h4 ,and many truths1 valuable 
if separate1 may be objectionable in    
connection with others4  ,again1 a truth
 which may be of great interest1 when an
 object is viewed by itself1 may be     
objectionable when it is viewed in      
relation to other objects4 ,thus if we  
were painting a piece of drapery as our 
whole subject1 it would be proper to    
give in it every source of              
entertainment1 which particular truths  
could supply1 to give it varied color   
and delicate texture2 but if we paint   
this same piece of drapery1 as part of  
the dress of a ,madonna1 all these ideas
 of richness or texture become          
thoroughly contemptible1 and unfit to   
occupy the mind at the same moment with 
the idea of the ,virgin4 ,the conception
 of drapery is then to be suggested by  

the simplest and slightest means        
possible1 and all notions of texture and
 detail are to be rejected with utter   
reprobation2 but this1 observe1 is not  
because they are particular or general  
or anything else1 with respect to the   
drapery itself1 but because they draw   
the attention to the dress instead of   
the saint1 and disturb and degrade the  
imagination and the feelings2 hence we  
ought to give the conception of the     
drapery in the most unobtrusive way     
possible1 by rendering those essential  
qualities distinctly1 which are         
necessary to the very existence of      
drapery1 and not one more4  ,with these 
last two sources of the importance of   
truths1 we have nothing to do at        
present1 as they are dependent upon     
ideas of beauty and relation3 ,i merely 
allude to them now1 to show that all    
that is alleged by ,sir ,j4 ,reynolds   
and other scientific writers respecting 
the kind of truths proper to be         
represented by the painter or sculptor  

is perfectly just and right2 while yet  
the principle on which they base their  
selection 7that general truths are more 
important than particular ones7 is      
altogether false4 ,canova's ,perseus in 
the ,vatican is entirely spoiled by an  
unlucky tassel in the folds of the      
mantle 7which the next admirer of       
,canova who passes would do well to     
knock off27 but it is spoiled not       
because this is a particular truth1 but 
because it is a contemptible1           
unnecessary1 and ugly truth4 ,the button
 which fastens the vest of the ,sistine 
,daniel is as much a particular truth as
 this1 but it is a necessary one1 and   
the idea of it is given by the simplest 
possible means2 hence it is right and   
beautiful4   ,sec4 #i4 ,recapitulation4 
,finally1 then1 it is to be remembered  
that all truths as far as their being   
particular or general affects their     
value at all1 are valuable in proportion
 as they are particular1 and valueless  
in proportion as they are general2 or to

 express the proposition in simpler     
terms1 every truth is valuable in       
proportion as it is characteristic of   
the thing of which it is affirmed4      
,,chapter ,,iv4          ,,of ,,the     
,,relative ,,importance ,,of            
,,truths3--,,secondly1 ,,that ,,rare    
,,truths                      ,,are     
,,more ,,important ,,than ,,frequent    
,,ones4   ,sec4 #a4 ,no accidental      
violation of nature's principles should 
be        represented4  ,it will be     
necessary next for us to determine how  
far frequency or rarity can affect the  
importance of truths1 and whether the   
artist is to be considered the most     
truthful who paints what is common or   
what is unusual in nature4  ,now the    
whole determination of this question    
depends upon whether the unusual fact be
 a violation of nature's general        
principles1 or the application of some  
of those principles in a peculiar and   
striking way4 ,nature sometimes1 though 
very rarely1 violates her own           

principles2 it is her principle to make 
everything beautiful1 but now and then1 
for an instant1 she permits what1       
compared with the rest of her works1    
might be called ugly2 it is true that   
even these rare blemishes are permitted1
 as ,i have above said1 for a good      
purpose1 7,part ,i4 ,sec4 ,i4 ,chap4    
#e17 they are valuable in nature1 and   
used as she uses them1 are equally      
valuable 7as instantaneous discords7 in 
art2 but the artist who should seek     
after these exclusively1 and paint      
nothing else1 though he might be able to
 point to something in nature as the    
original of every one of his uglinesses1
 would yet be1 in the strict sense of   
the word1 false1--false to nature1 and  
disobedient to her laws4 ,for instance1 
it is the practice of nature to give    
character to the outlines of her clouds1
 by perpetual angles and right lines4   
,perhaps once in a month1 by diligent   
watching1 we might be able to see a     
cloud altogether rounded and made up of 

curves2 but the artist who paints       
nothing but curved clouds must yet be   
considered thoroughly and inexcusably   
false4   ,sec4 #b4 ,but the cases in    
which those principles have been        
strikingly        exemplified4  ,sec4   
#c4 ,which are comparatively rare4      
,sec4 #d4 ,all repetition is blamable4  
,sec4 #e4 ,the duty of the painter is   
the same as that of a preacher4  ,but   
the case is widely different1 when      
instead of a principle violated1 we have
 one extraordinarily carried out or     
manifested under unusual circumstances4 
,though nature is constantly beautiful1 
she does not exhibit her highest powers 
of beauty constantly1 for then they     
would satiate us and pall upon our      
senses4 ,it is necessary to their       
appreciation that they should be rarely 
shown4 ,her finest touches are things   
which must be watched for2 her most     
perfect passages of beauty are the most 
evanescent4 ,she is constantly doing    
something beautiful for us1 but it is   

something which she has not done before 
and will not do again2 some exhibition  
of her general powers in particular     
circumstances which1 if we do not catch 
at the instant it is passing1 will not  
be repeated for us4 ,now they are these 
evanescent passages of perfected beauty1
 these perpetually varied examples of   
utmost power1 which the artist ought to 
seek for and arrest4 ,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 laws1
 though rarer in occurrence4 ,both the  
frequent and the rare are parts of the  
same great system2 to give either       
exclusively is imperfect truth1 and to  
repeat the same effect or thought in two
 pictures is wasted life4 ,what should  
we think of a poet who should keep all  
his life repeating the same thought in  
different words8 and why should we be   
more lenient to the parrot-painter who  
has learned one lesson from the page of 

nature1 and keeps stammering it out with
 eternal repetition without turning the 
leaf8 ,is it less tautology to describe 
a thing over and over again with lines1 
than it is with words8 ,the teaching of 
nature is as varied and infinite as it  
is constant2 and the duty of the painter
 is to watch for every one of her       
lessons1 and to give 7for human life    
will admit of nothing more7 those in    
which she has manifested each of her    
principles in the most peculiar and     
striking way4 ,the deeper his research  
and the rarer the phenomena he has      
noted1 the more valuable will his works 
be2 to repeat himself1 even in a single 
instance1 is treachery to nature1 for a 
thousand human lives would not be enough
 to give one instance of the perfect    
manifestation of each of her powers2 and
 as for combining or classifying them1  
as well might a preacher expect in one  
sermon to express and explain every     
divine truth which can be gathered out  
of ,god's revelation1 as a painter      

expect in one composition to express and
 illustrate every lesson which can be   
received from ,god's creation4 ,both are
 commentators on infinity1 and the duty 
of both is to take for each discourse   
one essential truth1 seeking            
particularly and insisting especially on
 those which are less palpable to       
ordinary observation1 and more likely to
 escape an indolent research2 and to    
impress that1 and that alone1 upon those
 whom they address1 with every          
illustration that can be furnished by   
their knowledge1 and every adornment    
attainable by their power4 ,and the real
 truthfulness of the painter is in      
proportion to the number and variety of 
the facts he has so illustrated2 those  
facts being always1 as above observed1  
the realization1 not the violation of a 
general principle4 ,the quantity of     
truth is in proportion to the number of 
such facts1 and its value and           
instructiveness in proportion to their  
rarity4 ,all really great pictures1     

therefore1 exhibit the general habits of
 nature1 manifested in some peculiar1   
rare1 and beautiful way4                
,,chapter ,v4           ,,of ,,the      
,,relative ,,importance ,,of            
,,truths3--,,thirdly1 ,,that ,,truths   
,,of                  ,,color ,,are     
,,the ,,least ,,important ,,of ,,all    
,,truths4   ,sec4 #a4 ,difference       
between primary and secondary qualities 
in bodies4  ,in the two last chapters1  
we have pointed out general tests of the
 importance of all truths1 which will be
 sufficient at once to distinguish      
certain classes of properties in bodies1
 as more necessary to be told than      
others1 because more characteristic1    
either of the particular thing to be    
represented1 or of the principles of    
nature4  ,according to ,locke1 ,book ii4
 chap4 #h1 there are three sorts of     
qualities in bodies3 first1 the bulk1   
figure1 number1 situation1 and motion or
 rest of their solid parts3 those that  
are in them1 whether we perceive them or

 not4 ,these he calls primary qualities4
 ,secondly1 the power that is in any    
body to operate after a peculiar manner 
on any of our senses1 7sensible         
qualities47 ,and thirdly1 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 before3 these last being usually    
called powers4   ,sec4 #b4 ,the first   
are fully characteristic1 the second    
imperfectly so4  ,hence he proceeds to  
prove that those which he calls primary 
qualities are indeed part of the essence
 of the body1 and characteristic of it2 
but that the two other kinds of         
qualities which together he calls       
secondary1 are neither of them more than
 powers of producing on other objects1  
or in us1 certain effects and           
sensations4 ,now a power of influence is
 always equally characteristic of two   
objects--the active and passive2 for it 
is as much necessary that there should  
be a power in the object suffering to   

receive the impression1 as in the object
 acting to give the impression4         
7,compare ,locke1 ,book ii4 chap4 #ba1  
sect4 #b47 ,for supposing two people1 as
 is frequently the case1 perceive       
different scents in the same flower1 it 
is evident that the power in the flower 
to give this or that depends on the     
nature of their nerves1 as well as on   
that of its own particles2 and that we  
are as correct in saying it is a power  
in us to perceive1 as in the object to  
impress4 ,every power1 therefore1 being 
characteristic of the nature of two     
bodies1 is imperfectly and incompletely 
characteristic of either separately2 but
 the primary qualities1 being           
characteristic only of the body in which
 they are inherent1 are the most        
important truths connected with it4 ,for
 the question1 what the thing is1 must  
precede1 and be of more importance than 
the question1 what can it do4   ,sec4   
#c4 ,color is a secondary quality1      
therefore less important than form4     

,now by ,locke's definition above given1
 only bulk1 figure1 situation1 and      
motion or rest of solid parts1 are      
primary qualities4 ,hence all truths of 
color sink at once into the second rank4
 ,he1 therefore1 who has neglected a    
truth of form for a truth of color1 has 
neglected a greater truth for a less    
one4   ,sec4 #d4 ,color no distinction  
between objects of the same species4    
,and that color is indeed a most        
unimportant characteristic of objects1  
will be farther evident on the slightest
 consideration4 ,the color of plants is 
constantly changing with the season1 and
 of everything with the quality of light
 falling on it2 but the nature and      
essence of the thing are independent of 
these changes4 ,an oak is an oak1       
whether green with spring or red with   
winter2 a dahlia is a dahlia1 whether it
 be yellow or crimson2 and if some      
monster-hunting botanist should ever    
frighten the flower blue1 still it will 
be a dahlia2 but let one curve of the   

petals--one groove of the stamens be    
wanting1 and the flower ceases to be the
 same4 ,let the roughness of the bark   
and the angles of the boughs be smoothed
 or diminished1 and the oak ceases to be
 an oak2 but let it retain its inward   
structure and outward form1 and though  
its leaves grew white1 or pink1 or blue1
 or tri-color1 it would be a white oak1 
or a pink oak1 or a republican oak1 but 
an oak still4 ,again1 color is hardly   
ever even a possible distinction between
 two objects of the same species4 ,two  
trees1 of the same kind1 at the same    
season1 and of the same age1 are of     
absolutely the same color2 but they are 
not of the same form1 nor anything like 
it4 ,there can be no difference in the  
color of two pieces of rock broken from 
the same place2 but it is impossible    
they should be of the same form4 ,so    
that form is not only the chief         
characteristic of species1 but the only 
characteristic of individuals of a      
species4   ,sec4 #e4 ,and different in  

association from what it is alone4      
,again1 a color1 in association with    
other colors1 is different from the same
 color seen by itself4 ,it has a        
distinct and peculiar power upon the    
retina dependent on its association4    
,consequently1 the color of any object  
is not more dependent upon the nature of
 the object itself1 and the eye         
beholding it1 than on the color of the  
objects near it2 in this respect also1  
therefore1 it is no characteristic4     
,sec4 #f4 ,it is not certain whether any
 two people see the same color in       
things4  ,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 acting1 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 it4 ,one man may see      
yellow where another sees blue1 but as  
the effect is constant1 they agree in   

the term to be used for it1 and both    
call it blue1 or both yellow1 having yet
 totally different ideas attached to the
 term4 ,and yet neither can be said to  
see falsely1 because the color is not in
 the thing1 but in the thing and them   
together4 ,but if they see forms        
differently1 one must see falsely1      
because the form is positive in the     
object4 ,my friend may see boars blue   
for anything ,i know1 but it is         
impossible he should see them with paws 
instead of hoofs1 unless his eyes or    
brain are diseased4 7,compare ,locke1   
,book ii4 chap4 xxxii4 ,sec4 #ae47 ,but 
,i do not speak of this uncertainty as  
capable of having any effect on art1    
because1 though perhaps ,landseer sees  
dogs of the color which ,i should call  
blue1 yet the color he puts on the      
canvas1 being in the same way blue to   
him1 will still be brown or dog-color to
 me2 and so we may argue on points of   
color just as if all men saw alike1 as  
indeed in all probability they do2 but  

,i merely mention this uncertainty to   
show farther the vagueness and          
unimportance of color as a              
characteristic of bodies4   ,sec4 #g4   
,form considered as an element of       
landscape1 includes light and           
shade4  ,sec4 #h4 ,importance of light  
and shade in expressing the character of
 bodies        and unimportance of      
color4  ,before going farther1 however1 
,i must explain the sense in which ,i   
have used the word form1 because        
painters have a most inaccurate and     
careless habit of confining the term to 
the outline of bodies1 whereas it       
necessarily implies light and shade4 ,it
 is true that the outline and the       
chiaroscuro must be separate subjects of
 investigation with the student2 but no 
form whatsoever can be known to the eye 
in the slightest degree without its     
chiaroscuro2 and1 therefore1 in speaking
 of form generally as an element of     
landscape1 ,i mean that perfect and     
harmonious unity of outline with light  

and shade1 by which all the parts and   
projections and proportions of a body   
are fully explained to the eye1 being   
nevertheless perfectly independent of   
sight or power in other objects1 the    
presence of light upon a body being a   
positive existence1 whether we are aware
 of it or not1 and in no degree         
dependent upon our senses4 ,this being  
understood1 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 mind4 ,if we look at nature        
carefully1 we shall find that her colors
 are in a state of perpetual confusion  
and indistinctness1 while her forms1 as 
told by light and shade1 are invariably 
clear1 distinct1 and speaking4 ,the     
stones and gravel of the bank catch     
green reflections from the boughs above2
 the bushes receive grays and yellows   
from the ground2 every hairbreadth of   
polished surface gives a little bit of  
the blue of the sky or the gold of the  

sun1 like a star upon the local color2  
this local color1 changeful and         
uncertain in itself1 is again disguised 
and modified by the hue of the light1 or
 quenched in the gray of the shadow2 and
 the confusion and blending of tint is  
altogether so great1 that were we left  
to find out what objects were by their  
colors only1 we would scarcely in places
 distinguish the boughs of a tree from  
the air beyond them1 or the ground      
beneath them4 ,i know that people       
unpractised in art will not believe this
 at first2 but if they have accurate    
powers of observation1 they may soon    
ascertain it for themselves2 they will  
find that1 while they can scarcely ever 
determine the exact hue of anything1    
except when it occurs in large masses1  
as in a green field or the blue sky1 the
 form1 as told by light and shade1 is   
always decided and evident1 and the     
source of the chief character of every  
object4 ,light and shade indeed so      
completely conquer the distinctions of  

local color1 that the difference in hue 
between the illumined parts of a white  
and black object is not so great as the 
difference 7in sunshine7 between the    
illumined and dark side of either       
separately4   ,sec4 #i4 ,recapitulation4
  ,we shall see hereafter1 in           
considering ideas of beauty1 that color1
 even as a source of pleasure1 is feeble
 compared to form2 but this we cannot   
insist upon at present2 we have only to 
do with simple truth1 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 color1 sacrifices 
what is definite to what is uncertain1  
and what is essential to what is        
accidental4                             
,,chapter ,,vi4                         
,,recapitulation4   ,sec4 #a4 ,the      
importance of historical truths4  ,it   
ought farther to be observed respecting 
truths in general1 that those are always
 most valuable which are most           

historical1 that is1 which tell us most 
about the past and future states of the 
object to which they belong4 ,in a tree1
 for instance1 it is more important to  
give the appearance of energy and       
elasticity in the limbs which is        
indicative of growth and life1 than any 
particular character of leaf1 or texture
 of bough4 ,it is more important that we
 should feel that the uppermost sprays  
are creeping higher and higher into the 
sky1 and be impressed with the current  
of life and motion which is animating   
every fibre1 than that we should know   
the exact pitch of relief with which    
those fibres are thrown out against the 
sky4 ,for the first truths tell us tales
 about the tree1 about what it has been1
 and will be1 while the last are        
characteristic of it only in its present
 state1 and are in no way talkative     
about themselves4 ,talkative facts are  
always more interesting and more        
important than silent ones4 ,so again   
the lines in a crag which mark its      

stratification1 and how it has been     
washed and rounded by water1 or twisted 
and drawn out in fire1 are more         
important1 because they tell more than  
the stains of the lichens which change  
year by year1 and the accidental        
fissures of frost or decomposition2 not 
but that both of these are historical1  
but historical in a less distinct       
manner1 and for shorter periods4   ,sec4
 #b4 ,form1 as explained by light and   
shade1 the first of all truths4         
,tone1 light and color are secondary4   
,hence in general the truths of specific
 form are the first and most important  
of all2 and next to them1 those truths  
of chiaroscuro which are necessary to   
make us understand every quality and    
part of forms1 and the relative         
distances of objects among each other1  
and in consequence their relative bulks4
 ,altogether lower than these1 as       
truths1 though often most important as  
beauties1 stand all effects of          
chiaroscuro which are productive merely 

of imitations of light and tone1 and all
 effects of color4 ,to make us          
understand the space of the sky1 is an  
end worthy of the artist's highest      
powers2 to hit its particular blue or   
gold is an end to be thought of when we 
have accomplished the first1 and not    
till then4   ,sec4 #c4 ,and deceptive   
chiaroscuro the lowest of all4          
,finally1 far below all these come those
 particular accuraciesor tricks of      
chiaroscuro which cause objects to look 
projecting from the canvas1 not worthy  
of the name of truths1 because they     
require for their attainment the        
sacrifice of all others2 for not having 
at our disposal the same intensity of   
light by which nature illustrates her   
objects1 we are obliged1 if we would    
have perfect deception in one1 to       
destroy its relation to the rest4       
7,compare ,sect4 ,,ii4 chap4 ,v47 ,and  
thus he who throws one object out of his
 picture1 never lets the spectator into 
it4 ,michael ,angelo bids you follow his

 phantoms into the abyss of heaven1 but 
a modern ,french painter drops his hero 
out of the picture frame4  ,this        
solidity or projection then1 is the very
 lowest truth that art can give2 it is  
the painting of mere matter1 giving that
 as food for the eye which is properly  
only the subject of touch2 it can       
neither instruct nor exalt1 nor please  
except as jugglery2 it addresses no     
sense of beauty nor of power2 and       
wherever it characterizes the general   
aim of a picture1 it is the sign and the
 evidence of the vilest and lowest      
mechanism which art can be insulted by  
giving name to4                         
,,chapter ,,vii4                        
,,general ,,application ,,of ,,the      
,,foregoing ,,principles4   ,sec4 #a4   
,the different selection of facts       
consequent on the several aims at       
imitation or at truth4  ,we have seen1  
in the preceding chapters1 some proof of
 what was before asserted1 that the     
truths necessary for deceptive imitation

 are not only few1 but of the very      
lowest order4 ,we thus find painters    
ranging themselves into two great       
classes2 one aiming at the development  
of the exquisite truths of specific     
form1 refined color1 and ethereal space1
 and content with the clear and         
impressive suggestion of any of these1  
by whatsoever means obtained2 and the   
other casting all these aside1 to attain
 those particular truths of tone and    
chiaroscuro1 which may trick the        
spectator into a belief of reality4 ,the
 first class1 if they have to paint a   
tree1 are intent upon giving the        
exquisite designs of intersecting       
undulation in its boughs1 the grace of  
its leafage1 the intricacy of its       
organization1 and all those qualities   
which make it lovely or affecting of its
 kind4 ,the second endeavor only to make
 you believe that you are looking at    
wood4 ,they are totally regardless of   
truths or beauties of form2 a stump is  
as good as a trunk for all their        

purposes1 so that they can only deceive 
the eye into the supposition that it is 
a stump and not canvas4   ,sec4 #b4 ,the
 old masters1 as a body1 aim only at    
imitation4  ,sec4 #c4 ,what truths they 
gave4  ,to which of these classes the   
great body of the old landscape painters
 belonged1 may be partly gathered from  
the kind of praise which is bestowed    
upon them by those who admire them most1
 which either refers to technical       
matters1 dexterity of touch1 clever     
oppositions of color1 etc41 or is       
bestowed on the power of the painter to 
deceive4 ,m4 de ,marmontel1 going into a
 connoisseur's gallery1 pretends to     
mistake a fine ,berghem for a window4   
,this1 he says1 was affirmed by its     
possessor to be the greatest praise the 
picture had ever received4 ,such is     
indeed the notion of art which is at the
 bottom of the veneration usually felt  
for the old landscape painters2 it is of
 course the palpable1 first idea of     
ignorance2 it is the only notion which  

people unacquainted with art can by any 
possibility have of its ends2 the only  
test by which people unacquainted with  
nature can pretend to form anything like
 judgment of art4 ,it is strange that1  
with the great historical painters of   
,italy before them1 who had broken so   
boldly and indignantly from the trammels
 of this notion1 and shaken the very    
dust of it from their feet1 the         
succeeding landscape painters should    
have wasted their lives in jugglery3 but
 so it is1 and so it will be felt1 the  
more we look into their works1 that the 
deception of the senses was the great   
and first end of all their art4 ,to     
attain this they paid deep and serious  
attention to effects of light and tone1 
and to the exact degree of relief which 
material objects take against light and 
atmosphere2 and sacrificing every other 
truth to these1 not necessarily1 but    
because they required no others for     
deception1 they succeeded in rendering  
these particular facts with a fidelity  

and force which1 in the pictures that   
have come down to us uninjured1 are as  
yet unequalled1 and never can be        
surpassed4 ,they painted their          
foregrounds with laborious industry1    
covering them with details so as to     
render them deceptive to the ordinary   
eye1 regardless of beauty or truth in   
the details themselves2 they painted    
their trees with careful attention to   
their pitch of shade against the sky1   
utterly regardless of all that is       
beautiful or essential in the anatomy of
 their foliage and boughs3 they painted 
their distances with exquisite use of   
transparent color and aerial tone1      
totally neglectful of all facts and     
forms which nature uses such color and  
tone to relieve and adorn4 ,they had    
neither love of nature1 nor feeling of  
her beauty2 they looked for her coldest 
and most commonplace effects1 because   
they were easiest to imitate2 and for   
her most vulgar forms1 because they were
 most easily to be recognized by the    

untaught eyes of those whom alone they  
could hope to please2 they did it1 like 
the ,pharisee of old1 to be seen of men1
 and they had their reward4 ,they do    
deceive and delight the unpractised eye2
 they will to all ages1 as long as their
 colors endure1 be the standards of     
excellence with all1 who1 ignorant of   
nature1 claim to be thought learned in  
art4 ,and they will to all ages be1 to  
those who have thorough love and        
knowledge of the creation which they    
libel1 instructive proofs of the limited
 number and low character of the truths 
which are necessary1 and the accumulated
 multitude of pure1 broad1 bold         
falsehoods which are admissible in      
pictures meant only to deceive4  ,there 
is of course more or less accuracy of   
knowledge and execution combined with   
this aim at effect1 according to the    
industry and precision of eye possessed 
by the master1 and more or less of      
beauty in the forms selected1 according 
to his natural taste2 but both the      

beauty and truth are sacrificed         
unhesitatingly where they interfere with
 the great effort at deception4 ,claude 
had1 if it had been cultivated1 a fine  
feeling for beauty of form1 and is      
seldom ungraceful in his foliage2 but   
his picture1 when examined with         
reference to essential truth1 is one    
mass of error from beginning to end4    
,cuyp1 on the other hand1 could paint   
close truth of everything1 except ground
 and water1 with decision and success1  
but he has no sense of beauty4 ,gaspar  
,poussin1 more ignorant of truth than   
,claude1 and almost as dead to beauty as
 ,cuyp1 has yet a perception of the     
feeling and moral truth of nature which 
often redeems the picture2 but yet in   
all of them1 everything that they can do
 is done for deception1 and nothing for 
the sake or love of what they are       
painting4   ,sec4 #d4 ,the principles of
 selection adopted by modern artists4   
,modern landscape painters have looked  
at nature with totally different eyes1  

seeking not for what is easiest to      
imitate1 but for what is most important 
to tell4 ,rejecting at once all idea of 
bona fide imitation1 they think only of 
conveying the impression of nature into 
the mind of the spectator4 ,and there   
is1 in consequence1 a greater sum of    
valuable1 essential1 and impressive     
truth in the works of two or three of   
our leading modern landscape painters1  
than in those of all the old masters put
 together1 and of truth too1 nearly     
unmixed with definite or avoidable      
falsehood2 while the unimportant and    
feeble truths of the old masters are    
choked with a mass of perpetual defiance
 of the most authoritative laws of      
nature4   ,sec4 #e4 ,general feeling of 
,claude1 ,salvator1 and ,g4 ,poussin1   
contrasted        with the freedom and  
vastness of nature4  ,i do not expect   
this assertion to be believed at        
present2 it must rest for demonstration 
on the examination we are about to enter
 upon2 yet1 even without reference to   

any intricate or deep-laid truths1 it   
appears strange to me1 that any one     
familiar with nature1 and fond of her1  
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 art4 ,a 
man accustomed to the broad1 wild       
seashore1 with its bright breakers1 and 
free winds1 and sounding rocks1 and     
eternal sensation of tameless power1 can
 scarcely but be angered when ,claude   
bids him stand still on some paltry1    
chipped and chiselled quay with porters 
and wheelbarrows running against him1 to
 watch a weak1 rippling bound and       
barriered water1 that has not strength  
enough in one of its waves to upset the 
flower-pots on the wall1 or even to     
fling one jet of spray over the         
confining stone4 ,a man accustomed to   
the strength and glory of ,god's        
mountains1 with their soaring and       
radiant pinnacles1 and surging sweeps of
 measureless distance1 kingdoms in their

 valleys1 and climates upon their       
crests1 can scarcely but be angered when
 ,salvator bids him stand still under   
some contemptible fragment of splintery 
crag1 which an ,alpine snow-wreath would
 smother in its first swell1 with a     
stunted bush or two growing out of it1  
and a volume of manufactory smoke for a 
sky4 ,a man accustomed to the grace and 
infinity of nature's foliage1 with every
 vista a cathedral1 and every bough a   
revelation1 can scarcely but be angered 
when ,poussin mocks him with a black    
round mass of impenetrable paint1       
diverging into feathers instead of      
leaves1 and supported on a stick instead
 of a trunk4 ,the fact is1 there is one 
thing wanting in all the doing of these 
men1 and that is the very virtue by     
which the work of human mind chiefly    
rises above that of the ,daguerreotype  
or ,calotype1 or any other mechanical   
means that ever have been or may be     
invented1 ,love3 ,there is no evidence  
of their ever having gone to nature with

 any thirst1 or received from her such  
emotion as could make them1 even for an 
instant1 lose sight of themselves2 there
 is in them neither earnestness nor     
humility2 there is no simple or honest  
record of any single truth2 none of the 
plain words nor straight efforts that   
men speak and make when they once feel4 
,sec4 #f4 ,inadequacy of the landscape  
of ,titian and ,tintoret4  ,nor is it   
only by the professed landscape painters
 that the great verities of the material
 world are betrayed3 ,grand as are the  
motives of landscape in the works of the
 earlier and mightier men1 there is yet 
in them nothing approaching to a general
 view nor complete rendering of natural 
phenomena2 not that they are to be      
blamed for this2 for they took out of   
nature that which was fit for their     
purpose1 and their mission was to do no 
more2 but we must be cautious to        
distinguish that imaginative abstraction
 of landscape which alone we find in    
them1 from the entire statement of truth

 which has been attempted by the        
moderns4 ,i have said in the chapter on 
symmetry in the second volume1 that all 
landscape grandeur vanishes before that 
of ,titian and ,tintoret2 and this is   
true of whatever these two giants       
touched2--but they touched little4 ,a   
few level flakes of chestnut foliage2 a 
blue abstraction of hill forms from     
,cadore or the ,euganeans2 a grand mass 
or two of glowing ground and mighty     
herbage1 and a few burning fields of    
quiet cloud were all they needed2 there 
is evidence of ,tintoret's having felt  
more than this1 but it occurs only in   
secondary fragments of rock1 cloud1 or  
pine1 hardly noticed among the          
accumulated interest of his human       
subject4 ,from the window of ,titian's  
house at ,venice1 the chain of the      
,tyrolese ,alps is seen lifted in       
spectral power above the tufted plain of
 ,treviso2 every dawn that reddens the  
towers of ,murano lights also a line of 
pyramidal fires along that colossal     

ridge2 but there is1 so far as ,i know1 
no evidence in any of the master's works
 of his ever having beheld1 much less   
felt1 the majesty of their burning4 ,the
 dark firmament and saddened twilight of
 ,tintoret are sufficient for their end2
 but the sun never plunges behind ,san  
,giorgio in ,aliga without such retinue 
of radiant cloud1 such rest of zoned    
light on the green lagoon1 as never     
received image from his hand4 ,more than
 this1 of that which they loved and     
rendered much is rendered               
conventionally2 by noble                
conventionalities indeed1 but such      
nevertheless as would be inexcusable if 
the landscape became the principal      
subject instead of an accompaniment4 ,i 
will instance only the ,san ,pietro     
,martire1 which1 if not the most        
perfect1 is at least the most popular of
 ,titian's landscapes2 in which1 to     
obtain light on the flesh of the near   
figures the sky is made as dark as deep 
sea1 the mountains are laid in with     

violent and impossible blue1 except one 
of them on the left1 which1 to connect  
the distant light with the foreground1  
is thrown into light relief1 unexplained
 by its materials1 unlikely in its      
position1 and in its degree impossible  
under any circumstances4   ,sec4 #g4    
,causes of its want of influence on     
subsequent schools4  ,i do not instance 
these as faults in the picture3 there   
are no works of very powerful color     
which are free from conventionality     
concentrated or diffused1 daring or     
disguised2 but as the conventionality of
 this whole picture is mainly thrown    
into the landscape1 it is necessary1    
while we acknowledge the virtue of this 
distance as a part of the great         
composition1 to be on our guard against 
the license it assumes and the          
attractiveness of its overcharged color4
 ,fragments of far purer truth occur in 
the works of ,tintoret2 and in the      
drawing of foliage1 whether rapid or    
elaborate1 of masses or details1 the    

,venetian painters1 taken as a body1 may
 be considered almost faultless models4 
,but the whole field of what they have  
done is so narrow1 and therein is so    
much of what is only relatively right1  
and in itself false or imperfect1 that  
the young and inexperienced painter     
could run no greater risk than the too  
early taking them for teachers2 and to  
the general spectator their landscape is
 valuable rather as a means of peculiar 
and solemn emotion than as ministering  
to1 or inspiring the universal love of  
nature4 ,hence while men of serious     
mind1 especially those whose pursuits   
have brought them into continued        
relations with the peopled rather than  
the lonely world1 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 feeling2 those   
whose philosophy is more cheerful and   
more extended1 as having been trained   
and colored among simple and solitary   

nature1 will seek for a wider and more  
systematic circle of teaching3 they may 
grant that the barred horizontal gloom  
of the ,titian sky1 and the massy leaves
 of the ,titian forest are among the    
most sublime of the conceivable forms of
 material things2 but they know that the
 virtue of these very forms is to be    
learned only by right comparison of them
 with the cheerfulness1 fulness and     
comparative inquietness of other hours  
and scenes2 that they are not intended  
for the continual food1 but the         
occasional soothing of the human heart2 
that there is a lesson of not less value
 in its place1 though of less concluding
 and sealing authority1 in every one of 
the more humble phases of material      
things3 and that there are some lessons 
of equal or greater authority which     
these masters neither taught nor        
received4 ,and until the school of      
modern landscape arose ,art had never   
noted the links of this mighty chain2 it
 mattered not that a fragment lay here  

and there1 no heavenly lightning could  
descend by it2 the landscape of the     
,venetians was without effect on any    
contemporary in subsequent schools2 it  
still remains on the continent as       
useless as if it had never existed2 and 
at this moment ,german and ,italian     
landscapes1 of which no words are       
scornful enough to befit the utter      
degradation1 hang in the ,venetian      
,academy in the next room to the ,desert
 of ,titian and the ,paradise of        
,tintoret4#f   ,sec4 #h4 ,the value of  
inferior works of art how to be         
estimated4  ,that then which ,i would   
have the reader inquire respecting every
 work of art of undetermined merit      
submitted to his judgment1 is not       
whether it be a work of especial        
grandeur1 importance1 or power2 but     
whether it have any virtue or substance 
as a link in this chain of truth1       
whether it have recorded or interpreted 
anything before unknown1 whether it have
 added one single stone to our          

heaven-pointing pyramid1 cut away one   
dark bough1 or levelled one rugged      
hillock in our path4 ,this1 if it be an 
honest work of art1 it must have done1  
for no man ever yet worked honestly     
without giving some such help to his    
race4 ,god appoints to every one of his 
creatures a separate mission1 and if    
they discharge it honorably1 if they    
quit themselves like men and faithfully 
follow that light which is in them1     
withdrawing from it all cold and        
quenching influence1 there will         
assuredly come of it such burning as1 in
 its appointed mode and measure1 shall  
shine before men1 and be of service     
constant and holy4 ,degrees infinite of 
lustre there must always be1 but the    
weakest among us has a gift1 however    
seemingly trivial1 which is peculiar to 
him1 and which worthily used will be a  
gift also to his race forever--  ,fool  
not1 says ,george ,herbert1             
,for all may have1        ,if they dare 
choose1 a glorious life or grave4  ,if1 

on the contrary1 there be nothing of    
this freshness achieved1 if there be    
neither purpose nor fidelity in what is 
done1 if it be an envious or powerless  
imitation of other men's labors1 if it  
be a display of mere manual dexterity or
 curious manufacture1 or if in any other
 mode it show itself as having its      
origin in vanity1--,cast it out4 ,it    
matters not what powers of mind may have
 been concerned or corrupted in it1 all 
have lost their savor1 it is worse than 
worthless2--perilous--,cast it out4     
,works of art are indeed always of mixed
 kind1 their honesty being more or less 
corrupted by the various weaknesses of  
the painter1 by his vanity1 his         
idleness1 or his cowardice2 7the fear of
 doing right has far more influence on  
art than is commonly thought17 that only
 is altogether to be rejected which is  
altogether vain1 idle1 and cowardly4 ,of
 the rest the rank is to be estimated   
rather by the purity of their metal than
 the coined value of it4   ,sec4 #i4    

,religious landscape of ,italy4 ,the    
admirableness of its completion4        
,keeping these principles in view1 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 art1 and by the more exclusively 
directed labors of modern schools4  ,to 
the ideal landscape of the early        
religious painters of ,italy ,i have    
alluded in the concluding chapter of the
 second volume4 ,it is absolutely right 
and beautiful in its peculiar           
application2 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 
thought4 ,the great virtue of it is its 
entire1 exquisite1 and humble           
realization of those objects it selects2
 in this respect differing from such    
,german imitations of it as ,i have met 
with1 that there is no effort of any    

fanciful or ornamental modifications1   
but loving fidelity to the thing        
studied4 ,the foreground plants are     
usually neither exaggerated nor         
stiffened2 they do not form arches or   
frames or borders2 their grace is       
unconfined1 their simplicity            
undestroyed4 ,cima da ,conegliano1 in   
his picture in the church of the        
,madonna dell' ,orto at ,venice1 has    
given us the oak1 the fig1 the beautiful
 ,erba della ,madonna on the wall1      
precisely such a bunch of it as may be  
seen growing at this day on the marble  
steps of that very church2 ivy and other
 creepers1 and a strawberry plant in the
 foreground1 with a blossom and a berry 
just set1 and one half ripe and one     
ripe1 all patiently and innocently      
painted from the real thing1 and        
therefore most divine4 ,fra ,angelico's 
use of the oxalis acetosella is as      
faithful in representation as touching  
in feeling4#g ,the ferns that grow on   
the walls of ,fiesole may be seen in    

their simple verity on the architecture 
of ,ghirlandajo4 ,the rose1 the myrtle1 
and the lily1 the olive and orange1     
pomegranate and vine1 have received     
their fairest portraiture where they    
bear a sacred character2 even the common
 plantains and mallows of the waysides  
are touched with deep reverence by      
,raffaelle2 and indeed for the perfect  
treatment of details of this kind1      
treatment as delicate and affectionate  
as it is elevated and manly1 it is to   
the works of these schools alone that we
 can refer4 ,and on this their peculiar 
excellence ,i should the more earnestly 
insist1 because it is of a kind         
altogether neglected by the ,english    
school1 and with most unfortunate       
result1 many of our best painters       
missing their deserved rank solely from 
the want of it1 as ,gainsborough2 and   
all being more or less checked in their 
progress or vulgarized in their aim4    
,sec4 #aj4 ,finish1 and the want of it1 
how right and how wrong4  ,it is a      

misfortune for all honest critics1 that 
hardly any quality of art is            
independently to be praised1 and without
 reference to the motive from which it  
resulted1 and the place in which it     
appears2 so that no principle can be    
simply enforced but it shall seem to    
countenance a vice2 while the work of   
qualification and explanation both      
weakens the force of what is said1 and  
is not perhaps always likely to be with 
patience received3 so also those who    
desire to misunderstand or to oppose    
have it always in their power to become 
obtuse listeners or specious opponents4 
,thus ,i hardly dare insist upon the    
virtue of completion1 lest ,i should be 
supposed a defender of ,wouvermans or   
,gerard ,dow2 neither can ,i adequately 
praise the power of ,tintoret1 without  
fearing to be thought adverse to        
,holbein or ,perugino4 ,the fact is1    
that both finish and impetuosity1       
specific minuteness1 or large           
abstraction1 may be the signs of        

passion1 or of its reverse2 may result  
from affection or indifference1         
intellect or dulness4 ,some men finish  
from intense love of the beautiful in   
the smallest parts of what they do2     
others in pure incapability of          
comprehending anything but parts2 others
 to show their dexterity with the brush1
 and prove expenditure of time4 ,some   
are impetuous and bold in their         
handling1 from having great thoughts to 
express which are independent of detail2
 others because they have bad taste or  
have been badly taught2 others from     
vanity1 and others from indolence4      
7,compare ,vol4 ,,ii4 ,chap4 ,,ix4 ,sec4
 #h47 ,now both the finish and          
incompletion are right where they are   
the signs of passion or of thought1 and 
both are wrong1 and ,i think the finish 
the more contemptible of the two1 when  
they cease to be so4 ,the modern        
,italians will paint every leaf of a    
laurel or rose-bush without the         
slightest feeling of their beauty or    

character2 and without showing one spark
 of intellect or affection from         
beginning to end4 ,anything is better   
than this2 and yet the very highest     
schools do the same thing1 or nearly so1
 but with totally different motives and 
perceptions1 and the result is divine4  
,on the whole1 ,i conceive that the     
extremes of good and evil lie with the  
finishers1 and that whatever glorious   
power we may admit in men like          
,tintoret1 whatever attractiveness of   
method to ,rubens1 ,rembrandt1 or1      
though in far less degree1 our own      
,reynolds1 still the thoroughly great   
men are those who have done everything  
thoroughly1 and who1 in a word1 have    
never despised anything1 however small1 
of ,god's making4 ,and this is the chief
 fault of our ,english landscapists1    
that they have not the intense          
all-observing penetration of            
well-balanced mind2 they have not1      
except in one or two instances1 anything
 of that feeling which ,wordsworth shows

 in the following lines3--              
,so fair1 so sweet1 withal so           
sensitive2--             ,would that the
 little flowers were born to live       
,conscious of half the pleasure which   
they give4             ,that to this    
mountain daisy's self were known        
,the beauty of its star-shaped shadow1  
thrown             ,on the smooth       
surface of this naked stone4  ,that is a
 little bit of good1 downright1         
foreground painting--no mistake about   
it2 daisy1 and shadow1 and stone texture
 and all4 ,our painters must come to    
this before they have done their duty2  
and yet1 on the other hand1 let them    
beware of finishing1 for the sake of    
finish1 all over their picture4 ,the    
ground is not to be all over daisies1   
nor is every daisy to have its          
star-shaped shadow2 there is as much    
finish in the right concealment of      
things as in the right exhibition of    
them2 and while ,i demand this amount of
 specific character where nature shows  

it1 ,i demand equal fidelity to her     
where she conceals it4 ,to paint mist   
rightly1 space rightly1 and light       
rightly1 it may be often necessary to   
paint nothing else rightly1 but the rule
 is simple for all that2 if the artist  
is painting something that he knows and 
loves1 as he knows it because he loves  
it1 whether it be the fair strawberry of
 ,cima1 or the clear sky of ,francia1 or
 the blazing incomprehensible mist of   
,turner1 he is all right2 but the moment
 he does anything as he thinks it ought 
to be1 because he does not care about   
it1 he is all wrong4 ,he has only to ask
 himself whether he cares for anything  
except himself2 so far as he does he    
will make a good picture2 so far as he  
thinks of himself a vile one4 ,this is  
the root of the viciousness of the whole
 ,french school4 ,industry they have1   
learning they have1 power they have1    
feeling they have1 yet not so much      
feeling as ever to force them to forget 
themselves even for a moment2 the ruling

 motive is invariably vanity1 and the   
picture therefore an abortion4   ,sec4  
#aa4 ,the open skies of the religious   
schools1 how valuable4 ,mountain        
drawing of ,masaccio4 ,landscape of the 
,bellinis and ,giorgione4  ,returning to
 the pictures of the religious schools1 
we find that their open skies are also  
of the highest value4 ,their            
preciousness is such that no subsequent 
schools can by comparison be said to    
have painted sky at all1 but only       
clouds1 or mist1 or blue canopies4 ,the 
golden sky of ,marco ,basaiti in the    
,academy of ,venice altogether          
overpowers and renders valueless that of
 ,titian beside it4 ,those of ,francia  
in the gallery of ,bologna are even more
 wonderful1 because cooler in tone and  
behind figures in full light4 ,the      
touches of white light in the horizon of
 ,angelico's ,last ,judgment are felt   
and wrought with equal truth4 ,the      
dignified and simple forms of cloud in  
repose are often by these painters      

sublimely expressed1 but of changeful   
cloud form they show no examples4 ,the  
architecture1 mountains1 and water of   
these distances are commonly            
conventional2 motives are to be found in
 them of the highest beauty1 and        
especially remarkable for quantity and  
meaning of incident2 but they can only  
be studied or accepted in the particular
 feeling that produced them4 ,it may    
generally be observed that whatever has 
been the result of strong emotion is ill
 seen unless through the medium of such 
emotion1 and will lead to conclusions   
utterly false and perilous1 if it be    
made a subject of cold-hearted          
observance1 or an object of systematic  
imitation4 ,one piece of genuine        
mountain drawing1 however1 occurs in the
 landscape of ,masaccio's ,tribute      
,money4 ,it is impossible to say what   
strange results might have taken place  
in this particular field of art1 or how 
suddenly a great school of landscape    
might have arisen1 had the life of this 

great painter been prolonged4 ,of this  
particular fresco ,i shall have much to 
say hereafter4 ,the two brothers        
,bellini gave a marked and vigorous     
impulse to the landscape of ,venice1 of 
,gentile's architecture ,i shall speak  
presently4 ,giovanni's1 though in style 
less interesting and in place less      
prominent1 occurring chiefly as a kind  
of frame to his pictures1 connecting    
them with the architecture of the       
churches for which they were intended1  
is in refinement of realization1 ,i     
suppose1 quite unrivalled1 especially in
 passages requiring pure gradation1 as  
the hollows of vaultings4 ,that of      
,veronese would look ghostly beside it2 
that of ,titian lightless4 ,his         
landscape is occasionally quaint and    
strange like ,giorgione's1 and as fine  
in color1 as that behind the ,madonna in
 the ,brera gallery at ,milan2 but a    
more truthful fragment occurs in the    
picture in ,san ,francesco della ,vigna 
at ,venice2 and in the picture of ,st4  

,jerome in the church of ,san           
,grisostomo1 the landscape is as perfect
 and beautiful as any background may    
legitimately be1 and finer1 as far as it
 goes1 than anything of ,titian's4 ,it  
is remarkable for the absolute truth of 
its sky1 whose blue1 clear as crystal1  
and though deep in tone bright as the   
open air1 is gradated to the horizon    
with a cautiousness and finish almost   
inconceivable2 and to obtain light at   
the horizon without contradicting the   
system of chiaroscuro adopted in the    
figures which are lighted from the right
 hand1 it is barred across with some    
glowing white cirri which1 in their     
turn1 are opposed by a single dark      
horizontal line of lower cloud2 and to  
throw the whole farther back1 there is a
 wreath of rain cloud of warmer color   
floating above the mountains1 lighted on
 its under edge1 whose faithfulness to  
nature1 both in hue and in its light and
 shattering form1 is altogether         
exemplary2 the wandering of the light   

among the hills is equally studied1 and 
the whole is crowned by the grand       
realization of the leaves of the        
fig-tree alluded to 7,vol4 ,,ii4 ,part  
,,iii4 ,chap4 #e17 as well as of the    
herbage upon the rocks4 ,considering    
that with all this care and completeness
 in the background1 there is nothing    
that is not of meaning and necessity in 
reference to the figures1 and that in   
the figures themselves the dignity and  
heavenliness of the highest religious   
painters are combined with a force and  
purity of color1 greater ,i think than  
,titian's1 it is a work which may be set
 before the young artist as in every    
respect a nearly faultless guide4       
,giorgione's landscape is inventive and 
solemn1 but owing to the rarity even of 
his nominal works ,i dare not speak of  
it in general terms4 ,it is certainly   
conventional1 and is rather1 ,i imagine1
 to be studied for its color and its    
motives than its details4   ,sec4 #ab4  
,landscape of ,titian and ,tintoret4    

,of ,titian and ,tintoret ,i have spoken
 already4 ,the latter is every way the  
greater master1 never indulging in the  
exaggerated color of ,titian1 and       
attaining far more perfect light2 his   
grasp of nature is more extensive1 and  
his view of her more imaginative1       
7incidental notices of his landscape    
will be found in the chapter on         
,imagination penetrative1 of the second 
volume17 but he is usually too impatient
 to carry his thoughts as far out1 or to
 realize with as much substantiality as 
,titian4 ,in the ,st4 ,jerome of the    
latter in the gallery of the ,brera1    
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 claim4 ,the
 larger features of the ground1 foliage1
 and drapery1 as well as the lion in the
 lower angle1 are executed with a       
slightness which admits not of close    
examination1 and which1 if not in shade1
 would be offensive to the generality of

 observers4 ,but on the rock above the  
lion1 where it turns towards the light1 
and where the eye is intended to dwell1 
there is a wreath of ivy of which every 
leaf is separately drawn with the       
greatest accuracy and care1 and beside  
it a lizard1 studied with equal         
earnestness1 yet always with that right 
grandeur of manner to which ,i have     
alluded in the preface4 ,tintoret seldom
 reaches or attempts the elaboration in 
substance and color of these objects1   
but he is even more truth-telling and   
certain in his rendering of all the     
great characters of specific form1 and  
as the painter of ,space he stands      
altogether alone among dead masters2    
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 air1 and the principles of    
aerial color which have been since      
carried out in other fields by ,turner4 
,i conceive him to be the most powerful 

painter whom the world has seen1 and    
that he was prevented from being also   
the most perfect1 partly by untoward    
circumstances in his position and       
education1 partly by the very fulness   
and impetuosity of his own mind1 partly 
by the want of religious feeling and its
 accompanying perception of beauty2 for 
his noble treatment of religious        
subject1 of which ,i have given several 
examples in the third part1 appears to  
be the result only of that grasp which a
 great and well-toned intellect         
necessarily takes of any subject        
submitted to it1 and is wanting in the  
signs of the more withdrawn and sacred  
sympathies4  ,but whatever advances were
 made by ,tintoret in modes of          
artistical treatment1 he cannot be      
considered as having enlarged the sphere
 of landscape conception4 ,he took no   
cognizance even of the materials and    
motives1 so singularly rich in color1   
which were forever around him in his own
 ,venice4 ,all portions of ,venetian    

scenery introduced by him are treated   
conventionally and carelessly2 the      
architectural characters lost           
altogether1 the sea distinguished from  
the sky only by a darker green1 while of
 the sky itself only those forms were   
employed by him which had been repeated 
again and again for centuries1 though in
 less tangibility and completion4 ,of   
mountain scenery he has left1 ,i        
believe1 no example so far carried as   
that of ,john ,bellini above instanced4 
,sec4 #ac4 ,schools of ,florence1       
,milan1 and ,bologna4  ,the ,florentine 
and ,ambrian schools supply us with no  
examples of landscape1 except that      
introduced by their earliest masters1   
gradually overwhelmed under renaissance 
architecture4  ,leonardo's landscape has
 been of unfortunate effect on art1 so  
far as it has had effect at all4 ,in    
realization of detail he verges on the  
ornamental1 in his rock outlines he has 
all the deficiencies and little of the  
feeling of the earlier men4 ,behind the 

,sacrifice for the ,friends of ,giotto  
at ,pisa1 there is a sweet piece of rock
 incident1 a little fountain breaking   
out at the mountain foot1 and trickling 
away1 its course marked by branches of  
reeds1 the latter formal enough         
certainly1 and always in triplets1 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 ,louvre4 ,the latter are 
grotesque without being ideal1 and      
extraordinary without being impressive4 
,the sketch in the ,uffizii of ,florence
 has some fine foliage1 and there is of 
course a certain virtue in all the work 
of a man like ,leonardo which ,i would  
not depreciate1 but our admiration of it
 in this particular field must be       
qualified1 and our following cautious4  
,no advances were made in landscape1 so 
far as ,i know1 after the time of       
,tintoret2 the power of art ebbed       
gradually away from the derivative      
schools2 various degrees of cleverness  

or feeling being manifested in more or  
less brilliant conventionalism4 ,i once 
supposed there was some life in the     
landscape of ,domenichino1 but in this  
,i must have been wrong4 ,the man who   
painted the ,madonna del ,rosario and   
,martyrdom of ,st4 ,agnes in the gallery
 of ,bologna1 is palpably incapable of  
doing anything good1 great1 or right in 
any field1 way1 or kind1 whatsoever4#h  
,sec4 #ad4 ,claude1 ,salvator1 and the  
,poussins4  ,though1 however1 at this   
period the general grasp of the schools 
was perpetually contracting1 a gift was 
given to the world by ,claude1 for which
 we are perhaps hardly enough grateful1 
owing to the very frequency of our after
 enjoyment of it4 ,he set the sun in    
heaven1 and was1 ,i suppose1 the first  
who attempted anything like the         
realization of actual sunshine in misty 
air4 ,he gives the first example of the 
study of nature for her own sake1 and   
allowing for the unfortunate            
circumstances of his education1 and for 

his evident inferiority of intellect1   
more could hardly have been expected    
from him4 ,his false taste1 forced      
composition1 and ignorant rendering of  
detail have perhaps been of more        
detriment to art than the gift he gave  
was of advantage4 ,the character of his 
own mind is singular2 ,i know of no     
other instance of a man's working from  
nature continually with the desire of   
being true1 and never attaining the     
power of drawing so much as a bough of a
 tree rightly4 ,salvator1 a man         
originally endowed with far higher power
 of mind than ,claude1 was altogether   
unfaithful to his mission1 and has left 
us1 ,i believe1 no gift4 ,everything    
that he did is evidently for the sake of
 exhibiting his own dexterity2 there is 
no love of any kind for anything2 his   
choice of landscape features is dictated
 by no delight in the sublime1 but by   
mere animal restlessness or ferocity1   
guided by an imaginative power of which 
he could not altogether deprive himself4

 ,he has done nothing which others have 
not done better1 or which it would not  
have been better not to have done2 in   
nature1 he mistakes distortion for      
energy1 and savageness for sublimity2 in
 man1 mendicity for sanctity1 and       
conspiracy for heroism4  ,the landscape 
of ,nicolo ,poussin shows much power1   
and is usually composed and elaborated  
on right principles1 7compare preface to
 second edition17 but ,i am aware of    
nothing that it has attained of new or  
peculiar excellence2 it is a graceful   
mixture of qualities to be found in     
other masters in higher degrees4 ,in    
finish it is inferior to ,leonardo's1 in
 invention to ,giorgione's1 in truth to 
,titian's1 in grace to ,raffaelle's4    
,the landscapes of ,gaspar have serious 
feeling and often valuable and solemn   
color2 virtueless otherwise1 they are   
full of the most degraded mannerism1 and
 ,i believe the admiration of them to   
have been productive of extensive evil  
among recent schools4   ,sec4 #ae4      

,german and ,flemish landscape4  ,the   
development of landscape north of the   
,alps1 presents us with the same general
 phases under modifications dependent   
partly on less intensity of feeling1    
partly on diminished availableness of   
landscape material4 ,that of the        
religious painters is treated with the  
same affectionate completion2 but       
exuberance of fancy sometimes diminishes
 the influence of the imagination1 and  
the absence of the ,italian force of    
passion admits of more patient and      
somewhat less intellectual elaboration4 
,a morbid habit of mind is evident in   
many1 seeming to lose sight of the      
balance and relations of things1 so as  
to become intense in trifles1 gloomily  
minute1 as in ,albert ,durer2 and this  
mingled with a feverish operation of the
 fancy1 which appears to result from    
certain habitual conditions of bodily   
health rather than of mental culture1   
7and of which the sickness without the  
power is eminently characteristic of the

 modern ,germans27 but with all this    
there are virtues of the very highest   
order in those schools1 and ,i regret   
that my knowledge is insufficient to    
admit of my giving any detailed account 
of them4  ,in the landscape of          
,rembrandt and ,rubens1 we have the     
northern parallel to the power of the   
,venetians4 ,among the etchings and     
drawings of ,rembrandt1 landscape       
thoughts may be found not unworthy of   
,titian1 and studies from nature of     
sublime fidelity2 but his system of     
chiaroscuro was inconsistent with the   
gladness1 and his peculiar modes of     
feeling with the grace1 of nature2 nor  
from my present knowledge can ,i name   
any work on canvas in which he has      
carried out the dignity of his etched   
conceptions1 or exhibited any           
perceptiveness of new truths4  ,not so  
,rubens1 who perhaps furnishes us with  
the first instances of complete         
unconventional unaffected landscape4    
,his treatment is healthy1 manly1 and   

rational1 not very affectionate1 yet    
often condescending to minute and       
multitudinous detail2 always as far as  
it goes pure1 forcible1 and refreshing1 
consummate in composition1 and          
marvellous in color4 ,in the ,pitti     
palace1 the best of its two ,rubens     
landscapes has been placed near a       
characteristic and highly-finished      
,titian1 the marriage of ,st4           
,catherine4 ,but for the grandeur of    
line and solemn feeling in the flock of 
sheep1 and the figures of the latter    
work1 ,i doubt if all its glow and depth
 of tone could support its overcharged  
green and blue against the open breezy  
sunshine of the ,fleming4 ,i do not mean
 to rank the art of ,rubens with that of
 ,titian1 but it is always to be        
remembered that ,titian hardly ever     
paints sunshine1 but a certain          
opalescent twilight which has as much of
 human emotion as of imitative truth in 
it1--           ,the clouds that gather 
round the setting sun           ,do take

 a sober coloring from an eye           
,that hath kept watch o'er man's        
mortality3  and that art of this kind   
must always be liable to some appearance
 of failure when compared with a less   
pathetic statement of facts4  ,it is to 
be noted1 however1 that the licenses    
taken by ,rubens in particular instances
 are as bold as his general statements  
are sincere4 ,in the landscape just     
instanced the horizon is an oblique     
line2 in the ,sunset of our own gallery 
many of the shadows fall at right angles
 to the light2 and in a picture in the  
,dulwich gallery a rainbow is seen by   
the spectator at the side of the sun4   
,these bold and frank licenses are not  
to be considered as detracting from the 
rank of the painter2 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 feeling4 ,yet the young artist 
must keep in mind that the painter's    

greatness consists not in his taking1   
but in his atoning for them4   ,sec4    
#af4 ,the lower ,dutch schools4  ,among 
the professed landscapists of the ,dutch
 school1 we find much dexterous         
imitation of certain kinds of nature1   
remarkable usually for its persevering  
rejection of whatever is great1         
valuable1 or affecting in the object    
studied4 ,where1 however1 they show real
 desire to paint what they saw as far as
 they saw it1 there is of course much in
 them that is instructive1 as in ,cuyp  
and in the etchings of ,waterloo1 which 
have even very sweet and genuine        
feeling2 and so in some of their        
architectural painters4 ,but the object 
of the great body of them is merely to  
display manual dexterities of one kind  
or another1 and their effect on the     
public mind is so totally for evil1 that
 though ,i do not deny the advantage an 
artist of real judgment may derive from 
the study of some of them1 ,i conceive  
the best patronage that any monarch     

could possibly bestow upon the arts1    
would be to collect the whole body of   
them into a grand gallery and burn it to
 the ground4   ,sec4 #ag4 ,english      
school1 ,wilson and ,gainsborough4      
,passing to the ,english school1 we find
 a connecting link between them and the 
,italians formed by ,richard ,wilson4   
,had this artist studied under favorable
 circumstances1 there is evidence of his
 having possessed power enough to       
produce an original picture2 but1       
corrupted by study of the ,poussins1 and
 gathering his materials chiefly in     
their field1 the district about ,rome--a
 district especially unfavorable1 as    
exhibiting no pure or healthy nature1   
but a diseased and overgrown ,flora     
among half-developed volcanic rocks1    
loose calcareous concretions1 and       
mouldering wrecks of buildings--and     
whose spirit1 ,i conceive1 to be        
especially opposed to the natural tone  
of the ,english mind1 his originality   
was altogether overpowered1 and1 though 

he paints in a manly way and            
occasionally reaches exquisite tones of 
color1 as in the small and very precious
 picture belonging to ,mr4 ,rogers1 and 
sometimes manifests some freshness of   
feeling1 as in the ,villa of ,maecenas  
of our ,national ,gallery1 yet his      
pictures are in general mere diluted    
adaptations from ,poussin and ,salvator1
 without the dignity of the one or the  
fire of the other4  ,not so             
,gainsborough1 a great name his whether 
of the ,english or any other school4    
,the greatest colorist since ,rubens1   
and the last1 ,i think1 of legitimate   
colorists2 that is to say1 of those who 
were fully acquainted with the power of 
their material2 pure in his ,english    
feeling1 profound in his seriousness1   
graceful in his gayety1 there are       
nevertheless certain deductions to be   
made from his worthiness which yet ,i   
dread to make1 because my knowledge of  
his landscape works is not extensive    
enough to justify me in speaking of them

 decisively2 but this is to be noted of 
all that ,i know1 that they are rather  
motives of feeling and color than       
earnest studies2 that their execution is
 in some degree mannered1 and always    
hasty2 that they are altogether wanting 
in the affectionate detail of which ,i  
have already spoken2 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 them4 ,these faults may be          
sufficiently noted in the magnificent   
picture presented by him to the ,royal  
,academy1 and tested by a comparison of 
it with the ,turner 7,llanberis17 in the
 same room4 ,nothing can be more        
attractively luminous or aerial than the
 distance of the ,gainsborough1 nothing 
more bold or inventive than the forms of
 its crags and the diffusion of the     
broad distant light upon them1 where a  
vulgar artist would have thrown them    
into dark contrast4 ,but it will be     
found that the light of the distance is 

brought out by a violent exaggeration of
 the gloom in the valley2 that the forms
 of the green trees which bear the chief
 light are careless and ineffective2    
that the markings of the crags are      
equally hasty2 and that no object in the
 foreground has realization enough to   
enable the eye to rest upon it4 ,the    
,turner1 a much feebler picture in its  
first impression1 and altogether        
inferior in the quality and value of its
 individual hues1 will yet be found to  
the end more forcible1 because          
unexaggerated2 its gloom is moderate and
 aerial1 its light deep in tone1 its    
color entirely unconventional1 and the  
forms of its rocks studied with the most
 devoted care4 ,with ,gainsborough      
terminates the series of painters       
connected with the elder schools4 ,by   
whom1 among those yet living or lately  
lost1 the impulse was first given to    
modern landscape1 ,i attempt not to     
decide4 ,such questions are rather      
invidious than interesting2 the         

particular tone or direction of any     
school seems to me always to have       
resulted rather from certain phases of  
national character1 limited to          
particular periods1 than from individual
 teaching2 and1 especially among        
moderns1 what has been good in each     
master has been commonly original4      
,sec4 #ah4 ,constable1 ,calcott4  ,i    
have already alluded to the simplicity  
and earnestness of the mind of          
,constable2 to its vigorous rupture with
 school laws1 and to its unfortunate    
error on the opposite side4             
,unteachableness seems to have been a   
main feature of his character1 and there
 is corresponding want of veneration in 
the way he approaches nature herself4   
,his early education and associations   
were also against him2 they induced in  
him a morbid preference of subjects of a
 low order4 ,i have never seen any work 
of his in which there were any signs of 
his being able to draw1 and hence even  
the most necessary details are painted  

by him inefficiently4 ,his works are    
also eminently wanting both in rest and 
refinement1 and ,fuseli's jesting       
compliment is too true2 for the showery 
weather in which the artist delights1   
misses alike the majesty of storm and   
the loveliness of calm weather3 it is   
great-coat weather1 and nothing more4   
,there is strange want of depth in the  
mind which has no pleasure in sunbeams  
but when piercing painfully through     
clouds1 nor in foliage but when shaken  
by the wind1 nor in light itself but    
when flickering1 glistening1 restless1  
and feeble4 ,yet1 with all these        
deductions1 his works are to be deeply  
respected as thoroughly original1       
thoroughly honest1 free from            
affectation1 manly in manner1 frequently
 successful in cool color1 and          
especially realizing certain motives of 
,english scenery with perhaps as much   
affection as such scenery1 unless when  
regarded through media of feeling       
derived from higher sources1 is         

calculated to inspire4  ,on the works of
 ,calcott1 high as his reputation       
stands1 ,i should look with far less    
respect2 ,i see not any preference or   
affection in the artist2 there is no    
tendency in him with which we can       
sympathize1 nor does there appear any   
sign of aspiration1 effort1 or enjoyment
 in any one of his works4 ,he appears to
 have completed them methodically1 to   
have been content with them when        
completed1 to have thought them good1   
legitimate1 regular pictures2 perhaps in
 some respects better than nature4 ,he  
painted everything tolerably1 and       
nothing excellently2 he has given us no 
gift1 struck for us no light1 and though
 he has produced one or two valuable    
works1 of which the finest ,i know is   
the ,marine in the possession of ,sir   
,j4 ,swinburne1 they will1 ,i believe1  
in future have no place among those     
considered representative of the        
,english school4   ,sec4 #ai4 ,peculiar 
tendency of recent landscape4           

,throughout the range of elder art it   
will be remembered we have found no     
instance of the faithful painting of    
mountain scenery1 except in a faded     
background of ,masaccio's3 nothing more 
than rocky eminences1 undulating hills1 
or fantastic crags1 and even these      
treated altogether under typical forms4 
,the more specific study of mountains   
seems to have coincided with the most   
dexterous practice of water-color2 but  
it admits of doubt whether the choice of
 subject has been directed by the       
vehicle1 or whether1 as ,i rather think1
 the tendency of national feeling has   
been followed in the use of the most    
appropriate means4 ,something is to be  
attributed to the increased demand for  
slighter works of art1 and much to the  
sense of the quality of objects now     
called picturesque1 which appears to be 
exclusively of modern origin4 ,from what
 feeling the character of middle-age    
architecture and costume arose1 or with 
what kind of affection their forms were 

regarded by the inventors1 ,i am utterly
 unable to guess2 but of this ,i think  
we may be assured1 that the natural     
instinct and child-like wisdom of those 
days were altogether different from the 
modern feeling1 which appears to have   
taken its origin in the absence of such 
objects1 and to be based rather on the  
strangeness of their occurrence than on 
any real affection for them2 and which  
is certainly so shallow and ineffective 
as to be instantly and always sacrificed
 by the majority to fashion1 comfort1 or
 economy4 ,yet ,i trust that there is a 
healthy though feeble love of nature    
mingled with it1 nature pure1 separate1 
felicitous1 which is also peculiar to   
the moderns2 and as signs of this       
feeling1 or ministers to it1 ,i look    
with veneration upon many works which1  
in a technical point of view1 are of    
minor importance4   ,sec4 #bj4 ,g4      
,robson1 ,d4 ,cox4 ,false use of the    
term style4  ,i have been myself        
indebted for much teaching and more     

delight to those of the late ,g4        
,robson4 ,weaknesses there are in them  
manifold1 much bad drawing1 much forced 
color1 much over finish1 little of what 
artists call composition2 but there is  
thorough affection for the thing drawn2 
they are serious and quiet in the       
highest degree1 certain qualities of    
atmosphere and texture in them have     
never been excelled1 and certain facts  
of mountain scenery never but by them   
expressed1 as1 for instance1 the        
stillness and depth of the mountain     
tarns1 with the reversed imagery of     
their darkness signed across by the soft
 lines of faintly touching winds2 the   
solemn flush of the brown fern and      
glowing heath under evening light2 the  
purple mass of mountains far removed1   
seen against clear still twilight4 ,with
 equal gratitude ,i look to the drawings
 of ,david ,cox1 which1 in spite of     
their loose and seemingly careless      
execution1 are not less serious in their
 meaning1 nor less important in their   

truth4 ,i must1 however1 in reviewing   
those modern works in which certain     
modes of execution are particularly     
manifested1 insist especially on this   
general principle1 applicable to all    
times of art2 that what is usually      
called the style or manner of an artist 
is1 in all good art1 nothing but the    
best means of getting at the particular 
truth which the artist wanted2 it is not
 a mode peculiar to himself of getting  
at the same truths as other men1 but the
 only mode of getting the particular    
facts he desires1 and which mode1 if    
others had desired to express those     
facts1 they also must have adopted4 ,all
 habits of execution persisted in under 
no such necessity1 but because the      
artist has invented them1 or desires to 
show his dexterity in them1 are utterly 
base2 for every good painter finds so   
much difficulty in reaching the end he  
sees and desires1 that he has no time   
nor power left for playing tricks on the
 road to it2 he catches at the easiest  

and best means he can get2 it is        
possible that such means may be         
singular1 and then it will be said that 
his style is strange2 but it is not a   
style at all1 it is the saying of a     
particular thing in the only way in     
which it possibly can be said4 ,thus the
 reed pen outline and peculiar touch of 
,prout1 which are frequently considered 
as mere manner1 are in fact the only    
means of expressing the crumbling       
character of stone which the artist     
loves and desires4 ,that character never
 has been expressed except by him1 nor  
will it ever be expressed except by his 
means4 ,and it is of the greatest       
importance to distinguish this kind of  
necessary and virtuous manner from the  
conventional manners very frequent in   
derivative schools1 and always utterly  
to be contemned1 wherein an artist1     
desiring nothing and feeling nothing1   
executes everything in his own          
particular mode1 and teaches emulous    
scholars how to do with difficulty what 

might have been done with ease4 ,it is  
true that there are sometimes instances 
in which great masters have employed    
different means of getting at the same  
end1 but in these cases their choice has
 been always of those which to them     
appeared the shortest and most complete2
 their practice has never been          
prescribed by affectation or continued  
from habit1 except so far as must be    
expected from such weakness as is common
 to all men2 from hands that necessarily
 do most readily what they are most     
accustomed to do1 and minds always      
liable to prescribe to the hands that   
which they can do most readily4  ,the   
recollection of this will keep us from  
being offended with the loose and       
blotted handling of ,david ,cox4 ,there 
is no other means by which his object   
could be attained4 ,the looseness1      
coolness1 and moisture of his herbage2  
the rustling crumpled freshness of his  
broad-leaved weeds2 the play of pleasant
 light across his deep heathered moor or

 plashing sand2 the melting of fragments
 of white mist into the dropping blue   
above2 all this has not been fully      
recorded except by him1 and what there  
is of accidental in his mode of reaching
 it1 answers gracefully to the          
accidental part of nature herself4 ,yet 
he is capable of more than this1 and if 
he suffers himself uniformly to paint   
beneath his capability1 that which began
 in feeling must necessarily end in     
manner4 ,he paints too many small       
pictures1 and perhaps has of late       
permitted his peculiar execution to be  
more manifest than is necessary4 ,of    
this1 he is himself the best judge4 ,for
 almost all faults of this kind the     
public are answerable1 not the painter4 
,i have alluded to one of his grander   
works--such as ,i should wish always to 
see him paint--in the preface2 another1 
,i think still finer1 a red sunset on   
distant hills1 almost unequalled for    
truth and power of color1 was painted by
 him several years ago1 and remains1 ,i 

believe1 in his own possession4   ,sec4 
#ba4 ,copley ,fielding4 ,phenomena of   
distant color4  ,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     
been1 more especially as my own         
sympathies and enjoyments are so        
entirely directed in the channel which  
his art has taken1 that ,i am afraid of 
trusting them too far4 ,yet ,i may1     
perhaps1 be permitted to speak of myself
 so far as ,i suppose my own feelings to
 be representative of those of a class2 
and ,i suppose that there are many who1 
like myself1 at some period of their    
life have derived more intense and      
healthy pleasure from the works of this 
painter than of any other whatsoever2   
healthy1 because always based on his    
faithful and simple rendering of nature1
 and that of very lovely and impressive 
nature1 altogether freed from           
coarseness1 violence1 or vulgarity4     

,various references to that which he has
 attained will be found subsequently3   
what ,i am now about to say respecting  
what he has not attained1 is not in     
depreciation of what he has             
accomplished1 but in regret at his      
suffering powers of a high order to     
remain in any measure dormant4  ,he     
indulges himself too much in the use of 
crude color4 ,pure cobalt1 violent rose1
 and purple1 are of frequent occurrence 
in his distances2 pure siennas and other
 browns in his foregrounds1 and that not
 as expressive of lighted but of local  
color4 ,the reader will find in the     
following chapters that ,i am no        
advocate for subdued coloring2 but crude
 color is not bright color1 and there   
was never a noble or brilliant work of  
color yet produced1 whose real form did 
not depend on the subduing of its tints 
rather than the elevation of them4  ,it 
is perhaps one of the most difficult    
lessons to learn in art1 that the warm  
colors of distance1 even the most       

glowing1 are subdued by the air so as in
 no wise to resemble the same color seen
 on a foreground object2 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    
flower2 and the mingling of this gray of
 distance1 without in the slightest     
degree taking away the expression of the
 intense and perfect purity of the color
 in and by itself1 is perhaps the last  
attainment of the great landscape       
colorist4 ,in the same way the blue of  
distance1 however intense1 is not the   
blue of a bright blue flower1 and it is 
not distinguished from it by different  
texture merely1 but by a certain        
intermixture and under current of warm  
color1 which is altogether wanting in   
many of the blues of ,fielding's        
distances2 and so of every bright       
distant color2 while in foreground where
 colors may be1 and ought to be1 pure1  
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 ,giorgione1 ,titian1 ,tintoret1
 ,veronese1 ,turner1 and all other great
 colorists in proportion as they are so4
 ,of this fitting of light to shadow    
,fielding is altogether regardless1 so  
that his foregrounds are constantly     
assuming the aspect of overcharged local
 color instead of sunshine1 and his     
figures and cattle look transparent4    
,sec4 #bb4 ,beauty of mountain          
foreground4  ,again1 the finishing of   
,fielding's foregrounds1 as regards     
their drawing1 is minute without        
accuracy1 multitudinous without thought1
 and confused without mystery4 ,where   
execution is seen to be in measure      
accidental1 as in ,cox1 it may be       
received as representative of what is   
accidental in nature2 but there is no   
part of ,fielding's foreground that is  
accidental2 it is evidently worked and  
reworked1 dotted1 rubbed1 and finished  
with great labor1 and where the virtue1 

playfulness1 and freedom of accident are
 thus removed1 one of two virtues must  
be substituted for them4 ,either we must
 have the deeply studied and imaginative
 foreground1 of which every part is     
necessary to every other1 and whose     
every spark of light is essential to the
 well-being of the whole1 of which the  
foregrounds of ,turner in the ,liber    
,studiorum are the most eminent examples
 ,i know1 or else we must have in some  
measure the botanical faithfulness and  
realization of the early masters4       
,neither of these virtues is to be found
 in ,fielding's4 ,its features1 though  
grouped with feeling1 are yet scattered 
and inessential4 ,any one of them might 
be altered in many ways without doing   
harm2 there is no proportioned1         
necessary1 unalterable relation among   
them2 no evidence of invention or of    
careful thought1 while on the other hand
 there is no botanical or geological    
accuracy1 nor any point on which the eye
 may rest with thorough contentment in  

its realization4  ,it seems strange that
 to an artist of so quick feeling the   
details of a mountain foreground should 
not prove irresistibly attractive1 and  
entice him to greater accuracy of study4
 ,there is not a fragment of its living 
rock1 nor a tuft of its heathery        
herbage1 that has not adorable          
manifestations of ,god's working        
thereupon4 ,the harmonies of color among
 the native lichens are better than     
,titian's2 the interwoven bells of      
campanula and heather are better than   
all the arabesques of the ,vatican2 they
 need no improvement1 arrangement1 nor  
alteration1 nothing but love1 and every 
combination of them is different from   
every other1 so that a painter need     
never repeat himself if he will only be 
true2 yet all these sources of power    
have been of late entirely neglected by 
,fielding2 there is evidence through all
 his foregrounds of their being mere    
home inventions1 and like all home      
inventions they exhibit perpetual       

resemblances and repetitions2 the       
painter is evidently embarrassed without
 his rutted road in the middle1 and his 
boggy pool at the side1 which pool he   
has of late painted in hard lines of    
violent blue3 there is not a stone1 even
 of the nearest and most important1     
which has its real lichens upon it1 or a
 studied form or anything more to occupy
 the mind than certain variations of    
dark and light browns4 ,the same faults 
must be found with his present painting 
of foliage1 neither the stems nor       
leafage being ever studied from nature2 
and this is the more to be regretted1   
because in the earlier works of the     
artist there was much admirable drawing1
 and even yet his power is occasionally 
developed in his larger works1 as in a  
,bolton ,abbey on canvas1 which was1--,i
 cannot say1 exhibited1--but was in the 
rooms of the ,royal ,academy in #ahdc4i 
,i should have made the preceding       
remarks with more hesitation and        
diffidence1 but that1 from a comparison 

of works of this kind with the slighter 
ornaments of the water-color rooms1 it  
seems evident that the painter is not   
unaware of the deficiencies of these    
latter1 and concedes something of what  
he would himself desire to what he has  
found to be the feeling of a majority of
 his admirers4 ,this is a dangerous     
modesty1 and especially so in these days
 when the judgment of the many is       
palpably as artificial as their feeling 
is cold4   ,sec4 #bc4 ,de ,wint4  ,there
 is much that is instructive and        
deserving of high praise in the sketches
 of ,de ,wint4 ,yet it is to be         
remembered that even the pursuit of     
truth1 however determined1 will have    
results limited and imperfect when its  
chief motive is the pride of being true2
 and ,i fear that these works1 sublime  
as many of them have unquestionably     
been1 testify more accuracy of eye and  
experience of color than exercise of    
thought4 ,their truth of effect is often
 purchased at too great an expense by   

the loss of all beauty of form1 and of  
the higher refinements of color2        
deficiencies1 however1 on which ,i shall
 not insist1 since the value of the     
sketches1 as far as they go1 is great2  
they have done good service and set good
 example1 and whatever their failings   
may be1 there is evidence in them that  
the painter has always done what he     
believed to be right4   ,sec4 #bd4      
,influence of ,engraving4 ,j4 ,d4       
,harding4  ,the influence of the masters
 of whom we have hitherto spoken is     
confined to those who have access to    
their actual works1 since the particular
 qualities in which they excel1 are in  
no wise to be rendered by the engraver4 
,those of whom we have next to speak are
 known to the public in a great measure 
by the help of the engraver2 and while  
their influence is thus very far        
extended1 their modes of working are    
perhaps1 in some degree modified by the 
habitual reference to the future        
translation into light and shade2       

reference which is indeed beneficial in 
the care it induces respecting the      
arrangement of the chiaroscuro and the  
explanation of the forms1 but which is  
harmful1 so far as it involves a        
dependence rather on quantity of        
picturesque material than on substantial
 color or simple treatment1 and as it   
admits of indolent diminution of size   
and slightness of execution4  ,we should
 not be just to the present works of ,j4
 ,d4 ,harding unless we took this       
influence into account4 ,some years back
 none of our artists realized more      
laboriously1 nor obtained more          
substantial color and texture2 a large  
drawing in the possession of ,b4 ,g4    
,windus1 ,esq41 of ,tottenham1 is of    
great value as an example of his manner 
at the period2 a manner not only        
careful1 but earnest1 and free from any 
kind of affectation4 ,partly from the   
habit of making slight and small        
drawings for engravers1 and partly also1
 ,i imagine1 from an overstrained       

seeking after appearances of dexterity  
in execution1 his drawings have of late 
years become both less solid and less   
complete2 not1 however1 without         
attaining certain brilliant qualities in
 exchange which are very valuable in the
 treatment of some of the looser        
portions of subject4 ,of the extended   
knowledge and various powers of this    
painter1 frequent instances are noted in
 the following pages4 ,neither1 perhaps1
 are rightly estimated among artists1   
owing to a certain coldness of sentiment
 in his choice of subject1 and a        
continual preference of the picturesque 
to the impressive2 proved perhaps in    
nothing so distinctly as in the little  
interest usually attached to his skies1 
which1 if aerial and expressive of space
 and movement1 content him1 though      
destitute of story1 power1 or character3
 an exception must be made in favor of  
the very grand sunrise on the ,swiss    
,alps1 exhibited in #ahdd1 wherein the  
artist's real power was in some measure 

displayed1 though ,i am convinced he is 
still capable of doing far greater      
things4 ,so in his foliage he is apt to 
sacrifice the dignity of his trees to   
their wildness1 and lose the forest in  
the copse1 neither is he at all accurate
 enough in his expression of species or 
realization of near portions4 ,these are
 deficiencies1 be it observed1 of       
sentiment1 not of perception1 as there  
are few who equal him in rapidity of    
seizure of material truth4   ,sec4 #be4 
,samuel ,prout4 ,early painting of      
architecture1 how deficient4  ,very     
extensive influence in modern art must  
be attributed to the works of ,samuel   
,prout2 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 examine1 ,i shall 
endeavor to note the more important of  
them here4  ,let us glance back for a   
moment to the architectural drawing of  
earlier times4 ,before the time of the  

,bellinis at ,venice1 and of            
,ghirlandajo at ,florence1 ,i believe   
there are no examples of anything beyond
 conventional representation of         
architecture1 often rich1 quaint1 and   
full of interest1 as ,memmi's abstract  
of the ,duomo at ,florence at ,sta4     
,maria ,novella2 but not to be classed  
with any genuine efforts at             
representation4 ,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     
corrupted1 and that the architecture    
introduced by ,bellini1 ,ghirlandajo1   
,francia1 and the other patient and     
powerful workmen of the fifteenth       
century1 is exclusively of the          
renaissance styles2 while their drawing 
of it furnishes little that is of much  
interest to the architectural           
draughtsman as such1 being always       
governed by a reference to its          
subordinate position1 so that all       

forceful shadow and play of color are   
7most justly7 surrendered for quiet and 
uniform hues of gray and chiaroscuro of 
extreme simplicity4 ,whatever they chose
 to do they did with consummate         
grandeur1 7note especially the          
chiaroscuro of the square window of     
,ghirlandajo's which so much delighted  
,vasari in ,sta4 ,maria ,novella2 and   
the daring management of a piece of the 
perspective in the ,salutation1 opposite
 where he has painted a flight of stairs
 descending in front1 though the picture
 is twelve feet above the eye72 and yet 
this grandeur1 in all these men1 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    
parts2 so that while in some points it  
is impossible for any painter to equal  
these accessories1 unless he were in all
 respects as great as ,ghirlandajo or   
,bellini1 in others it is possible for  
him1 with far inferior powers1 to attain

 a representation both more accurate and
 more interesting4  ,in order to arrive 
at the knowledge of these1 we must      
briefly take note of a few of the modes 
in which architecture itself is         
agreeable to the mind1 especially of the
 influence upon the character of the    
building which is to be attributed to   
the signs of age4   ,sec4 #bf4 ,effects 
of age upon buildings1 how far          
desirable4  ,it is evident1 first1 that 
if the design of the building be        
originally bad1 the only virtue it can  
ever possess will be in signs of        
antiquity4 ,all that in this world      
enlarges the sphere of affection or     
imagination is to be reverenced1 and all
 those circumstances enlarge it which   
strengthen our memory or quicken our    
conception of the dead2 hence it is no  
light sin to destroy anything that is   
old1 more especially because1 even with 
the aid of all obtainable records of the
 past1 we1 the living1 occupy a space of
 too large importance and interest in   

our own eyes2 we look upon the world too
 much as our own1 too much as if we had 
possessed it and should possess it      
forever1 and forget that it is a mere   
hostelry1 of which we occupy the        
apartments for a time1 which others     
better than we have sojourned in before1
 who are now where we should desire to  
be with them4 ,fortunately for mankind1 
as some counterbalance to that wretched 
love of novelty which originates in     
selfishness1 shallowness1 and conceit1  
and which especially characterizes all  
vulgar minds1 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 time2 not but that there is    
also real and absolute beauty in the    
forms and colors so obtained1 for which 
the original lines of the architecture1 
unless they have been very grand indeed1
 are well exchanged1 so that there is   
hardly any building so ugly but that it 
may be made an agreeable object by such 

appearances4 ,it would not be easy1 for 
instance1 to find a less pleasing piece 
of architecture than the portion of the 
front of ,queen's ,college1 ,oxford1    
which has just been restored2 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        
restoration4 ,if1 however1 the character
 of the building consist in minute      
detail or multitudinous lines1 the evil 
or good effect of age upon it must      
depend in great measure on the kind of  
art1 the material1 and the climate4 ,the
 ,parthenon1 for instance1 would be     
injured by any markings which interfered
 with the contours of its sculptures2   
and any lines of extreme purity1 or     
colors of original harmony and          
perfection are liable to injury1 and are
 ill exchanged for mouldering edges or  
brown weatherstains4  ,but as all       
architecture is1 or ought to be1 meant  
to be durable1 and to derive part of its

 glory from its antiquity1 all art that 
is liable to mortal injury from effects 
of time is therein out of place1 and    
this is another reason for the principle
 ,i have asserted in the second part1   
page #bjd4 ,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 
age1 after which period1 like all other 
human works1 it necessarily declines1   
its decline being in almost all ages and
 countries accelerated by neglect and   
abuse in its time of beauty1 and        
alteration or restoration in its time of
 age4  ,thus ,i conceive that all       
buildings dependent on color1 whether of
 mosaic or painting1 have their effect  
improved by the richness of the         
subsequent tones of age2 for there are  
few arrangements of color so perfect but
 that they are capable of improvement by
 some softening and blending of this    
kind3 with mosaic1 the improvement may  
be considered as proceeding almost so   

long as the design can be distinctly    
seen2 with painting1 so long as the     
colors do not change or chip off4       
,again1 upon all forms of sculptural    
ornament1 the effect of time is such1   
that if the design be poor1 it will     
enrich it2 if overcharged1 simplify it2 
if harsh and violent1 soften it2 if     
smooth and obscure1 exhibit it2 whatever
 faults it may have are rapidly         
disguised1 whatever virtue it has still 
shines and steals out in the mellow     
light2 and this to such an extent1 that 
the artist is always liable to be       
tempted to the drawing of details in old
 buildings as of extreme beauty1 which  
look cold and hard in their             
architectural lines2 and ,i have never  
yet seen any restoration or cleaned     
portion of a building whose effect was  
not inferior to the weathered parts1    
even to those of which the design had in
 some parts almost disappeared4 ,on the 
front of the church of ,san ,michele at 
,lucca1 the mosaics have fallen out of  

half the columns1 and lie in weedy ruin 
beneath2 in many1 the frost has torn    
large masses of the entire coating away1
 leaving a scarred unsightly surface4   
,two of the shafts of the upper star    
window are eaten entirely away by the   
sea wind1 the rest have lost their      
proportions1 the edges of the arches are
 hacked into deep hollows1 and cast     
indented shadows on the weed-grown wall4
 ,the process has gone too far1 and yet 
,i doubt not but that this building is  
seen to greater advantage now than when 
first built1 always with exception of   
one circumstance1 that the ,french      
shattered the lower wheel window1 and   
set up in front of it an escutcheon with
 ,libertas upon it1 which abomination of
 desolation1 the ,lucchese have not yet 
had human-heartedness enough to pull    
down4  ,putting therefore the           
application of architecture as an       
accessory out of the question1 and      
supposing our object to be the          
exhibition of the most impressive       

qualities of the building itself1 it is 
evidently the duty of the draughtsman to
 represent it under those conditions1   
and with that amount of age-mark upon it
 which may best exalt and harmonize the 
sources of its beauty3 this is no       
pursuit of mere picturesqueness1 it is  
true following out of the ideal         
character of the building2 nay1 far     
greater dilapidation than this may in   
portions be exhibited1 for there are    
beauties of other kinds1 not otherwise  
attainable1 brought out by advanced     
dilapidation2 but when the artist       
suffers the mere love of ruinousness to 
interfere with his perception of the art
 of the building1 and substitutes rude  
fractures and blotting stains for all   
its fine chiselling and determined      
color1 he has lost the end of his own   
art4   ,sec4 #bg4 ,effects of light1 how
 necessary to the understanding of      
detail4  ,so far of aging2 next of      
effects of light and color4 ,it is1 ,i  
believe1 hardly enough observed among   

architects that the same decorations are
 of totally different effect according  
to their position and the time of day4  
,a moulding which is of value on a      
building facing south1 where it takes   
deep shadows from steep sun1 may be     
utterly ineffective if placed west or   
east2 and a moulding which is chaste and
 intelligible in shade on a north side1 
may be grotesque1 vulgar1 or confused   
when it takes black shadows on the      
south4 ,farther1 there is a time of day 
in which every architectural decoration 
is seen to best advantage1 and certain  
times in which its peculiar force and   
character are best explained2 of these  
niceties the architect takes little     
cognizance1 as he must in some sort     
calculate on the effect of ornament at  
all times2 but to the artist they are of
 infinite importance1 and especially for
 this reason1 that there is always much 
detail on buildings which cannot be     
drawn as such1 which is too far off1 or 
too minute1 and which must consequently 

be set down in short-hand of some kind  
or another2 and1 as it were1 an         
abstract1 more or less philosophical1   
made of its general heads4 ,of the style
 of this abstract1 of the lightness1    
confusion1 and mystery necessary in it1 
,i have spoken elsewhere2 at present ,i 
insist only on the arrangement and      
matter of it4 ,all good ornament and all
 good architecture are capable of being 
put into short-hand2 that is1 each has a
 perfect system of parts1 principal and 
subordinate1 of which1 even when the    
complemental details vanish in distance1
 the system and anatomy yet remain      
visible so long as anything is visible2 
so that the divisions of a beautiful    
spire shall be known as beautiful even  
till their last line vanishes in blue   
mist1 and the effect of a well-designed 
moulding shall be visibly disciplined1  
harmonious1 and inventive1 as long as it
 is seen to be a moulding at all4 ,now  
the power of the artist of marking this 
character depends not on his complete   

knowledge of the design1 but on his     
experimental knowledge of its salient   
and bearing parts1 and of the effects of
 light and shadow1 by which their       
saliency is best told4 ,he must         
therefore be prepared1 according to his 
subject1 to use light1 steep or level1  
intense or feeble1 and out of the       
resulting chiaroscuro select those      
peculiar and hinging points on which the
 rest are based1 and by which all else  
that is essential may be explained4     
,the thoughtful command of all these    
circumstances constitutes the real      
architectural draughtsman2 the habits of
 executing everything either under one  
kind of effect or in one manner1 or of  
using unintelligible and meaningless    
abstracts of beautiful designs1 are     
those which must commonly take the place
 of it and are the most extensively     
esteemed4#aj   ,sec4 #bh4 ,architectural
 painting of ,gentile ,bellini and      
,vittor ,carpaccio2  ,let us now proceed
 with our review of those artists who   

have devoted themselves more peculiarly 
to architectural subject4  ,foremost    
among them stand ,gentile ,bellini and  
,vittor ,carpaccio1 to whom we are      
indebted for the only existing faithful 
statements of the architecture of ,old  
,venice1 and who are the only           
authorities to whom we can trust in     
conjecturing the former beauty of those 
few desecrated fragments1 the last of   
which are now being rapidly swept away  
by the idiocy of modern ,venetians4     
,nothing can be more careful1 nothing   
more delicately finished1 or more       
dignified in feeling than the works of  
both these men2 and as architectural    
evidence they are the best we could have
 had1 all the gilded parts being gilt in
 the picture1 so that there can be no   
mistake or confusion of them with yellow
 color or light1 and all the frescoes or
 mosaics given with the most absolute   
precision and fidelity4 ,at the same    
time they are by no means examples of   
perfect architectural drawing2 there is 

little light and shade in them of any   
kind1 and none whatever of the          
thoughtful observance of temporary      
effect of which we have just been       
speaking2 so that1 in rendering the     
character of the relieved parts1 their  
solidity1 depth1 or gloom1 the          
representation fails altogether1 and it 
is moreover lifeless from its very      
completion1 both the signs of age and   
the effects of use and habitation being 
utterly rejected2 rightly so1 indeed1 in
 these instances1 7all the architecture 
of these painters being in background to
 religious subject17 but wrongly so1 if 
we look to the architecture alone4      
,neither is there anything like aerial  
perspective attempted2 the employment of
 actual gold in the decoration of all   
the distances1 and the entire           
realization of their details1 as far as 
is possible on the scale compelled by   
perspective1 being alone sufficient to  
prevent this1 except in the hands of    
painters far more practised in effect   

than either ,gentile or ,carpaccio4 ,but
 with all these discrepancies1 ,gentile 
,bellini's church of ,st4 ,mark's is the
 best church of ,st4 ,mark's that has   
ever been painted1 so far as ,i know2   
and ,i believe the reconciliation of    
true aerial perspective and chiaroscuro 
with the splendor and dignity obtained  
by the real gilding and elaborate       
detail1 is a problem yet to be          
accomplished4 ,with the help of the     
,daguerreotype1 and the lessons of color
 given by the later ,venetians1 we ought
 now to be able to accomplish it1 more  
especially as the right use of gold has 
been shown us by the greatest master of 
effect whom ,venice herself produced1   
,tintoret1 who has employed it with     
infinite grace on the steps ascended by 
the young ,madonna1 in his large picture
 in the church of the ,madonna dell'    
,orto4 ,perugino uses it also with      
singular grace1 often employing it for  
golden light on distant trees1 and      
continually on the high light of hair1  

and that without losing relative        
distances4   ,sec4 #bi4 ,and of the     
,venetians generally4  ,the great group 
of ,venetian painters who brought       
landscape art1 for that time1 to its    
culminating point1 have left1 as we have
 already seen1 little that is           
instructive in architectural painting4  
,the causes of this ,i cannot           
comprehend1 for neither ,titian nor     
,tintoret appears to despise anything   
that affords them either variety of form
 or of color1 the latter especially     
condescending to very trivial           
details1--as in the magnificent carpet  
painting of the ,doge ,mocenigo2 so that
 it might have been expected that in the
 rich colors of ,st4 ,mark's1 and the   
magnificent and fantastic masses of the 
,byzantine palaces1 they would have     
found where-upon to dwell with delighted
 elaboration4 ,this is1 however1 never  
the case1 and although frequently       
compelled to introduce portions of      
,venetian locality in their backgrounds1

 such portions are always treated in a  
most hasty and faithless manner1 missing
 frequently all character of the        
building1 and never advanced to         
realization4 ,in ,titian's picture of   
,faith1 the view of ,venice below is    
laid in so rapidly and slightly1 the    
houses all leaning this way and that1   
and of no color1 the sea a dead gray    
green1 and the ship-sails mere dashes of
 the brush1 that the most obscure of    
,turner's ,venices would look           
substantial beside it2 while in the very
 picture of ,tintoret in which he has   
dwelt so elaborately on the carpet1 he  
has substituted a piece of ordinary     
renaissance composition for ,st4        
,mark's1 and in the background has      
chosen the ,sansovino side of the       
,piazzetta1 treating even that so       
carelessly as to lose all the proportion
 and beauty of its design1 and so       
flimsily that the line of the distant   
sea which has been first laid in1 is    
seen through all the columns4 ,evidences

 of magnificent power of course exist in
 whatever he touches1 but his full power
 is never turned in this direction4     
,more space is allowed to his           
architecture by ,paul ,veronese1 but it 
is still entirely suggestive1 and would 
be utterly false except as a frame or   
background for figures4 ,the same may be
 said with respect to ,raffaelle and the
 ,roman school4   ,sec4 #cj4 ,fresco    
painting of the ,venetian exteriors4    
,canaletto4  ,if1 however1 these men    
laid architecture little under          
contribution to their own art1 they made
 their own art a glorious gift to       
architecture1 and the walls of ,venice1 
which before1 ,i believe1 had received  
color only in arabesque patterns1 were  
lighted with human life by ,giorgione1  
,titian1 ,tintoret1 and ,veronese4 ,of  
the works of ,tintoret and ,titian1     
nothing now1 ,i believe1 remains2 two   
figures of ,giorgione's are still       
traceable on the ,fondaco de' ,tedeschi1
 one of which1 singularly uninjured1 is 

seen from far above and below the       
,rialto1 flaming like the reflection of 
a sunset4 ,two figures of ,veronese were
 also traceable till lately1 the head   
and arms of one still remain1 and some  
glorious olive-branches which were      
beside the other2 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 pastor4#aa ,judging1      
however1 from the rate at which         
destruction is at present advancing1 and
 seeing that1 in about seven or eight   
years more1 ,venice will have utterly   
lost every external claim to interest1  
except that which attaches to the group 
of buildings immediately around ,st4    
,mark's place1 and to the larger        
churches1 it may be conjectured that the
 greater part of her present degradation
 has taken place1 at any rate1 within   
the last forty years4 ,let the reader   

with such scraps of evidence as may     
still be gleaned from under the stucco  
and paint of the ,italian committees of 
taste1 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 fall4 ,let
 him1 looking from ,lido or ,fusina1    
replace in the forest of towers those of
 the hundred and sixty-six churches     
which the ,french threw down2 let him   
sheet her walls with purple and scarlet1
 overlay her minarets with gold1#ab     
cleanse from their pollution those      
choked canals which are now the drains  
of hovels1 where they were once         
vestibules of palaces1 and fill them    
with gilded barges and bannered ships2  
finally1 let him withdraw from this     
scene1 already so brilliant1 such       
sadness and stain as had been set upon  
it by the declining energies of more    
than half a century1 and he will see    
,venice as it was seen by ,canaletto2   

whose miserable1 virtueless1 heartless  
mechanism1 accepted as the              
representation of such various glory1   
is1 both in its existence and           
acceptance1 among the most striking     
signs of the lost sensation and deadened
 intellect of the nation at that time2 a
 numbness and darkness more without hope
 than that of the grave itself1 holding 
and wearing yet the sceptre and the     
crown like the corpses of the ,etruscan 
kings1 ready to sink into ashes at the  
first unbarring of the door of the      
sepulchre4  ,illustration3 ,,casa       
,,contarini ,,fasan1 ,,venice4          
,from a drawing by ,ruskin4  ,the       
mannerism of ,canaletto is the most     
degraded that ,i know in the whole range
 of art4 ,professing the most servile   
and mindless imitation1 it imitates     
nothing but the blackness of the        
shadows2 it gives no one single         
architectural ornament1 however near1 so
 much form as might enable us even to   
guess at its actual one2 and this ,i say

 not rashly1 for ,i shall prove it by   
placing portions of detail accurately   
copied from ,canaletto side by side with
 engravings from the ,daguerreotype2 it 
gives the buildings neither their       
architectural beauty nor their ancestral
 dignity1 for there is no texture of    
stone nor character of age in           
,canaletto's touch2 which is invariably 
a violent1 black1 sharp1 ruled          
penmanlike line1 as far removed from the
 grace of nature as from her faintness  
and transparency2 and for his truth of  
color1 let the single fact of his having
 omitted all record1 whatsoever1 of the 
frescoes whose wrecks are still to be   
found at least on one half of the       
unrestored palaces1 and1 with still less
 excusableness1 all record of the       
magnificent colored marbles of many     
whose greens and purples are still      
undimmed upon the ,casa ,dario1 ,casa   
,bianca ,capello1 and multitudes        
besides1 speak for him in this respect4 
,let it be observed that ,i find no     

fault with ,canaletto1 for his want of  
poetry1 of feeling1 of artistical       
thoughtfulness in treatment1 or of the  
various other virtues which he does not 
so much as profess4 ,he professes       
nothing but colored ,daguerreotypeism4  
,let us have it3 most precious and to be
 revered it would be3 let us have fresco
 where fresco was1 and that copied      
faithfully2 let us have carving where   
carving is1 and that architecturally    
true4 ,i have seen ,daguerreotypes in   
which every figure and rosette1 and     
crack and stain1 and fissure are given  
on a scale of an inch to ,canaletto's   
three feet4 ,what excuse is there to be 
offered for his omitting1 on that scale1
 as ,i shall hereafter show1 all        
statement of such ornament whatever8    
,among the ,flemish schools1 exquisite  
imitations of architecture are found    
constantly1 and that not with           
,canaletto's vulgar1 black exaggeration 
of shadow1 but in the most pure and     
silvery and luminous grays4 ,i have     

little pleasure in such pictures2 but ,i
 blame not those who have more2 they are
 what they profess to be1 and they are  
wonderful and instructive1 and often    
graceful1 and even affecting1 but       
,canaletto possesses no virtue except   
that of dexterous imitation of          
commonplace light and shade1 and        
perhaps1 with the exception of          
,salvator1 no artist has ever fettered  
his unfortunate admirers more securely  
from all healthy or vigorous perception 
of truth1 or been of more general       
detriment to all subsequent schools4    
,sec4 #ca4 ,expression of the effects of
 age on architecture by ,s4 ,prout4     
,neither1 however1 by the ,flemings1 nor
 by any other of the elder schools1 was 
the effect of age or of human life upon 
architecture ever adequately expressed4 
,what ruins they drew looked as if      
broken down on purpose1 what weeds they 
put on seemed put on for ornament4      
,their domestic buildings had never any 
domesticity1 the people looked out of   

their windows evidently to be drawn1 or 
came into the street only to stand there
 forever4 ,a peculiar studiousness      
infected all accident2 bricks fell out  
methodically1 windows opened and shut by
 rule2 stones were chipped at regular   
intervals2 everything that happened     
seemed to have been expected before2 and
 above all1 the street had been washed  
and the houses dusted expressly to be   
painted in their best4 ,we owe to       
,prout1 ,i believe1 the first           
perception1 and certainly the only      
existing expression of precisely the    
characters which were wanting to old    
art1 of that feeling which results from 
the influence among the noble lines of  
architecture1 of the rent and the rust1 
the fissure1 the lichen1 and the weed1  
and from the writing upon the pages of  
ancient walls of the confused           
hieroglyphics of human history4 ,i      
suppose1 from the deserved popularity of
 the artist1 that the strange pleasure  
which ,i find myself in the deciphering 

of these is common to many2 the feeling 
has been rashly and thoughtlessly       
contemned as mere love of the           
picturesque2 there is1 as ,i have above 
shown1 a deeper moral in it1 and we owe 
much1 ,i am not prepared to say how     
much1 to the artist by whom             
pre-eminently it has been excited4 ,for1
 numerous as have been his imitators1   
extended as his influence1 and simple as
 his means and manner1 there has yet    
appeared nothing at all to equal him2   
there is no stone drawing1 no vitality  
of architecture like ,prout's4 ,i say   
not this rashly1 ,i have ,mackenzie in  
my eye and many other capital imitators2
 and ,i have carefully reviewed the     
,architectural work of the              
,academicians1 often most accurate and  
elaborate4 ,i repeat1 there is nothing  
but the work of ,prout which is true1   
living1 or right in its general         
impression1 and nothing1 therefore1 so  
inexhaustibly agreeable4 ,faults he has1
 manifold1 easily detected1 and much    

declaimed against by second-rate        
artists2 but his excellence no one has  
ever touched1 and his lithographic work1
 7,sketches in ,flanders and ,germany17 
which was1 ,i believe1 the first of the 
kind1 still remains the most valuable of
 all1 numerous and elaborate as its     
various successors have been4 ,the      
second series 7in ,italy and            
,switzerland7 was of less value1 the    
drawings seemed more laborious1 and had 
less of the life of the original        
sketches1 being also for the most part  
of subjects less adapted for the        
development of the artist's peculiar    
powers2 but both are fine1 and the      
,brussels1 ,louvain1 ,cologne1 and      
,nuremberg1 subjects of the one1        
together with the ,tours1 ,amboise1     
,geneva1 and ,sion of the other1 exhibit
 substantial qualities of stone and wood
 drawing1 together with an ideal        
appreciation of the present active vital
 being of the cities1 such as nothing   
else has ever approached4 ,their value  

is much increased by the circumstance of
 their being drawn by the artist's own  
hand upon the stone1 and by the         
consequent manly recklessness of        
subordinate parts1 7in works of this    
kind1 be it remembered1 much is         
subordinate17 which is of all characters
 of execution the most refreshing4 ,note
 the scrawled middle tint of the wall   
behind the ,gothic well at ,ratisbonne1 
and compare this manly piece of work    
with the wretched smoothness of recent  
lithography4 ,let it not be thought that
 there is any inconsistency between what
 ,i say here and what ,i have said      
respecting finish4 ,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 theirs1  
and the refreshing quality is the same  
in both1 and manifest in all great      
masters1 without exception1 that of the 
utter regardlessness of the means so    
that their end be reached4 ,the same    
kind of scrawling occurs often in the   

shade of ,raffaelle4   ,sec4 #cb4 ,his  
excellent composition and color4  ,it is
 not only1 however1 by his peculiar     
stone touch nor perception of human     
character that he is distinguished4 ,he 
is the most dexterous of all our artists
 in a certain kind of composition4 ,no  
one can place figures like him1 except  
,turner4 ,it is one thing to know where 
a piece of blue or white is wanted1 and 
another to make the wearer of the blue  
apron or white cap come there1 and not  
look as if it were against her will4    
,prout's streets are the only streets   
that are accidentally crowded1 his      
markets are the only markets where one  
feels inclined to get out of the way4   
,with others we feel the figures so     
right where they are1 that we have no   
expectation of their going anywhere     
else1 and approve of the position of the
 man with the wheelbarrow1 without the  
slightest fear of his running against   
our legs4 ,one other merit he has1 far  
less generally acknowledged than it     

should be3 he is among our most sunny   
and substantial colorists4 ,much        
conventional color occurs in his        
inferior pictures 7for he is very       
unequal7 and some in all2 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  
,hunt1 who invariably destroy everything
 else that comes within range of them4  
,his most beautiful tones occur in those
 drawings in which there is prevalent   
and powerful warm gray1 his most failing
 ones in those of sandy red4 ,on his    
deficiencies ,i shall not insist1       
because ,i am not prepared to say how   
far it is possible for him to avoid     
them4 ,we have never seen the           
reconciliation of the peculiar          
characters he has obtained with the     
accurate following out of architectural 
detail4 ,with his present modes of      
execution1 farther fidelity is          
impossible1 nor has any other mode of   

execution yet obtained the same results2
 and though much is unaccomplished by   
him in certain subjects1 and something  
of over-mannerism may be traced in his  
treatment of others1 as especially in   
his mode of expressing the decorative   
parts of ,greek or ,roman architecture1 
yet in his own peculiar ,gothic         
territory1 where the spirit of the      
subject itself is somewhat rude and     
grotesque1 his abstract of decoration   
has more of the spirit of the reality   
than far more laborious imitation4 ,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 him1 and by  
him1 to my mind1 faultlessly and        
absolutely2 and though his              
interpretation of architecture that     
contains more refined art in its details
 is far less satisfactory1 still it is  
impossible1 while walking on his        
favorite angle of the ,piazzetta at     
,venice1 either to think of any other   

artist than ,prout or not to think of   
him4   ,sec4 #cc4 ,modern architectural 
painting generally4 ,g4 ,cattermole4    
,many other dexterous and agreeable     
architectural artists we have of various
 degrees of merit1 but of all of whom1  
it may be generally said1 that they draw
 hats1 faces1 cloaks1 and caps much     
better than ,prout1 but figures not so  
well2 that they draw walls and windows  
but not cities1 mouldings and buttresses
 but not cathedrals4 ,joseph ,nash's    
work on the architecture of the middle  
ages is1 however1 valuable1 and ,i      
suppose that ,haghe's works may be      
depended on for fidelity4 ,but it       
appears very strange that a workman     
capable of producing the clever drawings
 he has1 from time to time1 sent to the 
,new ,society of ,painters in ,water    
,colors1 should publish lithographs so  
conventional1 forced1 and lifeless4  ,it
 is not without hesitation1 that ,i     
mention a name respecting which the     
reader may already have been surprised  

at my silence1 that of ,g4 ,cattermole4 
,there are signs in his works of very   
peculiar gifts1 and perhaps also of     
powerful genius2 their deficiencies ,i  
should willingly attribute to the advice
 of ill-judging friends1 and to the     
applause of a public satisfied with     
shallow efforts1 if brilliant2 yet ,i   
cannot but think it one necessary       
characteristic of all true genius to be 
misled by no such false fires4 ,the     
,antiquarian feeling of ,cattermole is  
pure1 earnest1 and natural2 and ,i think
 his imagination originally vigorous1   
certainly his fancy1 his grasp of       
momentary passion considerable1 his     
sense of action in the human body vivid 
and ready4 ,but no original talent1     
however brilliant1 can sustain its      
energy when the demands upon it are     
constant1 and all legitimate support and
 food withdrawn4 ,i do not recollect in 
any1 even of the most important of      
,cattermole's works1 so much as a fold  
of drapery studied out from nature4     

,violent conventionalism of light and   
shade1 sketchy forms continually less   
and less developed1 the walls and the   
faces drawn with the same stucco color1 
alike opaque1 and all the shades on     
flesh1 dress1 or stone1 laid in with the
 same arbitrary brown1 forever tell the 
same tale of a mind wasting its strength
 and substance in the production of     
emptiness1 and seeking1 by more and more
 blindly hazarded handling1 to conceal  
the weakness which the attempt at finish
 would betray4  ,this tendency of late1 
has been painfully visible in his       
architecture4 ,some drawings made       
several years ago for an annual         
illustrative of ,scott's works were for 
the most part pure and finely           
felt--7though irrelevant to our present 
subject1 a fall of the ,clyde should be 
noticed1 admirable for breadth and grace
 of foliage1 and for the bold sweeping  
of the water1 and another subject of    
which ,i regret that ,i can only judge  
by the engraving2 ,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 painted7--and about that time his  
architecture1 though always             
conventionally brown in the shadows1 was
 generally well drawn1 and always       
powerfully conceived4  ,since then1 he  
has been tending gradually through      
exaggeration to caricature1 and vainly  
endeavoring to attain by inordinate bulk
 of decorated parts1 that dignity which 
is only to be reached by purity of      
proportion and majesty of line4   ,sec4 
#cd4 ,the evil in an archaeological     
point of view of misapplied invention   
in architectural subject4  ,it has      
pained me deeply1 to see an artist of so
 great original power indulging in      
childish fantasticism and exaggeration1 
and substituting for the serious and    
subdued work of legitimate imagination1 
monstre machicolations and colossal     
cusps and crockets4 ,while there is so  

much beautiful architecture daily in    
process of destruction around us1 ,i    
cannot but think it treason to imagine  
anything2 at least1 if we must have     
composition1 let the design of the      
artist be such as the architect would   
applaud4 ,but it is surely very         
grievous1 that while our idle artists   
are helping their vain inventions by the
 fall of sponges on soiled paper1       
glorious buildings with the whole       
intellect and history of centuries      
concentrated in them1 are suffered to   
fall into unrecorded ruin4 ,a day does  
not now pass in ,italy without the      
destruction of some mighty monument2 the
 streets of all her cities echo to the  
hammer1 half of her fair buildings lie  
in separate stones about the places of  
their foundation2 would not time be     
better spent in telling us the truth    
about these perishing remnants of       
majestic thought1 than in perpetuating  
the ill-digested fancies of idle hours8 
,it is1 ,i repeat1 treason to the cause 

of art for any man to invent1 unless he 
invents something better than has been  
invented before1 or something differing 
in kind4 ,there is room enough for      
invention in the pictorial treatment of 
what exists4 ,there is no more honorable
 exhibition of imaginative power1 than  
in the selection of such place1 choice  
of such treatment1 introduction of such 
incident1 as may produce a noble picture
 without deviation from one line of the 
actual truth2 and such ,i believe to be1
 indeed1 in the end the most            
advantageous1 as well as the most modest
 direction of the invention1 for ,i     
recollect no single instance of         
architectural composition by any men    
except such as ,leonardo or ,veronese1  
who could design their architecture     
thoroughly before they painted it1 which
 has not a look of inanity and          
absurdity4 ,the best landscapes and the 
best architectural studies have been    
views2 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 any1  
even of the smallest parts or most      
trivial hues which bear a part in the   
great impression made by the reality4   
,the difference between the drawing of  
the architect and artist#ac ought never 
to be1 as it now commonly is1 the       
difference between lifeless formality   
and witless license2 it ought to be     
between giving the mere lines and       
measures of a building1 and giving those
 lines and measures with the impression 
and soul of it besides4 ,all artists    
should be ashamed of themselves when    
they find they have not the power of    
being true2 the right wit of drawing is 
like the right wit of conversation1 not 
hyperbole1 not violence1 not frivolity1 
only well expressed1 laconic truth4     
,sec4 #ce4 ,works of ,david ,roberts3   
their fidelity and grace4  ,among the   
members of the ,academy1 we have at     
present only one professedly            
architectural draughtsman of note1      

,david ,roberts1 whose reputation is    
probably farther extended on the        
continent than that of any other of our 
artists1 except ,landseer4 ,i am not    
certain1 however1 that ,i have any      
reason to congratulate either of my     
countrymen upon this their ,european    
estimation2 for ,i think it exceedingly 
probable that in both instances it is   
exclusively based on their defects2 and 
in the case of ,mr4 ,roberts1 in        
particular1 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 neighbors4  ,the fidelity of
 intention and honesty of system of     
,roberts have1 however1 always been     
meritorious2 his drawing of architecture
 is dependent on no unintelligible      
lines1 or blots1 or substituted types3  
the main lines of the real design are   
always there1 and its hollowness and    
undercuttings given with exquisite      

feeling2 his sense of solidity of form  
is very peculiar1 leading him to dwell  
with great delight on the roundings of  
edges and angles2 his execution is      
dexterous and delicate1 singularly so in
 oil1 and his sense of chiaroscuro      
refined4 ,but he has never done himself 
justice1 and suffers his pictures to    
fall below the rank they should assume1 
by the presence of several marring      
characters1 which ,i shall name1 because
 it is perfectly in his power to avoid  
them4 ,in looking over the valuable     
series of drawing of the ,holy ,land1   
which we owe to ,mr4 ,roberts1 we cannot
 but be amazed to find how frequently it
 has happened that there was something  
very white immediately in the           
foreground1 and something very black    
exactly behind it4 ,the same thing      
happens perpetually with ,mr4 ,roberts's
 pictures2 a white column is always     
coming out of a blue mist1 or a white   
stone out of a green pool1 or a white   
monument out of a brown recess1 and the 

artifice is not always concealed with   
dexterity4 ,this is unworthy of so      
skilful a composer1 and it has destroyed
 the impressiveness as well as the color
 of some of his finest works4 ,it shows 
a poverty of conception1 which appears  
to me to arise from a deficient habit of
 study4 ,it will be remembered that of  
the sketches for this work1 several     
times exhibited in ,london1 every one   
was executed in the same manner1 and    
with about the same degree of           
completion3 being all of them accurate  
records of the main architectural lines1
 the shapes of the shadows1 and the     
remnants of artificial color1 obtained1 
by means of the same grays1 throughout1 
and of the same yellow 7a singularly    
false and cold though convenient color7 
touched upon the lights4 ,as far as they
 went1 nothing could be more valuable   
than these sketches1 and the public1    
glancing rapidly at their general and   
graceful effects1 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 patient1 entire1 and 
clear1 of details so multitudinous as   
7especially7 the hieroglyphics of the   
,egyptian temples2 an endurance which   
perhaps only artists can estimate1 and  
for which we owe a debt of gratitude to 
,mr4 ,roberts most difficult to         
discharge4 ,but if these sketches were  
all that the artist brought home1       
whatever value is to be attached to them
 as statements of fact1 they are        
altogether insufficient for the         
producing of pictures4 ,i saw among them
 no single instance of a downright      
study2 of a study in which the real hues
 and shades of sky and earth had been   
honestly realized or attempted2 nor were
 there1 on the other hand1 any of those 
invaluable-blotted-five-minutes works   
which record the unity of some single   
and magnificent impressions4 ,hence the 
pictures which have been painted from   
these sketches have been as much alike  

in their want of impressiveness as the  
sketches themselves1 and have never     
borne the living aspect of the ,egyptian
 light2 it has always been impossible to
 say whether the red in them 7not a     
pleasant one7 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 color1 and thus we    
have been encumbered with caftans1      
pipes1 scymetars1 and black hair1 when  
all that we wanted was a lizard1 or an  
ibis4 ,it is perhaps owing to this want 
of earnestness in study rather than to  
deficiency of perception1 that the      
coloring of this artist is commonly     
untrue4 ,some time ago when he was      
painting ,spanish subjects1 his habit   
was to bring out his whites in relief   
from transparent bituminous browns1     
which though not exactly right in color1
 were at any rate warm and agreeable2   
but of late his color has become cold1  

waxy1 and opaque1 and in his deep shades
 he sometimes permits himself the use of
 a violent black which is altogether    
unjustifiable4 ,a picture of ,roslin    
,chapel exhibited in #ahdd1 showed this 
defect in the recess to which the stairs
 descend1 in an extravagant degree2 and 
another exhibited in the ,british       
,institution1 instead of showing the    
exquisite crumbling and lichenous       
texture of the ,roslin stone1 was       
polished to as vapid smoothness as every
 ,french historical picture4 ,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 them1 and bearing  
evidence of having been painted from    
models or draperies in the dead light of
 a room instead of sunshine4 ,on these  
deficiencies ,i should not have         
remarked1 but that by honest and        
determined painting from and of nature1 
it is perfectly in the power of the     

artist to supply them2 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 verity4  ,the two artists whose   
works it remains for us to review1 are  
men who have presented us with examples 
of the treatment of every kind of       
subject1 and among the rest with        
portions of architecture which the best 
of our exclusively architectural        
draughtsmen could not excel4   ,sec4    
#cf4 ,clarkson ,stanfield4  ,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 length4 ,he is the leader of the   
,english ,realists1 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 affectation4 ,he 
appears to think of no other artist4    
,what he has learned1 has been from his 
own acquaintance with and affection for 
the steep hills and the deep sea2 and   
his modes of treatment are alike removed
 from sketchiness or incompletion1 and  
from exaggeration or effort4 ,the       
somewhat over-prosaic tone of his       
subjects is rather a condescension to   
what he supposes to be public feeling1  
than a sign of want of feeling in       
himself2 for in some of his sketches    
from nature or from fancy1 ,i have seen 
powers and perceptions manifested of a  
far higher order than any that are      
traceable in his ,academy works1 powers 
which ,i think him much to be blamed for
 checking4 ,the portion of his pictures 
usually most defective in this respect  
is the sky1 which is apt to be cold and 
uninventive1 always well drawn1 but with
 a kind of hesitation in the clouds     
whether it is to be fair or foul        

weather2 they having neither the        
joyfulness of rest1 nor the majesty of  
storm4 ,their color is apt also to verge
 on a morbid purple1 as was eminently   
the case in the large picture of the    
wreck on the coast of ,holland exhibited
 in #ahdd1 a work in which both his     
powers and faults were prominently      
manifested1 the picture being full of   
good painting1 but wanting in its entire
 appeal4 ,there was no feeling of wreck 
about it2 and1 but for the damage about 
her bowsprit1 it would have been        
impossible for a landsman to say whether
 the hull was meant for a wreck or a    
guardship4 ,nevertheless1 it is always  
to be recollected1 that in subjects of  
this kind it is probable that much      
escapes us in consequence of our want of
 knowledge1 and that to the eye of the  
seaman much may be of interest and value
 which to us appears cold4 ,at all      
events1 this healthy and rational regard
 of things is incomparably preferable to
 the dramatic absurdities which weaker  

artists commit in matters marine2 and   
from copper-colored sunsets on green    
waves sixty feet high1 with cauliflower 
breakers1 and ninepin rocks2 from       
drowning on planks1 and starving on     
rafts1 and lying naked on beaches1 it is
 really refreshing to turn to a surge of
 ,stanfield's true salt1 serviceable1   
unsentimental sea4 ,it would be well1   
however1 if he would sometimes take a   
higher flight4 ,the castle of ,ischia   
gave him a grand subject1 and a little  
more invention in the sky1 a little less
 muddiness in the rocks1 and a little   
more savageness in the sea1 would have  
made it an impressive picture2 it just  
misses the sublime1 yet is a fine work1 
and better engraved than usual by the   
,art ,union4  ,one fault we cannot but  
venture to find1 even in our own extreme
 ignorance1 with ,mr4 ,stanfield's      
boats2 they never look weather-beaten4  
,there is something peculiarly precious 
in the rusty1 dusty1 tar-trickled1      
fishy1 phosphorescent brown of an old   

boat1 and when this has just dipped     
under a wave and rises to the sunshine  
it is enough to drive ,giorgione to     
despair4 ,i have never seen any effort  
at this by ,stanfield2 his boats always 
look new painted and clean2 witness     
especially the one before the ship in   
the wreck picture above noticed2 and    
there is some such absence of a right   
sense of color in other portions of his 
subject2 even his fishermen have always 
clean jackets and unsoiled caps1 and his
 very rocks are lichenless4 ,and1 by the
 way1 this ought to be noted respecting 
modern painters in general1 that they   
have not a proper sense of the value of 
dirt2 cottage children never appear but 
in fresh got-up caps and aprons1 and    
white-handed beggars excite compassion  
in unexceptionable rags4 ,in reality1   
almost all the colors of things         
associated with human life derive       
something of their expression and value 
from the tones of impurity1 and so      
enhance the value of the entirely pure  

tints of nature herself4 ,of            
,stanfield's rock and mountain drawing  
enough will be said hereafter4 ,his     
foliage is inferior2 his architecture   
admirably drawn1 but commonly wanting in
 color4 ,his picture of the ,doge's     
palace at ,venice was quite clay-cold   
and untrue4 ,of late he has shown a     
marvellous predilection for the         
realization1 even to actually relieved  
texture1 of old worm-eaten wood2 we     
trust he will not allow such fancies to 
carry him too far4   ,sec4 #cg4 ,j4 ,m4 
,w4 ,turner4 ,force of national feeling 
in all great painters4  ,the name ,i    
have last to mention is that of ,j4 ,m4 
,w4 ,turner4 ,i do not intend to speak  
of this artist at present in general    
terms1 because my constant practice     
throughout this work is to say1 when ,i 
speak of an artist at all1 the very     
truth of what ,i believe and feel       
respecting him2 and the truth of what ,i
 believe and feel respecting ,turner    
would appear in this place1 unsupported 

by any proof1 mere rhapsody4 ,i shall   
therefore here confine myself to a rapid
 glance at the relations of his past and
 present works1 and to some notice of   
what he has failed of accomplishing3 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 
art4  ,it is a fact more universally    
acknowledged than enforced or acted     
upon1 that all great painters1 of       
whatever school1 have been great only in
 their rendering of what they had seen  
and felt from early childhood2 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      
familiar4 ,the ,madonna of ,raffaelle   
was born on the ,urbino mountains1      
,ghirlandajo's is a ,florentine1        
,bellini's a ,venetian2 there is not the
 slightest effort on the part of any one
 of these great men to paint her as a   

,jewess4 ,it is not the place here to   
insist farther on a point so simple and 
so universally demonstrable4            
,expression1 character1 types of        
countenance1 costume1 color1 and        
accessories are with all great painters 
whatsoever those of their native land1  
and that frankly and entirely1 without  
the slightest attempt at modification2  
and ,i assert fearlessly that it is     
impossible that it should ever be       
otherwise1 and that no man ever painted 
or ever will paint well anything but    
what he has early and long seen1 early  
and long felt1 and early and long loved4
 ,how far it is possible for the mind of
 one nation or generation to be         
healthily modified and taught by the    
work of another1 ,i presume not to      
determine2 but it depends upon whether  
the energy of the mind which receives   
the instruction be sufficient1 while it 
takes out of what it feeds upon that    
which is universal and common to all    
nature1 to resist all warping from      

national or temporary peculiarities4    
,nino ,pisano got nothing but good1 the 
modern ,french nothing but evil1 from   
the study of the antique2 but ,nino     
,pisano had a ,god and a character4 ,all
 artists who have attempted to assume1  
or in their weakness have been affected 
by1 the national peculiarities of other 
times and countries1 have instantly1    
whatever their original power1 fallen to
 third-rate rank1 or fallen altogether1 
and have invariably lost their          
birthright and blessing1 lost their     
power over the human heart1 lost all    
capability of teaching or benefiting    
others4 ,compare the hybrid             
classification of ,wilson with the rich 
,english purity of ,gainsborough2       
compare the recent exhibition of        
middle-age cartoons for the ,houses of  
,parliament with the works of ,hogarth2 
compare the sickly modern ,german       
imitations of the great ,italians with  
,albert ,durer and ,holbein2 compare the
 vile classicality of ,canova and the   

modern ,italians with ,mino da ,fiesole1
 ,luca della ,robbia1 and ,andrea del   
,verrocchio4 ,the manner of ,nicolo     
,poussin is said to be ,greek--it may be
 so2 this only ,i know1 that it is      
heartless and profitless4 ,the severity 
of the rule1 however1 extends not in    
full force to the nationality1 but only 
to the visibility of things2 for it is  
very possible for an artist of powerful 
mind to throw himself well into the     
feeling of foreign nations of his own   
time4 ,thus ,john ,lewis has been       
eminently successful in his seizing of  
,spanish character4 ,yet it may be      
doubted if the seizure be such as       
,spaniards themselves would acknowledge2
 it is probably of the habits of the    
people more than their hearts2 continued
 efforts of this kind1 especially if    
their subjects be varied1 assuredly end 
in failure2 ,lewis1 who seemed so       
eminently penetrative in ,spain1 sent   
nothing from ,italy but complexions and 
costumes1 and ,i expect no good from his

 stay in ,egypt4 ,english artists are   
usually entirely ruined by residence in 
,italy1 but for this there are          
collateral causes which it is not here  
the place to examine4 ,be this as it    
may1 and whatever success may be        
attained in pictures of slight and      
unpretending aim1 of genre1 as they are 
called1 in the rendering of foreign     
character1 of this ,i am certain1 that  
whatever is to be truly great and       
affecting must have on it the strong    
stamp of the native land2 not a law     
this1 but a necessity1 from the intense 
hold on their country of the affections 
of all truly great men2 all             
classicality1 all middle-age patent     
reviving1 is utterly vain and absurd2 if
 we are now to do anything great1 good1 
awful1 religious1 it must be got out of 
our own little island1 and out of this  
year #ahdf1 railroads and all3 if a     
,british painter1 ,i say this in earnest
 seriousness1 cannot make historical    
characters out of the ,british ,house of

 ,peers1 he cannot paint history2 and if
 he cannot make a ,madonna of a ,british
 girl of the nineteenth century1 he     
cannot paint one at all4   ,sec4 #ch4   
,influence of this feeling on the choice
 of ,landscape subject4  ,the rule1 of  
course1 holds in landscape2 yet so far  
less authoritatively1 that the material 
nature of all countries and times is in 
many points actually1 and in all1 in    
principle1 the same2 so that feelings   
educated in ,cumberland1 may find their 
food in ,switzerland1 and impressions   
first received among the rocks of       
,cornwall1 be recalled upon the         
precipices of ,genoa4 ,add to this      
actual sameness1 the power of every     
great mind to possess itself of the     
spirit of things once presented to it1  
and it is evident1 that little          
limitation can be set to the landscape  
painter as to the choice of his field2  
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     
land4 ,but if he attempt to impress on  
his landscapes any other spirit than    
that he has felt1 and to make them      
landscapes of other times1 it is all    
over with him1 at least1 in the degree  
in which such reflected moonshine takes 
place of the genuine light of the       
present day4  ,the reader will at once  
perceive how much trouble this simple   
principle will save both the painter and
 the critic2 it at once sets aside the  
whole school of common composition1 and 
exonerates us from the labor of minutely
 examining any landscape which has      
nymphs or philosophers in it4  ,it is   
hardly necessary for us to illustrate   
this principle by any reference to the  
works of early landscape painters1 as ,i
 suppose it is universally acknowledged 
with respect to them2 ,titian being the 
most remarkable instance of the         
influence of the native air on a strong 
mind1 and ,claude1 of that of the       

classical poison on a weak one2 but it  
is very necessary to keep it in mind in 
reviewing the works of our great modern 
landscape painter4   ,sec4 #ci4 ,its    
peculiar manifestation in ,turner4  ,i  
do not know in what district of ,england
 ,turner first or longest studied1 but  
the scenery whose influence ,i can trace
 most definitely throughout his works1  
varied as they are1 is that of          
,yorkshire4 ,of all his drawings1 ,i    
think1 those of the ,yorkshire series   
have the most heart in them1 the most   
affectionate1 simple1 unwearied1 serious
 finishing of truth4 ,there is in them  
little seeking after effect1 but a      
strong love of place1 little exhibition 
of the artist's own powers or           
peculiarities1 but intense appreciation 
of the smallest local minutiae4 ,these  
drawings have unfortunately changed     
hands frequently1 and have been abused  
and ill treated by picture dealers and  
cleaners2 the greater number of them1   
are now mere wrecks4 ,i name them not as

 instances1 but as proofs of the        
artist's study in this district2 for the
 affection to which they owe their      
excellence1 must have been grounded long
 years before4 ,it is to be traced1 not 
only in these drawings of the places    
themselves1 but in the peculiar love of 
the painter for rounded forms of hills2 
not but that he is right in this on     
general principles1 for ,i doubt not1   
that1 with his peculiar feeling for     
beauty of line1 his hills would have    
been rounded still1 even if he had      
studied first among the peaks of        
,cadore2 but rounded to the same extent 
and with the same delight in their      
roundness1 they would not have been4 ,it
 is1 ,i believe1 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 drawing1 and gives it one of   
its chief elements of grandeur4 ,let the
 reader open the ,liber ,studiorum1 and 
compare the painter's enjoyment of the  

lines in the ,ben ,arthur1 with his     
comparative uncomfortableness among     
those of the aiguilles about the ,mer de
 ,glace4 ,great as he is1 those peaks   
would have been touched very differently
 by a ,savoyard as great as he4  ,i am  
in the habit of looking to the          
,yorkshire drawings1 as indicating one  
of the culminating points in ,turner's  
career4 ,in these he attained the       
highest degree of what he had up to that
 time attempted1 namely1 finish and     
quantity of form united with expression 
of atmosphere1 and light without color4 
,his early drawings are singularly      
instructive in this definiteness and    
simplicity of aim4 ,no complicated or   
brilliant color is ever thought of in   
them2 they are little more than         
exquisite studies in light and shade1   
very green blues being used for the     
shadows1 and golden browns for the      
lights4 ,the difficulty and treachery of
 color being thus avoided1 the artist   
was able to bend his whole mind upon the

 drawing1 and thus to attain such       
decision1 delicacy1 and completeness as 
have never in any wise been equalled1   
and as might serve him for a secure     
foundation in all after experiments4 ,of
 the quantity and precision of his      
details1 the drawings made for          
,hakewill's ,italy1 are singular        
examples4 ,the most perfect gem in      
execution is a little bit on the ,rhine1
 with reeds in the foreground1 in the   
possession of ,b4 ,g4 ,windus1 ,esq41 of
 ,tottenham2 but the ,yorkshire drawings
 seem to be on the whole the most noble 
representatives of his art at this      
period4  ,about the time of their       
production1 the artist seems to have    
felt that he had done either all that   
could be done1 or all that was          
necessary1 in that manner1 and began to 
reach after something beyond it4 ,the   
element of color begins to mingle with  
his work1 and in the first efforts to   
reconcile his intense feeling for it    
with his careful form1 several anomalies

 begin to be visible1 and some          
unfortunate or uninteresting works      
necessarily belong to the period4 ,the  
,england drawings1 which are very       
characteristic of it1 are exceedingly   
unequal1--some1 as the ,oakhampton1     
,kilgarren1 ,alnwick1 and ,llanthony1   
being among his finest works2 others1 as
 the ,windsor from ,eton1 the ,eton     
,college1 and the ,bedford1 showing     
coarseness and conventionality4   ,sec4 
#dj4 ,the domestic subjects of the      
,liber ,studiorum4  ,i do not know at   
what time the painter first went abroad1
 but among the earliest of the series of
 the ,liber ,studiorum 7dates #ahjh1    
#ahji17 occur the magnificent ,mont ,st4
 ,gothard1 and little ,devil's ,bridge4 
,now it is remarkable that after his    
acquaintance with this scenery1 so      
congenial in almost all respects with   
the energy of his mind1 and supplying   
him with materials of which in these two
 subjects1 and in the ,chartreuse1 and  
several others afterwards1 he showed    

both his entire appreciation and        
command1 the proportion of ,english to  
foreign subjects should in the rest of  
the work be more than two to one2 and   
that those ,english subjects should     
be--many of them--of a kind peculiarly  
simple1 and of every-day occurrence1    
such as the ,pembury ,mill1 the ,farm   
,yard ,composition with the ,white      
,horse1 that with the ,cocks and ,pigs1 
,hedging and ,ditching1 ,watercress     
,gatherers 7scene at ,twickenham17 and  
the beautiful and solemn rustic subject 
called a ,watermill2 and that the       
architectural subjects instead of being 
taken1 as might have been expected of an
 artist so fond of treating effects of  
extended space1 from some of the        
enormous continental masses are almost  
exclusively ,british2 ,rivaulx1 ,holy   
,island1 ,dumblain1 ,dunstanborough1    
,chepstow1 ,st4 ,catherine's1 ,greenwich
 ,hospital1 an ,english ,parish ,church1
 a ,saxon ,ruin1 and an exquisite       
,reminiscence of the ,english ,lowland  

,castle in the pastoral1 with the brook1
 wooden bridge1 and wild duck1 to all of
 which we have nothing foreign to oppose
 but three slight1 ill-considered1 and  
unsatisfactory subjects1 from ,basle1   
,lauffenbourg1 and another ,swiss       
village2 and1 further1 not only is the  
preponderance of subject ,british1 but  
of affection also2 for it is strange    
with what fulness and completion the    
home subjects are treated in comparison 
with the greater part of the foreign    
ones4 ,compare the figures and sheep in 
the ,hedging and ,ditching1 and the     
,east ,gate ,winchelsea1 together with  
the near leafage1 with the puzzled      
foreground and inappropriate figures of 
the ,lake of ,thun2 or the cattle and   
road of the ,st4 ,catherine's ,hill1    
with the foreground of the ,bonneville2 
or the exquisite figure with the sheaf  
of corn1 in the ,watermill1 with the    
vintages of the ,grenoble subject4  ,in 
his foliage the same predilections are  
remarkable4 ,reminiscences of ,english  

willows by the brooks1 and ,english     
forest glades mingle even with the      
heroic foliage of the ,aesacus and      
,hesperie1 and the ,cephalus2 into the  
pine1 whether of ,switzerland or the    
glorious ,stone1 he cannot enter1 or    
enters at his peril1 like ,ariel4 ,those
 of the ,valley of ,chamounix are fine  
masses1 better pines than other         
people's1 but not a bit like pines for  
all that2 he feels his weakness1 and    
tears them off the distant mountains    
with the mercilessness of an avalanche4 
,the ,stone pines of the two ,italian   
compositions are fine in their          
arrangement1 but they are very pitiful  
pines2 the glory of the ,alpine rose he 
never touches2 he munches chestnuts with
 no relish2 never has learned to like   
olives2 and1 by the vine1 we find him in
 the foreground of the ,grenoble ,alps  
laid utterly and incontrovertibly on his
 back4  ,i adduce these evidences of    
,turner's nationality 7and innumerable  
others might be given if need were7 not 

as proofs of weakness but of power2 not 
so much as testifying want of perception
 in foreign lands1 as strong hold on his
 own will2 for ,i am sure that no artist
 who has not this hold upon his own will
 ever get good out of any other4        
,keeping this principle in mind1 it is  
instructive to observe the depth and    
solemnity which ,turner's feeling       
received from the scenery of the        
continent1 the keen appreciation up to a
 certain point of all that is locally   
characteristic1 and the ready seizure   
for future use of all valuable material4
   ,sec4 #da4 ,turner's painting of     
,french and ,swiss landscape4 ,the      
latter         deficient4  ,of all      
foreign countries he has most entirely  
entered into the spirit of ,france2     
partly because here he found more       
fellowship of scene with his own        
,england1 partly because an amount of   
thought which will miss of ,italy or    
,switzerland1 will fathom ,france2      
partly because there is in the ,french  

foliage and forms of ground1 much that  
is especially congenial with his own    
peculiar choice of form4 ,to what cause 
it is owing ,i cannot tell1 nor is it   
generally allowed or felt2 but of the   
fact ,i am certain1 that for grace of   
stem and perfection of form in their    
transparent foliage1 the ,french trees  
are altogether unmatched2 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 grace1   
,france bears the bell2 and that not    
romantic nor mountainous ,france1 not   
the ,vosges1 nor ,auvergne1 nor         
,provence1 but lowland ,france1 ,picardy
 and ,normandy1 the valleys of the      
,loire and ,seine1 and even the         
district1 so thoughtlessly and          
mindlessly abused by ,english           
travellers1 as uninteresting1 traversed 
between ,calais and ,dijon2 of which    
there is not a single valley but is full
 of the most lovely pictures1 nor a mile

 from which the artist may not receive  
instruction2 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 walls4 ,of    
this kind of beauty ,turner was the     
first to take cognizance1 and he still  
remains the only1 but in himself the    
sufficient painter of ,french landscape4
 ,one of the most beautiful examples is 
the drawing of trees engraved for the   
,keepsake1 now in the possession of ,b4 
,g4 ,windus1 ,esq42 the drawings made to
 illustrate the scenery of the ,rivers  
of ,france supply instances of the most 
varied character4  ,the artist appears1 
until very lately1 rather to have taken 
from ,switzerland thoughts and general  
conceptions of size and of grand form   
and effect to be used in his after      
compositions1 than to have attempted the
 seizing of its actual character4 ,this 
was beforehand to be expected from the  

utter physical impossibility of         
rendering certain effects of ,swiss     
scenery1 and the monotony and           
unmanageableness of others4 ,the ,valley
 of ,chamounix in the collection of     
,walter ,fawkes1 ,esq41 ,i have never   
seen2 it has a high reputation2 the     
,hannibal passing the ,alps in its      
present state exhibits nothing but a    
heavy shower and a crowd of people      
getting wet2 another picture in the     
artist's gallery of a land-fall is most 
masterly and interesting1 but more      
daring than agreeable4 ,the ,snowstorm1 
avalanche1 and inundation1 is one of his
 mightiest works1 but the amount of     
mountain drawing in it is less than of  
cloud and effect2 the subjects in the   
,liber ,studiorum are on the whole the  
most intensely felt1 and next to them   
the vignettes to ,rogers's ,poems and   
,italy4 ,of some recent drawings of     
,swiss subject ,i shall speak presently4
   ,sec4 #db4 ,his rendering of ,italian
 character still less successful4 ,his  

large compositions how failing4  ,the   
effect of ,italy upon his mind is very  
puzzling4 ,on the one hand1 it gave him 
the solemnity and power which are       
manifested in the historical            
compositions of the ,liber ,studiorum1  
more especially the ,rizpah1 the        
,cephalus1 the scene from the ,fairy    
,queen1 and the ,aesacus and ,hesperie3 
on the other1 he seems never to have    
entered thoroughly into the spirit of   
,italy1 and the materials he obtained   
there were afterwards but awkwardly     
introduced in his large compositions4   
,of these there are very few at all     
worthy of him2 none but the ,liber      
,studiorum subjects are thoroughly      
great1 and these are great because there
 is in them the seriousness without the 
materials of other countries and times4 
,there is nothing particularly          
indicative of ,palestine in the ,barley 
,harvest of the ,rizpah1 nor in those   
round and awful trees2 only the         
solemnity of the south in the lifting of

 the near burning moon4 ,the rocks of   
the ,jason may be seen in any quarry of 
,warwickshire sandstone4 ,jason himself 
has not a bit of ,greek about him--he is
 a simple warrior of no period in       
particular1 nay1 ,i think there is      
something of the nineteenth century     
about his legs4 ,when local character of
 this classical kind is attempted1 the  
painter is visibly cramped3 awkward     
resemblances to ,claude testify the want
 of his usual forceful originality3 in  
the tenth ,plague of ,egypt1 he makes us
 think of ,belzoni rather than of       
,moses2 the fifth is a total failure1   
the pyramids look like brick-kilns1 and 
the fire running along the ground bears 
brotherly resemblance to the burning of 
manure4 ,the realization of the tenth   
plague now in his gallery is finer than 
the study1 but still uninteresting2 and 
of the large compositions which have    
much of ,italy in them1 the greater part
 are overwhelmed with quantity and      
deficient in emotion4 ,the ,crossing the

 ,brook is one of the best of these     
hybrid pictures2 incomparable in its    
tree drawing1 it yet leaves us doubtful 
where we are to look and what we are to 
feel2 it is northern in its color1      
southern in its foliage1 ,italy in its  
details1 and ,england in its sensations1
 without the grandeur of the one1 or the
 healthiness of the other4  ,the two    
,carthages are mere rationalizations of 
,claude1 one of them excessively bad in 
color1 the other a grand thought1 and   
yet one of the kind which does no one   
any good1 because everything in it is   
reciprocally sacrificed2 the foliage is 
sacrificed to the architecture1 the     
architecture to the water1 the water is 
neither sea1 nor river1 nor lake1 nor   
brook1 nor canal1 and savors of         
,regent's ,park2 the foreground is      
uncomfortable ground1--let on building  
leases4 ,so the ,caligula's ,bridge1    
,temple of ,jupiter1 ,departure of      
,regulus1 ,ancient ,italy1 ,cicero's    
,villa1 and such others1 come they from 

whose hand they may1 ,i class under the 
general head of nonsense pictures4      
,there never can be any wholesome       
feeling developed in these preposterous 
accumulations1 and where the artist's   
feeling fails1 his art follows2 so that 
the worst possible examples of ,turner's
 color are found in pictures of this    
class2 in one or two instances he has   
broken through the conventional rules1  
and then is always fine1 as in the ,hero
 and ,leander2 but in general the       
picture rises in value as it approaches 
to a view1 as the ,fountain of ,fallacy1
 a piece of rich northern ,italy1 with  
some fairy waterworks2 this picture was 
unrivalled in color once1 but is now a  
mere wreck4 ,so the ,rape of            
,proserpine1 though it is singular that 
in his ,academy pictures even his       
simplicity fails of reaching ideality2  
in this picture of ,proserpine the      
nature is not the grand nature of all   
time1 it is indubitably modern1#ad and  
we are perfectly electrified at         

anybody's being carried away in the     
corner except by people with spiky hats 
and carabines4 ,this is traceable to    
several causes2 partly to the want of   
any grand specific form1 partly to the  
too evident middle-age character of the 
ruins crowning the hills1 and to a      
multiplicity of minor causes which we   
cannot at present enter into4   ,sec4   
#dc4 ,his views of ,italy destroyed by  
brilliancy and redundant quantity4      
,neither in his actual views of ,italy  
has ,turner ever caught her true spirit1
 except in the little vignettes to      
,rogers's ,poems4 ,the ,villa of        
,galileo1 the nameless composition with 
stone pines1 the several villa          
moonlights1 and the convent compositions
 in the ,voyage of ,columbus1 are       
altogether exquisite2 but this is owing 
chiefly to their simplicity and perhaps 
in some measure to their smallness of   
size4 ,none of his large pictures at all
 equal them2 the ,bay of ,baiae is      
encumbered with material1 it contains   

ten times as much as is necessary to a  
good picture1 and yet is so crude in    
color as to look unfinished4 ,the       
,palestrina is fall of raw white1 and   
has a look of ,hampton ,court about its 
long avenue2 the modern ,italy is purely
 ,english in its near foliage2 it is    
composed from ,tivoli material enriched 
and arranged most dexterously1 but it   
has the look of a rich arrangement1 and 
not the virtue of the real thing4 ,the  
early ,tivoli1 a large drawing taken    
from below the falls1 was as little     
true1 and still less fortunate1 the     
trees there being altogether affected   
and artificial4 ,the ,florence engraved 
in the ,keepsake is a glorious drawing1 
as far as regards the passage with the  
bridge and sunlight on the ,arno1 the   
,cascine foliage1 and distant plain1 and
 the towers of the fortress on the left2
 but the details of the duomo and the   
city are entirely missed1 and with them 
the majesty of the whole scene4 ,the    
vines and melons of the foreground are  

disorderly1 and its cypresses           
conventional2 in fact1 ,i recollect no  
instance of ,turner's drawing a cypress 
except in general terms4  ,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 pensive1 to substitute
 radiance for serenity of light1 and to 
force the freedom and breadth of line   
which he learned to love on ,english    
downs and ,highland moors1 out of a     
country dotted by campaniles and square 
convents1 bristled with cypresses1      
partitioned by walls1 and gone up and   
down by steps4  ,in one of the cities of
 ,italy he had no such difficulties to  
encounter4 ,at ,venice he found freedom 
of space1 brilliancy of light1 variety  
of color1 massy simplicity of general   
form2 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 note4   ,sec4 #dd4 ,changes    

introduced by him in the received system
 of art4  ,among the earlier paintings  
of ,turner1 the culminating period1     
marked by the ,yorkshire series in his  
drawings1 is distinguished by great     
solemnity and simplicity of subject1    
prevalent gloom in light and shade1 and 
brown in the hue1 the drawing manly but 
careful1 the minutiae sometimes         
exquisitely delicate4 ,all the finest   
works of this period are1 ,i believe1   
without exception1 views1 or quiet      
single thoughts4 ,the ,calder ,bridge1  
belonging to ,e4 ,bicknell1 ,esq41 is a 
most pure and beautiful example4 ,the   
,ivy ,bridge ,i imagine to be later1 but
 its rock foreground is altogether      
unrivalled and remarkable for its       
delicacy of detail2 a butterfly is seen 
settled on one of the large brown stones
 in the midst of the torrent4 ,two      
paintings of ,bonneville1 in ,savoy1 one
 in the possession of ,abel ,allnutt1   
,esq41 the other1 and1 ,i think1 the    
finest1 in a collection at ,birmingham1 

show more variety of color than is usual
 with him at the period1 and are in     
every respect magnificent examples4     
,pictures of this class are of peculiar 
value1 for the larger compositions of   
the same period are all poor in color1  
and most of them much damaged1 but the  
smaller works have been far finer       
originally1 and their color seems       
secure4 ,there is nothing in the range  
of landscape art equal to them in their 
way1 but the full character and capacity
 of the painter is not in them4 ,grand  
as they are in their sobriety1 they     
still leave much to be desired2 there is
 great heaviness in their shadows1 the  
material is never thoroughly vanquished1
 7though this partly for a very noble   
reason1 that the painter is always      
thinking of and referring to nature1 and
 indulges in no artistical              
conventionalities17 and sometimes the   
handling appears feeble4 ,in warmth1    
lightness1 and transparency they have no
 chance against ,gainsborough2 in clear 

skies and air tone they are alike       
unfortunate when they provoke comparison
 with ,claude2 and in force and         
solemnity they can in no wise stand with
 the landscape of the ,venetians4  ,the 
painter evidently felt that he had      
farther powers1 and pressed forward into
 the field where alone they could be    
brought into play4 ,it was impossible   
for him1 with all his keen and          
long-disciplined perceptions1 not to    
feel that the real color of nature had  
never been attempted by any school2 and 
that though conventional representations
 had been given by the ,venetians of    
sunlight and twilight1 by invariably    
rendering the whites golden and the     
blues green1 yet of the actual1 joyous1 
pure1 roseate hues of the external world
 no record had ever been given4 ,he saw 
also that the finish and specific       
grandeur of nature had been given1 but  
her fulness1 space1 and mystery never2  
and he saw that the great landscape     
painters had always sunk the lower      

middle tints of nature in extreme shade1
 bringing the entire melody of color as 
many degrees down as their possible     
light was inferior to nature's2 and that
 in so doing a gloomy principle had     
influenced them even in their choice of 
subject4  ,for the conventional color he
 substituted a pure straightforward     
rendering of fact1 as far as was in his 
power2 and that not of such fact as had 
been before even suggested1 but of all  
that is most brilliant1 beautiful1 and  
inimitable2 he went to the cataract for 
its iris1 to the conflagration for its  
flames1 asked of the sea its intensest  
azure1 of the sky its clearest gold4    
,for the limited space and defined forms
 of elder landscape1 he substituted the 
quantity and the mystery of the vastest 
scenes of earth2 and for the subdued    
chiaroscuro he substituted first a      
balanced diminution of oppositions      
throughout the scale1 and afterwards1 in
 one or two instances1 attempted the    
reverse of the old principle1 taking the

 lowest portion of the scale truly1 and 
merging the upper part in high light4   
,sec4 #de4 ,difficulties of his later   
manner4 ,resultant deficiencies4        
,innovations so daring and so various   
could not be introduced without         
corresponding peril3 the difficulties   
that lay in his way were more than any  
human intellect could altogether        
surmount4 ,in his time there has been no
 one system of color generally approved2
 every artist has his own method and his
 own vehicle2 how to do what            
,gainsborough did1 we know not2 much    
less what ,titian2 to invent a new      
system of color can hardly be expected  
of those who cannot recover the old4 ,to
 obtain perfectly satisfactory results  
in color under the new conditions       
introduced by ,turner1 would at least   
have required the exertion of all his   
energies in that sole direction4 ,but   
color has always been only his second   
object4 ,the effects of space and form1 
in which he delights1 often require the 

employment of means and method totally  
at variance with those necessary for the
 obtaining of pure color4 ,it is        
physically impossible1 for instance1    
rightly to draw certain forms of the    
upper clouds with the brush2 nothing    
will do it but the pallet knife with    
loaded white after the blue ground is   
prepared4 ,now it is impossible that a  
cloud so drawn1 however glazed          
afterwards1 should have the virtue of a 
thin warm tint of ,titian's1 showing the
 canvas throughout4 ,so it happens      
continually4 ,add to these difficulties1
 those of the peculiar subjects         
attempted1 and to these again1 all that 
belong to the altered system of         
chiaroscuro1 and it is evident that we  
must not be surprised at finding many   
deficiencies or faults in such works1   
especially in the earlier of them1 nor  
even suffer ourselves to be withdrawn by
 the pursuit of what seems censurable   
from our devotion to what is mighty4    
,notwithstanding1 in some chosen        

examples of pictures of this kind1 ,i   
will name three3 ,juliet and her ,nurse2
 the ,old ,temeraire1 and the ,slave    
,ship3 ,i do not admit that there are at
 the time of their first appearing on   
the walls of the ,royal ,academy1 any   
demonstrably avoidable faults4 ,i do not
 deny that there may be1 nay1 that it is
 likely there are2 but there is no      
living artist in ,europe whose judgment 
might safely be taken on the subject1 or
 who could without arrogance affirm of  
any part of such a picture1 that it was 
wrong2 ,i am perfectly willing to allow1
 that the lemon yellow is not properly  
representative of the yellow of the sky1
 that the loading of the color is in    
many places disagreeable1 that many of  
the details are drawn with a kind of    
imperfection different from what they   
would have in nature1 and that many of  
the parts fail of imitation1 especially 
to an uneducated eye4 ,but no living    
authority is of weight enough to prove  
that the virtues of the picture could   

have been obtained at a less sacrifice1 
or that they are not worth the          
sacrifice2 and though it is perfectly   
possible that such may be the case1 and 
that what ,turner has done may hereafter
 in some respects be done better1 ,i    
believe myself that these works are at  
the time of their first appearing as    
perfect as those of ,phidias or         
,leonardo2 that is to say1 incapable in 
their way1 of any improvement           
conceivable by human mind4  ,also1 it is
 only by comparison with such that we   
are authorized to affirm definite faults
 in any of his others1 for we should    
have been bound to speak1 at least for  
the present1 with the same modesty      
respecting even his worst pictures of   
this class1 had not his more noble      
efforts given us canons of criticism4   
,but1 as was beforehand to be expected  
from the difficulties he grappled with1 
,turner is exceedingly unequal2 he      
appears always as a champion in the     
thick of fight1 sometimes with his foot 

on his enemies' necks1 sometimes        
staggered or struck to his knee2 once or
 twice altogether down4 ,he has failed  
most frequently1 as before noticed1 in  
elaborate compositions1 from redundant  
quantity2 sometimes1 like most other    
men1 from over-care1 as very signally in
 a large and most labored drawing of    
,bamborough2 sometimes1 unaccountably1  
his eye for color seeming to fail him   
for a time1 as in a large painting of   
,rome from the ,forum1 and in the       
,cicero's ,villa1 ,building of          
,carthage1 and the picture of this year 
in the ,british ,institution2 and       
sometimes ,i am sorry to say1           
criminally1 from taking licenses which  
he must know to be illegitimate1 or     
indulging in conventionalities which he 
does not require4  ,illustration3 ,,the 
,,dogana1 ,,and ,,santa ,,maria ,,della 
,,salute1 ,,venice4                     
,from a painting by ,turner4   ,sec4    
#df4 ,reflection of his very recent     
works4  ,on such instances ,i shall not 

insist1 for the finding fault with      
,turner is not1 ,i think1 either        
decorous in myself or like to be        
beneficial to the reader4#ae ,the       
greater number of failures took place in
 the transition period1 when the artist 
was feeling for the new qualities1 and  
endeavoring to reconcile them with more 
careful elaboration of form than was    
properly consistent with them4          
,gradually his hand became more free1   
his perception and grasp of the new     
truths more certain1 and his choice of  
subject more adapted to the exhibition  
of them4 ,but his powers did not attain 
their highest results till towards the  
year #ahdj1 about which period they did 
so suddenly1 and with a vigor and       
concentration which rendered his        
pictures at that time almost            
incomparable with those which had       
preceded them4 ,the drawings of ,nemi1  
and ,oberwesel1 in the possession of ,b4
 ,g4 ,windus1 ,esq41 were among the     
first evidences of this sudden advance2 

only the foliage in both of these is    
inferior2 and it is remarkable that in  
this phase of his art1 ,turner has drawn
 little foliage1 and that little        
badly--the great characteristic of it   
being its power1 beauty1 and majesty of 
color1 and its abandonment of all       
littleness and division of thought to a 
single impression4 ,in the year #ahdb1  
he made some drawings from recent       
sketches in ,switzerland2 these1 with   
some produced in the following years1   
all of ,swiss subject1 ,i consider to   
be1 on the whole1 the most              
characteristic and perfect works he has 
ever produced4 ,the ,academy pictures   
were far inferior to them2 but among    
these examples of the same power were   
not wanting1 more especially in the     
smaller pictures of ,venice4 ,the ,sun  
of ,venice1 going to sea2 the ,san      
,benedetto1 looking towards ,fusina2 and
 a view of ,murano1 with the ,cemetery1 
were all faultless3 another of ,venice1 
seen from near ,fusina1 with sunlight   

and moonlight mixed 7#ahdd7 was1 ,i     
think1 when ,i first saw it1 7and it    
still remains little injured17 the most 
perfectly beautiful piece of color of   
all that ,i have seen produced by human 
hands1 by any means1 or at any period4  
,of the exhibition of #ahde1 ,i have    
only seen a small ,venice1 7still ,i    
believe in the artist's possession17 and
 the two whaling subjects4 ,the ,venice 
is a second-rate work1 and the two      
others altogether unworthy of him4  ,in 
conclusion of our present sketch of the 
course of landscape art1 it may be      
generally stated that ,turner is the    
only painter1 so far as ,i know1 who has
 ever drawn the sky1 7not the clear sky1
 which we before saw belonged           
exclusively to the religious schools1   
but the various forms and phenomena of  
the cloudy heavens17 all previous       
artists having only represented it      
typically or partially2 but he          
absolutely and universally3 he is the   
only painter who has ever drawn a       

mountain1 or a stone2 no other man ever 
having learned their organization1 or   
possessed himself of their spirit1      
except in part and obscurely1 7the one  
or two stones noted of ,tintoret's1     
7,vol4 ,,ii41 ,part ,,iii4 ,ch4 #c17 are
 perhaps hardly enough on which to found
 an exception in his favor47 ,he is the 
only painter who ever drew the stem of a
 tree1 ,titian having come the nearest  
before him1 and excelling him in the    
muscular development of the larger      
trunks1 7though sometimes losing the    
woody strength in a serpent-like        
flaccidity17 but missing the grace and  
character of the ramifications4 ,he is  
the only painter who has ever           
represented the surface of calm1 or the 
force of agitated water2 who has        
represented the effects of space on     
distant objects1 or who has rendered the
 abstract beauty of natural color4      
,these assertions ,i make deliberately1 
after careful weighing and              
consideration1 in no spirit of dispute1 

or momentary zeal2 but from strong and  
convinced feeling1 and with the         
consciousness of being able to prove    
them4   ,sec4 #dg4 ,difficulty of       
demonstration in such subjects4  ,this  
proof is only partially and incidentally
 attempted in the present portion of    
this work1 which was originally written1
 as before explained1 for a temporary   
purpose1 and which1 therefore1 ,i should
 have gladly cancelled1 but that1       
relating as it does only to simple      
matters of fact and not to those of     
feeling1 it may still1 perhaps1 be of   
service to some readers who would be    
unwilling to enter into the more        
speculative fields with which the       
succeeding sections are concerned4 ,i   
leave1 therefore1 nearly as it was      
originally written1 the following       
examination of the relative truthfulness
 of elder and of recent art2 always     
requesting the reader to remember1 as   
some excuse for the inadequate          
execution1 even of what ,i have here    

attempted1 how difficult it is to       
express or explain1 by language only1   
those delicate qualities of the object  
of sense1 on the seizing of which all   
refined truth of representation depends4
 ,try1 for instance1 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 ,st4   
,catherine4 ,there is1 indeed1 nothing  
in landscape so ineffable as this2 but  
there is no part nor portion of ,god's  
works in which the delicacy appreciable 
by a cultivated eye1 and necessary to be
 rendered in art1 is not beyond all     
expression and explanation2 ,i cannot   
tell it you1 if you do not see it4 ,and 
thus ,i have been entirely unable1 in   
the following pages1 to demonstrate     
clearly anything of really deep and     
perfect truth2 nothing but what is      
coarse and commonplace1 in matters to be
 judged of by the senses1 is within the 
reach of argument4 ,how much or how     

little ,i have done must be judged of by
 the reader3 how much it is impossible  
to do ,i have more fully shown in the   
concluding section4  ,i shall first take
 into consideration those general       
truths1 common to all the objects of    
nature1 which are productive of what is 
usually called effect1 that is to say1  
truths of tone1 general color1 space1   
and light4 ,i shall then investigate the
 truths of specific form and color1 in  
the four great component parts of       
landscape--sky1 earth1 water1 and       
vegetation4   ,,footnotes    #f ,not the
 large ,paradise1 but the ,fall of      
,adam1 a small picture     chiefly in   
brown and gray1 near ,titian's          
,assumption4 ,its companion1     the    
,death of ,abel1 is remarkable as       
containing a group of trees     which   
,turner1 ,i believe accidentally1 has   
repeated nearly mass for     mass in the
 ,marly4 ,both are among the most noble 
works of this or     any other master1  
whether for preciousness of color or    

energy of     thought4    #g ,the triple
 leaf of this plant1 and white flower1  
stained purple1     probably gave it    
strange typical interest among the      
,christian     painters4 ,angelico1 in  
using its leaves mixed with daisies in  
the     foreground of his ,crucifixion  
had1 ,i imagine1 a view also to its     
chemical property4    #h ,this is no    
rash method of judgment1 sweeping and   
hasty as it may     appear4 ,from the   
weaknesses of an artist1 or failures1   
however     numerous1 we have no right  
to conjecture his total inability2 a    
time     may come when he may rise into 
sudden strength1 or an instance occur   
when his efforts shall be successful4   
,but there are some pictures     which  
rank not under the head of failures1 but
 of perpetrations or     commissions2   
some things which a man cannot do nor   
say without     sealing forever his     
character and capacity4 ,the angel      
holding the     cross with his finger in
 his eye1 the roaring red-faced children

     about the crown of thorns1 the     
blasphemous 7,i speak deliberately and  
determinedly7 head of ,christ upon the  
handkerchief1 and the mode in     which 
the martyrdom of the saint is exhibited 
7,i do not choose to     use the        
expressions which alone could           
characterize it7 are perfect1           
sufficient1 incontrovertible proofs that
 whatever appears good in     any of the
 doings of such a painter must be       
deceptive1 and that we     may be       
assured that our taste is corrupted and 
false whenever we     feel disposed to  
admire him4 ,i am prepared to support   
this position1     however uncharitable 
it may seem2 a man may be tempted into a
 gross     sin by passion1 and forgiven2
 and yet there are some kinds of sins   
into which only men of a certain kind   
can be tempted1 and which     cannot be 
forgiven4 ,it should be added1 however1 
that the artistical     qualities of    
these pictures are in every way worthy  
of the     conceptions they realize2 ,i 

do not recollect any instances of color 
or execution so coarse and feelingless4 
#i ,it appears not to be sufficiently   
understood by those artists     who     
complain acrimoniously of their         
positions on the ,academy walls1        
that the ,academicians have in their own
 rooms a right to the line     and the  
best places near it2 in their taking    
this position there is     no abuse nor 
injustice2 but the ,academicians should 
remember that     with their rights they
 have their duties1 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     judgment1 and  
to give these the best places next their
 own2 neither     would it detract from 
their dignity if they occasionally ceded
 a     square even of their own         
territory1 as they did gracefully and   
rightly1 and1 ,i am sorry to add1       
disinterestedly1 to the picture of      
,paul de la ,roche in #ahdd4 ,now the   

,academicians know perfectly well       
that the mass of portrait which         
encumbers their walls at half height    
is worse than useless1 seriously harmful
 to the public taste1 and it     was    
highly criminal 7,i use the word        
advisedly7 that the valuable and        
interesting work of ,fielding1 of which 
,i have above spoken1 should     have   
been placed where it was1 above three   
rows of eye-glasses and     waistcoats4 
,a very beautiful work of ,harding's was
 treated either in     the same or the  
following exhibition with still greater 
injustice4     ,fielding's was merely   
put out of sight2 ,harding's where its  
faults     were conspicuous and its     
virtues lost4 ,it was an ,alpine scene1 
of     which the foreground1 rocks1 and 
torrents were painted with              
unrivalled fidelity and precision2 the  
foliage was dexterous1 the     aerial   
gradations of the mountains tender and  
multitudinous1 their     forms carefully
 studied and very grand4 ,the blemish of

 the picture     was a buff-colored     
tower with a red roof2 singularly meagre
 in     detail1 and conventionally      
relieved from a mass of gloom4 ,the     
picture was placed where nothing but    
this tower could be seen4    #aj ,i have
 not given any examples in this place1  
because it is     difficult to explain  
such circumstances of effect without    
diagrams3     ,i purpose entering into  
fuller discussion of the subject with   
the     aid of illustration4    #aa ,the
 inscription is to the following        
effect1--a pleasant thing     to see    
upon the walls1 were it but more        
innocently placed3--                    
,,campo4 ,,di4 ,s4 ,,maurizio           
,d ,i ,o                                
,,conservi ,a ,,noi4                    
,,lungamente                        ,,lo
 ,,zelantis4 ,e4 ,,reverendis           
,d4 ,,luigi4 ,,piccini4                 
,,nostro                      ,n ,o ,v  
,e ,l ,l ,o  ,p ,i ,e ,v ,a ,n ,o4      
,g ,l ,i  ,e ,s ,u ,l ,t ,a ,n ,t4      

,,parrocchiani    #ab ,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 ,bellini4 ,the greater part of 
the marble     mouldings have been      
touched with it in lines and points1 the
     minarets of ,st4 ,mark's1 and all  
the florid carving of the arches        
entirely sheeted4 ,the ,casa d',oro     
retained it on its lions until the      
recent commencement of its ,restoration4
    #ac ,indeed there should be no such 
difference at all4 ,every     architect 
ought to be an artist2 every very great 
artist is     necessarily an architect4 
#ad ,this passage seems at variance with
 what has been said of the     necessity
 of painting present times and objects4 
,it is not so4 ,a     great painter     
makes out of that which he finds before 
him something     which is independent  
of all time4 ,he can only do this out of
 the     materials ready to his hand1   

but that which he builds has the        
dignity of dateless age4 ,a little      
painter is annihilated by an            
anachronism1 and is conventionally      
antique1 and involuntarily     modern4  
#ae ,one point1 however1 it is incumbent
 upon me to notice1 being no            
question of art but of material4 ,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 ,academy4 ,it bitterly           
grieves me to have to do this1 but the  
fact is indeed so4 ,no     picture of   
,turner's is seen in perfection a month 
after it is     painted4 ,the ,walhalla 
cracked before it had been eight days in
 the     ,academy rooms2 the vermilions 
frequently lose lustre long before the  
exhibition is over2 and when all the    
colors begin to get hard a year     or  
two after the picture is painted1 a     
painful deadness and opacity     comes  
over them1 the whites especially        

becoming lifeless1 and many     of the  
warmer passages settling into a hard    
valueless brown1 even if     the paint  
remains perfectly firm1 which is far    
from being always the     case4 ,i      
believe that in some measure these      
results are unavoidable1     the colors 
being so peculiarly blended and mingled 
in ,turner's     present manner as      
almost to necessitate their irregular   
drying2 but     that they are not       
necessary to the extent in which they   
sometimes     take place1 is proved by  
the comparative safety of some even of  
the     more brilliant works4 ,thus the 
,old ,temeraire is nearly safe in       
color1 and quite firm2 while the ,juliet
 and her ,nurse is now the     ghost of 
what it was2 the ,slaver shows no       
cracks1 though it is     chilled in some
 of the darker passages1 while the      
,walhalla and     several of the recent 
,venices cracked in the ,royal ,academy4
 ,it is     true that the damage makes  
no further progress after the first year

     or two1 and that even in its       
altered state the picture is always     
valuable and records its intention2 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 estimated4 ,the fact of
 his     using means so imperfect1      
together with that of his utter neglect 
of     the pictures in his own gallery1 
are a phenomenon in human mind     which
 appears to me utterly inexplicable2 and
 both are without     excuse4 ,if the   
effects he desires cannot be to their   
full extent     produced except by these
 treacherous means1 one picture only    
should     be painted each year as an   
exhibition of immediate power1 and the  
rest should be carried out1 whatever the
 expense of labor and time     in safe  
materials1 even at the risk of some     
deterioration of     immediate effect4  
,that which is greatest in him is       
entirely     independent of means2 much 
of what he now accomplishes             

illegitimately might without doubt be   
attained in securer     modes--what     
cannot should without hesitation be     
abandoned4     ,fortunately the drawings
 appear subject to no such              
deterioration4     ,many of them are now
 almost destroyed1 but this has been ,i 
think     always through ill treatment1 
or has been the case only with very     
early works4 ,i have myself known no    
instance of a drawing properly          
protected1 and not rashly exposed to    
light suffering the slightest           
change4 ,the great foes of ,turner1 as  
of all other great colorists            
especially1 are the picture cleaner and 
the mounter4                            
,,section ,,ii4                         
,,of ,,general ,,truths4                
,,chapter ,i4                           
,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,tone4   ,sec4 #a4   
,meaning of the word tone3 ,first1 the  
right relation of objects in            
shadow to the principal light4  ,as ,i  
have already allowed1 that in effects of

 tone1 the old masters have never yet   
been equalled2 and as this is the first1
 and nearly the last1 concession ,i     
shall have to make to them1 ,i wish it  
at once to be thoroughly understood how 
far it extends4   ,sec4 #b4 ,secondly1  
the quality of color by which it is felt
 to owe part of        its brightness to
 the hue of light upon it4  ,i          
understand two things by the word       
tone3--first1 the exact relief and      
relation of objects against and to each 
other in substance and darkness1 as they
 are nearer or more distant1 and the    
perfect relation of the shades of all of
 them to the chief light of the picture1
 whether that be sky1 water1 or anything
 else4 ,secondly1 the exact relation of 
the colors to the shadows to the colors 
of the lights1 so that they may be at   
once felt to be merely different degrees
 of the same light2 and the accurate    
relation among the illuminated parts    
themselves1 with respect to the degree  
in which they are influenced by the     

color of the light itself1 whether warm 
or cold2 so that the whole of the       
picture 7or1 where several tones are    
united1 those parts of it which are     
under each17 may be felt to be in one   
climate1 under one kind of light1 and in
 one kind of atmosphere2 this being     
chiefly dependent on that peculiar and  
inexplicable quality of each color laid 
on1 which makes the eye feel both what  
is the actual color of the object       
represented1 and that it is raised to   
its apparent pitch by illumination4 ,a  
very bright brown1 for instance1 out of 
sunshine1 may be precisely of the same  
shade of color as a very dead or cold   
brown in sunshine1 but it will be       
totally different in quality2 and that  
quality by which the illuminated dead   
color would be felt in nature different 
from the unilluminated bright one1 is   
what artists are perpetually aiming at1 
and connoisseurs talking nonsense about1
 under the name of tone4 ,the want of   
tone in pictures is caused by objects   

looking bright in their own positive    
hue1 and not by illumination1 and by the
 consequent want of sensation of the    
raising of their hues by light4   ,sec4 
#c4 ,difference between tone in its     
first sense and aerial perspective4     
,the first of these meanings of the word
 tone is liable to be confounded with   
what is commonly called aerial          
perspective4 ,but aerial perspective is 
the expression of space1 by any means   
whatsoever1 sharpness of edge1 vividness
 of color1 etc41 assisted by greater    
pitch of shadow1 and requires only that 
objects should be detached from each    
other1 by degrees of intensity in       
proportion to their distance1 without   
requiring that the difference between   
the farthest and nearest should be in   
positive quantity the same that nature  
has put4 ,but what ,i have called tone  
requires that there should be the same  
sum of difference1 as well as the same  
division of differences4   ,sec4 #d4    
,the pictures of the old masters perfect

 in relation of middle tints        to  
light4  ,now the finely toned pictures  
of the old masters are1 in this respect1
 some of the notes of nature played two 
or three octaves below her key2 the dark
 objects in the middle distance having  
precisely the same relation to the light
 of the sky which they have in nature1  
but the light being necessarily         
infinitely lowered1 and the mass of the 
shadow deepened in the same degree4 ,i  
have often been struck1 when looking at 
a camera-obscuro on a dark day1 with the
 exact resemblance the image bore to one
 of the finest pictures of the old      
masters2 all the foliage coming dark    
against the sky1 and nothing being seen 
in its mass but here and there the      
isolated light of a silvery stem or an  
unusually illumined cluster of leafage4 
,sec4 #e4 ,and consequently totally     
false in relation of middle tints to    
darkness4  ,now if this could be done   
consistently1 and all the notes of      
nature given in this way an octave or   

two down1 it would be right and         
necessary so to do3 but be it observed1 
not only does nature surpass us in power
 of obtaining light as much as the sun  
surpasses white paper1 but she also     
infinitely surpasses us in her power of 
shade4 ,her deepest shades are void     
spaces from which no light whatever is  
reflected to the eye2 ours are black    
surfaces from which1 paint as black as  
we may1 a great deal of light is still  
reflected1 and which1 placed against one
 of nature's deep bits of gloom1 would  
tell as distinct light4 ,here we are    
then1 with white paper for our highest  
light1 and visible illumined surface for
 our deepest shadow1 set to run the     
gauntlet against nature1 with the sun   
for her light1 and vacuity for her      
gloom4 ,it is evident that she can well 
afford to throw her material objects    
dark against the brilliant aerial tone  
of her sky1 and yet give in those       
objects themselves a thousand           
intermediate distances and tones before 

she comes to black1 or to anything like 
it--all the illumined surfaces of her   
objects being as distinctly and vividly 
brighter than her nearest and darkest   
shadows1 as the sky is brighter than    
those illumined surfaces4 ,but if we1   
against our poor1 dull obscurity of     
yellow paint1 instead of sky1 insist on 
having the same relation of shade in    
material objects1 we go down to the     
bottom of our scale at once2 and what in
 the world are we to do then8 ,where are
 all our intermediate distances to come 
from8--how are we to express the aerial 
relations among the parts themselves1   
for instance1 of foliage1 whose most    
distant boughs are already almost       
black8--how are we to come up from this 
to the foreground1 and when we have done
 so1 how are we to express the          
distinction between its solid parts1    
already as dark as we can make them1 and
 its vacant hollows1 which nature has   
marked sharp and clear and black1 among 
its lighted surfaces8 ,it cannot but be 

evident at a glance1 that if to any one 
of the steps from one distance to       
another1 we give the same quantity of   
difference in pitch of shade which      
nature does1 we must pay for this       
expenditure of our means by totally     
missing half a dozen distances1 not a   
whit less important or marked1 and so   
sacrifice a multitude of truths1 to     
obtain one4 ,and this1 accordingly was  
the means by which the old masters      
obtained their 7truth87 of tone4 ,they  
chose those steps of distance which are 
the most conspicuous and                
noticeable--that for instance from sky  
to foliage1 or from clouds to hills--and
 they gave these their precise pitch of 
difference in shade with exquisite      
accuracy of imitation4 ,their means were
 then exhausted1 and they were obliged  
to leave their trees flat masses of mere
 filled-up outline1 and to omit the     
truths of space in every individual part
 of their picture by the thousand4 ,but 
this they did not care for2 it saved    

them trouble2 they reached their grand  
end1 imitative effect2 they thrust home 
just at the places where the common and 
careless eye looks for imitation1 and   
they attained the broadest and most     
faithful appearance of truth of tone    
which art can exhibit4   ,sec4 #f4      
,general falsehood of such a system4    
,but they are prodigals1 and foolish    
prodigals1 in art2 they lavish their    
whole means to get one truth1 and leave 
themselves powerless when they should   
seize a thousand4 ,and is it indeed     
worthy of being called a truth1 when we 
have a vast history given us to relate1 
to the fulness of which neither our     
limits nor our language are adequate1   
instead of giving all its parts abridged
 in the order of their importance1 to   
omit or deny the greater part of them1  
that we may dwell with verbal fidelity  
on two or three8 ,nay1 the very truth to
 which the rest are sacrificed is       
rendered falsehood by their absence1 the
 relation of the tree to the sky is     

marked as an impossibility by the want  
of relation of its parts to each other4 
,sec4 #g4 ,the principle of ,turner in  
this respect4  ,turner starts from the  
beginning with a totally different      
principle4 ,he boldly takes pure white  
7and justly1 for it is the sign of the  
most intense sunbeams7 for his highest  
light1 and lampblack for his deepest    
shade2 and between these he makes every 
degree of shade indicative of separate  
degree of distance1#af giving each step 
of approach1 not the exact difference in
 pitch which it would have in nature1   
but a difference bearing the same       
proportion to that which his sum of     
possible shade bears to the sum of      
nature's shade2 so that an object half  
way between his horizon and his         
foreground1 will be exactly in half tint
 of force1 and every minute division of 
intermediate space will have just its   
proportionate share of the lesser sum1  
and no more4 ,hence where the old       
masters expressed one distance1 he      

expresses a hundred2 and where they said
 furlongs1 he says leagues4 ,which of   
these modes of procedure be most        
agreeable with truth1 ,i think ,i may   
safely leave the reader to decide for   
himself4 ,he will see in this very first
 instance1 one proof of what we above   
asserted1 that the deceptive imitation  
of nature is inconsistent with real     
truth2 for the very means by which the  
old masters attained the apparent       
accuracy of tone which is so satisfying 
to the eye1 compelled them to give up   
all idea of real relations of           
retirement1 and to represent a few      
successive and marked stages of         
distance1 like the scenes of a theatre1 
instead of the imperceptible1           
multitudinous1 symmetrical retirement of
 nature1 who is not more careful to     
separate her nearest bush from her      
farthest one1 than to separate the      
nearest bough of that bush from the one 
next to it4   ,sec4 #h4 ,comparison of  
,n4 ,poussin's ,phocion1  ,take for     

instance1 one of the finest landscapes  
that ancient art has produced--the work 
of a really great and intellectual mind1
 the quiet ,nicholas ,poussin1 in our   
own ,national ,gallery1 with the        
traveller washing his feet4 ,the first  
idea we receive from this picture is1   
that it is evening1 and all the light   
coming from the horizon4 ,not so4 ,it is
 full moon1 the light coming steep from 
the left1 as is shown by the shadow of  
the stick on the right-hand             
pedestal1--7for if the sun were not very
 high1 that shadow could not lose itself
 half way down1 and if it were not      
lateral1 the shadow would slope1 instead
 of being vertical47 ,now1 ask yourself1
 and answer candidly1 if those black    
masses of foliage1 in which scarcely any
 form is seen but the outline1 be a true
 representation of trees under noonday  
sunlight1 sloping from the left1        
bringing out1 as it necessarily would   
do1 their masses into golden green1 and 
marking every leaf and bough with sharp 

shadow and sparkling light4 ,the only   
truth in the picture is the exact pitch 
of relief against the sky of both trees 
and hills1 and to this the organization 
of the hills1 the intricacy of the      
foliage1 and everything indicative      
either of the nature of the light1 or   
the character of the objects1 are       
unhesitatingly sacrificed4 ,so much     
falsehood does it cost to obtain two    
apparent truths of tone4 ,or take1 as a 
still more glaring instance1 ,no4 #bfj  
in the ,dulwich ,gallery1 where the     
trunks of the trees1 even of those      
farthest off1 on the left1 are as black 
as paint can make them1 and there is    
not1 and cannot be1 the slightest       
increase of force1 or any marking       
whatsoever of distance by color1 or any 
other means1 between them and the       
foreground4   ,sec4 #i4 ,with ,turner's 
,mercury and ,argus4  ,compare with     
these1 ,turner's treatment of his       
materials in the ,mercury and ,argus4   
,he has here his light actually coming  

from the distance1 the sun being nearly 
in the centre of the picture1 and a     
violent relief of objects against it    
would be far more justifiable than in   
,poussin's case4 ,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 left2 and between these and the more
 distant members of the same group1     
though only three or four yards         
separate1 distinct aerial perspective   
and intervening mist and light are      
shown2 while the large tree in the      
centre1 though very dark1 as being very 
near1 compared with all the distance1 is
 much diminished in intensity of shade  
from this nearest group of leaves1 and  
is faint compared with all the          
foreground4 ,it is true that this tree  
has not1 in consequence1 the actual     
pitch of shade against the sky which it 
would have in nature2 but it has        
precisely as much as it possibly can    
have1 to leave it the same proportionate

 relation to the objects near at hand4  
,and it cannot but be evident to the    
thoughtful reader1 that whatever        
trickery or deception may be the result 
of a contrary mode of treatment1 this is
 the only scientific or essentially     
truthful system1 and that what it loses 
in tone it gains in aerial perspective4 
,sec4 #aj4 ,and with the ,datur ,hora   
,quieti4  ,compare again the last       
vignette in ,rogers's ,poems1 the ,datur
 ,hora ,quieti1 where everything1 even  
the darkest parts of the trees1 is kept 
pale and full of graduation2 even the   
bridge where it crosses the descending  
stream of sunshine1 rather lost in the  
light than relieved against it1 until we
 come up to the foreground1 and then the
 vigorous local black of the plough     
throws the whole picture into distance  
and sunshine4 ,i do not know anything in
 art which can for a moment be set      
beside this drawing for united intensity
 of light and repose4  ,observe1 ,i am  
not at present speaking of the beauty or

 desirableness of the system of the old 
masters2 it may be sublime1 and         
affecting1 and ideal1 and intellectual1 
and a great deal more2 but all ,i am    
concerned with at present is1 that it is
 not true2 while ,turner's is the       
closest and most studied approach to    
truth of which the materials of art     
admit4   ,sec4 #aa4 ,the second sense of
 the word tone4  ,sec4 #ab4 ,remarkable 
difference in this respect between the  
paintings and         drawings of       
,turner4  ,sec4 #ac4 ,not owing to want 
of power over the material4  ,it was    
not1 therefore1 with reference to this  
division of the subject that ,i admitted
 inferiority in our great modern master 
to ,claude or ,poussin1 but with        
reference to the second and more usual  
meaning of the word tone--the exact     
relation and fitness of shadow and      
light1 and of the hues of all objects   
under them2 and more especially that    
precious quality of each color laid on1 
which makes it appear a quiet color     

illuminated1 not a bright color in      
shade4 ,but ,i allow this inferiority   
only with respect to the paintings of   
,turner1 not to his drawings4 ,i could  
select from among the works named in    
,chap4 ,,vi4 of this section1 pieces of 
tone absolutely faultless and perfect1  
from the coolest grays of wintry dawn to
 the intense fire of summer noon4 ,and  
the difference between the prevailing   
character of these and that of nearly   
all the paintings1 7for the early oil   
pictures of ,turner are far less perfect
 in tone than the most recent17 it is   
difficult to account for1 but on the    
supposition that there is something in  
the material which modern artists in    
general are incapable of mastering1 and 
which compels ,turner himself to think  
less of tone in oil color1 than of other
 and more important qualities4 ,the     
total failures of ,callcott1 whose      
struggles after tone ended so invariably
 in shivering winter or brown paint1 the
 misfortune of ,landseer with his       

evening sky in #ahdb1 the frigidity of  
,stanfield1 and the earthiness and      
opacity which all the magnificent power 
and admirable science of ,etty are      
unable entirely to conquer1 are too     
fatal and convincing proofs of the want 
of knowledge of means1 rather than of   
the absence of aim1 in modern artists as
 a body4 ,yet1 with respect to ,turner1 
however much the want of tone in his    
early paintings 7the ,fall of ,carthage1
 for instance1 and others painted at a  
time when he was producing the most     
exquisite hues of light in water-color7 
might seem to favor such a supposition1 
there are passages in his recent works  
7such1 for instance1 as the sunlight    
along the sea1 in the ,slaver7 which    
directly contradict it1 and which prove 
to us that where he now errs in tone1   
7as in the ,cicero's ,villa17 it is less
 owing to want of power to reach it1    
than to the pursuit of some different   
and nobler end4 ,i shall therefore      
glance at the particular modes in which 

,turner manages his tone in his present 
,academy pictures2 the early ones must  
be given up at once4 ,place a genuine   
untouched ,claude beside the ,crossing  
the ,brook1 and the difference in value 
and tenderness of tone will be felt in  
an instant1 and felt the more painfully 
because all the cool and transparent    
qualities of ,claude would have been    
here desirable1 and in their place1 and 
appear to have been aimed at4 ,the      
foreground of the ,building of          
,carthage1 and the greater part of the  
architecture of the ,fall1 are equally  
heavy and evidently paint1 if we compare
 them with genuine passages of ,claude's
 sunshine4 ,there is a very grand and   
simple piece of tone in the possession  
of ,j4 ,allnutt1 ,esq41 a sunset behind 
willows1 but even this is wanting in    
refinement of shadow1 and is crude in   
its extreme distance4 ,not so with the  
recent ,academy pictures2 many of their 
passages are absolutely faultless2 all  
are refined and marvellous1 and with the

 exception of the ,cicero's ,villa1 we  
shall find few pictures painted within  
the last ten years which do not either  
present us with perfect tone1 or with   
some higher beauty1 to which it is      
necessarily sacrificed4 ,if we glance at
 the requirements of nature1 and her    
superiority of means to ours1 we shall  
see why and how it is sacrificed4       
,sec4 #ad4 ,the two distinct qualities  
of light to be considered4  ,light1 with
 reference to the tone it induces on    
objects1 is either to be considered as  
neutral and white1 bringing out local   
colors with fidelity2 or colored1 and   
consequently modifying these local      
tints1 with its own4 ,but the power of  
pure white light to exhibit local color 
is strangely variable4 ,the morning     
light of about nine or ten is usually   
very pure2 but the difference of its    
effect on different days1 independently 
of mere brilliancy1 is as inconceivable 
as inexplicable4 ,every one knows how   
capriciously the colors of a fine opal  

vary from day to day1 and how rare the  
lights are which bring them fully out4  
,now the expression of the strange1     
penetrating1 deep1 neutral light1 which1
 while it alters no color1 brings every 
color up to the highest possible pitch  
and key of pure1 harmonious intensity1  
is the chief attribute of finely-toned  
pictures by the great colorists as      
opposed to pictures of equally high     
tone1 by masters who1 careless of color1
 are content1 like ,cuyp1 to lose local 
tints in the golden blaze of absorbing  
light4   ,sec4 #ae4 ,falsehoods by which
 ,titian attains the appearance of      
quality in         light4  ,falsehood1  
in this neutral tone1 if it may be so   
called1 is a matter far more of feeling 
than of proof1 for any color is possible
 under such lights2 it is meagreness and
 feebleness only which are to be        
avoided2 and these are rather matters of
 sensation than of reasoning4 ,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 color4 ,in the ,bacchus and
 ,ariadne of ,titian1 it is difficult to
 imagine anything more magnificently    
impossible than the blue of the distant 
landscape2--impossible1 not from its    
vividness1 but because it is not faint  
and aerial enough to account for its    
purity of color2 it is too dark and blue
 at the same time2 and there is indeed  
so total a want of atmosphere in it1    
that1 but for the difference of form1 it
 would be impossible to tell the        
mountains 7intended to be ten miles off7
 from the robe of ,ariadne close to the 
spectator4 ,yet make this blue faint1   
aerial1 and distant--make it in the     
slightest degree to resemble the truth  
of nature's color--and all the tone of  
the picture1 all its intensity and      
splendor1 will vanish on the instant4   
,so again1 in the exquisite and         
inimitable little bit of color1 the     
,europa in the ,dulwich ,gallery2 the   

blue of the dark promontory on the left 
is thoroughly absurd and impossible1 and
 the warm tones of the clouds equally   
so1 unless it were sunset2 but the blue 
especially1 because it is nearer than   
several points of land which are equally
 in shadow1 and yet are rendered in warm
 gray4 ,but the whole value and tone of 
the picture would be destroyed if this  
blue were altered4   ,sec4 #af4 ,turner 
will not use such means4  ,sec4 #ag4    
,but gains in essential truth by the    
sacrifice4  ,sec4 #ah4 ,the second      
quality of light4  ,now1 as much of this
 kind of richness of tone is always     
given by ,turner as is compatible with  
truth of aerial effect2 but he will not 
sacrifice the higher truths of his      
landscape to mere pitch of color as     
,titian does4 ,he infinitely prefers    
having the power of giving extension of 
space1 and fulness of form1 to that of  
giving deep melodies of tone2 he feels  
too much the incapacity of art1 with its
 feeble means of light1 to give the     

abundance of nature's gradations2 and   
therefore it is1 that taking pure white 
for his highest expression of light1    
that even pure yellow may give him one  
more step in the scale of shade1 he     
becomes necessarily inferior in richness
 of effect to the old masters of tone1  
7who always used a golden highest       
light17 but gains by the sacrifice a    
thousand more essential truths4 ,for1   
though we all know how much more like   
light1 in the abstract1 a finely-toned  
warm hue will be to the feelings than   
white1 yet it is utterly impossible to  
mark the same number of gradations      
between such a sobered high light and   
the deepest shadow1 which we can between
 this and white2 and as these gradations
 are absolutely necessary to give the   
facts of form and distance1 which1 as we
 have above shown1 are more important   
than any truths of tone1#ag ,turner     
sacrifices the richness of his picture  
to its completeness--the manner of the  
statement to its matter4 ,and not only  

is he right in doing this for the sake  
of space1 but he is right also in the   
abstract question of color2 for as we   
observed above 7,sect4 #ad17 it is only 
the white light--the perfect unmodified 
group of rays--which will bring out     
local color perfectly2 and if the       
picture1 therefore1 is to be complete in
 its system of color1 that is1 if it is 
to have each of the three primitives in 
their purity1 it must have white for its
 highest light1 otherwise the purity of 
one of them at least will be impossible4
 ,and this leads us to notice the second
 and more frequent quality of light1    
7which is assumed if we make our highest
 representation of it yellow17 the      
positive hue1 namely1 which it may      
itself possess1 of course modifying     
whatever local tints it exhibits1 and   
thereby rendering certain colors        
necessary1 and certain colors           
impossible4 ,under the direct yellow    
light of a descending sun1 for instance1
 pure white and pure blue are both      

impossible2 because the purest whites   
and blues that nature could produce     
would be turned in some degree into gold
 or green by it2 and when the sun is    
within half a degree of the horizon1 if 
the sky be clear1 a rose light          
supersedes the golden one1 still more   
overwhelming in its effect on local     
color4 ,i have seen the pale fresh green
 of spring vegetation in the gardens of 
,venice1 on the ,lido side1 turned pure 
russet1 or between that and crimson1 by 
a vivid sunset of this kind1 every      
particle of green color being absolutely
 annihilated4 ,and so under all colored 
lights1 7and there are few1 from dawn to
 twilight1 which are not slightly tinted
 by some accident of atmosphere17 there 
is a change of local color1 which1 when 
in a picture it is so exactly           
proportioned that we feel at once both  
what the local colors are in themselves1
 and what is the color and strength of  
the light upon them1 gives us truth of  
tone4   ,sec4 #ai4 ,the perfection of   

,cuyp in this respect interfered with by
 numerous         solecisms4  ,for      
expression of effects of yellow         
sunlight1 parts might be chosen out of  
the good pictures of ,cuyp1 which have  
never been equalled in art4 ,but ,i much
 doubt if there be a single bright ,cuyp
 in the world1 which1 taken as a whole1 
does not present many glaring solecisms 
in tone4 ,i have not seen many fine     
pictures of his1 which were not utterly 
spoiled by the vermilion dress of some  
principal figure1 a vermilion totally   
unaffected and unwarmed by the golden   
hue of the rest of the picture2 and1    
what is worse1 with little distinction1 
between its own illumined and shaded    
parts1 so that it appears altogether out
 of sunshine1 the color of a bright     
vermilion in dead1 cold daylight4 ,it is
 possible that the original color may   
have gone down in all cases1 or that    
these parts may have been villanously   
repainted3 but ,i am the rather disposed
 to believe them genuine1 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 ,gallery2 and   
browns1 as in the lying cow in the same 
picture1 which is in most visible and   
painful contrast with the one standing  
beside it1 the flank of the standing one
 being bathed in breathing sunshine1 and
 the reposing one laid in with as dead1 
opaque1 and lifeless brown as ever came 
raw from a novice's pallet4 ,and again1 
in that marked #hc1 while the figures on
 the right are walking in the most      
precious light1 and those just beyond   
them in the distance leave a furlong or 
two of pure visible sunbeams between us 
and them1 the cows in the centre are    
entirely deprived1 poor things1 of both 
light and air4 ,and these failing parts1
 though they often escape the eye when  
we are near the picture and able to     
dwell upon what is beautiful in it1 yet 

so injure its whole effect that ,i      
question if there be many ,cuyps in     
which vivid colors occur1 which will not
 lose their effect1 and become cold and 
flat at a distance of ten or twelve     
paces1 retaining their influence only   
when the eye is close enough to rest on 
the right parts without including the   
whole4 ,take1 for instance1 the large   
one in our ,national ,gallery1 seen from
 the opposite door1 where the black cow 
appears a great deal nearer than the    
dogs1 and the golden tones of the       
distance look like a sepia drawing      
rather than like sunshine1 owing chiefly
 to the utter want of aerial grays      
indicated through them4   ,sec4 #bj4    
,turner is not so perfect in parts--far 
more so in the whole4  ,now1 there is no
 instance in the works of ,turner of    
anything so faithful and imitative of   
sunshine as the best parts of ,cuyp2 but
 at the same time1 there is not a single
 vestige of the same kind of solecism4  
,it is true1 that in his fondness for   

color1 ,turner is in the habit of       
allowing excessively cold fragments in  
big warmest pictures2 but these are     
never1 observe1 warm colors with no     
light upon them1 useless as contrasts   
while they are discords in the tone2 but
 they are bits of the very coolest      
tints1 partially removed from the       
general influence1 and exquisitely      
valuable as color1 though1 with all     
deference be it spoken1 ,i think them   
sometimes slightly destructive of what  
would otherwise be perfect tone4 ,for   
instance1 the two blue and white stripes
 on the drifting flag of the ,slave     
,ship1 are1 ,i think1 the least degree  
too purely cool4 ,i think both the blue 
and white would be impossible under such
 a light2 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 picture4 ,but both these lights 
are reflexes1 and it is nearly          
impossible to say what tones may be     

assumed even by the warmest light       
reflected from a cool surface2 so that  
we cannot actually convict these parts  
of falsehood1 and though we should have 
liked the tone of the picture better had
 they been slightly warmer1 we cannot   
but like the color of the picture better
 with them as they are2 while ,cuyp's   
failing portions are not only evidently 
and demonstrably false1 being in direct 
light1 but are as disagreeable in color 
as false in tone1 and injurious to      
everything near them4 ,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 distance4 ,we approach only to  
follow the sunshine into every cranny of
 the leafage1 and retire only to feel it
 diffused over the scene1 the whole     
picture glowing like a sun or star at   
whatever distance we stand1 and lighting
 the air between us and it2 while many  
even of the best pictures of ,claude    
must be looked close into to be felt1   

and lose light every foot that we       
retire4 ,the smallest of the three      
seaports in the ,national ,gallery is   
valuable and right in tone when we are  
close to it2 but ten yards off1 it is   
all brick-dust1 offensively and         
evidently false in its whole hue4       
,sec4 #ba4 ,the power in ,turner of     
uniting a number of tones4  ,the        
comparison of ,turner with ,cuyp and    
,claude may sound strange in most ears2 
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 
truth1 owing to his habit of uniting    
two1 three1 or even more separate tones 
in the same composition4 ,in this also  
he strictly follows nature1 for wherever
 climate changes1 tone changes1 and the 
climate changes with every #bjj feet of 
elevation1 so that the upper clouds are 
always different in tone from the lower 
ones1 these from the rest of the        

landscape1 and in all probability1 some 
part of the horizon from the rest4 ,and 
when nature allows this in a high       
degree1 as in her most gorgeous effects 
she always will1 she does not herself   
impress at once with intensity of tone1 
as in the deep and quiet yellows of a   
,july evening1 but rather with the      
magnificence and variety of associated  
color1 in which1 if we give time and    
attention to it1 we shall gradually find
 the solemnity and the depth of twenty  
tones instead of one4 ,now in ,turner's 
power of associating cold with warm     
light1 no one has ever approached1 or   
even ventured into the same field with  
him4 ,the old masters1 content with one 
simple tone1 sacrificed to its unity all
 the exquisite gradations and varied    
touches of relief and change by which   
nature unites her hours with each other4
 ,they gave the warmth of the sinking   
sun1 overwhelming all things in its     
gold2 but they did not give those gray  
passages about the horizon where1 seen  

through its dying light1 the cool and   
the gloom of night gather themselves for
 their victory4 ,whether it was in them 
impotence or judgment1 it is not for me 
to decide4 ,i have only to point to the 
daring of ,turner in this respect1 as   
something to which art affords no matter
 of comparison1 as that in which the    
mere attempt is1 in itself1 superiority4
 ,take the evening effect with the      
,temeraire4 ,that picture will not1 at  
the first glance1 deceive as a piece of 
actual sunlight2 but this is because    
there is in it more than sunlight1      
because under the blazing veil of       
vaulted fire which lights the vessel on 
her last path1 there is a blue1 deep1   
desolate hollow of darkness1 out of     
which you can hear the voice of the     
night wind1 and the dull boom of the    
disturbed sea2 because the cold1 deadly 
shadows of the twilight are gathering   
through every sunbeam1 and moment by    
moment as you look1 you will fancy some 
new film and faintness of the night has 

risen over the vastness of the departing
 form4   ,sec4 #bb4 ,recapitulation4    
,and if1 in effects of this kind1 time  
be taken to dwell upon the individual   
tones1 and to study the laws of their   
reconcilement1 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        
comparison1 which stands not only       
unrivalled1 but uncontended with1 and   
which1 when in carrying out it may be   
inferior to some of the picked passages 
of the old masters1 is so through       
deliberate choice rather to suggest a   
multitude of truths than to imitate one1
 and through a strife with difficulties 
of effect of which art can afford no    
parallel example4 ,nay1 in the next     
chapter1 respecting color1 we shall see 
farther reason for doubting the truth of
 ,claude1 ,cuyp1 and ,poussin1 in       
tone1--reason so palpable that if these 
were all that were to be contended with1
 ,i should scarcely have allowed any    

inferiority in ,turner whatsoever2#ah   
but ,i allow it1 not so much with       
reference to the deceptive imitations of
 sunlight1 wrought out with desperate   
exaggerations of shade1 of the professed
 landscape painters1 as with reference  
to the glory of ,rubens1 the glow of    
,titian1 the silver tenderness of       
,cagliari1 and perhaps more than all to 
the precious and pure passages of       
intense feeling and heavenly light1 holy
 and undefiled1 and glorious with the   
changeless passion of eternity1 which   
sanctify with their shadeless peace the 
deep and noble conceptions of the early 
school of ,italy1--of ,fra ,bartolomeo1 
,perugino1 and the early mind of        
,raffaelle4   ,,footnotes    #af ,of    
course ,i am not speaking here of       
treatment of chiaroscuro1     but of    
that quantity of depth of shade by      
which1 coeteris     paribus1 a near     
object will exceed a distant one4 ,for  
the truth of     the systems of ,turner 
and the old masters1 as regards         

chiaroscuro1     vide ,chapter ,,iii4 of
 this ,section1 ,sec4 #h4    #ag ,more  
important1 observe1 as matters of truth 
or fact4 ,it may     often chance that1 
as a matter of feeling1 the tone is the 
more     important of the two2 but with 
this we have here no concern4    #ah ,we
 must not leave the subject of tone     
without alluding to the     works of the
 late ,george ,barrett1 which afford    
glorious and exalted     passages of    
light2 and ,john ,varley1 who1 though   
less truthful in his     aim1 was       
frequently deep in his feeling4 ,some of
 the sketches of ,de     ,wint are also 
admirable in this respect4 ,as for our  
oil pictures1     the less that is said 
about them the better4 ,callcott has the
 truest     aim2 but not having any eye 
for color1 it is impossible for him to  
succeed in tone4                        
,,chapter ,,ii4                         
,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,color4   ,sec4 #a4  
,observations on the color of ,g4       
,poussin's ,la ,riccia4  ,there is1 in  

the first room of the ,national         
,gallery1 a landscape attributed to     
,gaspar ,poussin1 called sometimes      
,aricia1 sometimes ,le or ,la ,riccia1  
according to the fancy of catalogue     
printers4 ,whether it can be supposed to
 resemble the ancient ,aricia1 now ,la  
,riccia1 close to ,albano1 ,i will not  
take upon me to determine1 seeing that  
most of the towns of these old masters  
are quite as like one place as another2 
but1 at any rate1 it is a town on a     
hill1 wooded with two-and-thirty bushes1
 of very uniform size1 and possessing   
about the same number of leaves each4   
,these bushes are all painted in with   
one dull opaque brown1 becoming very    
slightly greenish towards the lights1   
and discover in one place a bit of rock1
 which of course would in nature have   
been cool and gray beside the lustrous  
hues of foliage1 and which1 therefore1  
being moreover completely in shade1 is  
consistently and scientifically painted 
of a very clear1 pretty1 and positive   

brick-red1 the only thing like color in 
the picture4 ,the foreground is a piece 
of road1 which in order to make         
allowance for its greater nearness1 for 
its being completely in light1 and1 it  
may be presumed1 for the quantity of    
vegetation usually present on           
carriage-roads1 is given in a very cool 
green gray1 and the truth of the picture
 is completed by a number of dots in the
 sky on the right1 with a stalk to them1
 of a sober and similar brown4   ,sec4  
#b4 ,as compared with the actual scene4 
,not long ago1 ,i was slowly descending 
this very bit of carriage-road1 the     
first turn after you leave ,albano1 not 
a little impeded by the worthy          
successors of the ancient prototypes of 
,veiento4#ai ,it had been wild weather  
when ,i left ,rome1 and all across the  
,campagna the clouds were sweeping in   
sulphurous blue1 with a clap of thunder 
or two1 and breaking gleams of sun along
 the ,claudian aqueduct lighting up the 
infinity of its arches like the bridge  

of chaos4 ,but as ,i climbed the long   
slope of the ,alban mount1 the storm    
swept finally to the north1 and the     
noble outline of the domes of ,albano   
and graceful darkness of its ilex grove 
rose against pure streaks of alternate  
blue and amber1 the upper sky gradually 
flushing through the last fragments of  
rain-cloud in deep1 palpitating azure1  
half ether and half dew4 ,the noonday   
sun came slanting down the rocky slopes 
of ,la ,riccia1 and its masses of       
entangled and tall foliage1 whose       
autumnal tints were mixed with the wet  
verdure of a thousand evergreens1 were  
penetrated with it as with rain4 ,i     
cannot call it color1 it was            
conflagration4 ,purple1 and crimson1 and
 scarlet1 like the curtains of ,god's   
tabernacle1 the rejoicing trees sank    
into the valley in showers of light1    
every separate leaf quivering with      
buoyant and burning life2 each1 as it   
turned to reflect or to transmit the    
sunbeam1 first a torch and then an      

emerald4 ,far up into the recesses of   
the valley1 the green vistas arched like
 the hollows of mighty waves of some    
crystalline sea1 with the arbutus       
flowers dashed along their flanks for   
foam1 and silver flakes of orange spray 
tossed into the air around them1        
breaking over the gray walls of rock    
into a thousand separate stars1 fading  
and kindling alternately as the weak    
wind lifted and let them fall4 ,every   
glade of grass burned like the golden   
floor of heaven1 opening in sudden      
gleams as the foliage broke and closed  
above it1 as sheet-lightning opens in a 
cloud at sunset2 the motionless masses  
of dark rock--dark though flushed with  
scarlet lichen1--casting their quiet    
shadows across its restless radiance1   
the fountain underneath them filling its
 marble hollow with blue mist and fitful
 sound1 and over all--the multitudinous 
bars of amber and rose1 the sacred      
clouds that have no darkness1 and only  
exist to illumine1 were seen in         

fathomless intervals between the solemn 
and orbed repose of the stone pines1    
passing to lose themselves in the last1 
white1 blinding lustre of the           
measureless line where the ,campagna    
melted into the blaze of the sea4       
,sec4 #c4 ,turner himself is inferior in
 brilliancy to nature4  ,tell me who is 
likest this1 ,poussin or ,turner8 ,not  
in his most daring and dazzling efforts 
could ,turner himself come near it2 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 saw4 ,nor am ,i 
speaking of what is uncommon or         
unnatural2 there is no climate1 no      
place1 and scarcely an hour1 in which   
nature does not exhibit color which no  
mortal effort can imitate or approach4  
,for all our artificial pigments are1   
even when seen under the same           
circumstances1 dead and lightless beside
 her living color2 the green of a       
growing leaf1 the scarlet of a fresh    

flower1 no art nor expedient can reach2 
but in addition to this1 nature exhibits
 her hues under an intensity of sunlight
 which trebles their brilliancy1 while  
the painter1 deprived of this splendid  
aid1 works still with what is actually a
 gray shadow compared to the force of   
nature's color4 ,take a blade of grass  
and a scarlet flower1 and place them so 
as to receive sunlight beside the       
brightest canvas that ever left         
,turner's easel1 and the picture will be
 extinguished4 ,so far from out-facing  
nature1 he does not1 as far as mere     
vividness of color goes1 one-half reach 
her2--but does he use this brilliancy of
 color on objects to which it does not  
properly belong8 ,let us compare his    
works in this respect with a few        
instances from the old masters4   ,sec4 
#d4 ,impossible colors of ,salvator1    
,titian2  ,there is1 on the left hand   
side of ,salvator's ,mercury and the    
,woodman in our ,national ,gallery1     
something1 without doubt intended for a 

rocky mountain1 in the middle distance1 
near enough for all its fissures and    
crags to be distinctly visible1 or1     
rather1 for a great many awkward        
scratches of the brush over it to be    
visible1 which1 though not particularly 
representative either of one thing or   
another1 are without doubt intended to  
be symbolical of rocks4 ,now no mountain
 in full light1 and near enough for its 
details of crag to be seen1 is without  
great variety of delicate color4        
,salvator has painted it throughout     
without one instant of variation2 but   
this1 ,i suppose1 is simplicity and     
generalization2--let it pass3 but what  
is the color8 ,pure sky blue1 without   
one grain of gray1 or any modifying hue 
whatsoever2--the same brush which had   
just given the bluest parts of the sky1 
has been more loaded at the same part of
 the pallet1 and the whole mountain     
thrown in with unmitigated ultramarine4 
,now mountains only can become pure blue
 when there is so much air between us   

and them that they become mere flat1    
dark shades1 every detail being totally 
lost3 they become blue when they become 
air1 and not till then4 ,consequently   
this part of ,salvator's painting1 being
 of hills perfectly clear and near1 with
 all their details visible1 is1 as far  
as color is concerned1 broad1 bold      
falsehood--the direct assertion of      
direct impossibility4  ,in the whole    
range of ,turner's works1 recent or of  
old date1 you will not find an instance 
of anything near enough to have details 
visible1 painted in sky blue4 ,wherever 
,turner gives blue1 there he gives      
atmosphere2 it is air1 not object4 ,blue
 he gives to his sea2 so does           
nature2--blue he gives1 sapphire-deep1  
to his extreme distance2 so does        
nature2--blue he gives to the misty     
shadows and hollows of his hills2 so    
does nature3 but blue he gives not1     
where detail and illumined surface are  
visible2 as he comes into light and     
character1 so he breaks into warmth and 

varied hue2 nor is there in one of his  
works1 and ,i speak of the ,academy     
pictures especially1 one touch of cold  
color which is not to be accounted for1 
and proved right and full of meaning4   
,i do not say that ,salvator's distance 
is not artist-like2 both in that1 and in
 the yet more glaringly false distances 
of ,titian above alluded to1 and in     
hundreds of others of equal boldness of 
exaggeration1 ,i can take delight1 and  
perhaps should be sorry to see them     
other than they are2 but it is somewhat 
singular to hear people talking of      
,turner's exquisite care and            
watchfulness in color as false1 while   
they receive such cases of preposterous 
and audacious fiction with the most     
generous and simple credulity4   ,sec4  
#e4 ,poussin1 and ,claude4  ,again1 in  
the upper sky of the picture of ,nicolas
 ,poussin1 before noticed1 the clouds   
are of a very fine clear olive-green1   
about the same tint as the brightest    
parts of the trees beneath them4 ,they  

cannot have altered1 7or else the trees 
must have been painted in gray17 for the
 hue is harmonious and well united with 
the rest of the picture1 and the blue   
and white in the centre of the sky are  
still fresh and pure4 ,now a green sky  
in open and illumined distance is very  
frequent1 and very beautiful2 but rich  
olive-green clouds1 as far as ,i am     
acquainted with nature1 are a piece of  
color in which she is not apt to        
indulge4 ,you will be puzzled to show me
 such a thing in the recent works of    
,turner4#bj ,again1 take any important  
group of trees1 ,i do not care          
whose--,claude's1 ,salvator's1 or       
,poussin's--with lateral light 7that in 
the ,marriage of ,isaac and ,rebecca1 or
 ,gaspar's sacrifice of ,isaac1 for     
instance37 ,can it be seriously supposed
 that those murky browns and melancholy 
greens are representative of the tints  
of leaves under full noonday sun8 ,i    
know that you cannot help looking upon  
all these pictures as pieces of dark    

relief against a light wholly proceeding
 from the distances2 but they are       
nothing of the kind--they are noon and  
morning effects with full lateral light4
 ,be so kind as to match the color of a 
leaf in the sun 7the darkest you like7  
as nearly as you can1 and bring your    
matched color and set it beside one of  
these groups of trees1 and take a blade 
of common grass1 and set it beside any  
part of the fullest light of their      
foregrounds1 and then talk about the    
truth of color of the old masters6  ,and
 let not arguments respecting the       
sublimity or fidelity of impression be  
brought forward here4 ,i have nothing   
whatever to do with this at present4 ,i 
am not talking about what is sublime1   
but about what is true4 ,people attack  
,turner on this ground2--they never     
speak of beauty or sublimity with       
respect to him1 but of nature and truth1
 and let them support their own favorite
 masters on the same grounds4 ,perhaps  
,i may have the very deepest veneration 

for the feeling of the old masters1 but 
,i must not let it influence me now--my 
business is to match colors1 not to talk
 sentiment4 ,neither let it be said that
 ,i am going too much into details1 and 
that general truths may be obtained by  
local falsehood4 ,truth is only to be   
measured by close comparison of actual  
facts2 we may talk forever about it in  
generals1 and prove nothing4 ,we cannot 
tell what effect falsehood may produce  
on this or that person1 but we can very 
well tell what is false and what is not1
 and if it produce on our senses the    
effect of truth1 that only demonstrates 
their imperfection and inaccuracy1 and  
need of cultivation4 ,turner's color is 
glaring to one person's sensations1 and 
beautiful to another's4 ,this proves    
nothing4 ,poussin's color is right to   
one1 soot to another4 ,this proves      
nothing4 ,there is no means of arriving 
at any conclusion but close comparison  
of both with the known and demonstrable 
hues of nature1 and this comparison will

 invariably turn ,claude or ,poussin    
into blackness1 and even ,turner into   
gray4  ,whatever depth of gloom may seem
 to invest the objects of a real        
landscape1 yet a window with that       
landscape seen through it1 will         
invariably appear a broad space of light
 as compared with the shade of the room 
walls2 and this single circumstance may 
prove to us both the intensity and the  
diffusion of daylight in open air1 and  
the necessity1 if a picture is to be    
truthful in effect of color1 that it    
should tell as a broad space of         
graduated illumination--not1 as do those
 of the old masters1 as a patch-work of 
black shades4 ,their works are nature in
 mourning weeds1--,greek3 oud hen helio 
katharo tethrammenoi1 all hypo symmigei 
skia4   ,sec4 #f4 ,turner's translation 
of colors4  ,it is true that there are1 
here and there1 in the ,academy         
pictures1 passages in which ,turner has 
translated the unattainable intensity of
 one tone of color1 into the attainable 

pitch of a higher one3 the golden green 
for instance1 of intense sunshine on    
verdure1 into pure yellow1 because he   
knows it to be impossible1 with any     
mixture of blue whatsoever1 to give     
faithfully its relative intensity of    
light1 and ,turner always will have his 
light and shade right1 whatever it costs
 him in color4 ,but he does this in rare
 cases1 and even then over very small   
spaces2 and ,i should be obliged to his 
critics if they would go out to some    
warm1 mossy green bank in full summer   
sunshine1 and try to reach its tone2 and
 when they find1 as find they will1     
,indian yellow and chrome look dark     
beside it1 let them tell me candidly    
which is nearest truth1 the gold of     
,turner1 or the mourning and murky olive
 browns and verdigris greens in which   
,claude1 with the industry and          
intelligence of a ,sevres china painter1
 drags the laborious bramble leaves over
 his childish foreground4   ,sec4 #g4   
,notice of effects in which no          

brilliancy of art can even approach     
that of reality4  ,sec4 #h4 ,reasons for
 the usual incredulity of the observer  
with respect to        their            
representation4  ,sec4 #i4 ,color of the
 ,napoleon4  ,but it is singular enough 
that the chief attacks on ,turner for   
overcharged brilliancy1 are made1 not   
when there could by any possibility be  
any chance of his outstepping nature1   
but when he has taken subjects which no 
colors of earth could ever vie with or  
reach1 such1 for instance1 as his       
sunsets among the high clouds4 ,when ,i 
come to speak of skies1 ,i shall point  
out what divisions1 proportioned to     
their elevation1 exist in the character 
of clouds4 ,it is the highest           
region1--that exclusively characterized 
by white1 filmy1 multitudinous1 and     
quiet clouds1 arranged in bars1 or      
streaks1 or flakes1 of which ,i speak at
 present1 a region which no landscape   
painters have ever made one effort to   
represent1 except ,rubens and           

,turner--the latter taking it for his   
most favorite and frequent study4 ,now  
we have been speaking hitherto of what  
is constant and necessary in nature1 of 
the ordinary effects of daylight on     
ordinary colors1 and we repeat again1   
that no gorgeousness of the pallet can  
reach even these4 ,but it is a widely   
different thing when nature herself     
takes a coloring fit1 and does something
 extraordinary1 something really to     
exhibit her power4 ,she has a thousand  
ways and means of rising above herself1 
but incomparably the noblest            
manifestations of her capability of     
color are in these sunsets among the    
high clouds4 ,i speak especially of the 
moment before the sun sinks1 when his   
light turns pure rose-color1 and when   
this light falls upon a zenith covered  
with countless cloud-forms of           
inconceivable delicacy1 threads and     
flakes of vapor1 which would in common  
daylight be pure snow white1 and which  
give therefore fair field to the tone of

 light4 ,there is then no limit to the  
multitude1 and no check to the intensity
 of the hues assumed4 ,the whole sky    
from the zenith to the horizon becomes  
one molten1 mantling sea of color and   
fire2 every black bar turns into massy  
gold1 every ripple and wave into        
unsullied1 shadowless1 crimson1 and     
purple1 and scarlet1 and colors for     
which there are no words in language1   
and no ideas in the mind1--things which 
can only be conceived while they are    
visible1--the intense hollow blue of the
 upper sky melting through it           
all1--showing here deep1 and pure1 and  
lightless1 there1 modulated by the      
filmy1 formless body of the transparent 
vapor1 till it is lost imperceptibly in 
its crimson and gold4 ,now there is no  
connection1 no one link of association  
or resemblance1 between those skies and 
the work of any mortal hand but         
,turner's4 ,he alone has followed nature
 in these her highest efforts2 he       
follows her faithfully1 but far behind2 

follows at such a distance below her    
intensity that the ,napoleon of last    
year's exhibition1 and the ,temeraire of
 the year before1 would look colorless  
and cold if the eye came upon them after
 one of nature's sunsets among the high 
clouds4 ,but there are a thousand       
reasons why this should not be believed4
 ,the concurrence of circumstances      
necessary to produce the sunsets of     
which ,i speak does not take place above
 five or six times in the summer1 and   
then only for a space of from five to   
ten minutes1 just as the sun reaches the
 horizon4 ,considering how seldom people
 think of looking for sunset at all1 and
 how seldom1 if they do1 they are in a  
position from which it can be fully     
seen1 the chances that their attention  
should be awake1 and their position     
favorable1 during these few flying      
instants of the year1 is almost as      
nothing4 ,what can the citizen1 who can 
see only the red light on the canvas of 
the wagon at the end of the street1 and 

the crimson color of the bricks of his  
neighbor's chimney1 know of the flood of
 fire which deluges the sky from the    
horizon to the zenith8 ,what can even   
the quiet inhabitant of the ,english    
lowlands1 whose scene for the           
manifestation of the fire of heaven is  
limited to the tops of hayricks1 and the
 rooks' nests in the old elm-trees1 know
 of the mighty passages of splendor     
which are tossed from ,alp to ,alp over 
the azure of a thousand miles of        
champaign8 ,even granting the constant  
vigor of observation1 and supposing the 
possession of such impossible knowledge1
 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 impressions4 ,what recollection   
have we of the sunsets which delighted  
us last year8 ,we may know that they    
were magnificent1 or glowing1 but no    
distinct image of color or form is      
retained--nothing of whose degree 7for  

the great difficulty with the memory is 
to retain1 not facts1 but degrees of    
fact7 we could be so certain as to say  
of anything now presented to us1 that it
 is like it4 ,if we did say so1 we      
should be wrong2 for we may be quite    
certain that the energy of an impression
 fades from the memory1 and becomes more
 and more indistinct every day2 and thus
 we compare a faded and indistinct image
 with the decision and certainty of one 
present to the senses4 ,how constantly  
do we affirm that the thunder-storm of  
last week was the most terrible one we  
ever saw in our lives1 because we       
compare it1 not with the thunder-storm  
of last year1 but with the faded and    
feeble recollection of it4 ,and so1 when
 we enter an exhibition1 as we have no  
definite standard of truth before us1   
our feelings are toned down and subdued 
to the quietness of color which is all  
that human power can ordinarily attain  
to2 and when we turn to a piece of      
higher and closer truth1 approaching the

 pitch of the color of nature1 but to   
which we are not guided1 as we should be
 in nature1 by corresponding gradations 
of light everywhere around us1 but which
 is isolated and cut off suddenly by a  
frame and a wall1 and surrounded by     
darkness and coldness1 what can we      
expect but that it should surprise and  
shock the feelings8 ,suppose1 where the 
,napoleon hung in the ,academy last     
year1 there could have been left1       
instead1 an opening in the wall1 and    
through that opening1 in the midst of   
the obscurity of the dim room and the   
smoke-laden atmosphere1 there could     
suddenly have been poured the full glory
 of a tropical sunset1 reverberated from
 the sea3 ,how would you have shrunk1   
blinded1 from its scarlet and           
intolerable lightnings6 ,what picture in
 the room would not have been blackness 
after it8 ,and why then do you blame    
,turner because he dazzles you8 ,does   
not the falsehood rest with those who do
 not8 ,there was not one hue in this    

whole picture which was not far below   
what nature would have used in the same 
circumstances1 nor was there one        
inharmonious or at variance with the    
rest2--the stormy blood-red of the      
horizon1 the scarlet of the breaking    
sunlight1 the rich crimson browns of the
 wet and illumined sea-weed2 the pure   
gold and purple of the upper sky1 and1  
shed through it all1 the deep passage of
 solemn blue1 where the cold moonlight  
fell on one pensive spot of the         
limitless shore--all were given with    
harmony as perfect as their color was   
intense2 and if1 instead of passing1 as 
,i doubt not you did1 in the hurry of   
your unreflecting prejudice1 you had    
paused but so much as one quarter of an 
hour before the picture1 you would have 
found the sense of air and space blended
 with every line1 and breathing in every
 cloud1 and every color instinct and    
radiant with visible1 glowing1 absorbing
 light4   ,sec4 #aj4 ,necessary         
discrepancy between the attainable      

brilliancy of color         and light4  
,it is to be observed1 however1 in      
general1 that wherever in brilliant     
effects of this kind1 we approach to    
anything like a true statement of       
nature's color1 there must yet be a     
distinct difference in the impression we
 convey1 because we cannot approach her 
light4 ,all such hues are usually given 
by her with an accompanying intensity of
 sunbeams which dazzles and overpowers  
the eye1 so that it cannot rest on the  
actual colors1 nor understand what they 
are2 and hence in art1 in rendering all 
effects of this kind1 there must be a   
want of the ideas of imitation1 which   
are the great source of enjoyment to the
 ordinary observer2 because we can only 
give one series of truths1 those of     
color1 and are unable to give the       
accompanying truths of light1 so that   
the more true we are in color1 the      
greater1 ordinarily1 will be the        
discrepancy felt between the intensity  
of hue and the feebleness of light4 ,but

 the painter who really loves nature    
will not1 on this account1 give you a   
faded and feeble image1 which indeed may
 appear to you to be right1 because your
 feelings can detect no discrepancy in  
its parts1 but which he knows to derive 
its apparent truth from a systematized  
falsehood4 ,no2 he will make you        
understand and feel that art cannot     
imitate nature--that where it appears to
 do so1 it must malign her1 and mock    
her4 ,he will give you1 or state to you1
 such truths as are in his power1       
completely and perfectly2 and those     
which he cannot give1 he will leave to  
your imagination4 ,if you are acquainted
 with nature1 you will know all he has  
given to be true1 and you will supply   
from your memory and from your heart    
that light which he cannot give4 ,if you
 are unacquainted with nature1 seek     
elsewhere for whatever may happen to    
satisfy your feelings2 but do not ask   
for the truth which you would not       
acknowledge and could not enjoy4   ,sec4

 #aa4 ,this discrepancy less in ,turner 
than in other colorists4  ,sec4 #ab4    
,its great extent in a landscape        
attributed to ,rubens4  ,nevertheless   
the aim and struggle of the artist must 
always be to do away with this          
discrepancy as far as the powers of art 
admit1 not by lowering his color1 but by
 increasing his light4 ,and it is indeed
 by this that the works of ,turner are  
peculiarly distinguished from those of  
all other colorists1 by the dazzling    
intensity1 namely1 of the light which he
 sheds through every hue1 and which1 far
 more than their brilliant color1 is the
 real source of their overpowering      
effect upon the eye1 an effect so       
reasonably made the subject of perpetual
 animadversion1 as if the sun which they
 represent were quite a quiet1 and      
subdued1 and gentle1 and manageable     
luminary1 and never dazzled anybody1    
under any circumstances whatsoever4 ,i  
am fond of standing by a bright ,turner 
in the ,academy1 to listen to the       

unintentional compliments of the        
crowd--,what a glaring thing6 ,i declare
 ,i can't look at it6 ,don't it hurt    
your eyes8--expressed as if they were in
 the constant habit of looking the sun  
full in the face1 with the most perfect 
comfort and entire facility of vision4  
,it is curious after hearing people     
malign some of ,turner's noble passages 
of light1 to pass to some really        
ungrammatical and false picture of the  
old masters1 in which we have color     
given without light4 ,take1 for         
instance1 the landscape attributed to   
,rubens1 ,no4 #age1 in the ,dulwich     
,gallery4 ,i never have spoken1 and ,i  
never will speak of ,rubens but with the
 most reverential feeling2 and whatever 
imperfections in his art may have       
resulted from his unfortunate want of   
seriousness and incapability of true    
passion1 his calibre of mind was        
originally such that ,i believe the     
world may see another ,titian and       
another ,raffaelle1 before it sees      

another ,rubens4 ,but ,i have before    
alluded to the violent license he       
occasionally assumes2 and there is an   
instance of it in this picture apposite 
to the immediate question4 ,the sudden  
streak and circle of yellow and crimson 
in the middle of the sky of that        
picture1 being the occurrence of a      
fragment of a sunset color in pure      
daylight1 and in perfect isolation1     
while at the same time it is rather     
darker1 when translated into light and  
shade1 than brighter than the rest of   
the sky1 is a case of such bold         
absurdity1 come from whose pencil it    
may1 that if every error which ,turner  
has fallen into in the whole course of  
his life were concentrated into one1    
that one would not equal it2 and as our 
connoisseurs gaze upon this with        
never-ending approbation1 we must not be
 surprised that the accurate perceptions
 which thus take delight in pure        
fiction1 should consistently be         
disgusted by ,turner's fidelity and     

truth4   ,sec4 #ac4 ,turner scarcely    
ever uses pure or vivid color4          
,hitherto1 however1 we have been        
speaking of vividness of pure color1 and
 showing that it is used by ,turner only
 where nature uses it1 and in no less   
degree4 ,but we have hitherto1          
therefore1 been speaking of a most      
limited and uncharacteristic portion of 
his works2 for ,turner1 like all great  
colorists1 is distinguished not more for
 his power of dazzling and overwhelming 
the eye with intensity of effect1 than  
for his power of doing so by the use of 
subdued and gentle means4 ,there is no  
man living more cautious and sparing in 
the use of pure color than ,turner4 ,to 
say that he never perpetrates anything  
like the blue excrescences of           
foreground1 or hills shot like a        
housekeeper's best silk gown1 with blue 
and red1 which certain of our celebrated
 artists consider the essence of the    
sublime1 would be but a poor compliment4
 ,i might as well praise the portraits  

of ,titian because they have not the    
grimace and paint of a clown in a       
pantomime2 but ,i do say1 and say with  
confidence1 that there is scarcely a    
landscape artist of the present day1    
however sober and lightless their       
effects may look1 who does not employ   
more pure and raw color than ,turner2   
and that the ordinary tinsel and trash1 
or rather vicious and perilous stuff1   
according to the power of the mind      
producing it1 with which the walls of   
our ,academy are half covered1          
disgracing1 in weak hands1 or in more   
powerful1 degrading and corrupting our  
whole school of art1 is based on a      
system of color beside which ,turner's  
is as ,vesta to ,cotytto--the chastity  
of fire to the foulness of earth4 ,every
 picture of this great colorist has1 in 
one or two parts of it1 7key-notes of   
the whole17 points where the system of  
each individual color is concentrated by
 a single stroke1 as pure as it can come
 from the pallet2 but throughout the    

great space and extent of even the most 
brilliant of his works1 there will not  
be found a raw color2 that is to say1   
there is no warmth which has not gray in
 it1 and no blue which has not warmth in
 it2 and the tints in which he most     
excels and distances all other men1 the 
most cherished and inimitable portions  
of his color1 are1 as with all perfect  
colorists they must be1 his grays4  ,it 
is instructive in this respect1 to      
compare the sky of the ,mercury and     
,argus with the various illustrations of
 the serenity1 space1 and sublimity     
naturally inherent in blue and pink1 of 
which every year's exhibition brings    
forward enough and to spare4 ,in the    
,mercury and ,argus1 the pale and       
vaporous blue of the heated sky is      
broken with gray and pearly white1 the  
gold color of the light warming it more 
or less as it approaches or retires from
 the sun2 but throughout1 there is not a
 grain of pure blue2 all is subdued and 
warmed at the same time by the mingling 

gray and gold1 up to the very zenith1   
where1 breaking through the flaky mist1 
the transparent and deep azure of the   
sky is expressed with a single crumbling
 touch2 the key-note of the whole is    
given1 and every part of it passes at   
once far into glowing and aerial space4 
,the reader can scarcely fail to        
remember at once sundry works in        
contradistinction to this1 with great   
names attached to them1 in which the sky
 is a sheer piece of plumber's and      
glazier's work1 and should be valued per
 yard1 with heavy extra charge for      
ultramarine4   ,sec4 #ad4 ,the basis of 
gray1 under all his vivid hues4         
,throughout the works of ,turner1 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 conception4 ,he gives a dash of  
pure white for his highest light2 but   
all the other whites of his picture are 
pearled down with gray or gold4 ,he     
gives a fold of pure crimson to the     

drapery of his nearest figure2 but all  
his other crimsons will be deepened with
 black1 or warmed with yellow4 ,in one  
deep reflection of his distant sea1 we  
catch a trace of the purest blue2 but   
all the rest is palpitating with a      
varied and delicate gradation of        
harmonized tint1 which indeed looks     
vivid blue as a mass1 but is only so by 
opposition4 ,it is the most difficult1  
the most rare thing1 to find in his     
works a definite space1 however small1  
of unconnected color2 that is1 either of
 a blue which has nothing to connect it 
with the warmth1 or of a warm color     
which has nothing to connect it with the
 grays of the whole2 and the result is1 
that there is a general system and      
undercurrent of gray pervading the whole
 of his color1 out of which his highest 
lights1 and those local touches of pure 
color1 which are1 as ,i said before1 the
 key-notes of the picture1 flash with   
the peculiar brilliancy and intensity in
 which he stands alone4   ,sec4 #ae4    

,the variety and fulness even of his    
most simple tones4  ,sec4 #af4          
,following the infinite and             
unapproachable variety of nature4       
,intimately associated with this toning 
down and connection of the colors       
actually used1 is his inimitable power  
of varying and blending them1 so as     
never to give a quarter of an inch of   
canvas without a change in it1 a melody 
as well as a harmony of one kind or     
another4 ,observe1 ,i am not at present 
speaking of this as artistical or       
desirable in itself1 not as a           
characteristic of the great colorist1   
but as the aim of the simple follower of
 nature4 ,for it is strange to see how  
marvellously nature varies the most     
general and simple of her tones4 ,a mass
 of mountain seen against the light1    
may1 at first1 appear all of one blue2  
and so it is1 blue as a whole1 by       
comparison with other parts of the      
landscape4 ,but look how that blue is   
made up4 ,there are black shadows in it 

under the crags1 there are green shadows
 along the turf1 there are gray         
half-lights upon the rocks1 there are   
faint touches of stealthy warmth and    
cautious light along their edges2 every 
bush1 every stone1 every tuft of moss   
has its voice in the matter1 and joins  
with individual character in the        
universal will4 ,who is there who can do
 this as ,turner will8 ,the old masters 
would have settled the matter at once   
with a transparent1 agreeable1 but      
monotonous gray4 ,many among the moderns
 would probably be equally monotonous   
with absurd and false colors4 ,turner   
only would give the uncertainty--the    
palpitating1 perpetual change--the      
subjection of all to a great influence1 
without one part or portion being lost  
or merged in it--the unity of action    
with infinity of agent4 ,and ,i wish to 
insist on this the more particularly1   
because it is one of the eternal        
principles of nature1 that she will not 
have one line nor color1 nor one portion

 nor atom of space without a change in  
it4 ,there is not one of her shadows1   
tints1 or lines that is not in a state  
of perpetual variation3 ,i do not mean  
in time1 but in space4 ,there is not a  
leaf in the world which has the same    
color visible over its whole surface2 it
 has a white high light somewhere2 and  
in proportion as it curves to or from   
that focus1 the color is brighter or    
grayer4 ,pick up a common flint from the
 roadside1 and count1 if you can1 its   
changes and hues of color4 ,every bit of
 bare ground under your feet has in it a
 thousand such--the gray pebbles1 the   
warm ochre1 the green of incipient      
vegetation1 the grays and blacks of its 
reflexes and shadows1 might keep a      
painter at work for a month1 if he were 
obliged to follow them touch for touch3 
how much more1 when the same infinity of
 change is carried out with vastness of 
object and space4 ,the extreme of       
distance may appear at first monotonous2
 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 here1 vague  
there--now lost altogether1 now just    
hinted and still confused among each    
other--and so forever in a state and    
necessity of change4 ,hence1 wherever in
 a painting we have unvaried color      
extended even over a small space1 there 
is falsehood4 ,nothing can be natural   
which is monotonous2 nothing true which 
only tells one story4 ,the brown        
foreground and rocks of ,claude's ,sinon
 before ,priam are as false as color can
 be3 first1 because there never was such
 a brown under sunlight1 for even the   
sand and cinders 7volcanic tufa7 about  
,naples1 granting that he had studied   
from these ugliest of all formations1   
are1 where they are fresh fractured1    
golden and lustrous in full light       
compared to these ideals of crag1 and   
become1 like all other rocks1 quiet and 
gray when weathered2 and secondly1      
because no rock that ever nature stained

 is without its countless breaking tints
 of varied vegetation4 ,and even        
,stanfield1 master as he is of rock     
form1 is apt in the same way to give us 
here and there a little bit of mud1     
instead of stone4   ,sec4 #ag4 ,his     
dislike of purple and fondness for the  
opposition of yellow and         black4 
,the principles of nature in this       
respect4  ,what ,i am next about to say 
with respect to ,turner's color1 ,i     
should wish to be received with caution1
 as it admits of dispute4 ,i think that 
the first approach to viciousness of    
color in any master is commonly         
indicated chiefly by a prevalence of    
purple1 and an absence of yellow4 ,i    
think nature mixes yellow with almost   
every one of her hues1 never1 or very   
rarely1 using red without it1 but       
frequently using yellow with scarcely   
any red2 and ,i believe it will be in   
consequence found that her favorite     
opposition1 that which generally        
characterizes and gives tone to her     

color1 is yellow and black1 passing1 as 
it retires1 into white and blue4 ,it is 
beyond dispute that the great           
fundamental opposition of ,rubens is    
yellow and black2 and that on this1     
concentrated in one part of the picture1
 and modified in various grays          
throughout1 chiefly depend the tones of 
all his finest works4 ,and in ,titian1  
though there is a far greater tendency  
to the purple than in ,rubens1 ,i       
believe no red is ever mixed with the   
pure blue1 or glazed over it1 which has 
not in it a modifying quantity of       
yellow4 ,at all events1 ,i am nearly    
certain that whatever rich and pure     
purples are introduced locally1 by the  
great colorists1 nothing is so          
destructive of all fine color as the    
slightest tendency to purple in general 
tone2 and ,i am equally certain that    
,turner is distinguished from all the   
vicious colorists of the present day1 by
 the foundation of all his tones being  
black1 yellow1 and the intermediate     

grays1 while the tendency of our common 
glare-seekers is invariably to pure1    
cold1 impossible purples4 ,so fond      
indeed is ,turner of black and yellow1  
that he has given us more than one      
composition1 both drawings and          
paintings1 based on these two colors    
alone1 of which the magnificent         
,quilleboeuf1 which ,i consider one of  
the most perfect pieces of simple color 
existing1 is a most striking example2   
and ,i think that where1 as in some of  
the late ,venices1 there has been       
something like a marked appearance of   
purple tones1 even though exquisitely   
corrected by vivid orange and warm green
 in the foreground1 the general color   
has not been so perfect or truthful3 my 
own feelings would always guide me      
rather to the warm grays of such        
pictures as the ,snow ,storm1 or the    
glowing scarlet and gold of the         
,napoleon and ,slave ,ship4 ,but ,i do  
not insist at present on this part of   
the subject1 as being perhaps more      

proper for future examination1 when we  
are considering the ideal of color4     
,sec4 #ah4 ,his early works are false in
 color4  ,the above remarks have been   
made entirely with reference to the     
recent ,academy pictures1 which have    
been chiefly attacked for their color4  
,i by no means intend them to apply to  
the early works of ,turner1 those which 
the enlightened newspaper critics are   
perpetually talking about as            
characteristic of a time when ,turner   
was really great4 ,he is1 and was1      
really great1 from the time when he     
first could hold a brush1 but he never  
was so great as he is now4 ,the         
,crossing the ,brook1 glorious as it is 
as a composition1 and perfect in all    
that is most desirable and most         
ennobling in art1 is scarcely to be     
looked upon as a piece of color2 it is  
an agreeable1 cool1 gray rendering of   
space and form1 but it is not color2 if 
it be regarded as such1 it is thoroughly
 false and vapid1 and very far inferior 

to the tones of the same kind given by  
,claude4 ,the reddish brown in the      
foreground of the ,fall of ,carthage1   
with all diffidence be it spoken1 is1 as
 far as my feelings are competent to    
judge1 crude1 sunless1 and in every way 
wrong2 and both this picture and the    
,building of ,carthage1 though this     
latter is far the finer of the two1 are 
quite unworthy of ,turner as a colorist4
   ,sec4 #ai4 ,his drawings invariably  
perfect4  ,not so with the drawings2    
these1 countless as they are1 from the  
earliest to the latest1 though          
presenting an unbroken chain of         
increasing difficulty overcome1 and     
truth illustrated1 are all1 according to
 their aim1 equally faultless as to     
color4 ,whatever we have hitherto said1 
applies to them in its fullest extent2  
though each1 being generally the        
realization of some effect actually     
seen1 and realized but once1 requires   
almost a separate essay4 ,as a class1   
they are far quieter and chaster than   

the ,academy pictures1 and1 were they   
better known1 might enable our          
connoisseurs to form a somewhat more    
accurate judgment of the intense study  
of nature on which all ,turner's color  
is based4   ,sec4 #bj4 ,the subjection  
of his system of color to that of       
chiaroscuro4  ,one point only remains to
 be noted respecting his system of color
 generally--its entire subordination to 
light and shade1 a subordination which  
there is no need to prove here1 as every
 engraving from his works--and few are  
unengraved--is sufficient demonstration 
of it4 ,i have before shown the         
inferiority and unimportance in nature  
of color1 as a truth1 compared with     
light and shade4 ,that inferiority is   
maintained and asserted by all really   
great works of color2 but most by       
,turner's as their color is most        
intense4 ,whatever brilliancy he may    
choose to assume1 is subjected to an    
inviolable law of chiaroscuro1 from     
which there is no appeal4 ,no richness  

nor depth of tint is considered of value
 enough to atone for the loss of one    
particle of arranged light4 ,no         
brilliancy of hue is permitted to       
interfere with the depth of a determined
 shadow4 ,and hence it is1 that while   
engravings from works far less splendid 
in color are often vapid and cold1      
because the little color employed has   
not been rightly based on light and     
shade1 an engraving from ,turner is     
always beautiful and forcible in        
proportion as the color of the original 
has been intense1 and never in a single 
instance has failed to express the      
picture as a perfect composition4#ba    
,powerful and captivating and faithful  
as his color is1 it is the least        
important of all his excellences1       
because it is the least important       
feature of nature4 ,he paints in color1 
but he thinks in light and shade2 and   
were it necessary1 rather than lose one 
line of his forms1 or one ray of his    
sunshine1 would1 ,i apprehend1 be       

content to paint in black and white to  
the end of his life4 ,it is by mistaking
 the shadow for the substance1 and      
aiming at the brilliancy and the fire1  
without perceiving of what deep-studied 
shade and inimitable form it is at once 
the result and the illustration1 that   
the host of his imitators sink into     
deserved disgrace4 ,with him1 as with   
all the greatest painters1 and in       
,turner's more than all1 the hue is a   
beautiful auxiliary in working out the  
great impression to be conveyed1 but is 
not the source nor the essence of that  
impression2 it is little more than a    
visible melody1 given to raise and      
assist the mind in the reception of     
nobler ideas--as sacred passages of     
sweet sound1 to prepare the feelings for
 the reading of the mysteries of ,god4  
,,footnotes    #ai             ,caecus  
adulator--                     ,dignus  
,aricinos qui mendicaret ad axes1       
,blandaque devexae iactaret basia       
rhedae4    #bj ,there is perhaps nothing

 more characteristic of a great         
colorist than his power of using greens 
in strange places without     their     
being felt as such1 or at least than a  
constant preference of     green gray to
 purple gray4 ,and this hue of          
,poussin's clouds would     have been   
perfectly agreeable and allowable1 had  
there been gold or     crimson enough in
 the rest of the picture to have thrown 
it into     gray4 ,it is only because   
the lower clouds are pure white and     
blue1     and because the trees are of  
the same color as the clouds1 that the  
cloud color becomes false4 ,there is a  
fine instance of a sky1 green     in    
itself1 but turned gray by the          
opposition of warm color1 in            
,turner's ,devonport with the           
,dockyards4    #ba ,this is saying too  
much2 for it not unfrequently happens   
that     the light and shade of the     
original is lost in the engraving1 the  
effect of which is afterwards partially 
recovered1 with the aid of     the      

artist himself1 by introductions of new 
features4 ,sometimes1     when a drawing
 depends chiefly on color1 the engraver 
gets     unavoidably embarrassed1 and   
must be assisted by some change or      
exaggeration of the effect2 but the more
 frequent case is1 that the             
engraver's difficulties result merely   
from his inattention to1 or     wilful  
deviations from his original2 and that  
the artist is obliged     to assist him 
by such expedients as the error itself  
suggests4      ,not unfrequently in     
reviewing a plate1 as very constantly in
     reviewing a picture after some time
 has elapsed since its     completion1  
even the painter is liable to make      
unnecessary or     hurtful changes4 ,in 
the plate of the ,old ,temeraire1 lately
 published     in ,finden's gallery1 ,i 
do not know whether it was ,turner or   
the     engraver who broke up the water 
into sparkling ripple1 but it was a     
grievous mistake1 and has destroyed the 
whole dignity and value of     the      

conception4 ,the flash of lightning in  
the ,winchelsea of the     ,england     
series does not exist in the original2  
it is put in to     withdraw the        
attention of the spectator from the sky 
which the     engraver destroyed4       
,there is an unfortunate persuasion     
among modern engravers that color       
can be expressed by particular          
characters of line2 and in the          
endeavor to distinguish by different    
lines1 different colors of     equal    
depth1 they frequently lose the whole   
system of light and     shade4 ,it will 
hardly be credited that the piece of    
foreground on     the left of ,turner's 
,modern ,italy1 represented in the      
,art-,union     engraving as nearly coal
 black1 is in the original of a pale    
warm     gray1 hardly darker than the   
sky4 ,all attempt to record color in    
engraving1 is heraldry out of its place3
 the engraver has no power     beyond   
that of expressing transparency or      
opacity by greater or less     openness 

of line1 7for the same depth of tint is 
producible by lines     with very       
different intervals47      ,texture of  
surface is only in a measure in the     
power of the steel1     and ought not to
 be laboriously sought after2 nature's  
surfaces are     distinguished more by  
form than texture2 a stone is often     
smoother     than a leaf2 but if texture
 is to be given1 let the engraver at    
least be sure that he knows what the    
texture of the object actually     is1  
and how to represent it4 ,the leaves in 
the foreground of the     engraved      
,mercury and ,argus have all of them    
three or four black     lines across    
them4 ,what sort of leaf texture is     
supposed to be     represented by these8
 ,the stones in the foreground of       
,turner's     ,llanthony received from  
the artist the powdery texture of       
sandstone2     the engraver covered them
 with contorted lines and turned them   
into     old timber4      ,a still more 
fatal cause of failure is the practice  

of making out or     finishing what the 
artist left incomplete4 ,in the ,england
 plate of     ,dudley1 there are two    
offensive blank windows in the large    
building     with the chimney on the    
left4 ,these are engraver's             
improvements2     in the original they  
are barely traceable1 their lines being 
excessively faint and tremulous as with 
the movement of heated air     between  
them and the spectator3 their vulgarity 
is thus taken away1     and the whole   
building left in one grand unbroken     
mass4 ,it is almost     impossible to   
break engravers of this unfortunate     
habit4 ,i have even     heard of their  
taking journeys of some distance in     
order to obtain     knowledge of the    
details which the artist intentionally  
omitted2 and     the evil will          
necessarily continue until they receive 
something like     legitimate artistical
 education4 ,in one or two instances1   
however1     especially in small plates1
 they have shown great feeling2 the     

plates of ,miller 7especially those of  
the ,turner illustrations to     ,scott7
 are in most instances perfect and      
beautiful interpretations     of the    
originals2 so those of ,goodall in      
,rogers's works1 and     ,cousens's in  
the ,rivers of ,france2 those of the    
,yorkshire series are     also very     
valuable1 though singularly inferior to 
the drawings4 ,but     none even of     
these men appear capable of producing a 
large plate4     ,they have no knowledge
 of the means of rendering their lines  
vital     or valuable2 cross-hatching   
stands for everything2 and inexcusably1 
for though we cannot expect every       
engraver to etch like ,rembrandt or     
,albert ,durer1 or every wood-cutter to 
draw like ,titian1 at least             
something of the system and power of the
 grand works of those men     might be  
preserved1 and some mind and meaning    
stolen into the     reticulation of the 
restless modern lines4                  
,,chapter ,,iii4                        

,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,chiaroscuro4   ,sec4
 #a4 ,we are not at present to examine  
particular effects of light4  ,it is not
 my intention to enter1 in the present  
portion of the work1 upon any           
examination of ,turner's particular     
effects of light4 ,we must know         
something about what is beautiful before
 we speak of these4  ,at present ,i wish
 only to insist upon two great          
principles of chiaroscuro1 which are    
observed throughout the works of the    
great modern master1 and set at defiance
 by the ancients--great general laws1   
which may1 or may not1 be sources of    
beauty1 but whose observance is         
indisputably necessary to truth4  ,go   
out some bright sunny day in winter1 and
 look for a tree with a broad trunk1    
having rather delicate boughs hanging   
down on the sunny side1 near the trunk4 
,stand four or five yards from it1 with 
your back to the sun4 ,you will find    
that the boughs between you and the     
trunk of the tree are very indistinct1  

that you confound them in places with   
the trunk itself1 and cannot possibly   
trace one of them from its insertion to 
its extremity4 ,but the shadows which   
they cast upon the trunk1 you will find 
clear1 dark1 and distinct1 perfectly    
traceable through their whole course1   
except when they are interrupted by the 
crossing boughs4 ,and if you retire     
backwards1 you will come to a point     
where you cannot see the intervening    
boughs at all1 or only a fragment of    
them here and there1 but can still see  
their shadows perfectly plain4 ,now1    
this may serve to show you the immense  
prominence and importance of shadows    
where there is anything like bright     
light4 ,they are1 in fact1 commonly far 
more conspicuous than the thing which   
casts them1 for being as large as the   
casting object1 and altogether made up  
of a blackness deeper than the darkest  
part of the casting object1 7while that 
object is also broken up with positive  
and reflected lights17 their large1     

broad1 unbroken spaces1 tell strongly on
 the eye1 especially as all form is     
rendered partially1 often totally       
invisible within them1 and as they are  
suddenly terminated by the sharpest     
lines which nature ever shows4 ,for no  
outline of objects whatsoever is so     
sharp as the edge of a close shadow4    
,put your finger over a piece of white  
paper in the sun1 and observe the       
difference between the softness of the  
outline of the finger itself and the    
decision of the edge of the shadow4 ,and
 note also the excessive gloom of the   
latter4 ,a piece of black cloth1 laid in
 the light1 will not attain one-fourth  
of the blackness of the paper under the 
shadow4   ,sec4 #b4 ,and therefore the  
distinctness of shadows is the chief    
means of        expressing vividness of 
light4  ,sec4 #c4 ,total absence of such
 distinctness in the works of the       
,italian        school4  ,sec4 #d4 ,and 
partial absence in the ,dutch4  ,hence  
shadows are in reality1 when the sun is 

shining1 the most conspicuous thing in a
 landscape1 next to the highest lights4 
,all forms are understood and explained 
chiefly by their agency3 the roughness  
of the bark of a tree1 for instance1 is 
not seen in the light1 nor in the shade3
 it is only seen between the two1 where 
the shadows of the ridges explain it4   
,and hence1 if we have to express vivid 
light1 our very first aim must be to get
 the shadows sharp and visible2 and this
 is not to be done by blackness1 7though
 indeed chalk on white paper is the only
 thing which comes up to the intensity  
of real shadows17 but by keeping them   
perfectly flat1 keen1 and even4 ,a very 
pale shadow1 if it be quite flat--if it 
conceal the details of the objects it   
crosses--if it be gray and cold compared
 to their color1 and very sharp edged1  
will be far more conspicuous1 and make  
everything out of it look a great deal  
more like sunlight1 than a shadow ten   
times its depth1 shaded off at the edge1
 and confounded with the color of the   

objects on which it falls4 ,now the old 
masters of the ,italian school1 in      
almost all of their works1 directly     
reverse this principle3 they blacken    
their shadows till the picture becomes  
quite appalling1 and everything in it   
invisible2 but they make a point of     
losing their edges1 and carrying them   
off by gradation2 in consequence utterly
 destroying every appearance of         
sunlight4 ,all their shadows are the    
faint1 secondary darknesses of mere     
daylight2 the sun has nothing whatever  
to do with them4 ,the shadow between the
 pages of the book which you hold in    
your hand is distinct and visible       
enough1 7though you are1 ,i suppose1    
reading it by the ordinary daylight of  
your room17 out of the sun2 and this    
weak and secondary shadow is all that we
 ever find in the ,italian masters1 as  
indicative of sunshine4 ,even ,cuyp and 
,berghem1 though they know thoroughly   
well what they are about in their       
foregrounds1 forget the principle in    

their distances2 and though in ,claude's
 seaports1 where he has plain           
architecture to deal with1 he gives us  
something like real shadows along the   
stones1 the moment we come to ground and
 foliage with lateral light1 away go the
 shadows and the sun together4 ,in the  
,marriage of ,isaac and ,rebecca1 in our
 own gallery1 the trunks of the trees   
between the water-wheel and the white   
figure in the middle distance1 are dark 
and visible2 but their shadows are      
scarcely discernible on the ground1 and 
are quite vague and lost in the         
building4 ,in nature1 every bit of the  
shadow would have been darker than the  
darkest part of the trunks1 and both on 
the ground and building would have been 
defined and conspicuous2 while the      
trunks themselves would have been faint1
 confused1 and indistinguishable1 in    
their illumined parts1 from the grass or
 distance4 ,so in ,poussin's ,phocion1  
the shadow of the stick on the stone in 
the right-hand corner1 is shaded off and

 lost1 while you see the stick plain all
 the way4 ,in nature's sunlight it would
 have been the direct reverse--you would
 have seen the shadow black and sharp   
all the way down1 but you would have had
 to look for the stick1 which in all    
probability would in several places have
 been confused with the stone behind it4
  ,and so throughout the works of       
,claude1 ,poussin1 and ,salvator1 we    
shall find1 especially in their         
conventional foliage1 and unarticulated 
barbarisms of rock1 that their whole sum
 and substance of chiaroscuro is merely 
the gradation and variation which nature
 gives in the body of her shadows1 and  
that all which they do to express       
sunshine1 she does to vary shade4 ,they 
take only one step1 while she always    
takes two2 marking1 in the first place1 
with violent decision1 the great        
transition from sun to shade1 and then  
varying the shade itself with a thousand
 gentle gradations and double shadows1  
in themselves equivalent1 and more than 

equivalent1 to all that the old masters 
did for their entire chiaroscuro4       
,sec4 #e4 ,the perfection of ,turner's  
works in this respect4  ,now if there be
 one principle1 or secret more than     
another1 on which ,turner depends for   
attaining brilliancy of light1 it is his
 clear and exquisite drawing of the     
shadows4 ,whatever is obscure1 misty1 or
 undefined in his objects or his        
atmosphere1 he takes care that the      
shadows be sharp and clear--and then he 
knows that the light will take care of  
itself1 and he makes them clear1 not by 
blackness1 but by excessive evenness1   
unity1 and sharpness of edge4 ,he will  
keep them clear and distinct1 and make  
them felt as shadows1 though they are so
 faint1 that1 but for their decisive    
forms1 we should not have observed them 
for darkness at all4 ,he will throw them
 one after another like transparent     
veils1 along the earth and upon the air1
 till the whole picture palpitates with 
them1 and yet the darkest of them will  

be a faint gray1 imbued and penetrated  
with light4 ,the pavement on the left of
 the ,hero and ,leander1 is about the   
most thorough piece of this kind of     
sorcery that ,i remember in art2 but of 
the general principle1 not one of his   
works is without constant evidence4     
,take the vignette of the garden        
opposite the title-page of ,rogers's    
,poems1 and note the drawing of the     
nearest balustrade on the right4 ,the   
balusters themselves are faint and      
misty1 and the light through them       
feeble2 but the shadows of them are     
sharp and dark1 and the intervening     
light as intense as it can be left4 ,and
 see how much more distinct the shadow  
of the running figure is on the         
pavement1 than the checkers of the      
pavement itself4 ,observe the shadows on
 the trunk of the tree at page #ia1 how 
they conquer all the details of the     
trunk itself1 and become darker and more
 conspicuous than any part of the boughs
 or limbs1 and so in the vignette to    

,campbell's ,beechtree's ,petition4     
,take the beautiful concentration of all
 that is most characteristic of ,italy  
as she is1 at page #afh of ,rogers's    
,italy1 where we have the long shadows  
of the trunks made by far the most      
conspicuous thing in the whole          
foreground1 and hear how ,wordsworth1   
the keenest-eyed of all modern poets for
 what is deep and essential in nature1  
illustrates ,turner here1 as we shall   
find him doing in all other points4     
,at the root            ,of that tall   
pine1 the shadow of whose bare          
,and slender stem1 while here ,i sit at 
eve1            ,oft stretches tow'rds  
me1 like a long straight path1          
,traced faintly in the greensward4      
,,excursion1 ,book ,,vi   ,sec4 #f4 ,the
 effect of his shadows upon the light4  
,so again in the ,rhymer's ,glen1       
7,illustrations to ,scott17 note the    
intertwining of the shadows across the  
path1 and the checkering of the trunks  
by them2 and again on the bridge in the 

,armstrong's ,tower2 and yet more in the
 long avenue of ,brienne1 where we have 
a length of two or three miles expressed
 by the playing shadows alone1 and the  
whole picture filled with sunshine by   
the long lines of darkness cast by the  
figures on the snow4 ,the ,hampton      
,court in the ,england series1 is       
another very striking instance4 ,in     
fact1 the general system of execution   
observable in all ,turner's drawings1 is
 to work his grounds richly and fully1  
sometimes stippling1 and giving infinity
 of delicate1 mysterious1 and ceaseless 
detail2 and on the ground so prepared to
 cast his shadows with one dash of the  
brush1 leaving an excessively sharp edge
 of watery color4 ,such at least is     
commonly the case in such coarse and    
broad instances as those ,i have above  
given4 ,words are not accurate enough1  
nor delicate enough to express or trace 
the constant1 all-pervading influence of
 the finer and vaguer shadows throughout
 his works1 that thrilling influence    

which gives to the light they leave1 its
 passion and its power4 ,there is not a 
stone1 not a leaf1 not a cloud1 over    
which light is not felt to be actually  
passing and palpitating before our eyes4
 ,there is the motion1 the actual wave  
and radiation of the darted beam--not   
the dull universal daylight1 which falls
 on the landscape without life1 or      
direction1 or speculation1 equal on all 
things and dead on all things2 but the  
breathing1 animated1 exulting light1    
which feels1 and receives1 and rejoices1
 and acts--which chooses one thing and  
rejects another--which seeks1 and finds1
 and loses again--leaping from rock to  
rock1 from leaf to leaf1 from wave to   
wave1--glowing1 or flashing1 or         
scintillating1 according to what it     
strikes1 or in its holier moods1        
absorbing and enfolding all things in   
the deep fulness of its repose1 and then
 again losing itself in bewilderment1   
and doubt1 and dimness2 or perishing and
 passing away1 entangled in drifting    

mist1 or melted into melancholy air1 but
 still1--kindling1 or declining1        
sparkling or still1 it is the living    
light1 which breathes in its deepest1   
most entranced rest1 which sleeps1 but  
never dies4   ,sec4 #g4 ,the distinction
 holds good between almost all the works
 of the        ancient and modern       
schools4  ,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 respect4 ,it 
is one which the reader can perfectly   
well work out for himself1 by the       
slightest systematic attention1--one    
which he will find existing1 not merely 
between this work and that1 but         
throughout the whole body of their      
productions1 and down to every leaf and 
line4 ,and a little careful watching of 
nature1 especially in her foliage and   
foregrounds1 and comparison of her with 
,claude1 ,gaspar ,poussin1 and          
,salvator1 will soon show him that those

 artists worked entirely on conventional
 principles1 not representing what they 
saw1 but what they thought would make a 
handsome picture2 and even when they    
went to nature1 which ,i believe to have
 been a very much rarer practice with   
them than their biographers would have  
us suppose1 they copied her like        
children1 drawing what they knew to be  
there1 but not what they saw there4#bb  
,i believe you may search the           
foregrounds of ,claude1 from one end of 
,europe to another1 and you will not    
find the shadow of one leaf cast upon   
another4 ,you will find leaf after leaf 
painted more or less boldly or brightly 
out of the black ground1 and you will   
find dark leaves defined in perfect form
 upon the light2 but you will not find  
the form of a single leaf disguised or  
interrupted by the shadow of another4   
,and ,poussin and ,salvator are still   
farther from anything like genuine      
truth4 ,there is nothing in their       
pictures which might not be manufactured

 in their painting-room1 with a branch  
or two of brambles and a bunch or two of
 weeds before them1 to give them the    
form of the leaves4 ,and it is          
refreshing to turn from their ignorant  
and impotent repetitions of childish    
conception1 to the clear1 close1 genuine
 studies of modern artists2 for it is   
not ,turner only1 7though here1 as in   
all other points1 the first17 who is    
remarkable for fine and expressive      
decision of chiaroscuro4 ,some passages 
by ,j4 ,d4 ,harding are thoroughly      
admirable in this respect1 though this  
master is getting a little too much into
 a habit of general keen execution1     
which prevents the parts which ought to 
be especially decisive from being felt  
as such1 and which makes his pictures1  
especially the large ones1 look a little
 thin4 ,but some of his later passages  
of rock foreground have1 taken in the   
abstract1 been beyond all praise1 owing 
to the exquisite forms and firm         
expressiveness of their shadows4 ,and   

the chiaroscuro of ,stanfield is equally
 deserving of the most attentive study4 
,sec4 #h4 ,second great principle of    
chiaroscuro4 ,both high light and deep  
shadow are used in equal quantity and   
only in points4  ,the second point to   
which ,i wish at present to direct      
attention has reference to the          
arrangement of light and shade4 ,it is  
the constant habit of nature to use both
 her highest lights and deepest shadows 
in exceedingly small quantity2 always in
 points1 never in masses4 ,she will give
 a large mass of tender light in sky or 
water1 impressive by its quantity1 and a
 large mass of tender shadow relieved   
against it1 in foliage1 or hill1 or     
building2 but the light is always       
subdued if it be extensive--the shadow  
always feeble if it be broad4 ,she will 
then fill up all the rest of her picture
 with middle tints and pale grays of    
some sort or another1 and on this quiet 
and harmonious whole1 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  
brilliancy1 she will use so vividly and 
delicately as to throw everything else  
into definite shade by comparison4 ,and 
then taking up the gloom1 she will use  
the black hollows of some overhanging   
bank1 or the black dress of some shaded 
figure1 or the depth of some sunless    
chink of wall or window1 so sharply as  
to throw everything else into definite  
light by comparison2 thus reducing the  
whole mass of her picture to a delicate 
middle tint1 approaching1 of course1    
here to light1 and there to gloom2 but  
yet sharply separated from the utmost   
degrees either of the one or the other4 
,sec4 #i4 ,neglect or contradiction of  
this principle by writers on art4  ,sec4
 #aj4 ,and consequent misguiding of the 
student4  ,now it is a curious thing    
that none of our writers on art seem to 
have noticed the great principle of     

nature in this respect4 ,they all talk  
of deep shadow as a thing that may be   
given in quantity1--one fourth of the   
picture1 or1 in certain effects1 much   
more4 ,barry1 for instance1 says that   
the practice of the great painters1 who 
best understood the effects of          
chiaroscuro1 was1 for the most part1 to 
make the mass of middle tint larger than
 the light1 and the mass of dark larger 
than the masses of light and middle tint
 together1 i4e41 occupying more than    
one-half of the picture4 ,now ,i do not 
know what we are to suppose is meant by 
understanding chiaroscuro4 ,if it means 
being able to manufacture agreeable     
patterns in the shape of pyramids1 and  
crosses1 and zigzags1 into which arms   
and legs are to be persuaded1 and       
passion and motion arranged1 for the    
promotion and encouragement of the cant 
of criticism1 such a principle may be   
productive of the most advantageous     
results4 ,but if it means1 being        
acquainted with the deep1 perpetual1    

systematic1 unintrusive simplicity and  
unwearied variety of nature's           
chiaroscuro--if it means the perception 
that blackness and sublimity are not    
synonymous1 and that space and light may
 possibly be coadjutors--then no man1   
who ever advocated or dreamed of such a 
principle1 is anything more than a      
novice1 blunderer and trickster in      
chiaroscuro4 ,and my firm belief is1    
that though color is inveighed against  
by all artists1 as the great ,circe of  
art--the great transformer of mind into 
sensuality--no fondness for it1 no study
 of it1 is half so great a peril and    
stumbling-block to the young student1 as
 the admiration he hears bestowed on    
such artificial1 false1 and juggling    
chiaroscuro1 and the instruction he     
receives1 based on such principles as   
that given us by ,fuseli--that mere     
natural light and shade1 however        
separately or individually true1 is not 
always legitimate chiaroscuro in art4   
,it may not always be agreeable to a    

sophisticated1 unfeeling1 and perverted 
mind2 but the student had better throw  
up his art at once1 than proceed on the 
conviction that any other can ever be   
legitimate4 ,i believe ,i shall be      
perfectly well able to prove1 in        
following parts of the work1 that mere  
natural light and shade is the only fit 
and faithful attendant of the highest   
art2 and that all tricks--all visible1  
intended arrangement--all extended      
shadows and narrow lights--everything in
 fact1 in the least degree artificial1  
or tending to make the mind dwell upon  
light and shade as such1 is an injury1  
instead of an aid1 to conceptions of    
high ideal dignity4 ,i believe ,i shall 
be able also to show1 that nature       
manages her chiaroscuro a great deal    
more neatly and cleverly than people    
fancy2--that mere natural light and     
shade is a very much finer thing than   
most artists can put together1 and that 
none think they can improve upon it but 
those who never understood it4   ,sec4  

#aa4 ,the great value of a simple       
chiaroscuro4  ,but however this may be1 
it is beyond dispute that every         
permission given to the student to amuse
 himself with painting one figure all   
black1 and the next all white1 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 shade1 and     
other such fractional sublimities1 is so
 much more difficulty laid in the way of
 his ever becoming a master2 and that   
none are in the right road to real      
excellence1 but those who are struggling
 to render the simplicity1 purity1 and  
inexhaustible variety of nature's own   
chiaroscuro in open1 cloudless daylight1
 giving the expanse of harmonious       
light--the speaking1 decisive           
shadow--and the exquisite grace1        
tenderness1 and grandeur of aerial      
opposition of local color and equally   
illuminated lines4 ,no chiaroscuro is so
 difficult as this2 and none so noble1  

chaste1 or impressive4 ,on this part of 
the subject1 however1 ,i must not       
enlarge at present4 ,i wish now only to 
speak of those great principles of      
chiaroscuro1 which nature observes1 even
 when she is most working for           
effect--when she is playing with        
thunder-clouds and sunbeams1 and        
throwing one thing out and obscuring    
another1 with the most marked artistical
 feeling and intention2--even then1 she 
never forgets her great rule1 to give   
precisely the same quantity of deepest  
shade which she does of highest light1  
and no more2 points of the one answering
 to points of the other1 and both       
vividly conspicuous and separated from  
all the rest of the landscape4   ,sec4  
#ab4 ,the sharp separation of nature's  
lights from her middle tint4  ,and it is
 most singular that this separation1    
which is the great source of brilliancy 
in nature1 should not only be           
unobserved1 but absolutely forbidden by 
our great writers on art1 who are always

 talking about connecting the light with
 the shade by imperceptible gradations4 
,now so surely as this is done1 all     
sunshine is lost1 for imperceptible     
gradation from light to dark is the     
characteristic of objects seen out of   
sunshine1 in what is1 in landscape1     
shadow4 ,nature's principle of getting  
light is the direct reverse4 ,she will  
cover her whole landscape with middle   
tint1 in which she will have as many    
gradations as you please1 and a great   
many more than you can paint2 but on    
this middle tint she touches her extreme
 lights1 and extreme darks1 isolated and
 sharp1 so that the eye goes to them    
directly1 and feels them to be key-notes
 of the whole composition4 ,and although
 the dark touches are less attractive   
than the light ones1 it is not because  
they are less distinct1 but because they
 exhibit nothing2 while the bright      
touches are in parts where everything is
 seen1 and where in consequence the eye 
goes to rest4 ,but yet the high lights  

do not exhibit anything in themselves1  
they are too bright and dazzle the eye2 
and having no shadows in them1 cannot   
exhibit form1 for form can only be seen 
by shadow of some kind or another4      
,hence the highest lights and deepest   
darks agree in this1 that nothing is    
seen in either of them2 that both are in
 exceedingly small quantity1 and both   
are marked and distinct from the middle 
tones of the landscape--the one by their
 brilliancy1 the other by their sharp   
edges1 even though many of the more     
energetic middle tints may approach     
their intensity very closely4   ,sec4   
#ac4 ,the truth of ,turner4  ,i need    
scarcely do more than tell you to glance
 at any one of the works of ,turner1 and
 you will perceive in a moment the      
exquisite observation of all these      
principles2 the sharpness1 decision1    
conspicuousness1 and excessively small  
quantity1 both of extreme light and     
extreme shade1 all the mass of the      
picture being graduated and delicate    

middle tint4 ,take up the ,rivers of    
,france1 for instance1 and turn over a  
few of the plates in succession4    #a4 
,chateau ,gaillard 7vignette47--,black  
figures and boats1 points of shade2     
sun-touches on castle1 and wake of boat1
 of light4 ,see how the eye rests on    
both1 and observe how sharp and separate
 all the lights are1 falling in spots1  
edged by shadow1 but not melting off    
into it4    #b4 ,orleans4--,the crowded 
figures supply both points of shade and 
light4 ,observe the delicate middle tint
 of both in the whole mass of buildings1
 and compare this with the blackness of 
,canaletto's shadows1 against which     
neither figures nor anything else can   
ever tell1 as points of shade4    #c4   
,blois4--,white figures in boats1       
buttresses of bridge1 dome of church on 
the right1 for light2 woman on          
horseback1 heads of boats1 for shadow4  
,note especially the isolation of the   
light on the church dome4    #d4        
,chateau de ,blois4--,torches and white 

figures for light1 roof of chapel and   
monks' dresses for shade4    #e4        
,beaugency4--,sails and spire opposed to
 buoy and boats4 ,an exquisite instance 
of brilliant1 sparkling1 isolated       
touches of morning light4    #f4        
,amboise4--,white sail and clouds2      
cypresses under castle4    #g4 ,chateau 
of ,amboise4--,the boat in the centre1  
with its reflections1 needs no comment4 
,note the glancing lights under the     
bridge4 ,this is a very glorious and    
perfect instance4    #h4 ,st4 ,julien1  
,tours4--,especially remarkable for its 
preservation of deep points of gloom1   
because the whole picture is one of     
extended shade4  ,i need scarcely go on4
 ,the above instances are taken as they 
happen to come1 without selection4 ,the 
reader can proceed for himself4 ,i may1 
however1 name a few cases of chiaroscuro
 more especially deserving of his study4
 ,scene between ,quilleboeuf and        
,villequier1--,honfleur1--,light ,towers
 of the ,heve1--,on the ,seine between  

,mantes and ,vernon1--,the ,lantern at  
,st4 ,cloud1--,confluence of ,seine and 
,marne1--,troyes1--the first and last   
vignette1 and those at pages #cf1 #fc1  
#ie1 #ahd1 #aib1 #bjc1 of ,rogers's     
poems2 the first and second in          
,campbell1 ,st4 ,maurice in the ,italy1 
where note the black stork2 ,brienne1   
,skiddaw1 ,mayburgh1 ,melrose1          
,jedburgh1 in the illustrations to      
,scott1 and the vignettes to ,milton1   
not because these are one whit superior 
to others of his works1 but because the 
laws of which we have been speaking are 
more strikingly developed in them1 and  
because they have been well engraved4   
,it is impossible to reason from the    
larger plates1 in which half the        
chiaroscuro is totally destroyed by the 
haggling1 blackening1 and making out of 
the engravers4   ,,footnotes    #bb     
,compare ,sect4 ,,ii4 ,chap4 ,,ii4 ,sec4
 #f4                                    
,,chapter ,,iv4     ,,of ,,truth ,,of   
,,space3--,,first ,,as ,,dependent ,,on 

,,the ,,focus ,,of ,,the ,,eye4#bc      
,sec4 #a4 ,space is more clearly        
indicated by the drawing of objects than
 by        their hue4  ,in the first    
chapter of this section ,i noticed the  
distinction between real aerial         
perspective1 and that overcharged       
contrast of light and shade by which the
 old masters obtained their deceptive   
effect2 and ,i showed that1 though      
inferior to them in the precise quality 
or tone of aerial color1 our great      
modern master is altogether more        
truthful in the expression of the       
proportionate relation of all his       
distances to one another4 ,i am now     
about to examine those modes of         
expressing space1 both in nature and art
 by far the most important1 which are   
dependent1 not on the relative hues of  
objects1 but on the drawing of them3 by 
far the most important1 ,i say1 because 
the most constant and certain2 for      
nature herself is not always aerial4    
,local effects are frequent which       

interrupt and violate the laws of aerial
 tone1 and induce strange deception in  
our ideas of distance4 ,i have often    
seen the summit of a snowy mountain look
 nearer than its base1 owing to the     
perfect clearness of the upper air4 ,but
 the drawing of objects1 that is to say1
 the degree in which their details and  
parts are distinct or confused1 is an   
unfailing and certain criterion of their
 distance2 and if this be rightly       
rendered in a painting1 we shall have   
genuine truth of space1 in spite of many
 errors in aerial tone2 while1 if this  
be neglected1 all space will be         
destroyed1 whatever dexterity of tint   
may be employed to conceal the defective
 drawing4   ,sec4 #b4 ,it is impossible 
to see objects at unequal distances     
distinctly at        one moment4        
,first1 then1 it is to be noticed1 that 
the eye1 like any other lens1 must have 
its focus altered1 in order to convey a 
distinct image of objects at different  
distances2 so that it is totally        

impossible to see distinctly1 at the    
same moment1 two objects1 one of which  
is much farther off than another4 ,of   
this1 any one may convince himself in an
 instant4 ,look at the bars of your     
window-frame1 so as to get a clear image
 of their lines and form1 and you       
cannot1 while your eye is fixed on them1
 perceive anything but the most         
indistinct and shadowy images of        
whatever objects may be visible beyond4 
,but fix your eyes on those objects1 so 
as to see them clearly1 and though they 
are just beyond and apparently beside   
the window-frame1 that frame will only  
be felt or seen as a vague1 flitting1   
obscure interruption to whatever is     
perceived beyond it4 ,a little attention
 directed to this fact will convince    
every one of its universality1 and prove
 beyond dispute that objects at unequal 
distances cannot be seen together1 not  
from the intervention of air or mist1   
but from the impossibility of the rays  
proceeding from both1 converging to the 

same focus1 so that the whole           
impression1 either of one or the other1 
must necessarily be confused1           
indistinct1 and inadequate4   ,sec4 #c4 
,especially such as are both            
comparatively near4  ,but1 be it        
observed 7and ,i have only to request   
that whatever ,i say may be tested by   
immediate experiment17 the difference of
 focus necessary is greatest within the 
first five hundred yards1 and therefore1
 though it is totally impossible to see 
an object ten yards from the eye1 and   
one a quarter of a mile beyond it1 at   
the same moment1 it is perfectly        
possible to see one a quarter of a mile 
off1 and one five miles beyond it1 at   
the same moment4 ,the consequence of    
this is1 practically1 that in a real    
landscape1 we can see the whole of what 
would be called the middle distance and 
distance together1 with facility and    
clearness2 but while we do so we can see
 nothing in the foreground beyond a     
vague and indistinct arrangement of     

lines and colors2 and that if1 on the   
contrary1 we look at any foreground     
object1 so as to receive a distinct     
impression of it1 the distance and      
middle distance become all disorder and 
mystery4   ,sec4 #d4 ,in painting1      
therefore1 either the foreground or     
distance must be        partially       
sacrificed4  ,and therefore1 if in a    
painting our foreground is anything1 our
 distance must be nothing1 and vice     
versa2 for if we represent our near and 
distant objects as giving both at once  
that distinct image to the eye1 which we
 receive in nature from each1 when we   
look at them separately2#bd and if we   
distinguish them from each other only by
 the air-tone2 and indistinctness       
dependent on positive distance1 we      
violate one of the most essential       
principles of nature2 we represent that 
as seen at once which can only be seen  
by two separate acts of seeing1 and tell
 a falsehood as gross as if we had      
represented four sides of a cubic object

 visible together4   ,sec4 #e4 ,which   
not being done by the old masters1 they 
could not express        space4  ,sec4  
#f4 ,but modern artists have succeeded  
in fully carrying out this              
principle4  ,sec4 #g4 ,especially of    
,turner4  ,now1 to this fact and        
principle1 no landscape painter of the  
old school1 as far as ,i remember1 ever 
paid the slightest attention4 ,finishing
 their foregrounds clearly and sharply1 
and with vigorous impression on the eye1
 giving even the leaves of their bushes 
and grass with perfect edge and shape1  
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 distance1 when it 
is fully and entirely devoted to it1 and
 therefore1 though masters of aerial    
tone1 though employing every expedient  
that art could supply to conceal the    
intersection of lines1 though           
caricaturing the force and shadow of    
near objects to throw them close upon   

the eye1 they never succeeded in truly  
representing space4 ,turner introduced a
 new era in landscape art1 by showing   
that the foreground might be sunk for   
the distance1 and that it was possible  
to express immediate proximity to the   
spectator1 without giving anything like 
completeness to the forms of the near   
objects4 ,this is not done by slurred or
 soft lines1 observe1 7always the sign  
of vice in art17 but by a decisive      
imperfection1 a firm1 but partial       
assertion of form1 which the eye feels  
indeed to be close home to it1 and yet  
cannot rest upon1 or cling to1 nor      
entirely understand1 and from which it  
is driven away of necessity1 to those   
parts of distance on which it is        
intended to repose4 ,and this principle1
 originated by ,turner1 though fully    
carried out by him only1 has yet been   
acted on with judgment and success by   
several less powerful artists of the    
,english school4 ,some six years ago1   
the brown moorland foregrounds of       

,copley ,fielding were very instructive 
in this respect4 ,not a line in them was
 made out1 not a single object clearly  
distinguishable4 ,wet broad sweeps of   
the brush1 sparkling1 careless1 and     
accidental as nature herself1 always    
truthful as far as they went1 implying  
knowledge1 though not expressing it1    
suggested everything1 while they        
represented nothing4 ,but far off into  
the mountain distance came the sharp    
edge and the delicate form2 the whole   
intention and execution of the picture  
being guided and exerted where the great
 impression of space and size was to be 
given4 ,the spectator was compelled to  
go forward into the waste of            
hills--there1 where the sun broke wide  
upon the moor1 he must walk and         
wander--he could not stumble and        
hesitate over the near rocks1 nor stop  
to botanize on the first inches of his  
path4#be ,and the impression of these   
pictures was always great and enduring1 
as it was simple and truthful4 ,i do not

 know anything in art which has         
expressed more completely the force and 
feeling of nature in these particular   
scenes4 ,and it is a farther            
illustration#bf of the principle we are 
insisting upon1 that where1 as in some  
of his later works1 he has bestowed more
 labor on the foreground1 the picture   
has lost both in space and sublimity4   
,and among artists in general1 who are  
either not aware of the principle1 or   
fear to act upon it1 7for it requires no
 small courage1 as well as skill1 to    
treat a foreground with that            
indistinctness and mystery which they   
have been accustomed to consider as     
characteristic of distance17 the        
foreground is not only felt1 as every   
landscape painter will confess1 to be   
the most embarrassing and unmanageable  
part of the picture1 but1 in ninety-nine
 cases out of a hundred1 will go near to
 destroy the effect of the rest of the  
composition4 ,thus ,callcott's ,trent is
 severely injured by the harsh group of 

foreground figures2 and ,stanfield very 
rarely gets through an ,academy picture 
without destroying much of its space1 by
 too much determination of near form2   
while ,harding constantly sacrifices his
 distance1 and compels the spectator to 
dwell on the foreground altogether1     
though indeed1 with such foregrounds as 
he gives us1 we are most happy so to do4
 ,but it is in ,turner only that we see 
a bold and decisive choice of the       
distance and middle distance1 as his    
great object of attention2 and by him   
only that the foreground is united and  
adapted to it1 not by any want of       
drawing1 or coarseness1 or carelessness 
of execution1 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 them4 ,and herein is  
another reason for the vigor and        
wholeness of the effect of ,turner's    
works at any distance2 while those of   
almost all other artists are sure to    

lose space as soon as we lose sight of  
the details4   ,sec4 #h4 ,justification 
of the want of drawing in ,turner's     
figures4  ,and now we see the reason for
 the singular1 and to the ignorant in   
art1 the offensive execution of         
,turner's figures4 ,i do not mean to    
assert that there is any reason         
whatsoever1 for bad drawing1 7though in 
landscape it matters exceedingly        
little27 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 faces1 and four dashes of   
the brush instead of hands and feet2 for
 it is totally impossible that if the   
eye be adapted to receive the rays      
proceeding from the utmost distance1 and
 some partial impression from all the   
distances1 it should be capable of      
perceiving more of the forms and        
features of near figures than ,turner   
gives4 ,and how absolutely necessary to 
the faithful representation of space    

this indecision really is1 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
 fame2 who would take some one of his   
works in which the figures were most    
incomplete1 and have them painted in by 
any of our delicate and first-rate      
figure-painters1 absolutely preserving  
every color and shade of ,turner's      
group1 so as not to lose one atom of the
 composition1 but giving eyes for the   
pink spots1 and feet for the white ones4
 ,let the picture be so exhibited in the
 ,academy1 and even novices in art would
 feel at a glance that its truth of     
space was gone1 that every one of its   
beauties and harmonies had undergone    
decomposition1 that it was now a        
grammatical solecism1 a painting of     
impossibilities1 a thing to torture the 
eye1 and offend the mind4   ,,footnotes 
#bc ,i have left this chapter in its    
original place1 because ,i am     more  
than ever convinced of the truth of the 

position advanced in     the #hth       
paragraph2 nor can ,i at present assign 
any other cause1 than     that here     
given1 for what is there asserted2 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 eye2
 and     that the real justification of 
,turner's practice1 with respect to     
some of his foregrounds1 is to be       
elsewhere sought4 ,i leave the          
subject1 therefore1 to the reader's     
consideration4    #bd ,this incapacity  
of the eye must not be confounded with  
its     incapability to comprehend a    
large portion of lateral space at       
once4 ,we indeed can see1 at any one    
moment1 little more than one     point1 
the objects beside it being confused and
 indistinct2 but we     need pay no     
attention to this in art1 because we can
 see just as     little of the picture  
as we can of the landscape without      
turning the     eye1 and hence any      

slurring or confusing of one part of it1
     laterally1 more than another1 is   
not founded on any truth of nature1     
but is an expedient of the artist--and  
often an excellent and     desirable    
one--to make the eye rest where he      
wishes it4 ,but as the     touch        
expressive of a distant object is as    
near upon the canvas as     that        
expressive of a near one1 both are seen 
distinctly and with the     same focus  
of the eye1 and hence an immediate      
contradiction of     nature results1    
unless one or other be given with an    
artificial and     increased            
indistinctness1 expressive of the       
appearance peculiar to     the unadapted
 focus4 ,on the other hand1 it must be  
noted that the     greater part of the  
effect above described is consequent not
 on     variation of focus1 but on the  
different angle at which near objects   
are seen by each of the two eyes1 when  
both are directed towards the           
distance4    #be ,there is no           

inconsistency1 observe1 between this    
passage and     what was before asserted
 respecting the necessity of botanical  
fidelity--where the foreground is the   
object of attention4 ,compare     ,part 
,,ii4 ,sect4 ,i4 ,chap4 ,,vii4 ,sec4    
#aj3--,to paint mist rightly1 space     
rightly1 and light rightly1 it may be   
often necessary to paint     nothing    
else rightly4    #bf ,hardly4 ,it would 
have been so only had the recently      
finished     foregrounds been as        
accurate in detail as they are abundant3
 they     are painful1 ,i believe1 not  
from their finish1 but their falseness4 
,,chapter ,v4        ,,of ,,truth ,,of  
,,space3--,,secondly1 ,,as ,,its        
,,appearance ,,is ,,dependent ,,on      
,,the ,,power ,,of ,,the ,,eye4   ,sec4 
#a4 ,the peculiar indistinctness        
dependent on the retirement of objects  
from the eye4  ,in the last chapter1 we 
have seen how indistinctness of         
individual distances becomes necessary  
in order to express the adaptation of   

the eye to one or other of them2 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 it4 ,the first kind of
 indecision is that which belongs to all
 objects which the eye is not adapted   
to1 whether near or far off3 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 it1 however attentively it may     
regard them4  ,draw on a piece of white 
paper1 a square and a circle1 each about
 a twelfth or eighth of an inch in      
diameter1 and blacken them so that their
 forms may be very distinct2 place your 
paper against the wall at the end of the
 room1 and retire from it a greater or  
less distance according as you have     
drawn the figures larger or smaller4    
,you will come to a point where1 though 
you can see both the spots with perfect 
plainness1 you cannot tell which is the 

square and which the circle4   ,sec4 #b4
 ,causes confusion1 but not annihilation
 of details4  ,now this takes place of  
course with every object in a landscape1
 in proportion to its distance and size4
 ,the definite forms of the leaves of a 
tree1 however sharply and separately    
they may appear to come against the sky1
 are quite indistinguishable at fifty   
yards off1 and the form of everything   
becomes confused before we finally lose 
sight of it4 ,now if the character of an
 object1 say the front of a house1 be   
explained by a variety of forms in it1  
as the shadows in the tops of the       
windows1 the lines of the architraves1  
the seams of the masonry1 etc42 these   
lesser details1 as the object falls into
 distance1 become confused and          
undecided1 each of them losing their    
definite forms1 but all being perfectly 
visible as something1 a white or a dark 
spot or stroke1 not lost sight of1      
observe1 but yet so seen that we cannot 
tell what they are4 ,as the distance    

increases1 the confusion becomes        
greater1 until at last the whole front  
of the house becomes merely a flat1 pale
 space1 in which1 however1 there is     
still observable a kind of richness and 
checkering1 caused by the details in it1
 which1 though totally merged and lost  
in the mass1 have still an influence on 
the texture of that mass2 until at last 
the whole house itself becomes a mere   
light or dark spot which we can plainly 
see1 but cannot tell what it is1 nor    
distinguish it from a stone or any other
 object4   ,sec4 #c4 ,instances in      
various objects4  ,now what ,i          
particularly wish to insist upon1 is the
 state of vision in which all the       
details of an object are seen1 and yet  
seen in such confusion and disorder that
 we cannot in the least tell what they  
are1 or what they mean4 ,it is not mist 
between us and the object1 still less is
 it shade1 still less is it want of     
character2 it is a confusion1 a mystery1
 an interfering of undecided lines with 

each other1 not a diminution of their   
number2 window and door1 architrave and 
frieze1 all are there3 it is no cold and
 vacant mass1 it is full and rich and   
abundant1 and yet you cannot see a      
single form so as to know what it is4   
,observe your friend's face as he is    
coming up to you2 first it is nothing   
more than a white spot2 now it is a     
face1 but you cannot see the two eyes1  
nor the mouth1 even as spots2 you see a 
confusion of lines1 a something which   
you know from experience to be          
indicative of a face1 and yet you cannot
 tell how it is so4 ,now he is nearer1  
and you can see the spots for the eyes  
and mouth1 but they are not blank spots 
neither2 there is detail in them2 you   
cannot see the lips1 nor the teeth1 nor 
the brows1 and yet you see more than    
mere spots2 it is a mouth and an eye1   
and there is light and sparkle and      
expression in them1 but nothing         
distinct4 ,now he is nearer still1 and  
you can see that he is like your friend1

 but you cannot tell whether he is or   
not2 there is a vagueness and indecision
 of line still4 ,now you are sure1 but  
even yet there are a thousand things in 
his face which have their effect in     
inducing the recognition1 but which you 
cannot see so as to know what they are4 
,sec4 #d4 ,two great resultant truths2  
that nature is never distinct1 and      
never vacant4  ,changes like these1 and 
states of vision corresponding to them1 
take place with each and all of the     
objects of nature1 and two great        
principles of truth are deducible from  
their observation4 ,first1 place an     
object as close to the eye as you like1 
there is always something in it which   
you cannot see1 except in the hinted and
 mysterious manner above described4 ,you
 can see the texture of a piece of      
dress1 but you cannot see the individual
 threads which compose it1 though they  
are all felt1 and have each of them     
influence on the eye4 ,secondly1 place  
an object as far from the eye as you    

like1 and until it becomes itself a mere
 spot1 there is always something in it  
which you can see1 though only in the   
hinted manner above described4 ,its     
shadows and lines and local colors are  
not lost sight of as it retires2 they   
get mixed and indistinguishable1 but    
they are still there1 and there is a    
difference always perceivable between an
 object possessing such details and a   
flat or vacant space4 ,the grass blades 
of a meadow a mile off1 are so far      
discernible that there will be a marked 
difference between its appearance and   
that of a piece of wood painted green4  
,and thus nature is never distinct and  
never vacant1 she is always mysterious1 
but always abundant2 you always see     
something1 but you never see all4  ,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 eye1--a 
finish which no distance can render     
invisible1 and no nearness              

comprehensible2 which in every stone1   
every bough1 every cloud1 and every wave
 is multiplied around us1 forever       
presented1 and forever exhaustless4 ,and
 hence in art1 every space or touch in  
which we can see everything1 or in which
 we can see nothing1 is false4 ,nothing 
can be true which is either complete or 
vacant2 every touch is false which does 
not suggest more than it represents1 and
 every space is false which represents  
nothing4   ,sec4 #e4 ,complete violation
 of both these principles by the old    
masters4        ,they are either        
distinct or vacant4  ,now1 ,i would not 
wish for any more illustrative or marked
 examples of the total contradiction of 
these two great principles1 than the    
landscape works of the old masters1     
taken as a body3--the ,dutch masters    
furnishing the cases of seeing          
everything1 and the ,italians of seeing 
nothing4 ,the rule with both is indeed  
the same1 differently applied4 ,you     
shall see the bricks in the wall1 and be

 able to count them1 or you shall see   
nothing but a dead flat2 but the ,dutch 
give you the bricks1 and the ,italians  
the flat4 ,nature's rule being the      
precise reverse--,you shall never be    
able to count the bricks1 but you shall 
never see a dead space4   ,sec4 #f4     
,instances from ,nicholas ,poussin4     
,take1 for instance1 the street in the  
centre of the really great landscape of 
,poussin 7great in feeling at least7    
marked #bfj in the ,dulwich ,gallery4   
,the houses are dead square masses with 
a light side and a dark side1 and black 
touches for windows4 ,there is no       
suggestion of anything in any of the    
spaces1 the light wall is dead gray1 the
 dark wall dead gray1 and the windows   
dead black4 ,how differently would      
nature have treated us4 ,she would have 
let us see the ,indian corn hanging on  
the walls1 and the image of the ,virgin 
at the angles1 and the sharp1 broken1   
broad shadows of the tiled eaves1 and   
the deep ribbed tiles with the doves    

upon them1 and the carved ,roman capital
 built into the wall1 and the white and 
blue stripes of the mattresses stuffed  
out of the windows1 and the flapping    
corners of the mat blinds4 ,all would   
have been there2 not as such1 not like  
the corn1 nor blinds1 nor tiles1 not to 
be comprehended nor understood1 but a   
confusion of yellow and black spots and 
strokes1 carried far too fine for the   
eye to follow1 microscopic in its       
minuteness1 and filling every atom and  
part of space with mystery1 out of which
 would have arranged itself the general 
impression of truth and life4   ,sec4   
#g4 ,from ,claude4  ,again1 take the    
distant city on the right bank of the   
river in ,claude's ,marriage of ,isaac  
and ,rebecca1 in the ,national ,gallery4
 ,i have seen many cities in my life1   
and drawn not a few2 and ,i have seen   
many fortifications1 fancy ones         
included1 which frequently supply us    
with very new ideas indeed1 especially  
in matters of proportion2 but ,i do not 

remember ever having met with either a  
city or a fortress entirely composed of 
round towers of various heights and     
sizes1 all facsimiles of each other1 and
 absolutely agreeing in the number of   
battlements4 ,i have1 indeed1 some faint
 recollection of having delineated such 
an one in the first page of a           
spelling-book when ,i was four years    
old2 but1 somehow or other1 the dignity 
and perfection of the ideal were not    
appreciated1 and the volume was not     
considered to be increased in value by  
the frontispiece4 ,without1 however1    
venturing to doubt the entire sublimity 
of the same ideal as it occurs in       
,claude1 let us consider how nature1 if 
she had been fortunate enough to        
originate so perfect a conception1 would
 have managed it in its details4 ,claude
 has permitted us to see every          
battlement1 and the first impulse we    
feel upon looking at the picture is to  
count how many there are4 ,nature would 
have given us a peculiar confused       

roughness of the upper lines1 a         
multitude of intersections and spots1   
which we should have known from         
experience was indicative of            
battlements1 but which we might as well 
have thought of creating as of counting4
 ,claude has given you the walls below  
in one dead void of uniform gray4 ,there
 is nothing to be seen1 nor felt1 nor   
guessed at in it2 it is gray paint or   
gray shade1 whichever you may choose to 
call it1 but it is nothing more4 ,nature
 would have let you see1 nay1 would have
 compelled you to see1 thousands of     
spots and lines1 not one to be          
absolutely understood or accounted for1 
but yet all characteristic and different
 from each other2 breaking lights on    
shattered stones1 vague shadows from    
waving vegetation1 irregular stains of  
time and weather1 mouldering hollows1   
sparkling casements--all would have been
 there--none1 indeed1 seen as such1 none
 comprehensible or like themselves1 but 
all visible2 little shadows1 and        

sparkles1 and scratches1 making that    
whole space of color a transparent1     
palpitating1 various infinity4   ,sec4  
#h4 ,and ,g4 ,poussin4  ,or take one of 
,poussin's extreme distances1 such as   
that in the ,sacrifice of ,isaac4 ,it is
 luminous1 retiring1 delicate and       
perfect in tone1 and is quite complete  
enough to deceive and delight the       
careless eye to which all distances are 
alike2 nay1 it is perfect and masterly1 
and absolutely right if we consider it  
as a sketch1--as a first plan of a      
distance1 afterwards to be carried out  
in detail4 ,but we must remember that   
all these alternate spaces of gray and  
gold are not the landscape itself1 but  
the treatment of it--not its substance1 
but its light and shade4 ,they are just 
what nature would cast over it1 and     
write upon it with every cloud1 but     
which she would cast in play1 and       
without carefulness1 as matters of the  
very smallest possible importance4 ,all 
her work and her attention would be     

given to bring out from underneath this1
 and through this1 the forms and the    
material character which this can only  
be valuable to illustrate1 not to       
conceal4 ,every one of those broad      
spaces she would linger over in         
protracted delight1 teaching you fresh  
lessons in every hairsbreadth of it1 and
 pouring her fulness of invention into  
it1 until the mind lost itself in       
following her1--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 gentle1 mounded1     
melting undulation1 over the other side 
of which she would carry you down into a
 dusty space of soft1 crowded light1    
with the hedges1 and the paths1 and the 
sprinkled cottages and scattered trees  
mixed up and mingled together in one    
beautiful1 delicate1 impenetrable       
mystery--sparkling and melting1 and     

passing away into the sky1 without one  
line of distinctness1 or one instant of 
vacancy4   ,sec4 #i4 ,the imperative    
necessity1 in landscape painting1 of    
fulness and        finish4  ,now it is1 
indeed1 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 infinity4 ,he has not           
one-thousandth part of the space to     
occupy which nature has2 but he can1 at 
least1 leave no part of that space      
vacant and unprofitable4 ,if nature     
carries out her minutiae over miles1 he 
has no excuse for generalizing in       
inches4 ,and if he will only give us all
 he can1 if he will give us a fulness as
 complete and as mysterious as nature's1
 we will pardon him for its being the   
fulness of a cup instead of an ocean4   
,but we will not pardon him1 if1 because
 he has not the mile to occupy1 he will 
not occupy the inch1 and because he has 
fewer means at his command1 will leave  

half of those in his power unexerted4   
,still less will we pardon him for      
mistaking the sport of nature for her   
labor1 and for following her only in her
 hour of rest1 without observing how she
 has worked for it4 ,after spending     
centuries in raising the forest1 and    
guiding the river1 and modelling the    
mountain1 she exults over her work in   
buoyancy of spirit1 with playful sunbeam
 and flying cloud2 but the painter must 
go through the same labor1 or he must   
not have the same recreation4 ,let him  
chisel his rock faithfully1 and tuft his
 forest delicately1 and then we will    
allow him his freaks of light and shade1
 and thank him for them2 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 fact4   ,sec4 #aj4 ,breadth is   
not vacancy4  ,i am somewhat            
anticipating my subject here1 because ,i
 can scarcely help answering the        
objections which ,i know must arise in  

the minds of most readers1 especially of
 those who are partially artistical1    
respecting generalization1 breadth1     
effect1 etc4 ,it were to be wished that 
our writers on art would not dwell so   
frequently on the necessity of breadth1 
without explaining what it means2 and   
that we had more constant reference made
 to the principle which ,i can only     
remember having seen once clearly       
explained and insisted on1--that breadth
 is not vacancy4 ,generalization is     
unity1 not destruction of parts2 and    
composition is not annihilation1 but    
arrangement of materials4 ,the breadth  
which unites the truths of nature with  
her harmonies1 is meritorious and       
beautiful2 but the breadth which        
annihilates those truths by the million1
 is not painting nature1 but painting   
over her4 ,and so the masses which      
result from right concords and relations
 of details1 are sublime and impressive2
 but the masses which result from the   
eclipse of details are contemptible and 

painful4#bg ,and we shall show1 in      
following parts of the work1 that       
distances like those of ,poussin are    
mere meaningless tricks of clever       
execution1 which1 when once discovered1 
the artist may repeat over and over     
again1 with mechanical contentment and  
perfect satisfaction1 both to himself   
and to his superficial admirers1 with no
 more exertion of intellect nor         
awakening of feeling than any tradesman 
has in multiplying some ornamental      
pattern of furniture4 ,be this as it    
may1 however1 7for we cannot enter upon 
the discussion of the question here17   
the falsity and imperfection of such    
distances admit of no dispute4          
,beautiful and ideal they may be2 true  
they are not3 and in the same way we    
might go through every part and portion 
of the works of the old masters1 showing
 throughout1 either that you have every 
leaf and blade of grass staring defiance
 to the mystery of nature1 or that you  
have dead spaces of absolute vacuity1   

equally determined in their denial of   
her fulness4 ,and even if we ever find  
7as here and there1 in their better     
pictures1 we do7 changeful passages of  
agreeable playing color1 or mellow and  
transparent modulations of mysterious   
atmosphere1 even here the touches1      
though satisfactory to the eye1 are     
suggestive of nothing1--they are        
characterless1--they have none of the   
peculiar expressiveness and meaning by  
which nature maintains the variety and  
interest even of what she most conceals4
 ,she always tells a story1 however     
hintedly and vaguely2 each of her       
touches is different from all the       
others2 and we feel with every one1 that
 though we cannot tell what it is1 it   
cannot be anything2 while even the most 
dexterous distances of the old masters  
pretend to secrecy without having       
anything to conceal1 and are ambiguous1 
not from the concentration of meaning1  
but from the want of it4   ,sec4 #aa4   
,the fulness and mystery of ,turner's   

distances4  ,and now1 take up one of    
,turner's distances1 it matters not     
which1 or of what kind1--drawing or     
painting1 small or great1 done thirty   
years ago1 or for last year's ,academy1 
as you like2 say that of the ,mercury   
and ,argus1 and look if every fact which
 ,i have just been pointing out in      
nature be not carried out in it4        
,abundant1 beyond the power of the eye  
to embrace or follow1 vast and various1 
beyond the power of the mind to         
comprehend1 there is yet not one atom in
 its whole extent and mass which does   
not suggest more than it represents2 nor
 does it suggest vaguely1 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 mind1 a separate picture fully
 worked out3 but yet1 clearly and fully 
as the idea is formed1 just so much of  
it is given1 and no more1 as nature     
would have allowed us to feel or see2   
just so much as would enable a spectator

 of experience and knowledge to         
understand almost every minute fragment 
of separate detail1 but appears1 to the 
unpractised and careless eye1 just what 
a distance of nature's own would appear1
 an unintelligible mass4 ,not one line  
out of the millions there is without    
meaning1 yet there is not one which is  
not affected and disguised by the dazzle
 and indecision of distance4 ,no form is
 made out1 and yet no form is unknown4  
,sec4 #ab4 ,farther illustrations in    
architectural drawing4  ,perhaps the    
truth of this system of drawing is      
better to be understood by observing the
 distant character of rich architecture1
 than of any other object4 ,go to the   
top of ,highgate ,hill on a clear summer
 morning at five o'clock1 and look at   
,westminster ,abbey4 ,you will receive  
an impression of a building enriched    
with multitudinous vertical lines4 ,try 
to distinguish one of those lines all   
the way down from the one next to it3   
,you cannot4 ,try to count them3 ,you   

cannot4 ,try to make out the beginning  
or end of any one of them3 ,you cannot4 
,look at it generally1 and it is all    
symmetry and arrangement4 ,look at in   
its parts1 and it is all inextricable   
confusion4 ,am not ,i1 at this moment1  
describing a piece of ,turner's drawing1
 with the same words by which ,i        
describe nature8 ,and what would one of 
the old masters have done with such a   
building as this in his distance8       
,either he would only have given the    
shadows of the buttresses1 and the light
 and dark sides of the two towers1 and  
two dots for the windows2 or if more    
ignorant and more ambitious1 he had     
attempted to render some of the detail1 
it would have been done by distinct     
lines1--would have been broad caricature
 of the delicate building1 felt at once 
to be false1 ridiculous1 and offensive4 
,his most successful effort would only  
have given us1 through his carefully    
toned atmosphere1 the effect of a       
colossal parish church1 without one line

 of carving on its economic sides4      
,turner1 and ,turner only1 would follow 
and render on the canvas that mystery of
 decided line1--that distinct1 sharp1   
visible1 but unintelligible and         
inextricable richness1 which1 examined  
part by part1 is to the eye nothing but 
confusion and defeat1 which1 taken as a 
whole1 is all unity1 symmetry1 and      
truth4#bh   ,sec4 #ac4 ,in near objects 
as well as distances4  ,sec4 #ad4       
,vacancy and falsehood of ,canaletto4   
,nor is this mode of representation true
 only with respect to distances4 ,every 
object1 however near the eye1 has       
something about it which you cannot see1
 and which brings the mystery of        
distance even into every part and       
portion of what we suppose ourselves to 
see most distinctly4 ,stand in the      
,piazza di ,st4 ,marco at ,venice1 as   
close to the church as you can1 without 
losing sight of the top of it4 ,look at 
the capitals of the columns on the      
second story4 ,you see that they are    

exquisitely rich1 carved all over4 ,tell
 me their patterns3 ,you cannot4 ,tell  
me the direction of a single line in    
them3 ,you cannot4 ,yet you see a       
multitude of lines1 and you have so much
 feeling of a certain tendency and      
arrangement in those lines1 that you are
 quite sure the capitals are beautiful1 
and that they are all different from    
each other4 ,but ,i defy you to make out
 one single line in any one of them4    
,now go to ,canaletto's painting of this
 church1 in the ,palazzo ,manfrini1     
taken from the very spot on which you   
stood4 ,how much has he represented of  
all this8 ,a black dot under each       
capital for the shadow1 and a yellow one
 above it for the light4 ,there is not a
 vestige nor indication of carving or   
decoration of any sort or kind4  ,very  
different from this1 but erring on the  
other side1 is the ordinary drawing of  
the architect1 who gives the principal  
lines of the design with delicate       
clearness and precision1 but with no    

uncertainty or mystery about them2 which
 mystery being removed1 all space and   
size are destroyed with it1 and we have 
a drawing of a model1 not of a building4
 ,but in the capital lying on the       
foreground in ,turner's ,daphne hunting 
with ,leucippus1 we have the perfect    
truth4 ,not one jag of the acanthus     
leaves is absolutely visible1 the lines 
are all disorder1 but you feel in an    
instant that all are there4 ,and so it  
will invariably be found through every  
portion of detail in his late and most  
perfect works4   ,sec4 #ae4 ,still      
greater fulness and finish in landscape 
foregrounds4  ,but if there be this     
mystery and inexhaustible finish merely 
in the more delicate instances of       
architectural decoration1 how much more 
in the ceaseless and incomparable       
decoration of nature4 ,the detail of a  
single weedy bank laughs the carving of 
ages to scorn4 ,every leaf and stalk has
 a design and tracery upon it1--every   
knot of grass an intricacy of shade     

which the labor of years could never    
imitate1 and which1 if such labor could 
follow it out even to the last fibres of
 the leaflets1 would yet be falsely     
represented1 for1 as in all other cases 
brought forward1 it is not clearly seen1
 but confusedly and mysteriously4 ,that 
which is nearness for the bank1 is      
distance for its details2 and however   
near it may be1 the greater part of     
those details are still a beautiful     
incomprehensibility4#bi   ,sec4 #af4    
,space and size are destroyed alike by  
distinctness and by         vacancy4    
,hence1 throughout the picture1 the     
expression of space and size is         
dependent upon obscurity1 united with1  
or rather resultant from1 exceeding     
fulness4 ,we destroy both space and     
size1 either by the vacancy1 which      
affords us no measure of space1 or by   
the distinctness1 which gives us a false
 one4 ,the distance of ,poussin1 having 
no indication of trees1 nor of meadows1 
nor of character of any kind1 may be    

fifty miles off1 or may be five2 we     
cannot tell--we have no measure1 and in 
consequence1 no vivid impression4 ,but a
 middle distance of ,hobbima's involves 
a contradiction in terms2 it states a   
distance by perspective1 which it       
contradicts by distinctness of detail4  
,sec4 #ag4 ,swift execution best secures
 perfection of details4  ,sec4 #ah4     
,finish is far more necessary in        
landscape than in historical            
subjects4  ,a single dusty roll of      
,turner's brush is more truly expressive
 of the infinity of foliage1 than the   
niggling of ,hobbima could have rendered
 his canvas1 if he had worked on it till
 doomsday4 ,what ,sir ,j4 ,reynolds says
 of the misplaced labor of his ,roman   
acquaintance on separate leaves of      
foliage1 and the certainty he expresses 
that a man who attended to general      
character would in five minutes produce 
a more faithful representation of a     
tree1 than the unfortunate mechanist in 
as many years1 is thus perfectly true   

and well founded2 but this is not       
because details are undesirable1 but    
because they are best given by swift    
execution1 and because1 individually1   
they cannot be given at all4 ,but it    
should be observed 7though we shall be  
better able to insist upon this point in
 future7 that much of harm and error has
 arisen from the supposition and        
assertions of swift and brilliant       
historical painters1 that the same      
principles of execution are entirely    
applicable to landscape1 which are right
 for the figure4 ,the artist who falls  
into extreme detail in drawing the human
 form1 is apt to become disgusting      
rather than pleasing4 ,it is more       
agreeable that the general outline and  
soft hues of flesh should alone be      
given1 than its hairs1 and veins1 and   
lines of intersection4 ,and even the    
most rapid and generalizing expression  
of the human body1 if directed by       
perfect knowledge1 and rigidly faithful 
in drawing1 will commonly omit very     

little of what is agreeable or          
impressive4 ,but the exclusively        
generalizing landscape painter omits the
 whole of what is valuable in his       
subject1--omits thoughts1 designs1 and  
beauties by the million1 everything1    
indeed1 which can furnish him with      
variety or expression4 ,a distance in   
,lincolnshire1 or in ,lombardy1 might   
both be generalized into such blue and  
yellow stripes as we see in ,poussin2   
but whatever there is of beauty or      
character in either1 depends altogether 
on our understanding the details1 and   
feeling the difference between the      
morasses and ditches of the one1 and the
 rolling sea of mulberry trees of the   
other4 ,and so in every part of the     
subject4 ,i have no hesitation in       
asserting that it is impossible to go   
too fine1 or think too much about       
details in landscape1 so that they be   
rightly arranged and rightly massed2 but
 that it is equally impossible to render
 anything like the fulness or the space 

of nature1 except by that mystery and   
obscurity of execution which she herself
 uses1 and in which ,turner only has    
followed her4   ,sec4 #ai4              
,recapitulation of the section4  ,we    
have now rapidly glanced at such general
 truths of nature as can be investigated
 without much knowledge of what is      
beautiful4 ,questions of arrangement1   
massing1 and generalization1 ,i prefer  
leaving untouched1 until we know        
something about details1 and something  
about what is beautiful4 ,all that is   
desirable1 even in these mere technical 
and artificial points1 is based upon    
truths and habits of nature2 but we     
cannot understand those truths until we 
are acquainted with the specific forms  
and minor details which they affect1 or 
out of which they arise4 ,i shall1      
therefore1 proceed to examine the       
invaluable and essential truths of      
specific character and form--briefly and
 imperfectly1 indeed1 as needs must be1 
but yet at length sufficient to enable  

the reader to pursue1 if he will1 the   
subject for himself4   ,,footnotes      
#bg ,of course much depends upon the    
kind of detail so lost4 ,an     artist  
may generalize the trunk of a tree1     
where he only loses lines     of bark1  
and do us a kindness2 but he must not   
generalize the     details of a         
champaign1 in which there is a history  
of creation4 ,the     full discussion of
 the subject belongs to a future part of
 our     investigation4    #bh ,vide1   
for illustration1 ,fontainebleau1 in the
 ,illustrations to     ,scott2 ,vignette
 at opening of ,human ,life1 in         
,rogers's ,poems2 ,venice1     in the   
,italy2 ,chateau de ,blois2 the ,rouen1 
and ,pont ,neuf1 ,paris1 in     the     
,rivers of ,france4 ,the distances of   
all the ,academy pictures of            
,venice1 especially the ,shylock1 are   
most instructive4    #bi ,it is to be   
remembered1 however1 that these truths  
present     themselves in all           
probability under very different phases 

to     individuals of different powers  
of vision4 ,many artists who appear     
to generalize rudely or rashly are      
perhaps faithfully endeavoring to       
render the appearance which nature bears
 to sight of limited range4     ,others 
may be led by their singular keenness of
 sight into     inexpedient detail4     
,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's4 ,another circumstance to    
which     ,i ought above to have alluded
 is the scale of the picture2 for there 
are different degrees of generalization1
 and different necessities     of       
symbolism1 belonging to every scale3 the
 stipple of the miniature     painter   
would be offensive on features of the   
life size1 and the     leaves with      
,tintoret may articulate on a canvas of 
sixty feet by     twenty-five1 must be  
generalized by ,turner on one of four by
 three4     ,another circumstance of    

some importance is the assumed distance 
of     the foreground2 many landscape   
painters seem to think their nearest    
foreground is always equally near1      
whereas its distance from the           
spectator varies not a little1 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 it4   
,with ,claude     almost always2 with   
,turner often1 as in the ,daphne and    
,leucippus1     this breadth is forty or
 fifty yards2 and as the nearest        
foreground     object must then be at   
least that distance removed1 and may be 
much more1 it is evident that no        
completion of close detail is in        
such cases allowable1 7see here another 
proof of ,claude's erroneous            
practice27 with ,titian and ,tintoret1  
on the contrary1 the foreground     is  
rarely more than five or six yards      
broad1 and its objects     therefore    
being only five or six yards distant are

 entirely     detailed4      ,none of   
these circumstances1 however1 in any    
wise affect the great     principle1 the
 confusion of detail taking place sooner
 or later in     all cases4 ,i ought to 
have noted1 however1 that many of the   
pictures     of ,turner in which the    
confused drawing has been least         
understood1     have been luminous      
twilights2 and that the uncertainty of  
twilight     is therefore added to that 
of general distance4 ,in the evenings of
     the south it not unfrequently      
happens that objects touched with the   
reflected light of the western sky1     
continue even for the space of     half 
an hour after sunset1 glowing1 ruddy1   
and intense in color1 and     almost as 
bright as if they were still beneath    
actual sunshine1 even     till the moon 
begins to cast a shadow3 but in spite of
 this     brilliancy of color all the   
details become ghostly and ill-defined4 
,this is a favorite moment of ,turner's1
 and he invariably     characterizes it1

 not by gloom1 but by uncertainty of    
detail4 ,i have     never seen the      
effect of clear twilight thoroughly     
rendered by art2     that effect in     
which all details are lost1 while       
intense clearness     and light are     
still felt in the atmosphere1 in which  
nothing is     distinctly seen1 and yet 
it is not darkness1 far less mist1 that 
is     the cause of concealment4        
,turner's efforts at rendering this     
effect     7as the ,wilderness of       
,engedi1 ,assos1 ,chateau de ,blois1    
,caerlaverock1 and others innumerable17 
have always some slight     appearance  
of mistiness1 owing to the              
indistinctness of details2 but     it   
remains to be shown that any closer     
approximation to the effect     is      
possible4                               
,,section ,,iii4                        
,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,skies4              
,,chapter ,i4                           
,,of ,,the ,,open ,,sky4   ,sec4 #a4    
,the peculiar adaptation of the sky to  

the pleasing and teaching of        man4
  ,sec4 #b4 ,the carelessness with which
 its lessons are received4  ,sec4 #c4   
,the most essential of these lessons are
 the gentlest4  ,sec4 #d4 ,many of our  
ideas of sky altogether conventional4   
,it is a strange thing how little in    
general people know about the sky4 ,it  
is the part of creation in which nature 
has done more for the sake of pleasing  
man1 more for the sole and evident      
purpose of talking to him and teaching  
him1 than in any other of her works1 and
 it is just the part in which we least  
attend to her4 ,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 organization2 but   
every essential purpose of the sky      
might1 so far as we know1 be answered1  
if once in three days1 or thereabouts1 a
 great ugly black rain cloud were       
brought up over the blue1 and everything
 well watered1 and so all left blue     

again till next time1 with perhaps a    
film of morning and evening mist for    
dew4 ,and instead of this1 there is not 
a moment of any day of our lives1 when  
nature is not producing scene after     
scene1 picture after picture1 glory     
after glory1 and working still upon such
 exquisite and constant principles of   
the most perfect beauty1 that it is     
quite certain it is all done for us1 and
 intended for our perpetual pleasure4   
,and every man1 wherever placed1 however
 far from other sources of interest or  
of beauty1 has this doing for him       
constantly4 ,the noblest scenes of the  
earth can be seen and known but by few2 
it is not intended that man should live 
always in the midst of them1 he injures 
them by his presence1 he ceases to feel 
them if he be always with them2 but the 
sky is for all2 bright as it is1 it is  
not too bright1 nor good1 for human     
nature's daily food2 it is fitted in all
 its functions for the perpetual comfort
 and exalting of the heart1 for the     

soothing it and purifying it from its   
dross and dust4 ,sometimes gentle1      
sometimes capricious1 sometimes awful1  
never the same for two moments together2
 almost human in its passions1 almost   
spiritual in its tenderness1 almost     
divine in its infinity1 its appeal to   
what is immortal in us1 is as distinct1 
as its ministry of chastisement or of   
blessing to what is mortal is essential4
 ,and yet we never attend to it1 we     
never make it a subject of thought1 but 
as it has to do with our animal         
sensations2 we look upon all by which it
 speaks to us more clearly than to      
brutes1 upon all which bears witness to 
the intention of the ,supreme1 that we  
are to receive more from the covering   
vault than the light and the dew which  
we share with the weed and the worm1    
only as a succession of meaningless and 
monotonous accident1 too common and too 
vain to be worthy of a moment of        
watchfulness1 or a glance of admiration4
 ,if in our moments of utter idleness   

and insipidity1 we turn to the sky as a 
last resource1 which of its phenomena do
 we speak of8 ,one says it has been wet1
 and another it has been windy1 and     
another it has been warm4 ,who1 among   
the whole chattering crowd1 can tell me 
of the forms and the precipices of the  
chain of tall white mountains that      
girded the horizon at noon yesterday8   
,who saw the narrow sunbeam that came   
out of the south1 and smote upon their  
summits until they melted and mouldered 
away in a dust of blue rain8 ,who saw   
the dance of the dead clouds when the   
sunlight left them last night1 and the  
west wind blew them before it like      
withered leaves8 ,all has passed1       
unregretted as unseen2 or if the apathy 
be ever shaken off1 even for an instant1
 it is only by what is gross1 or what is
 extraordinary2 and yet it is not in the
 broad and fierce manifestations of the 
elemental energies1 not in the clash of 
the hail1 nor the drift of the          
whirlwind1 that the highest characters  

of the sublime are developed4 ,god is   
not in the earthquake1 nor in the fire1 
but in the still small voice4 ,they are 
but the blunt and the low faculties of  
our nature1 which can only be addressed 
through lampblack and lightning4 ,it is 
in quiet and subdued passages of        
unobtrusive majesty1 the deep1 and the  
calm1 and the perpetual1--that which    
must be sought ere it is seen1 and loved
 ere it is understood1--things which the
 angels work out for us daily1 and yet  
vary eternally1 which are never wanting1
 and never repeated1 which are to be    
found always yet each found but once2 it
 is through these that the lesson of    
devotion is chiefly taught1 and the     
blessing of beauty given4 ,these are    
what the artist of highest aim must     
study2 it is these1 by the combination  
of which his ideal is to be created2    
these1 of which so little notice is     
ordinarily taken by common observers1   
that ,i fully believe1 little as people 
in general are concerned with art1 more 

of their ideas of sky are derived from  
pictures than from reality1 and that if 
we could examine the conception formed  
in the minds of most educated persons   
when we talk of clouds1 it would        
frequently be found composed of         
fragments of blue and white             
reminiscences of the old masters4  ,i   
shall enter upon the examination of what
 is true in sky at greater length1      
because it is the only part of a picture
 of which all1 if they will1 may be     
competent judges4 ,what ,i may have to  
assert respecting the rocks of          
,salvator1 or the boughs of ,claude1 ,i 
can scarcely prove1 except to those whom
 ,i can immure for a month or two in the
 fastnesses of the ,apennines1 or guide 
in their summer walks again and again   
through the ravines of ,sorrento4 ,but  
what ,i say of the sky can be brought to
 an immediate test by all1 and ,i write 
the more decisively1 in the hope that it
 may be so4   ,sec4 #e4 ,nature and     
essential qualities of the open blue4   

,sec4 #f4 ,its connection with clouds4  
,sec4 #g4 ,its exceeding depth4  ,sec4  
#h4 ,these qualities are especially     
given by modern masters4  ,sec4 #i4 ,and
 by ,claude4  ,sec4 #aj4 ,total absence 
of them in ,poussin4 ,physical errors in
 his general         treatment of open  
sky4  ,sec4 #aa4 ,errors of ,cuyp in    
graduation of color4  ,let us begin then
 with the simple open blue of the sky4  
,this is of course the color of the pure
 atmospheric air1 not the aqueous vapor1
 but the pure azote and oxygen1 and it  
is the total color of the whole mass of 
that air between us and the void of     
space4 ,it is modified by the varying   
quantity of aqueous vapor suspended in  
it1 whose color1 in its most imperfect1 
and therefore most visible1 state of    
solution1 is pure white1 7as in steam17 
which receives1 like any other white1   
the warm hues of the rays of the sun1   
and1 according to its quantity and      
imperfect solution1 makes the sky paler1
 and at the same time more or less gray1

 by mixing warm tones with its blue4    
,this gray aqueous vapor1 when very     
decided1 becomes mist1 and when local1  
cloud4 ,hence the sky is to be          
considered as a transparent blue liquid1
 in which1 at various elevations1 clouds
 are suspended1 those clouds being      
themselves only particular visible      
spaces of a substance with which the    
whole mass of this liquid is more or    
less impregnated4 ,now1 we all know this
 perfectly well1 and yet we so far      
forget it in practice1 that we little   
notice the constant connection kept up  
by nature between her blue and her      
clouds1 and we are not offended by the  
constant habit of the old masters1 of   
considering the blue sky as totally     
distinct in its nature1 and far         
separated from the vapors which float in
 it4 ,with them1 cloud is cloud1 and    
blue is blue1 and no kind of connection 
between them is ever hinted at4 ,the sky
 is thought of as a clear1 high material
 dome1 the clouds as separate bodies1   

suspended beneath it1 and in            
consequence1 however delicate and       
exquisitely removed in tone their skies 
may be1 you always look at them1 not    
through them4 ,now1 if there be one     
characteristic of the sky more valuable 
or necessary to be rendered than        
another1 it is that which ,wordsworth   
has given in the second book of the     
,excursion3--                       ,the
 chasm of sky above my head             
,is ,heaven's profoundest azure4 ,no    
domain            ,for fickle1          
short-lived clouds1 to occupy1          
,or to pass through2--but rather an     
abyss            ,in which the          
everlasting stars abide1            ,and
 whose soft gloom1 and boundless depth1 
might tempt            ,the curious eye 
to look for them by day4  ,and1 in his  
,american ,notes1 ,i remember ,dickens  
notices the same truth1 describing      
himself as lying drowsily on the barge  
deck1 looking not at1 but through the   
sky4 ,and if you look intensely at the  

pure blue of a serene sky1 you will see 
that there is a variety and fulness in  
its very repose4 ,it is not flat dead   
color1 but a deep1 quivering1           
transparent body of penetrable air1 in  
which you trace or imagine short1       
falling spots of deceiving light1 and   
dim shades1 faint1 veiled vestiges of   
dark vapor2 and it is this trembling    
transparency which our great modern     
master has especially aimed at and      
given4 ,his blue is never laid on in    
smooth coats1 but in breaking1 mingling1
 melting hues1 a quarter of an inch of  
which1 cut off from all the rest of the 
picture1 is still spacious1 still       
infinite and immeasurable in depth4 ,it 
is a painting of the air1 something into
 which you can see1 through the parts   
which are near you into those which are 
far off2 something which has no surface1
 and through which we can plunge far and
 farther1 and without stay or end1 into 
the profundity of space2--whereas1 with 
all the old landscape painters1 except  

,claude1 you may indeed go a long way   
before you come to the sky1 but you will
 strike hard against it at last4 ,a     
perfectly genuine and untouched sky of  
,claude is indeed most perfect1 and     
beyond praise1 in all qualities of air2 
though even with him1 ,i often feel     
rather that there is a great deal of    
pleasant air between me and the         
firmament1 than that the firmament      
itself is only air4 ,i do not mean1     
however1 to say a word against such     
skies as that of the ,enchanted ,castle1
 or that marked #cj in the ,national    
,gallery1 or one or two which ,i        
remember at ,rome2 but how little and by
 how few these fine passages of ,claude 
are appreciated1 is sufficiently proved 
by the sufferance of such villainous and
 unpalliated copies as we meet with all 
over ,europe1 like the ,marriage of     
,isaac1 in our own ,gallery1 to remain  
under his name4 ,in fact1 ,i do not     
remember above ten pictures of          
,claude's1 in which the skies1 whether  

repainted or altogether copies1 or      
perhaps from ,claude's hand1 but        
carelessly laid in1 like that marked    
#bda1 ,dulwich ,gallery1 were not fully 
as feelingless and false as those of    
other masters2 while1 with the          
,poussins1 there are no favorable       
exceptions4 ,their skies are            
systematically wrong2 take1 for         
instance1 the sky of the ,sacrifice of  
,isaac4 ,it is here high noon1 as is    
shown by the shadow of the figures2 and 
what sort of color is the sky at the top
 of the picture8 ,is it pale and gray   
with heat1 full of sunshine1 and        
unfathomable in depth8 ,on the contrary1
 it is of a pitch of darkness which1    
except on the ,mont ,blanc or           
,chimborazo1 is as purely impossible as 
color can be4 ,he might as well have    
painted it coal black2 and it is laid on
 with a dead coat of flat paint1 having 
no one quality or resemblance of sky    
about it4 ,it cannot have altered1      
because the land horizon is as delicate 

and tender in tone as possible1 and is  
evidently unchanged2 and to complete the
 absurdity of the whole thing1 this     
color holds its own1 without graduation 
or alteration1 to within three or four  
degrees of the horizon1 where it        
suddenly becomes bold and unmixed       
yellow4 ,now the horizon at noon may be 
yellow when the whole sky is covered    
with dark clouds1 and only one open     
streak of light left in the distance    
from which the whole light proceeds2 but
 with a clear1 open sky1 and opposite   
the sun1 at noon1 such a yellow horizon 
as this is physically impossible4 ,even 
supposing that the upper part of the sky
 were pale and warm1 and that the       
transition from the one hue to the other
 were effected imperceptibly and        
gradually1 as is invariably the case in 
reality1 instead of taking place within 
a space of two or three degrees2--even  
then1 this gold yellow would be         
altogether absurd2 but as it is1 we have
 in this sky 7and it is a fine          

picture--one of the best of ,gaspar's   
that ,i know17 a notable example of the 
truth of the old masters--two impossible
 colors impossibly united6 ,find such a 
color in ,turner's noonday zenith as the
 blue at the top1 or such a color at a  
noonday horizon as the yellow at the    
bottom1 or such a connection of any     
colors whatsoever as that in the centre1
 and then you may talk about his being  
false to nature if you will4 ,nor is    
this a solitary instance2 it is ,gaspar 
,poussin's favorite and characteristic  
effect4 ,i remember twenty such1 most of
 them worse than this1 in the downright 
surface and opacity of blue4 ,again1    
look at the large ,cuyp in the ,dulwich 
,gallery1 which ,mr4 ,hazlitt considers 
the finest in the world1 and of which he
 very complimentarily says1 ,the tender 
green of the valleys1 the gleaming lake1
 the purple light of the hills1 have an 
effect like the down on an unripe       
nectarine6 ,i ought to have apologized  
before now1 for not having studied      

sufficiently in ,covent ,garden to be   
provided with terms of correct and      
classical criticism4 ,one of my friends 
begged me to observe1 the other day1    
that ,claude was pulpy2 another added   
the yet more gratifying information that
 he was juicy2 and it is now happily    
discovered that ,cuyp is downy4 ,now ,i 
dare say that the sky of this first-rate
 ,cuyp is very like an unripe nectarine3
 all that ,i have to say about it is1   
that it is exceedingly unlike a sky4    
,the blue remains unchanged and         
ungraduated over three-fourths of it1   
down to the horizon2 while the sun1 in  
the left-hand corner1 is surrounded with
 a halo1 first of yellow1 and then of   
crude pink1 both being separated from   
each other1 and the last from the blue1 
as sharply as the belts of a rainbow1   
and both together not ascending ten     
degrees in the sky4 ,now it is difficult
 to conceive how any man calling himself
 a painter could impose such a thing on 
the public1 and still more how the      

public can receive it1 as a             
representation of that sunset purple    
which invariably extends its influence  
to the zenith1 so that there is no pure 
blue anywhere1 but a purple increasing  
in purity gradually down to its point of
 greatest intensity1 7about forty-five  
degrees from the horizon17 and then     
melting imperceptibly into the gold1 the
 three colors extending their influence 
over the whole sky2 so that throughout  
the whole sweep of the heaven1 there is 
no one spot where the color is not in an
 equal state of transition--passing from
 gold into orange1 from that into rose1 
from that into purple1 from that into   
blue1 with absolute equality of change1 
so that in no place can it be said1 here
 it changes1 and in no place1 here it is
 unchanging4 ,this is invariably the    
case4 ,there is no such thing--there    
never was1 and never will be such a     
thing1 while ,god's heaven remains as it
 is made--as a serene1 sunset sky1 with 
its purple and rose in belts about the  

sun4   ,sec4 #ab4 ,the exceeding value  
of the skies of the early ,italian and  
,dutch         schools4 ,their qualities
 are unattainable in modern times4      
,such bold1 broad examples of ignorance 
as these would soon set aside all the   
claims of the professed landscape       
painters to truth1 with whatever        
delicacy of color or manipulation they  
may be disguised4 ,but there are some   
skies1 of the ,dutch school1 in which   
clearness and coolness have been aimed  
at1 instead of depth2 and some          
introduced merely as backgrounds to the 
historical subjects of the older        
,italians1 which there is no matching in
 modern times2 one would think angels   
had painted them1 for all is now clay   
and oil in comparison4 ,it seems as if  
we had totally lost the art1 for surely 
otherwise1 however little our painters  
might aim at it or feel it1 they would  
touch the chord sometimes by accident2  
but they never do1 and the mechanical   
incapacity is still more strongly       

evidenced by the muddy struggles of the 
unhappy ,germans1 who have the feeling1 
partially strained1 artificial1 and     
diseased1 indeed1 but still genuine     
enough to bring out the tone1 if they   
had the mechanical means and technical  
knowledge4 ,but1 however they were      
obtained1 the clear tones of this kind  
of the older ,italians are glorious and 
enviable in the highest degree2 and we  
shall show1 when we come to speak of the
 beautiful1 that they are one of the    
most just grounds of the fame of the old
 masters4   ,sec4 #ac4 ,phenomena of    
visible sunbeams4 ,their nature and     
cause4  ,but there is a series of       
phenomena connected with the open blue  
of the sky1 which we must take especial 
notice of1 as it is of constant         
occurrence in the works of ,turner and  
,claude1 the effects1 namely1 of visible
 sunbeams4 ,it will be necessary for us 
thoroughly to understand the            
circumstances under which such effects  
take place4  ,aqueous vapor or mist1    

suspended in the atmosphere1 becomes    
visible exactly as dust does in the air 
of a room4 ,in the shadows you not only 
cannot see the dust itself1 because     
unillumined1 but you can see other      
objects through the dust without        
obscurity1 the air being thus actually  
rendered more transparent by a          
deprivation of light4 ,where a sunbeam  
enters1 every particle of dust becomes  
visible1 and a palpable interruption to 
the sight1 so that a transverse sunbeam 
is a real obstacle to the vision1 you   
cannot see things clearly through it4   
,in the same way1 wherever vapor is     
illuminated by transverse rays1 there it
 becomes visible as a whiteness more or 
less affecting the purity of the blue1  
and destroying it exactly in proportion 
to the degree of illumination4 ,but     
where vapor is in shade1 it has very    
little effect on the sky1 perhaps making
 it a little deeper and grayer than it  
otherwise would be1 but not itself1     
unless very dense1 distinguishable or   

felt as mist4   ,sec4 #ad4 ,they are    
only illuminated mist1 and cannot appear
 when the sky is         free from      
vapor1 nor when it is without clouds4   
,the appearance of mist or whiteness in 
the blue of the sky1 is thus a          
circumstance which more or less         
accompanies sunshine1 and which1        
supposing the quantity of vapor         
constant1 is greatest in the brightest  
sunlight4 ,when there are no clouds in  
the sky1 the whiteness1 as it affects   
the whole sky equally1 is not           
particularly noticeable4 ,but when there
 are clouds between us and the sun1 the 
sun being low1 those clouds cast shadows
 along and through the mass of suspended
 vapor4 ,within the space of these      
shadows1 the vapor1 as above stated1    
becomes transparent and invisible1 and  
the sky appears of a pure blue4 ,but    
where the sunbeams strike1 the vapor    
becomes visible in the form of the      
beams1 occasioning those radiating      
shafts of light which are one of the    

most valuable and constant              
accompaniments of a low sun4 ,the denser
 the mist1 the more distinct and        
sharp-edged will these rays be2 when the
 air is very clear1 they are mere vague1
 flushing1 gradated passages of light2  
when it is very thick1 they are         
keen-edged and decisive in a high       
degree4  ,we see then1 first1 that a    
quantity of mist dispersed through the  
whole space of the sky1 is necessary to 
this phenomenon2 and secondly1 that what
 we usually think of as beams of greater
 brightness than the rest of the sky1   
are in reality only a part of that sky  
in its natural state of illumination1   
cut off and rendered brilliant by the   
shadows from the clouds1--that these    
shadows are in reality the source of the
 appearance of beams1--that1 therefore1 
no part of the sky can present such an  
appearance1 except when there are broken
 clouds between it and the sun2 and     
lastly1 that the shadows cast from such 
clouds are not necessarily gray or dark1

 but very nearly of the natural pure    
blue of a sky destitute of vapor4       
,sec4 #ae4 ,erroneous tendency in the   
representation of such phenomena by the 
old masters4  ,sec4 #af4 ,the ray which 
appears in the dazzled eye should not be
         represented4  ,sec4 #ag4 ,the  
practice of ,turner4 ,his keen          
perception of the more delicate         
phenomena of rays4  ,sec4 #ah4 ,the     
total absence of any evidence of such   
perception in the works         of the  
old masters4  ,now1 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 sun1
 it is evident that no appearance of    
beams can ever begin from the orb       
itself1 except when there is a cloud or 
solid body of some kind between us and  
it2 but that such appearances will      
almost invariably begin on the dark side
 of some of the clouds around it1 the   
orb itself remaining the centre of a    
broad blaze of united light4 ,wordsworth

 has given us in two lines1 the only    
circumstances under which rays can ever 
appear to have origin in the orb        
itself3--                               
,but rays of light1              ,now   
suddenly diverging from the orb1        
,retired behind the mountain tops1 or   
veiled              ,by the dense air1  
shot upwards4                           
,,excursion1 ,book ,,ix4  ,and ,turner  
has given us the effect magnificently in
 the ,dartmouth of the ,river ,scenery4 
,it is frequent among the old masters1  
and constant in ,claude2 though the     
latter1 from drawing his beams too fine1
 represents the effect upon the dazzled 
eye rather than the light which actually
 exists1 and approximates very closely  
to the ideal which we see in the sign of
 the ,rising ,sun2 nay1 ,i am nearly    
sure that ,i remember cases in which he 
has given us the diverging beam1 without
 any cloud or hill interfering with the 
orb4 ,it may1 perhaps1 be somewhat      
difficult to say how far it is allowable

 to represent that kind of ray which is 
seen by the dazzled eye4 ,it is very    
certain that we never look towards a    
bright sun without seeing glancing rays 
issue from it2 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      
dazzled1 and that if we are to represent
 the rays we ought also to cover our sky
 with pink and blue circles4 ,i should  
on the whole consider it utterly false  
in principle to represent the visionary 
beam1 and that we ought only to show    
that which has actual existence4 ,such  
we find to be the constant practice of  
,turner4 ,even where1 owing to          
interposed clouds1 he has beams         
appearing to issue from the orb itself1 
they are broad bursts of light1 not     
spiky rays2 and his more usual practice 
is to keep all near the sun in one      
simple blaze of intense light1 and from 
the first clouds to throw beams to the  
zenith1 though he often does not permit 

any appearance of rays until close to   
the zenith itself4 ,open at the #hjth   
page of the ,illustrated edition of     
,rogers's poems4 ,you have there a sky  
blazing with sunbeams2 but they all     
begin a long way from the sun1 and they 
are accounted for by a mass of dense    
clouds surrounding the orb itself4 ,turn
 to the #gth page4 ,behind the old oak1 
where the sun is supposed to be1 you    
have only a blaze of undistinguished    
light2 but up on the left1 over the edge
 of the cloud1 on its dark side1 the    
sunbeam4 ,turn to page #aib1--;blazing  
rays again1 but all beginning where the 
clouds do1 not one can you trace to the 
sun2 and observe how carefully the long 
shadow on the mountain is accounted for 
by the dim dark promontory projecting   
out near the sun4 ,i need not multiply  
examples2 you will find various         
modifications and uses of these effects 
throughout his works4 ,but you will not 
find a single trace of them in the old  
masters4 ,they give you the rays issuing

 from behind black clouds1 and because  
they are a coarse and common effect     
which could not possibly escape their   
observation1 and because they are easily
 imitated4 ,they give you the spiky     
shafts issuing from the orb itself1     
because these are partially symbolical  
of light1 and assist a tardy            
imagination1 as two or three rays       
scratched round the sun with a pen      
would1 though they would be rays of     
darkness instead of light4#cj ,but of   
the most beautiful phenomenon of all1   
the appearance of the delicate ray far  
in the sky1 threading its way among the 
thin1 transparent clouds1 while all     
around the sun is unshadowed fire1 there
 is no record nor example whatsoever in 
their works4 ,it was too delicate and   
spiritual for them2 probably their blunt
 and feelingless eyes never perceived it
 in nature1 and their untaught          
imaginations were not likely to         
originate it in the study4   ,sec4 #ai4 
,truth of the skies of modern drawings4 

,little is to be said of the skies of   
our other landscape artists4 ,in        
paintings1 they are commonly toneless1  
crude1 and wanting in depth and         
transparency2 but in drawings1 some very
 perfect and delicate examples have been
 produced by various members of the old 
water color ,society1 and one or two    
others2 but with respect to the         
qualities of which we are at present    
speaking1 it is not right to compare    
drawings with paintings1 as the wash or 
spunging1 or other artifices peculiar to
 water color1 are capable of producing  
an appearance of quality which it needs 
much higher art to produce in oils4     
,sec4 #bj4 ,recapitulation4 ,the best   
skies of the ancients are1 in quality1  
inimitable1 but in rendering of various 
truth1 childish4  ,taken generally1 the 
open skies of the moderns are inferior  
in quality to picked and untouched skies
 of the greatest of the ancients1 but   
far superior to the average class of    
pictures which we have every day        

fathered upon their reputation4 ,nine or
 ten skies of ,claude might be named    
which are not to be contended with1 in  
their way1 and as many of ,cuyp4        
,teniers has given some very wonderful  
passages1 and the clearness of the early
 ,italian and ,dutch schools is beyond  
all imitation4 ,but the common blue     
daubing which we hear every day in our  
best galleries attributed to ,claude and
 ,cuyp1 and the genuine skies of        
,salvator1 and of both the ,poussins1   
are not to be compared for an instant   
with the best works of modern times1    
even in quality and transparency2 while 
in all matters requiring delicate       
observation or accurate science1--in all
 which was not attainable by            
technicalities of art1 and which        
depended upon the artist's knowledge and
 understanding of nature1 all the works 
of the ancients are alike the           
productions of mere children1 sometimes 
manifesting great sensibility1 but      
proving at the same time1 feebly        

developed intelligence and ill-regulated
 observation4   ,,footnotes    #cj ,i   
have left this passage as it stood      
originally1 because it is     right as  
far as it goes2 yet it speaks with too  
little respect of     symbolism1 which  
is often of the highest use in religious
 art1 and     in some measure is        
allowable in all art4 ,in the works of  
almost all     the greatest masters     
there are portions which are explanatory
 rather     than representative1 and    
typical rather than imitative2 nor could
     these be parted with but at        
infinite loss4 ,note1 with respect to   
the     present question1 the daring    
black sunbeams of ,titian1 in his       
woodcut of ,st4 ,francis receiving the  
stigmata1 and compare here ,part        
,,iii4 ,sect4 ,,ii4 ,chap4 ,,iv4 ,sec4  
#ah2 ,chap4 ,v4 ,sec4 #ac4 ,and though  
,i believe     that ,i am right in      
considering all such symbolism as out of
 place in     pure landscape1 and in    
attributing that of ,claude to ignorance

 or     inability1 and not to feeling1  
yet ,i praise ,turner not so much for   
his absolute refusal to represent the   
spiky ray about the sun1 as     for his 
perceiving and rendering that which     
,claude never perceived1     the        
multitudinous presence of radiating     
light in the upper sky and     on all   
its countless ranks of subtile cloud4   
,,chapter ,,ii4            ,,of ,,truth 
,,of ,,clouds3--,,first1 ,,of ,,the     
,,region ,,of ,,the ,,cirrus4   ,sec4   
#a4 ,difficulty of ascertaining wherein 
the truth of clouds consists4  ,our next
 subject of investigation must be the   
specific character of clouds1 a species 
of truth which is especially neglected  
by artists2 first1 because as it is     
within the limits of possibility that a 
cloud may assume almost any form1 it is 
difficult to point out and not always   
easy to feel1 where in error consists2  
and secondly1 because it is totally     
impossible to study the forms of clouds 
from nature with care and accuracy1 as a

 change in the subject takes place      
between every touch of the following    
pencil1 and parts of an outline sketched
 at different instants cannot harmonize1
 nature never having intended them to   
come together4 ,still if artists were   
more in the habit of sketching clouds   
rapidly1 and as accurately as possible  
in the outline1 from nature1 instead of 
daubing down what they call effects with
 the brush1 they would soon find there  
is more beauty about their forms than   
can be arrived at by any random felicity
 of invention1 however brilliant1 and   
more essential character than can be    
violated without incurring the charge of
 falsehood1--falsehood as direct and    
definite1 though not as traceable as    
error in the less varied features of    
organic form4   ,sec4 #b4 ,variation of 
their character at different elevations4
 ,the three        regions to which they
 may conveniently be considered as      
belonging4  ,the first and most         
important character of clouds1 is       

dependent on the different altitudes at 
which they are formed4 ,the atmosphere  
may be conveniently considered as       
divided into three spaces1 each         
inhabited by clouds of specific         
character altogether different1 though1 
in reality there is no distinct limit   
fixed between them by nature1 clouds    
being formed at every altitude1 and     
partaking according to their altitude1  
more or less of the characters of the   
upper or lower regions4 ,the scenery of 
the sky is thus formed of an infinitely 
graduated series of systematic forms of 
cloud1 each of which has its own region 
in which alone it is formed1 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 space4 ,i shall therefore  
consider the sky as divided into three  
regions--the upper region1 or region of 
the cirrus2 the central region1 or      
region of the stratus2 the lower region1

 or the region of the rain-cloud4       
,sec4 #c4 ,extent of the upper region4  
,sec4 #d4 ,the symmetrical arrangement  
of its clouds4  ,the clouds which ,i    
wish to consider as included in the     
upper region1 never touch even the      
highest mountains of ,europe1 and may   
therefore be looked upon as never formed
 below an of at least #ae1jjj feet2 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     
weather4 ,i must be pardoned for giving 
a detailed description of their specific
 characters as they are of constant     
occurrence in the works of modern       
artists1 and ,i shall have occasion to  
speak frequently of them in future parts
 of the work4 ,their chief characters   
are--first1 ,symmetry3 ,they are nearly 
always arranged in some definite and    
evident order1 commonly in long ranks   
reaching sometimes from the zenith to   
the horizon1 each rank composed of an   

infinite number of transverse bars of   
about the same length1 each bar thickest
 in the middle1 and terminating in a    
traceless vaporous point at each side2  
the ranks are in the direction of the   
wind1 and the bars of course at right   
angles to it2 these latter are commonly 
slightly bent in the middle4 ,frequently
 two systems of this kind1 indicative of
 two currents of wind1 at different     
altitudes intersect one another1 forming
 a network4 ,another frequent           
arrangement is in groups of excessively 
fine1 silky1 parallel fibres1 commonly  
radiating1 or having a tendency to      
radiate1 from one of their extremities1 
and terminating in a plumy sweep at the 
other3--these are vulgarly known as     
mares' tails4 ,the plumy and expanded   
extremity of these is often bent        
upwards1 sometimes back and up again1   
giving an appearance of great           
flexibility and unity at the same time1 
as if the clouds were tough1 and would  
hold together however bent4 ,the narrow 

extremity is invariably turned to the   
wind1 and the fibres are parallel with  
its direction4 ,the upper clouds always 
fall into some modification of one or   
other of these arrangements4 ,they thus 
differ from all other clouds1 in having 
a plan and system2 whereas other clouds1
 though there are certain laws which    
they cannot break1 have yet perfect     
freedom from anything like a relative   
and general system of government4 ,the  
upper clouds are to the lower1 what     
soldiers on parade are to a mixed       
multitude2 no men walk on their heads or
 their hands1 and so there are certain  
laws which no clouds violate2 but there 
is nothing except in the upper clouds   
resembling symmetrical discipline4      
,sec4 #e4 ,their exceeding delicacy4    
,secondly1 ,sharpness of ,edge3 ,the    
edges of the bars of the upper clouds   
which are turned to the wind1 are often 
the sharpest which the sky shows2 no    
outline whatever of any other kind of   
cloud1 however marked and energetic1    

ever approaches the delicate decision of
 these edges4 ,the outline of a black   
thunder-cloud is striking1 from the     
great energy of the color or shade of   
the general mass2 but as a line1 it is  
soft and indistinct1 compared with the  
edge of the cirrus1 in a clear sky with 
a brisk breeze4 ,on the other hand1 the 
edge of the bar turned away from the    
wind is always soft1 often              
imperceptible1 melting into the blue    
interstice between it and its next      
neighbor4 ,commonly the sharper one edge
 is1 the softer is the other1 and the   
clouds look flat1 and as if they slipped
 over each other like the scales of a   
fish4 ,when both edges are soft1 as is  
always the case when the sky is clear   
and windless1 the cloud looks solid1    
round1 and fleecy4   ,sec4 #f4 ,their   
number4  ,thirdly1 ,multitude3 ,the     
delicacy of these vapors is sometimes   
carried into such an infinity of        
division1 that no other sensation of    
number that the earth or heaven can give

 is so impressive4 ,number is always    
most felt when it is symmetrical1 7vide 
,burke on ,sublime1 ,part ii4 sect4 #h17
 and1 therefore1 no sea-waves nor fresh 
leaves make their number so evident or  
so impressive as these vapors4 ,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 masses1 more or less         
connected according to the violence of  
the wind4 ,when this division is merely 
effected by undulation1 the cloud       
exactly resembles sea-sand ribbed by the
 tide2 but when the division amounts to 
real separation we have the mottled or  
mackerel skies4 ,commonly1 the greater  
the division of its bars1 the broader   
and more shapeless is the rank or field1
 so that in the mottled sky it is lost  
altogether1 and we have large irregular 
fields of equal size1 masses like flocks
 of sheep2 such clouds are three or four
 thousand feet below the legitimate     
cirrus4 ,i have seen them cast a shadow 

on the ,mont ,blanc at sunset1 so that  
they must descend nearly to within      
fifteen thousand feet of the earth4     
,sec4 #g4 ,causes of their peculiarly   
delicate coloring4  ,fourthly1 ,purity  
of ,color3 ,the nearest of these        
clouds--those over the observer's head1 
being at least three miles above him1   
and nearly all entering the ordinary    
sphere of vision1 farther from him      
still1--their dark sides are much grayer
 and cooler than those of other clouds1 
owing to their distance4 ,they are      
composed of the purest aqueous vapor1   
free from all foulness of earthy gases1 
and of this in the lightest and most    
ethereal state in which it can be1 to be
 visible4 ,farther1 they receive the    
light of the sun in a state of far      
greater intensity than lower objects1   
the beams being transmitted to them     
through atmospheric air far less dense1 
and wholly unaffected by mist1 smoke1 or
 any other impurity4 ,hence their colors
 are more pure and vivid1 and their     

white less sullied than those of any    
other clouds4   ,sec4 #h4 ,their variety
 of form4  ,lastly1 ,variety3 ,variety  
is never so conspicuous1 as when it is  
united with symmetry4 ,the perpetual    
change of form in other clouds1 is      
monotonous in its very dissimilarity1   
nor is difference striking where no     
connection is implied2 but if through a 
range of barred clouds1 crossing half   
the heaven1 all governed by the same    
forces and falling into one general     
form1 there be yet a marked and evident 
dissimilarity between each member of the
 great mass--one more finely drawn1 the 
next more delicately moulded1 the next  
more gracefully bent--each broken into  
differently modelled and variously      
numbered groups1 the variety is doubly  
striking1 because contrasted with the   
perfect symmetry of which it forms a    
part4 ,hence1 the importance of the     
truth1 that nature never lets one of the
 members of even her most disciplined   
groups of cloud be like another2 but    

though each is adapted for the same     
function1 and in its great features     
resembles all the others1 not one1 out  
of the millions with which the sky is   
checkered1 is without a separate beauty 
and character1 appearing to have had    
distinct thought occupied in its        
conception1 and distinct forces in its  
production2 and in addition to this     
perpetual invention1 visible in each    
member of each system1 we find systems  
of separate cloud intersecting one      
another1 the sweeping lines mingled and 
interwoven with the rigid bars1 these in
 their turn melting into banks of       
sand-like ripple and flakes of drifted  
and irregular foam2 under all1 perhaps  
the massy outline of some lower cloud   
moves heavily across the motionless     
buoyancy of the upper lines1 and        
indicates at once their elevation and   
their repose4   ,sec4 #i4 ,total absence
 of even the slightest effort at their  
representation1        in ancient       
landscape4  ,such are the great         

attributes of the upper cloud region2   
whether they are beautiful1 valuable1 or
 impressive1 it is not our present      
business to decide1 nor to endeavor to  
discover the reason of the somewhat     
remarkable fact1 that the whole field of
 ancient landscape art affords1 as far  
as we remember1 but one instance of any 
effort whatever to represent the        
character of this cloud region4 ,that   
one instance is the landscape of ,rubens
 in our own gallery1 in which the       
mottled or fleecy sky is given with     
perfect truth and exquisite beauty4 ,to 
this should perhaps be added1 some of   
the backgrounds of the historical       
painters1 where horizontal lines were   
required1 and a few level bars of white 
or warm color cross the serenity of the 
blue4 ,these1 as far as they go1 are    
often very perfect1 and the elevation   
and repose of their effect might1 we    
should have thought1 have pointed out to
 the landscape painters that there was  
something 7,i do not say much1 but      

certainly something7 to be made out of  
the high clouds4 ,not one of them1      
however1 took the hint4 ,to whom1 among 
them all1 can we look for the slightest 
realization of the fine and faithful    
descriptive passage of the ,excursion1  
already alluded to3--                   
,but rays of light1           ,now      
suddenly diverging from the orb1        
,retired behind the mountain tops1 or   
veiled           ,by the dense air1 shot
 upwards to the crown           ,of the 
blue firmament--aloft--and wide3        
,and multitudes of little floating      
clouds1           ,ere we1 who saw1 of  
change were conscious1 pierced          
,through their ethereal texture1 had    
become           ,vivid as              
fire1--,clouds separately poised1       
,innumerable multitude of forms         
,scattered through half the circle of   
the sky2           ,and giving back1 and
 shedding each on each1           ,with 
prodigal communion1 the bright hues     
,which from the unapparent fount of     

glory           ,they had imbibed1 and  
ceased not to receive4           ,that  
which the heavens displayed the liquid  
deep           ,repeated1 but with unity
 sublime4   ,sec4 #aj4 ,the intense and 
constant study of them by ,turner4      
,there is but one master whose works we 
can think of while we read this2 one    
alone has taken notice of the neglected 
upper sky2 it is his peculiar and       
favorite field2 he has watched its every
 modification1 and given its every phase
 and feature2 at all hours1 in all      
seasons1 he has followed its passions   
and its changes1 and has brought down   
and laid open to the world another      
apocalypse of heaven4  ,there is        
scarcely a painting of ,turner's1 in    
which serenity of sky and intensity of  
light are aimed at together1 in which   
these clouds are not used1 though there 
are not two cases in which they are used
 altogether alike4 ,sometimes they are  
crowded together in masses of mingling  
light1 as in the ,shylock2 every part   

and atom sympathizing in that continuous
 expression of slow movement which      
,shelley has so beautifully touched3--  
,underneath the young gray dawn         
,a multitude of dense1 white fleecy     
clouds1         ,were wandering in thick
 flocks along the mountains1            
,shepherded by the slow1 unwilling wind4
  ,at other times they are blended with 
the sky itself1 felt only here and there
 by a ray of light calling them into    
existence out of its misty shade1 as in 
the ,mercury and ,argus2 sometimes1     
where great repose is to be given1 they 
appear in a few detached1 equal1 rounded
 flakes1 which seem to hang motionless1 
each like the shadow of the other1 in   
the deep blue of the zenith1 as in the  
,acro-,corinth2 sometimes they are      
scattered in fiery flying fragments1    
each burning with separate energy1 as in
 the ,temeraire2 sometimes woven        
together with fine threads of           
intermediate darkness1 melting into the 
blue as in the ,napoleon4 ,but in all   

cases the exquisite manipulation of the 
master gives to each atom of the        
multitude its own character and         
expression4 ,though they be countless as
 leaves1 each has its portion of light1 
its shadow1 its reflex1 its peculiar and
 separating form4   ,sec4 #aa4 ,his     
vignette1 ,sunrise on the ,sea4  ,take  
for instance the illustrated edition of 
,rogers's ,poems1#ca and open it at the 
#hjth page1 and observe how every       
attribute which ,i have pointed out in  
the upper sky1 is there rendered with   
the faithfulness of a mirror2 the long  
lines of parallel bars1 the delicate    
curvature from the wind1 which the      
inclination of the sail shows you to be 
from the west2 the excessive sharpness  
of every edge which is turned to the    
wind1 the faintness of every opposite   
one1 the breaking up of each bar into   
rounded masses1 and finally1 the        
inconceivable variety with which        
individual form has been given to every 
member of the multitude1 and not only   

individual form1 but roundness and      
substance even where there is scarcely a
 hairbreadth of cloud to express it in4 
,observe1 above everything1 the varying 
indication of space and depth in the    
whole1 so that you may look through and 
through from one cloud to another1      
feeling not merely how they retire to   
the horizon1 but how they melt back into
 the recesses of the sky2 every interval
 being filled with absolute air1 and all
 its spaces so melting and fluctuating1 
and fraught with change as with repose1 
that as you look1 you will fancy that   
the rays shoot higher and higher into   
the vault of light1 and that the pale   
streak of horizontal vapor is melting   
away from the cloud that it crosses4    
,now watch for the next barred sunrise1 
and take this vignette to the window1   
and test it by nature's own clouds1     
among which you will find forms and     
passages1 ,i do not say merely like1 but
 apparently the actual originals of     
parts of this very drawing4 ,and with   

whom will you do this1 except with      
,turner8 ,will you do it with ,claude1  
and set that blank square yard of blue1 
with its round1 white1 flat fixtures of 
similar cloud1 beside the purple        
infinity of nature1 with her countless  
multitude of shadowy lines1 and flaky   
waves1 and folded veils of variable     
mist8 ,will you do it with ,poussin1 and
 set those massy steps of unyielding    
solidity1 with the chariot-and-four     
driving up them1 by the side of the     
delicate forms which terminate in       
threads too fine for the eye to follow  
them1 and of texture so thin woven that 
the earliest stars shine through them8  
,will you do it with ,salvator1 and set 
that volume of violent and restless     
manufactory smoke beside those calm and 
quiet bars1 which pause in the heaven as
 if they would never leave it more8     
,sec4 #ab4 ,his use of the cirrus in    
expressing mist4  ,now we have just seen
 how ,turner uses the sharp-edged cirri 
when he aims at giving great            

transparency of air4 ,but it was shown  
in the preceding chapter that sunbeams1 
or the appearance of them1 are always   
sharper in their edge in proportion as  
the air is more misty1 as they are most 
defined in a room where there is most   
dust flying about in it4 ,consequently1 
in the vignette we have been just       
noticing1 where transparency is to be   
given1 though there is a blaze of light1
 its beams are never edged2 a tendency  
to rays is visible1 but you cannot in   
any part find a single marked edge of a 
rising sunbeam1 the sky is merely more  
flushed in one place than another4 ,now 
let us see what ,turner does when he    
wants mist4 ,turn to the ,alps at       
,daybreak1 page #aic1 in the same book4 
,here we have the cirri used again1 but 
now they have no sharp edges1 they are  
all fleecy and mingling with each other1
 though every one of them has the most  
exquisite indication of individual form1
 and they melt back1 not till they are  
lost in exceeding light1 as in the other

 plate1 but into a mysterious1          
fluctuating1 shadowy sky1 of which1     
though the light penetrates through it  
all1 you perceive every part to be      
charged with vapor4 ,notice particularly
 the half-indicated forms even where it 
is most serene1 behind the snowy        
mountains4 ,and now1 how are the        
sunbeams drawn8 no longer indecisive1   
flushing1 palpitating1 every one is     
sharp and clear1 and terminated by      
definite shadow2 note especially the    
marked lines on the upper cloud2        
finally1 observe the difference in the  
mode of indicating the figures1 which   
are here misty and indistinguishable1   
telling only as shadows1 though they are
 near and large1 while those in the     
former vignette came clear upon the eye1
 though they were so far off as to      
appear mere points4   ,sec4 #ac4 ,his   
consistency in every minor feature4     
,now is this perpetual consistency in   
all points1 this concentration of every 
fact which can possibly bear upon what  

we are to be told1 this watchfulness of 
the entire meaning and system of nature1
 which fills every part and space of the
 picture with coincidences of witness1  
which come out upon us1 as they would   
from the reality1 more fully and deeply 
in proportion to the knowledge we       
possess and the attention we give1      
admirable or not8 ,i could go on writing
 page after page on every sky of        
,turner's1 and pointing out fresh truths
 in every one4 ,in the ,havre1 for      
instance1 of the ,rivers of ,france we  
have a new fact pointed out to us with  
respect to these cirri1 namely1 their   
being so faint and transparent as not to
 be distinguishable from the blue of the
 sky1 7a frequent case17 except in the  
course of a sunbeam1 which1 however1    
does not illumine their edges1 they     
being not solid enough to reflect light1
 but penetrates their whole substance1  
and renders them flat1 luminous forms in
 its path1 instantly and totally lost at
 its edge4 ,and thus a separate essay   

would be required by every picture1 to  
make fully understood the new phenomena 
which it treated and illustrated4 ,but  
after once showing what are the         
prevailing characteristics of these     
clouds1 we can only leave it to the     
reader to trace them wherever they      
occur4 ,there are some fine and         
characteristic passages of this kind of 
cloud given by ,stanfield1 though he    
dares not use them in multitude1 and is 
wanting in those refined qualities of   
form which it is totally impossible to  
explain in words1 but which1 perhaps1 by
 simple outlines1 on a large scale1     
selected from the cloud forms of various
 artists1 ,i may in following portions  
of the work illustrate with the pencil4 
,sec4 #ad4 ,the color of the upper      
clouds4  ,of the colors of these clouds 
,i have spoken before1 7,sec4 ,i4 ,chap4
 ,,ii427 but though ,i then alluded to  
their purity and vividness1 ,i scarcely 
took proper notice of their variety2    
there is indeed in nature variety in all

 things1 and it would be absurd to      
insist on it in each case1 yet the      
colors of these clouds are so marvellous
 in their changefulness1 that they      
require particular notice4 ,if you watch
 for the next sunset1 when there are a  
considerable number of these cirri in   
the sky1 you will see1 especially at the
 zenith1 that the sky does not remain of
 the same color for two inches together2
 one cloud has a dark side of cold blue1
 and a fringe of milky white2 another1  
above it1 has a dark side of purple and 
an edge of red2 another1 nearer the sun1
 has an under-side of orange and an edge
 of gold2 these you will find mingled   
with1 and passing into the blue of the  
sky1 which in places you will not be    
able to distinguish from the cool gray  
of the darker clouds1 and which will be 
itself full of gradation1 now pure and  
deep1 now faint and feeble2 and all this
 is done1 not in large pieces1 nor on a 
large scale1 but over and over again in 
every square yard1 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 picture1 and
 yet no single part which is like       
another1 or which has not some peculiar 
source of beauty1 and some peculiar     
arrangement of color of its own4 ,now1  
instead of this1 you get in the old     
masters--,cuyp1 or ,claude1 or whoever  
they may be--a field of blue1           
delicately1 beautifully1 and uniformly  
shaded down to the yellow sun1 with a   
certain number of similar clouds1 each  
with a dark side of the same gray1 and  
an edge of the same yellow4 ,i do not   
say that nature never does anything like
 this1 but ,i say that her principle is 
to do a great deal more1 and that what  
she does more than this1--what ,i have  
above described1 and what you may see in
 nine sunsets out of ten1--has been     
observed1 attempted1 and rendered by    
,turner only1 and by him with a fidelity
 and force which presents us with more  
essential truth1 and more clear         

expression and illustration of natural  
laws1 in every wreath of vapor1 than    
composed the whole stock of heavenly    
information1 which lasted ,cuyp and     
,claude their lives4   ,sec4 #ae4       
,recapitulation4  ,we close then our    
present consideration of the upper      
clouds1 to return to them when we know  
what is beautiful2 we have at present   
only to remember that of these clouds1  
and the truths connected with them1 none
 before ,turner had taken any notice    
whatsoever2 that had they therefore been
 even feebly and imperfectly represented
 by him1 they would yet have given him a
 claim to be considered more extended   
and universal in his statement of truths
 than any of his predecessors2 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 knowledge1 and to    
every added moment of our contemplation4
   ,,footnotes    #ca ,i use this work  
frequently for illustration1 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 ,turner4 ,i can reason       
from these plates1 7in questions of form
 only17 nearly as well as ,i     could  
from the drawings4                      
,,chapter ,,iii4            ,,of ,,truth
 ,,of ,,clouds3--,,secondly1 ,,of ,,the 
,,central ,,cloud ,,region4   ,sec4 #a4 
,extent and typical character of the    
central cloud region4  ,we have next to 
investigate the character of the        
,central ,cloud ,region1 which ,i       
consider as including all clouds which  
are the usual characteristic of ordinary
 serene weather1 and which touch and    
envelop the mountains of ,switzerland1  
but never affect those of our own       
island2 they may therefore be considered
 as occupying a space of air ten        
thousand feet in height1 extending from 
five to fifteen thousand feet above the 
sea4   ,sec4 #b4 ,its characteristic    
clouds1 requiring no attention nor      

thought for        their representation1
 are therefore favorite subjects with   
the        old masters4  ,these clouds1 
according to their elevation1 appear    
with great variety of form1 often       
partaking of the streaked or mottled    
character of the higher region1 and as  
often1 when the precursors of storm1    
manifesting forms closely connected with
 the lowest rain clouds2 but the species
 especially characteristic of the       
central region is a white1 ragged1      
irregular1 and scattered vapor1 which   
has little form and less color1 and of  
which a good example may be seen in the 
largest landscape of ,cuyp1 in the      
,dulwich ,gallery4 ,when this vapor     
collects into masses1 it is partially   
rounded1 clumsy1 and ponderous1 as if it
 would tumble out of the sky1 shaded    
with a dull gray1 and totally devoid of 
any appearance of energy or motion4     
,even in nature1 these clouds are       
comparatively uninteresting1 scarcely   
worth raising our heads to look at2 and 

on canvas1 valuable only as a means of  
introducing light1 and breaking the     
monotony of blue2 yet they are1 perhaps1
 beyond all others the favorite clouds  
of the ,dutch masters4 ,whether they had
 any motive for the adoption of such    
materials1 beyond the extreme facility  
with which acres of canvas might thus be
 covered without any troublesome        
exertion of thought2 or any temptation  
to such selections beyond the           
impossibility of error where nature     
shows no form1 and the impossibility of 
deficiency where she shows no beauty1 it
 is not here the place to determine4    
,such skies are happily beyond the reach
 of criticism1 for he who tells you     
nothing cannot tell you a falsehood4 ,a 
little flake-white1 glazed with a light 
brush over the carefully toned blue1    
permitted to fall into whatever forms   
chance might determine1 with the single 
precaution that their edges should be   
tolerably irregular1 supplied1 in       
hundreds of instances1 a sky quite good 

enough for all ordinary purposes--quite 
good enough for cattle to graze1 or     
boors to play at nine-pins under--and   
equally devoid of all that could        
gratify1 inform1 or offend4   ,sec4 #c4 
,the clouds of ,salvator and ,poussin4  
,but although this kind of cloud is1 as 
,i have said1 typical of the central    
region1 it is not one which nature is   
fond of4 ,she scarcely ever lets an hour
 pass without some manifestation of     
finer forms1 sometimes approaching the  
upper cirri1 sometimes the lower        
cumulus4 ,and then in the lower         
outlines1 we have the nearest           
approximation which nature ever presents
 to the clouds of ,claude1 ,salvator1   
and ,poussin1 to the characters of which
 ,i must request especial attention1 as 
it is here only that we shall have a    
fair opportunity of comparing their     
skies with those of the modern school4  
,i shall1 as before1 glance rapidly at  
the great laws of specific form1 and so 
put it in the power of the reader to    

judge for himself of the truth of       
representation4   ,sec4 #d4 ,their      
essential characters4  ,sec4 #e4 ,their 
angular forms and general decision of   
outline4  ,clouds1 it is to be          
remembered1 are not so much local vapor1
 as vapor rendered locally visible by a 
fall of temperature4 ,thus a cloud1     
whose parts are in constant motion1 will
 hover on a snowy mountain1 pursuing    
constantly the same track upon its      
flanks1 and yet remaining of the same   
size1 the same form1 and in the same    
place1 for half a day together4 ,no     
matter how violent or how capricious the
 wind may be1 the instant it approaches 
the spot where the chilly influence of  
the snow extends1 the moisture it       
carries becomes visible1 and then and   
there the cloud forms on the instant1   
apparently maintaining its form against 
the wind1 though the careful and keen   
eye can see all its parts in the most   
rapid motion across the mountain4 ,the  
outlines of such a cloud are of course  

not determined by the irregular impulses
 of the wind1 but by the fixed lines of 
radiant heat which regulate the         
temperature of the atmosphere of the    
mountain4 ,it is terminated1 therefore1 
not by changing curves1 but by steady   
right lines of more or less decision1   
often exactly correspondent with the    
outline of the mountain on which it is  
formed1 and falling therefore into      
grotesque peaks and precipices4 ,i have 
seen the marked and angular outline of  
the ,grandes ,jorasses1 at ,chamounix1  
mimicked in its every jag by a line of  
clouds above it4 ,another resultant     
phenomenon is the formation of cloud in 
the calm air to leeward of a steep      
summit2 cloud whose edges are in rapid  
motion1 where they are affected by the  
current of the wind above1 and stream   
from the peak like the smoke of a       
volcano1 yet always vanish at a certain 
distance from it as steam issuing from a
 chimney4 ,when wet weather of some     
duration is approaching1 a small white  

spot of cloud will sometimes appear low 
on the hill flanks2 it will not move1   
but will increase gradually for some    
little time1 then diminish1 still       
without moving2 disappear altogether1   
reappear ten minutes afterwards1 exactly
 in the same spot2 increase to a greater
 extent than before1 again disappear1   
again return1 and at last permanently2  
other similar spots of cloud forming    
simultaneously1 with various            
fluctuations1 each in its own spot1 and 
at the same level on the hill-side1     
until all expand1 join together1 and    
form an unbroken veil of threatening    
gray1 which darkens gradually into      
storm4 ,what in such cases takes place  
palpably and remarkably1 is more or less
 a law of formation in all clouds       
whatsoever2 they being bounded rather by
 lines expressive of changes of         
temperature in the atmosphere1 than by  
the impulses of the currents of wind in 
which those changes take place4 ,even   
when in rapid and visible motion across 

the sky1 the variations which take place
 in their outlines are not so much      
alterations of position and arrangement 
of parts1 as they are the alternate     
formation and disappearance of parts4   
,there is1 therefore1 usually a         
parallelism and consistency in their    
great outlines1 which give system to the
 smaller curves of which they are       
composed2 and if these great lines be   
taken1 rejecting the minutiae of        
variation1 the resultant form will      
almost always be angular1 and full of   
character and decision4 ,in the         
flock-like fields of equal masses1 each 
individual mass has the effect1 not of  
an ellipse or circle1 but of a rhomboid2
 the sky is crossed and checkered1 not  
honeycombed2 in the lower cumuli1 even  
though the most rounded of all clouds1  
the groups are not like balloons or     
bubbles1 but like towers or mountains4  
,and the result of this arrangement in  
masses more or less angular1 varied     
with1 and chiefly constructed of1 curves

 of the utmost freedom and beauty1 is   
that appearance of exhaustless and      
fantastic energy which gives every cloud
 a marked character of its own1         
suggesting resemblances to the specific 
outlines of organic objects4 ,i do not  
say that such accidental resemblances   
are a character to be imitated2 but     
merely that they bear witness to the    
originality and vigor of separate       
conception in cloud forms1 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 elevation2 and   
that there is added to this a           
spirit-like feeling1 a capricious1      
mocking imagery of passion and life1    
totally different from any effects of   
inanimate form that the earth can show4 
,sec4 #f4 ,the composition of their     
minor curves4  ,the minor contours1 out 
of which the larger outlines are        
composed1 are indeed beautifully        
curvilinear2 but they are never         

monotonous in their curves4 ,first comes
 a concave line1 then a convex one1 then
 an angular jag1 breaking off into      
spray1 then a downright straight line1  
then a curve again1 then a deep gap1 and
 a place where all is lost and melted   
away1 and so on2 displaying in every    
inch of the form renewed and ceaseless  
invention1 setting off grace with       
rigidity1 and relieving flexibility with
 force1 in a manner scarcely less       
admirable1 and far more changeful than  
even in the muscular forms of the human 
frame4 ,nay1 such is the exquisite      
composition of all this1 that you may   
take any single fragment of any cloud in
 the sky1 and you will find it put      
together as if there had been a year's  
thought over the plan of it1 arranged   
with the most studied inequality--with  
the most delicate symmetry--with the    
most elaborate contrast1 a picture in   
itself4 ,you may try every other piece  
of cloud in the heaven1 and you will    
find them every one as perfect1 and yet 

not one in the least like another4      
,sec4 #g4 ,their characters1 as given by
 ,s4 ,rosa4  ,now it may perhaps1 for   
anything we know1 or have yet proved1 be
 highly expedient and proper1 in art1   
that this variety1 individuality1 and   
angular character should be changed into
 a mass of convex curves1 each precisely
 like its neighbor in all respects1 and 
unbroken from beginning to end2--it may 
be highly original1 masterly1 bold1     
whatever you choose to call it2 but it  
is false4 ,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 islands1 
and carrying them to enchanted castles1 
might not have possessed something of   
the pillowy organization which we may   
suppose best adapted for functions of   
such delicacy and dispatch4 ,but ,i do  
mean to say that the clouds which ,god  
sends upon his earth as the ministers of
 dew1 and rain1 and shade1 and with     

which he adorns his heaven1 setting them
 in its vault for the thrones of his    
spirits1 have not in one instant or atom
 of their existence1 one feature in     
common with such conceptions and        
creations4 ,and there are1 beyond       
dispute1 more direct and unmitigated    
falsehoods told1 and more laws of nature
 set at open defiance in one of the     
rolling skies of ,salvator1 such as that
 marked #aei in the ,dulwich ,gallery1  
than were ever attributed1 even by the  
ignorant and unfeeling1 to all the      
wildest flights of ,turner put together4
   ,sec4 #h4 ,monotony and falsehood of 
the clouds of the ,italian ,school      
generally4  ,and it is not as if the    
error were only occasional4 ,it is      
systematic and constant in all the      
,italian masters of the seventeenth     
century1 and in most of the ,dutch4     
,they looked at clouds as at everything 
else which did not particularly help    
them in their great end of deception1   
with utter carelessness and bluntness of

 feeling1--saw that there were a great  
many rounded passages in them1--found it
 much easier to sweep circles than to   
design beauties1 and sat down in their  
studies1 contented with perpetual       
repetitions of the same spherical       
conceptions1 having about the same      
relation to the clouds of nature1 that a
 child's carving of a turnip has to the 
head of the ,apollo4 ,look at the round 
things about the sun in the bricky      
,claude1 the smallest of the three      
,seaports in the ,national ,gallery4    
,they are a great deal more like        
half-crowns than clouds4 ,take the ropy1
 tough-looking wreath in the ,sacrifice 
of ,isaac1 and find one part of it1 if  
you can1 which is not the repetition of 
every other part of it1 all together    
being as round and vapid as the brush   
could draw them2 or take the two        
cauliflower-like protuberances in ,no4  
#bbj of the ,dulwich ,gallery1 and      
admire the studied similarity between   
them2 you cannot tell which is which2 or

 take the so-called ,nicholas ,poussin1 
,no4 #bab1 ,dulwich ,gallery1 in which1 
from the brown trees to the right-hand  
side of the picture1 there is not one   
line which is not physically impossible4
   ,sec4 #i4 ,vast size of congregated  
masses of cloud4  ,sec4 #aj4            
,demonstrable by comparison with        
mountain ranges4  ,but it is not the    
outline only which is thus              
systematically false4 ,the drawing of   
the solid form is worse still1 for it is
 to be remembered that although clouds  
of course arrange themselves more or    
less into broad masses1 with a light    
side and dark side1 both their light and
 shade are invariably composed of a     
series of divided masses1 each of which 
has in its outline as much variety and  
character as the great outline of the   
cloud2 presenting1 therefore1 a thousand
 times repeated1 all that ,i have       
described as characteristic of the      
general form4 ,nor are these            
multitudinous divisions a truth of      

slight importance in the character of   
sky1 for they are dependent on1 and     
illustrative of1 a quality which is     
usually in a great degree               
overlooked1--the enormous retiring      
spaces of solid clouds4 ,between the    
illumined edge of a heaped cloud1 and   
that part of its body which turns into  
shadow1 there will generally be a clear 
distance of several miles1 more or less 
of course1 according to the general size
 of the cloud1 but in such large masses 
as in ,poussin and others of the old    
masters1 occupy the fourth or fifth of  
the visible sky2 the clear illumined    
breadth of vapor1 from the edge to the  
shadow1 involves at least a distance of 
five or six miles4 ,we are little apt1  
in watching the changes of a mountainous
 range of cloud1 to reflect that the    
masses of vapor which compose it1 are   
huger and higher than any mountain range
 of the earth2 and the distances between
 mass and mass are not yards of air     
traversed in an instant by the flying   

form1 but valleys of changing atmosphere
 leagues over2 that the slow motion of  
ascending curves1 which we can scarcely 
trace1 is a boiling energy of exulting  
vapor rushing into the heaven a thousand
 feet in a minute2 and that the toppling
 angle whose sharp edge almost escapes  
notice in the multitudinous forms around
 it1 is a nodding precipice of storms1  
#cjjj feet from base to summit4 ,it is  
not until we have actually compared the 
forms of the sky with the hill ranges of
 the earth1 and seen the soaring ,alp   
overtopped and buried in one surge of   
the sky1 that we begin to conceive or   
appreciate the colossal scale of the    
phenomena of the latter4 ,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 fact1 that  
the space of vapor visibly extended over
 an ordinarily cloudy sky1 is not less1 
from the point nearest to the observer  
to the horizon1 than twenty leagues2    

that the size of every mass of separate 
form1 if it be at all largely divided1  
is to be expressed in terms of miles2   
and that every boiling heap of          
illuminated mist in the nearer sky1 is  
an enormous mountain1 fifteen or twenty 
thousand feet in height1 six or seven   
miles over an illuminated surface1      
furrowed by a thousand colossal ravines1
 torn by local tempests into peaks and  
promontories1 and changing its features 
with the majestic velocity of the       
volcano4   ,sec4 #aa4 ,and consequent   
divisions and varieties of feature4  ,to
 those who have once convinced          
themselves of these proportions of the  
heaven1 it will be immediately evident1 
that though we might1 without much      
violation of truth1 omit the minor      
divisions of a cloud four yards over1 it
 is the veriest audacity of falsehood to
 omit those of masses where for yards we
 have to read miles2 first1 because it  
is physically impossible that such a    
space should be without many and vast   

divisions2 secondly1 because divisions  
at such distances must be sharply and   
forcibly marked by aerial perspective1  
so that not only they must be there1 but
 they must be visible and evident to the
 eye2 and thirdly1 because these        
multitudinous divisions are absolutely  
necessary1 in order to express this     
space and distance1 which cannot but be 
fully and imperfectly felt1 even with   
every aid and evidence that art can give
 of it4   ,sec4 #ab4 ,not lightly to be 
omitted4  ,now if an artist taking for  
his subject a chain of vast mountains1  
several leagues long1 were to unite all 
their varieties of ravine1 crag1 chasm1 
and precipice1 into one solid1 unbroken 
mass1 with one light side and one dark  
side1 looking like a white ball or      
parallelopiped two yards broad1 the     
words breadth1 boldness1 or1            
generalization1 would scarcely be       
received as a sufficient apology for a  
proceeding so glaringly false1 and so   
painfully degrading4 ,but when1 instead 

of the really large and simple forms of 
mountains1 united1 as they commonly are1
 by some great principle of common      
organization1 and so closely resembling 
each other as often to correspond in    
line1 and join in effect2 when instead  
of this1 we have to do with spaces of   
cloud twice as vast1 broken up into a   
multiplicity of forms necessary to1 and 
characteristic of1 their very           
nature--those forms subject to a        
thousand local changes1 having no       
association with each other1 and        
rendered visible in a thousand places by
 their own transparency or cavities1    
where the mountain forms would be lost  
in shade1--that this far greater space1 
and this far more complicated           
arrangement1 should be all summed up    
into one round mass1 with one swell of  
white1 and one flat side of unbroken    
gray1 is considered an evidence of the  
sublimest powers in the artist of       
generalization and breadth4 ,now it may 
be broad1 it may be grand1 it may be    

beautiful1 artistical1 and in every way 
desirable4 ,i don't say it is not--,i   
merely say it is a concentration of     
every kind of falsehood3 it is depriving
 heaven of its space1 clouds of their   
buoyancy1 winds of their motion1 and    
distance of its blue4   ,sec4 #ac4      
,imperfect conceptions of this size and 
extent in ancient         landscape4    
,this is done1 more or less1 by all the 
old masters1 without an exception4#cb   
,their idea of clouds was altogether    
similar2 more or less perfectly carried 
out1 according to their power of hand   
and accuracy of eye1 but universally the
 same in conception4 ,it was the idea of
 a comparatively small1 round1 puffed-up
 white body1 irregularly associated with
 other round and puffed-up white bodies1
 each with a white light side1 and a    
gray dark side1 and a soft reflected    
light1 floating a great way below a blue
 dome4 ,such is the idea of a cloud     
formed by most people2 it is the first1 
general1 uncultivated notion of what we 

see every day4 ,people think of the     
clouds as about as large as they        
look--forty yards over1 perhaps2 they   
see generally that they are solid bodies
 subject to the same laws as other solid
 bodies1 roundish1 whitish1 and         
apparently suspended a great way under a
 high blue concavity4 ,so that these    
ideas be tolerably given with smooth    
paint1 they are content1 and call it    
nature4 ,how different it is from       
anything that nature ever did1 or ever  
will do1 ,i have endeavored to show2 but
 ,i cannot1 and do not1 expect the      
contrast to be fully felt1 unless the   
reader will actually go out on days     
when1 either before or after rain1 the  
clouds arrange themselves into vigorous 
masses1 and after arriving at something 
like a conception of their distance and 
size1 from the mode in which they retire
 over the horizon1 will for himself     
trace and watch their varieties of form 
and outline1 as mass rises over mass in 
their illuminated bodies4 ,let him climb

 from step to step over their craggy and
 broken slopes1 let him plunge into the 
long vistas of immeasurable perspective1
 that guide back to the blue sky2 and   
when he finds his imagination lost in   
their immensity1 and his senses confused
 with their multitude1 let him go to    
,claude1 to ,salvator1 or to ,poussin1  
and ask them for a like space1 or like  
infinity4   ,sec4 #ad4 ,total want of   
transparency and evanescence in the     
clouds of         ancient landscape4    
,but perhaps the most grievous fault of 
all1 in the clouds of these painters1 is
 the utter want of transparency4 ,not in
 her most ponderous and lightless masses
 will nature ever leave us without some 
evidence of transmitted sunshine2 and   
she perpetually gives us passages in    
which the vapor becomes visible only by 
the sunshine which it arrests and holds 
within itself1 not caught on its        
surface1 but entangled in its           
mass--floating fleeces1 precious with   
the gold of heaven2 and this            

translucency is especially indicated on 
the dark sides even of her heaviest     
wreaths1 which possess opalescent and   
delicate hues of partial illumination1  
far more dependent upon the beams which 
pass through them than on those which   
are reflected upon them4 ,nothing1 on   
the contrary1 can be more painfully and 
ponderously opaque than the clouds of   
the old masters universally4 ,however   
far removed in aerial distance1 and     
however brilliant in light1 they never  
appear filmy or evanescent1 and their   
light is always on them1 not in them4   
,and this effect is much increased by   
the positive and persevering            
determination on the part of their      
outlines not to be broken in upon1 nor  
interfered with in the slightest degree1
 by any presumptuous blue1 or           
impertinent winds4 ,there is no         
inequality1 no variation1 no losing or  
disguising of line1 no melting into     
nothingness1 nor shattering into spray2 
edge succeeds edge with imperturbable   

equanimity1 and nothing short of the    
most decided interference on the part of
 tree-tops1 or the edge of the picture1 
prevents us from being able to follow   
them all the way round1 like the coast  
of an island4   ,sec4 #ae4 ,farther     
proof of their deficiency in space4     
,sec4 #af4 ,instance of perfect truth in
 the sky of ,turner's ,babylon4  ,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 cumulus1 the easiest drawn of
 all clouds4 ,but nature scarcely ever  
confines herself to such masses2 they   
form but the thousandth part of her     
variety of effect4 ,she builds up a     
pyramid of their boiling volumes1 bars  
this across like a mountain with the    
gray cirrus1 envelops it in black1      
ragged1 drifting vapor1 covers the open 
part of the sky with mottled horizontal 
fields1 breaks through these with sudden
 and long sunbeams1 tears up their edges
 with local winds1 scatters over the    

gaps of blue the infinity of multitude  
of the high cirri1 and melts even the   
unoccupied azure into palpitating       
shades4 ,and all this is done over and  
over again in every quarter of a mile4  
,where ,poussin or ,claude have three   
similar masses1 nature has fifty        
pictures1 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 rocks1 and cloven     
precipices1 and radiant summits1 and    
robing vapors1 but all unlike each      
other1 except in beauty1 all bearing    
witness to the unwearied1 exhaustless   
operation of the ,infinite ,mind4 ,now1 
in cases like these especially1 as we   
observed before of general nature1      
though it is altogether hopeless to     
follow out in the space of any one      
picture this incalculable and           
inconceivable glory1 yet the painter can
 at least see that the space he has at  

his command1 narrow and confined as it  
is1 is made complete use of1 and that no
 part of it shall be without            
entertainment and food for thought4 ,if 
he could subdivide it by millionths of  
inches1 he could not reach the          
multitudinous majesty of nature2 but it 
is at least incumbent upon him to make  
the most of what he has1 and not1 by    
exaggerating the proportions1 banishing 
the variety and repeating the forms of  
his clouds1 to set at defiance the      
eternal principles of the               
heavens--fitfulness and infinity4 ,and  
now let us1 keeping in memory what we   
have seen of ,poussin and ,salvator1    
take up one of ,turner's skies1 and see 
whether he is as narrow in his          
conception1 or as niggardly in his      
space4 ,it does not matter which we     
take1 his sublime ,babylon#cc is a fair 
example for our present purpose4 ,ten   
miles away1 down the ,euphrates1 where  
it gleams last along the plain1 he gives
 us a drift of dark elongated vapor1    

melting beneath into a dim haze which   
embraces the hills on the horizon4 ,it  
is exhausted with its own motion1 and   
broken up by the wind in its own body   
into numberless groups of billowy and   
tossing fragments1 which1 beaten by the 
weight of storm down to the earth1 are  
just lifting themselves again on wearied
 wings1 and perishing in the effort4    
,above these1 and far beyond them1 the  
eye goes back to a broad sea of white1  
illuminated mist1 or rather cloud melted
 into rain1 and absorbed again before   
that rain has fallen1 but penetrated    
throughout1 whether it be vapor or      
whether it be dew1 with soft sunshine1  
turning it as white as snow4 ,gradually 
as it rises1 the rainy fusion ceases1   
you cannot tell where the film of blue  
on the left begins--but it is deepening1
 deepening still1--and the cloud1 with  
its edge first invisible1 then all but  
imaginary1 then just felt when the eye  
is not fixed on it1 and lost when it is1
 at last rises1 keen from excessive     

distance1 but soft and mantling in its  
body1 as a swan's bosom fretted by faint
 wind1 heaving fitfully against the     
delicate deep blue1 with white waves1   
whose forms are traced by the pale lines
 of opalescent shadow1 shade only       
because the light is within it1 and not 
upon it1 and which break with their own 
swiftness into a driven line of level   
spray1 winnowed into threads by the     
wind1 and flung before the following    
vapor like those swift shafts of arrowy 
water which a great cataract shoots into
 the air beside it1 trying to find the  
earth4 ,beyond these1 again1 rises a    
colossal mountain of gray cumulus1      
through whose shadowed sides the        
sunbeams penetrate in dim1 sloping1     
rain-like shafts2 and over which they   
fall in a broad burst of streaming      
light1 sinking to the earth1 and showing
 through their own visible radiance the 
three successive ranges of hills which  
connect its desolate plain with space4  
,above1 the edgy summit of the cumulus1 

broken into fragments1 recedes into the 
sky1 which is peopled in its serenity   
with quiet multitudes of the white1     
soft1 silent cirrus2 and under these    
again1 drift near the zenith1 disturbed 
and impatient shadows of a darker       
spirit1 seeking rest and finding none4  
,sec4 #ag4 ,and in his ,pools of        
,solomon4  ,now this is nature6 ,it is  
the exhaustless living energy with which
 the universe is filled2 and what will  
you set beside it of the works of other 
men8 ,show me a single picture1 in the  
whole compass of ancient art1 in which  
,i can pass from cloud to cloud1 from   
region to region1 from first to second  
and third heaven1 as ,i can here1 and   
you may talk of ,turner's want of truth4
 ,turn to the ,pools of ,solomon1 and   
walk through the passages of mist as    
they melt on the one hand into those    
stormy fragments of fiery cloud1 or1 on 
the other1 into the cold solitary       
shadows that compass the sweeping hill1 
and when you find an inch without air   

and transparency1 and a hairbreadth     
without changefulness and thought2 and  
when you can count the torn waves of    
tossing radiance that gush from the sun1
 as you can count the fixed1 white1     
insipidities of ,claude2 or when you can
 measure the modulation and the depth of
 that hollow mist1 as you can the       
flourishes of the brush upon the canvas 
of ,salvator1 talk of ,turner's want of 
truth6  ,but let us take up simpler and 
less elaborate works1 for there is too  
much in these to admit of being         
analyzed4   ,sec4 #ah4 ,truths of       
outline and character in his ,como4  ,in
 the vignette of the ,lake of ,como1 in 
,rogers's ,italy1 the space is so small 
that the details have been partially    
lost by the engraver2 but enough remain 
to illustrate the great principles of   
cloud from which we have endeavored to  
explain4 ,observe first the general     
angular outline of the volumes on the   
left of the sun4 ,if you mark the points
 where the direction of their outline   

changes1 and connect those points by    
right lines1 the cloud will touch1 but  
will not cut1 those lines throughout4   
,yet its contour is as graceful as it is
 full of character--toppling1 ready to  
change--fragile as enormous--evanescent 
as colossal4 ,observe how1 where it     
crosses the line of the sun1 it becomes 
luminous1 illustrating what has been    
observed of the visibility of mist in   
sunlight4 ,observe1 above all1 the      
multiplicity of its solid form1 the     
depth of its shadows in perpetual       
transition3 it is not round and swelled1
 half light and half dark1 but full of  
breaking irregular shadow and           
transparency--variable as the wind1 and 
melting imperceptibly above into the    
haziness of the sunlighted atmosphere1  
contrasted in all its vast forms with   
the delicacy and the multitude of the   
brightly touched cirri4 ,nothing can    
surpass the truth of this2 the cloud is 
as gigantic in its simplicity as the    
,alp which it opposes2 but how various1 

how transparent1 how infinite in its    
organization6   ,sec4 #ai4 ,association 
of the cirrostratus with the cumulus4   
,i would draw especial attention1 both  
here and in all other works of ,turner1 
to the beautiful use of the low         
horizontal bars or fields of cloud1     
7cirrostratus17 which associate         
themselves so frequently--more          
especially before storms--with the true 
cumulus1 floating on its flanks1 or     
capping it1 as if it were a mountain1   
and seldom mingling with its substance1 
unless in the very formation of rain4   
,they supply us with one of those       
beautiful instances of natural          
composition1 by which the artist is     
superseded and excelled--for1 by the    
occurrence of these horizontal flakes1  
the rolling form of the cumulus is both 
opposed in its principal lines1 and     
gifted with an apparent solidity and    
vastness1 which no other expedient could
 have exhibited1 and which far exceed in
 awfulness the impression of the noblest

 mountains of the earth4 ,i have seen in
 the evening light of ,italy1 the ,alps 
themselves out-towered by ranges of     
these mighty clouds1 alternately white  
in the starlight1 and inhabited by fire4
   ,sec4 #bj4 ,the deep-based knowledge 
of the ,alps in ,turner's ,lake of      
,geneva4  ,turn back to the first       
vignette in the ,italy4 ,the angular    
outlines and variety of modulation in   
the clouds above the sail1 and the      
delicate atmosphere of morning into     
which they are dissolved about the      
breathing hills1 require no comment2 but
 one part of this vignette demands      
especial notice2 it is the repetition of
 the outline of the snowy mountain by   
the light cloud above it4 ,the cause of 
this ,i have already explained 7vide    
page #bbh17 and its occurrence here is  
especially valuable as bearing witness  
to the thorough and scientific knowledge
 thrown by ,turner into his slightest   
works4 ,the thing cannot be seen once in
 six months2 it would not have been     

noticed1 much less introduced by an     
ordinary artist1 and to the public it is
 a dead letter1 or an offence4          
,ninety-nine persons in a hundred would 
not have observed this pale wreath of   
parallel cloud above the hill1 and the  
hundredth in all probability says it is 
unnatural4 ,it requires the most        
intimate and accurate knowledge of the  
,alps before such a piece of refined    
truth can be understood4   ,sec4 #ba4   
,further principles of cloud form       
exemplified in his ,amalfi4  ,at the    
#bafth page we have another and a new   
case1 in which clouds in perfect repose1
 unaffected by wind1 or any influence   
but that of their own elastic force1    
boil1 rise1 and melt in the heaven with 
more approach to globular form than     
under any other circumstances is        
possible4 ,i name this vignette1 not    
only because it is most remarkable for  
the buoyancy and elasticity of inward   
energy1 indicated through the most      
ponderous forms1 and affords us a       

beautiful instance of the junction of   
the cirrostratus with the cumulus1 of   
which we have just been speaking 7,sec4 
#ai17 but because it is a characteristic
 example of ,turner's use of one of the 
facts of nature not hitherto noticed1   
that the edge of a partially transparent
 body is often darker than its central  
surface1 because at the edge the light  
penetrates and passes through1 which    
from the centre is reflected to the eye4
 ,the sharp1 cutting edge of a wave1 if 
not broken into foam1 frequently appears
 for an instant almost black2 and the   
outlines of these massy clouds1 where   
their projecting forms rise in relief   
against the light of their bodies1 are  
almost always marked clearly and firmly 
by very dark edges4 ,hence we have      
frequently1 if not constantly1          
multitudinous forms indicated only by   
outline1 giving character and solidity  
to the great masses of light1 without   
taking away from their breadth4 ,and    
,turner avails himself of these boldly  

and constantly1--outlining forms with   
the brush of which no other indication  
is given4 ,all the grace and solidity of
 the white cloud on the right-hand side 
of the vignette before us1 depends upon 
such outlines4   ,sec4 #bb4 ,reasons for
 insisting on the infinity of ,turner's 
works4         ,infinity is almost an   
unerring test of all truth4  ,as ,i     
before observed of mere execution1 that 
one of the best tests of its excellence 
was the expression of infinity2 so it   
may be noticed with respect to the      
painting of details generally1 that more
 difference lies between one artist and 
another1 in the attainment of this      
quality1 than in any other of the       
efforts of art2 and that if we wish1    
without reference to beauty of          
composition1 or any other interfering   
circumstances1 to form a judgment of the
 truth of painting1 perhaps the very    
first thing we should look for1 whether 
in one thing or another--foliage1 or    
clouds1 or waves--should be the         

expression of infinity always and       
everywhere1 in all parts and divisions  
of parts4 ,for we may be quite sure that
 what is not infinite1 cannot be true2  
it does not1 indeed1 follow that what is
 infinite1 always is true1 but it cannot
 be altogether false1 for this simple   
reason2 that it is impossible for mortal
 mind to compose an infinity of any kind
 for itself1 or to form an idea of      
perpetual variation1 and to avoid all   
repetition1 merely by its own combining 
resources4 ,the moment that we trust to 
ourselves1 we repeat ourselves1 and     
therefore the moment we see in a work of
 any kind whatsoever1 the expression of 
infinity1 we may be certain that the    
workman has gone to nature for it2      
while1 on the other hand1 the moment we 
see repetition1 or want of infinity1 we 
may be certain that the workman has not 
gone to nature for it4   ,sec4 #bc4     
,instances of the total want of it in   
the works of ,salvator4  ,sec4 #bd4 ,and
 of the universal presence of it in     

those of ,turner4 ,the                  
conclusions which may be arrived at from
 it4  ,sec4 #be4 ,the multiplication of 
objects1 or increase of their size1 will
 not         give the impression of     
infinity1 but is the resource of        
novices4  ,for instance1 in the picture 
of ,salvator before noticed1 ,no4 #bbj  
in the ,dulwich ,gallery1 as we see at  
once that the two masses of cloud       
absolutely repeat each other in every   
one of their forms1 and that each is    
composed of about twelve white sweeps of
 the brush1 all forming the same curve1 
and all of the same length2 and as we   
can count these1 and measure their      
common diameter1 and by stating the same
 to anybody else1 convey to him a full  
and perfect idea and knowledge of that  
sky in all its parts and                
proportions1--as we can do this1 we may 
be absolutely certain1 without reference
 to the real sky1 or to any other part  
of nature1 without even knowing what the
 white things were intended for1 we may 

be certain that they cannot possibly    
resemble anything2 that whatever they   
were meant for1 they can be nothing but 
a violent contradiction of all nature's 
principles and forms4 ,when1 on the     
other hand1 we take up such a sky as    
that of ,turner's ,rouen1 seen from ,st4
 ,catherine's ,hill1 in the ,rivers of  
,france1 and find1 in the first place1  
that he has given us a distance over the
 hills in the horizon1 into which1 when 
we are tired of penetrating1 we must    
turn and come back again1 there being   
not the remotest chance of getting to   
the end of it2 and when we see that from
 this measureless distance up to the    
zenith1 the whole sky is one ocean of   
alternate waves of cloud and light1 so  
blended together that the eye cannot    
rest on any one without being guided to 
the next1 and so to a hundred more1 till
 it is lost over and over again in every
 wreath--that if it divides the sky into
 quarters of inches1 and tries to count 
or comprehend the component parts of any

 single one of those divisions1 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 another1 not one which is 
unconnected with another1 not one which 
does not in itself convey histories of  
distance and space1 and suggest new and 
changeful form2 then we may be all but  
certain1 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 tests1 we may be sure 
that this infinity can only be based on 
truth--that it must be nature1 because  
man could not have originated it1 and   
that every form must be faithful1       
because none is like another4 ,and      
therefore it is that ,i insist so       
constantly on this great quality of     
landscape painting1 as it appears in    
,turner2 because it is not merely a     
constant and most important truth in    

itself1 but it almost amounts to a      
demonstration of every other truth4 ,and
 it will be found a far rarer attainment
 in the works of other men than is      
commonly supposed1 and the sign1        
wherever it is really found1 of the very
 highest art4 ,for we are apt to forget 
that the greatest number is no nearer   
infinity than the least1 if it be       
definite number2 and the vastest bulk is
 no nearer infinity than the most       
minute1 if it be definite bulk2 so that 
a man may multiply his objects forever  
and ever1 and be no nearer infinity than
 he had reached with one1 if he do not  
vary them and confuse them2 and a man   
may reach infinity in every touch and   
line1 and part1 and unit1 if in these he
 be truthfully various and obscure4 ,and
 we shall find1 the more we examine the 
works of the old masters1 that always1  
and in all parts1 they are totally      
wanting in every feeling of infinity1   
and therefore in all truth3 and even in 
the works of the moderns1 though the aim

 is far more just1 we shall frequently  
perceive an erroneous choice of means1  
and a substitution of mere number or    
bulk for real infinity4   ,sec4 #bf4    
,farther instances of infinity in the   
gray skies of ,turner4  ,and therefore1 
in concluding our notice of the central 
cloud region1 ,i should wish to dwell   
particularly on those skies of          
,turner's1 in which we have the whole   
space of the heaven covered with the    
delicate dim flakes of gathering vapor1 
which are the intermediate link between 
the central region and that of the      
rain-cloud1 and which assemble and grow 
out of the air2 shutting up the heaven  
with a gray interwoven veil1 before the 
approach of storm1 faint1 but universal1
 letting the light of the upper sky pass
 pallidly through their body1 but never 
rending a passage for the ray4 ,we have 
the first approach and gathering of this
 kind of sky most gloriously given in   
the vignette at page #aae of ,rogers's  
,italy1 which is one of the most perfect

 pieces of feeling 7if ,i may transgress
 my usual rules for an instant7 extant  
in art1 owing to the extreme grandeur   
and stern simplicity of the strange and 
ominous forms of level cloud behind the 
building4 ,in that at page #bbc1 there  
are passages of the same kind1 of       
exceeding perfection4 ,the sky through  
which the dawn is breaking in the       
,voyage of ,columbus1 and that with the 
,moonlight under the ,rialto1 in        
,rogers's ,poems1 the skies of the      
,bethlehem1 and the ,pyramids in        
,finden's ,bible series1 and among the  
,academy pictures1 that of the ,hero and
 ,leander1 and ,flight into ,egypt1 are 
characteristic and noble examples1 as   
far as any individual works can be      
characteristic of the universality of   
this mighty mind4 ,i ought not to forget
 the magnificent solemnity and fulness  
of the wreaths of gathering darkness in 
the ,folkestone4   ,sec4 #bg4 ,the      
excellence of the cloud-drawing of      
,stanfield4  ,sec4 #bh4 ,the average    

standing of the ,english school4  ,we   
must not pass from the consideration of 
the central cloud region without        
noticing the general high quality of the
 cloud-drawing of ,stanfield4 ,he is    
limited in his range1 and is apt in     
extensive compositions to repeat        
himself1 neither is he ever very        
refined2 but his cloud-form is firmly   
and fearlessly chiselled1 with perfect  
knowledge1 though usually with some want
 of feeling4 ,as far as it goes1 it is  
very grand and very tasteful1           
beautifully developed in the space of   
its solid parts and full of action4     
,next to ,turner1 he is incomparably the
 noblest master of cloud-form of all our
 artists2 in fact1 he is the only one   
among them who really can draw a cloud4 
,for it is a very different thing to rub
 out an irregular white space neatly    
with the handkerchief1 or to leave a    
bright little bit of paper in the middle
 of a wash1 and to give the real anatomy
 of cloud-form with perfect articulation

 of chiaroscuro4 ,we have multitudes of 
painters who can throw a light bit of   
straggling vapor across their sky1 or   
leave in it delicate and tender passages
 of breaking light2 but this is a very  
different thing from taking up each of  
those bits or passages1 and giving it   
structure1 and parts1 and solidity4 ,the
 eye is satisfied with exceedingly      
little1 as an indication of cloud1 and a
 few clever sweeps of the brush on wet  
paper may give all that it requires2 but
 this is not drawing clouds1 nor will it
 ever appeal fully and deeply to the    
mind1 except when it occurs only as a   
part of a higher system4 ,and there is  
not one of our modern artists1 except   
,stanfield1 who can do much more than   
this4 ,as soon as they attempt to lay   
detail upon their clouds1 they appear to
 get bewildered1 forget that they are   
dealing with forms regulated by         
precisely the same simple laws of light 
and shade as more substantial matter1   
overcharge their color1 confuse their   

shadows and dark sides1 and end in mere 
ragged confusion4 ,i believe the evil   
arises from their never attempting to   
render clouds except with the brush2    
other objects1 at some period of study1 
they take up with the chalk or lead1 and
 so learn something of their form2 but  
they appear to consider clouds as       
altogether dependent on cobalt and      
camel's hair1 and so never understand   
anything of their real anatomy4 ,but    
whatever the cause1 ,i cannot point to  
any central clouds of the moderns1      
except those of ,turner and ,stanfield1 
as really showing much knowledge of1 or 
feeling for1 nature1 though all are     
superior to the conventional and narrow 
conceptions of the ancients4 ,we are all
 right as far as we go1 our work may be 
incomplete1 but it is not false2 and it 
is far better1 far less injurious to the
 mind1 that we should be little         
attracted to the sky1 and taught to be  
satisfied with a light suggestion of    
truthful form1 than that we should be   

drawn to it by violently pronounced     
outline and intense color1 to find in   
its finished falsehood everything to    
displease or to mislead--to hurt our    
feelings1 if we have foundation for     
them1 and corrupt them1 if we have none4
   ,,footnotes    #cb ,here ,i include  
even the great ones--even ,titian and   
,veronese1--excepting only ,tintoret and
 the religious schools4    #cc ,engraved
 in ,findel's ,bible ,illustrations4    
,,chapter ,,iv4          ,,of ,,truth   
,,of ,,clouds3 ,,thirdly1 ,,of ,,the    
,,region ,,of ,,the ,,rain-,,cloud4     
,sec4 #a4 ,the apparent difference in   
character between the lower and central 
clouds is dependent chiefly on          
proximity4  ,the clouds which ,i wish to
 consider as characteristic of the      
lower1 or rainy region1 differ not so   
much in their real nature from those of 
the central and uppermost regions1 as in
 appearance1 owing to their greater     
nearness4 ,for the central clouds1 and  
perhaps even the high cirri1 deposit    

moisture1 if not distinctly rain1 as is 
sufficiently proved by the existence of 
snow on the highest peaks of the        
,himaleh2 and when1 on any such         
mountains1 we are brought into close    
contact with the central clouds1#cd we  
find them little differing from the     
ordinary rain-cloud of the plains1      
except by being slightly less dense and 
dark4 ,but the apparent differences1    
dependent on proximity1 are most marked 
and important4   ,sec4 #b4 ,their marked
 difference in color4  ,in the first    
place1 the clouds of the central region 
have1 as has been before observed1 pure 
and aerial grays for their dark sides1  
owing to their necessary distance from  
the observer2 and as this distance      
permits a multitude of local phenomena  
capable of influencing color1 such as   
accidental sunbeams1 refractions1       
transparencies1 or local mists and      
showers1 to be collected into a space   
comparatively small1 the colors of these
 clouds are always changeful and        

palpitating2 and whatever degree of gray
 or of gloom may be mixed with them is  
invariably pure and aerial4 ,but the    
nearness of the rain-cloud rendering it 
impossible for a number of phenomena to 
be at once visible1 makes its hue of    
gray monotonous1 and 7by losing the blue
 of distance7 warm and brown compared to
 that of the upper clouds4 ,this is     
especially remarkable on any part of it 
which may happen to be illumined1 which 
is of a brown1 bricky1 ochreous tone1   
never bright1 always coming in dark     
outline on the lights of the central    
clouds4 ,but it is seldom that this     
takes place1 and when it does1 never    
over large spaces1 little being usually 
seen of the rain-cloud but its under and
 dark side4 ,this1 when the cloud above 
is dense1 becomes of an inky and cold   
gray1 and sulphureous and lurid if there
 be thunder in the air4   ,sec4 #c4 ,and
 in definiteness of form4  ,sec4 #d4    
,they are subject to precisely the same 
great laws4  ,with these striking       

differences in color1 it presents no    
fewer nor less important in form1       
chiefly from losing almost all          
definiteness of character and outline4  
,it is sometimes nothing more than a    
thin mist1 whose outline cannot be      
traced1 rendering the landscape locally 
indistinct or dark2 if its outline be   
visible1 it is ragged and torn2 rather a
 spray of cloud1 taken off its edge and 
sifted by the wind1 than an edge of the 
cloud itself4 ,in fact1 it rather       
partakes of the nature1 and assumes the 
appearance1 of real water in the state  
of spray1 than of elastic vapor4 ,this  
appearance is enhanced by the usual     
presence of formed rain1 carried along  
with it in a columnar form1 ordinarily1 
of course1 reaching the ground like a   
veil1 but very often suspended with the 
cloud1 and hanging from it like a jagged
 fringe1 or over it in light1 rain being
 always lighter than the cloud it falls 
from4 ,these columns1 or fringes1 of    
rain are often waved and bent by the    

wind1 or twisted1 sometimes even swept  
upwards from the cloud4 ,the velocity of
 these vapors1 though not necessarily in
 reality greater than that of the       
central clouds1 appears greater1 owing  
to their proximity1 and1 of course1 also
 to the usual presence of a more violent
 wind4 ,they are also apparently much   
more in the power of the wind1 having   
less elastic force in themselves2 but   
they are precisely subject to the same  
great laws of form which regulate the   
upper clouds4 ,they are not solid bodies
 borne about with the wind1 but they    
carry the wind with them1 and cause it4 
,every one knows1 who has ever been out 
in a storm1 that the time when it rains 
heaviest is precisely the time when he  
cannot hold up his umbrella2 that the   
wind is carried with the cloud1 and     
lulls when it has passed4 ,every one who
 has ever seen rain in a hill country1  
knows that a rain-cloud1 like any other1
 may have all its parts in rapid motion1
 and yet1 as a whole1 remain in one     

spot4 ,i remember once1 when in crossing
 the ,tete ,noire1 ,i had turned up the 
valley towards ,trient1 ,i noticed a    
rain-cloud forming on the ,glacier de   
,trient4 ,with a west wind1 it proceeded
 towards the ,col de ,balme1 being      
followed by a prolonged wreath of vapor1
 always forming exactly at the same spot
 over the glacier4 ,this long1          
serpent-like line of cloud went on at a 
great rate till it reached the valley   
leading down from the ,col de ,balme1   
under the slate rocks of the ,croix de  
,fer4 ,there it turned sharp round1 and 
came down this valley1 at right angles  
to its former progress1 and finally     
directly contrary to it1 till it came   
down within five hundred feet of the    
village1 where it disappeared2 the line 
behind always advancing1 and always     
disappearing1 at the same spot4 ,this   
continued for half an hour1 the long    
line describing the curve of a          
horseshoe2 always coming into existence1
 and always vanishing at exactly the    

same places2 traversing the space       
between with enormous swiftness4 ,this  
cloud1 ten miles off1 would have looked 
like a perfectly motionless wreath1 in  
the form of a horseshoe1 hanging over   
the hills4   ,sec4 #e4 ,value1 to the   
painter1 of the rain-cloud4  ,sec4 #f4  
,the old masters have not left a single 
instance of the painting of        the  
rain-cloud1 and very few efforts at it4 
,gaspar ,poussin's        storms4  ,to  
the region of the rain-cloud belong also
 all those phenomena of drifted smoke1  
heat-haze1 local mists in the morning or
 evening2 in valleys1 or over water1    
mirage1 white steaming vapor rising in  
evaporation from moist and open         
surfaces1 and everything which visibly  
affects the condition of the atmosphere 
without actually assuming the form of   
cloud4 ,these phenomena are as perpetual
 in all countries as they are beautiful1
 and afford by far the most effective   
and valuable means which the painter    
possesses1 for modification of the forms

 of fixed objects4 ,the upper clouds are
 distinct and comparatively opaque1 they
 do not modify1 but conceal2 but through
 the rain-cloud1 and its accessory      
phenomena1 all that is beautiful may be 
made manifest1 and all that is hurtful  
concealed2 what is paltry may be made to
 look vast1 and what is ponderous1      
aerial2 mystery may be obtained without 
obscurity1 and decoration without       
disguise4 ,and1 accordingly1 nature     
herself uses it constantly1 as one of   
her chief means of most perfect effect2 
not in one country1 nor another1 but    
everywhere--everywhere2 at least1 where 
there is anything worth calling         
landscape4 ,i cannot answer for the     
desert of the ,sahara1 but ,i know that 
there can be no greater mistake1 than   
supposing that delicate and variable    
effects of mist and rain-cloud are      
peculiar to northern climates4 ,i have  
never seen in any place or country      
effects of mist more perfect than in the
 ,campagna of ,rome1 and among the hills

 of ,sorrento4 ,it is therefore matter  
of no little marvel to me1 and ,i       
conceive that it can scarcely be        
otherwise to any reflecting person1 that
 throughout the whole range of ancient  
landscape art1 there occurs no instance 
of the painting of a real rain-cloud1   
still less of any of the more delicate  
phenomena characteristic of the region4 
,storms indeed1 as the innocent public  
persist in calling such abuses of nature
 and abortions of art as the two windy  
,gaspars in our ,national ,gallery1 are 
common enough2 massive concretions of   
ink and indigo1 wrung and twisted very  
hard1 apparently in a vain effort to get
 some moisture out of them2 bearing up  
courageously and successfully against a 
wind1 whose effects on the trees in the 
foreground can be accounted for only on 
the supposition that they are all of the
 ,india-rubber species4 ,enough of this 
in all conscience1 we have1 and to      
spare2 but for the legitimate           
rain-cloud1 with its ragged and         

spray-like edge1 its veilly             
transparency1 and its columnar burden of
 blessing1 neither it1 nor anything like
 it1 or approaching it1 occurs in any   
painting of the old masters that ,i have
 ever seen2 and ,i have seen enough to  
warrant my affirming that if it occur   
anywhere1 it must be through accident   
rather than intention4 ,nor is there    
stronger evidence of any perception1 on 
the part of these much respected        
artists1 that there were such things in 
the world as mists or vapors4 ,if a     
cloud under their direction ever touches
 a mountain1 it does it effectually and 
as if it meant to do it4 ,there is no   
mystifying the matter2 here is a cloud1 
and there is a hill2 if it is to come on
 at all1 it comes on to some purpose1   
and there is no hope of its ever going  
off again4 ,we have1 therefore1 little  
to say of the efforts of the old        
masters1 in any scenes which might      
naturally have been connected with the  
clouds of the lowest region1 except that

 the faults of form specified in        
considering the central clouds1 are1 by 
way of being energetic or sublime1 more 
glaringly and audaciously committed in  
their storms2 and that what is a wrong  
form among clouds possessing form1 is   
there given with increased generosity of
 fiction to clouds which have no form at
 all4   ,sec4 #g4 ,the great power of   
the moderns in this respect4  ,sec4 #h4 
,works of ,copley ,fielding4  ,sec4 #i4 
,his peculiar truth4  ,sec4 #aj4 ,his   
weakness and its probable cause4        
,supposing that we had nothing to show  
in modern art1 of the region of the     
rain-cloud1 but the dash of ,cox1 the   
blot of de ,wint1 or even the ordinary  
stormy skies of the body of our inferior
 water-color painters1 we might yet     
laugh all efforts of the old masters to 
utter scorn4 ,but one among our         
water-color artists1 deserves especial  
notice--before we ascend the steps of   
the solitary throne--as having done in  
his peculiar walk1 what for faithful and

 pure truth1 truth indeed of a limited  
range and unstudied application1 but yet
 most faithful and most pure1 will      
remain unsurpassed if not               
unrivalled1--,copley ,fielding4 ,we are 
well aware how much of what he has done 
depends in a great degree upon          
particular tricks of execution1 or on a 
labor somewhat too mechanical to be     
meritorious2 that it is rather the      
texture than the plan of his sky which  
is to be admired1 and that the greater  
part of what is pleasurable in it will  
fall rather under the head of dexterous 
imitation than of definite thought4 ,but
 whatever detractions from his merit we 
may be compelled to make on these       
grounds1 in considering art as the      
embodying of beauty1 or the channel of  
mind1 it is impossible1 when we are     
speaking of truth only1 to pass by his  
down scenes and moorland showers1 of    
some years ago1 in which he produced    
some of the most perfect and faultless  
passages of mist and rain-cloud which   

art has ever seen4 ,wet1 transparent1   
formless1 full of motion1 felt rather by
 their shadows on the hills than by     
their presence in the sky1 becoming dark
 only through increased depth of space1 
most translucent where most sombre1 and 
light only through increased buoyancy of
 motion1 letting the blue through their 
interstices1 and the sunlight through   
their chasms1 with the irregular        
playfulness and traceless gradation of  
nature herself1 his skies will remain1  
as long as their colors stand1 among the
 most simple1 unadulterated1 and        
complete transcripts of a particular    
nature which art can point to4 ,had he  
painted five instead of five hundred    
such1 and gone on to other sources of   
beauty1 he might1 there can be little   
doubt1 have been one of our greatest    
artists4 ,but it often grieves us to see
 how his power is limited to a          
particular moment1 to that easiest      
moment for imitation1 when knowledge of 
form may be superseded by management of 

the brush1 and the judgment of the      
colorist by the manufacture of a color2 
the moment when all form is melted down 
and drifted away in the descending veil 
of rain1 and when the variable and      
fitful colors of the heaven are lost in 
the monotonous gray of its storm        
tones4#ce ,we can only account for this 
by supposing that there is something    
radically wrong in his method of study2 
for a man of his evident depth of       
feeling and pure love of truth ought not
 to be1 cannot be1 except from some     
strange error in his mode of out-of-door
 practice1 thus limited in his range1   
and liable to decline of power4 ,we have
 little doubt that almost all such      
failures arise from the artist's        
neglecting the use of the chalk1 and    
supposing that either the power of      
drawing forms1 or the sense of their    
beauty1 can be maintained unweakened or 
unblunted1 without constant and         
laborious studies in simple light and   
shade1 of form only4 ,the brush is at   

once the artist's greatest aid and      
enemy2 it enables him to make his power 
available1 but at the same time1 it     
undermines his power1 and unless it be  
constantly rejected for the pencil1     
never can be rightly used4 ,but whatever
 the obstacle be1 we do not doubt that  
it is one which1 once seen1 may be      
overcome or removed2 and we are in the  
constant hope of seeing this            
finely-minded artist shake off his      
lethargy1 break the shackles of habit1  
seek in extended and right study the    
sources of real power1 and become1 what 
we have full faith in his capability of 
being1 one of the leading artists of his
 time4   ,sec4 #aa4 ,impossibility of   
reasoning on the rain-clouds of ,turner 
from         engravings4  ,in passing to
 the works of our greatest modern       
master1 it must be premised that the    
qualities which constitute a most       
essential part of the truth of the      
rain-cloud1 are in no degree to be      
rendered by engraving4 ,its             

indefiniteness of torn and transparent  
form is far beyond the power of even our
 best engravers3 ,i do not say beyond   
their possible power1 if they would make
 themselves artists as well as workmen1 
but far beyond the power they actually  
possess2 while the depth and delicacy of
 the grays which ,turner employs or     
produces1 as well as the refinement of  
his execution1 are1 in the nature of    
things1 utterly beyond all imitation by 
the opaque and lifeless darkness of the 
steel4 ,what we say of his works1       
therefore1 must be understood as        
referring only to the original drawings2
 though we may name one or two instances
 in which the engraver has1 to a certain
 degree1 succeeded in distantly         
following the intention of the master4  
,sec4 #ab4 ,his rendering of ,fielding's
 particular moment in the ,jumieges4    
,sec4 #ac4 ,illustration of the nature  
of clouds in the opposed forms of smoke 
and steam4  ,jumieges1 in the ,rivers of
 ,france1 ought perhaps1 after what we  

have said of ,fielding1 to be our first 
object of attention1 because it is a    
rendering by ,turner of ,fielding's     
particular moment1 and the only one     
existing1 for ,turner never repeats     
himself4 ,one picture is allotted to one
 truth2 the statement is perfectly and  
gloriously made1 and he passes on to    
speak of a fresh portion of ,god's      
revelation4#cf ,the haze of sunlit rain 
of this most magnificent picture1 the   
gradual retirement of the dark wood into
 its depth1 and the sparkling and       
evanescent light which sends its        
variable flashes on the abbey1 figures1 
foliage1 and foam1 require no           
comment--they speak home at once4 ,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 cloud1 and for a final    
proof how deeply and philosophically    
,turner has studied them4  ,we have on  
the right of the picture1 the steam and 
the smoke of a passing steamboat4 ,now  

steam is nothing but an artificial cloud
 in the process of dissipation2 it is as
 much a cloud as those of the sky       
itself1 that is1 a quantity of moisture 
rendered visible in the air by imperfect
 solution4 ,accordingly1 observe how    
exquisitely irregular and broken are its
 forms1 how sharp and spray-like2 but   
with all the facts observed which were  
pointed out in ,chap4 ,,ii4 of this     
,section1 the convex side to the wind1  
the sharp edge on that side1 the other  
soft and lost4 ,smoke1 on the contrary1 
is an actual substance existing         
independently in the air1 a solid opaque
 body1 subject to no absorption nor     
dissipation but that of tenuity4        
,observe its volumes2 there is no       
breaking up nor disappearing here2 the  
wind carries its elastic globes before  
it1 but does not dissolve nor break     
them4#cg ,equally convex and void of    
angles on all sides1 they are the exact 
representatives of the clouds of the old
 masters1 and serve at once to show the 

ignorance and falsehood of these latter1
 and the accuracy of study which has    
guided ,turner to the truth4   ,sec4    
#ad4 ,moment of retiring rain in the    
,llanthony4  ,from this picture we      
should pass to the ,llanthony1#ch which 
is the rendering of the moment          
immediately following that given in the 
,jumieges4 ,the shower is here half     
exhausted1 half passed by1 the last     
drops are rattling faintly through the  
glimmering hazel boughs1 the white      
torrent1 swelled by the sudden storm1   
flings up its hasty jets of springing   
spray to meet the returning light2 and  
these1 as if the heaven regretted what  
it had given1 and were taking it back1  
pass1 as they leap1 into vapor1 and fall
 not again1 but vanish in the shafts of 
the sunlight#ci--;hurrying1 fitful1     
wind-woven sunlight--which glides       
through the thick leaves1 and paces     
along the pale rocks like rain2 half    
conquering1 half quenched by the very   
mists which it summons itself from the  

lighted pastures as it passes1 and      
gathers out of the drooping herbage and 
from the streaming crags2 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 rain4   ,sec4 #ae4 
,and of commencing1 chosen with peculiar
 meaning for ,loch ,coriskin4  ,with    
this noble work we should compare one of
 which we can better judge by the       
engraving--the ,loch ,coriskin1 in the  
illustrations to ,scott1 because it     
introduces us to another and a most     
remarkable instance of the artist's vast
 and varied knowledge4 ,when rain falls 
on a mountain composed chiefly of barren
 rocks1 their surfaces1 being violently 
heated by the sun1 whose most intense   
warmth always precedes rain1 occasion   
sudden and violent evaporation1 actually
 converting the first shower into steam4
 ,consequently1 upon all such hills1 on 
the commencement of rain1 white volumes 
of vapor are instantaneously and        

universally formed1 which rise1 are     
absorbed by the atmosphere1 and again   
descend in rain1 to rise in fresh       
volumes until the surfaces of the hills 
are cooled4 ,where there is grass or    
vegetation1 this effect is diminished2  
where there is foliage it scarcely takes
 place at all4 ,now this effect has     
evidently been especially chosen by     
,turner for ,loch ,coriskin1 not only   
because it enabled him to relieve its   
jagged forms with veiling vapor1 but to 
tell the tale which no pencilling could1
 the story of its utter absolute        
barrenness of unlichened1 dead1         
desolated rock3--              ,the     
wildest glen1 but this1 can show        
,some touch of nature's genial glow1    
,on high ,benmore green mosses grow1    
,and heath-bells bud in deep ,glencoe4  
,and copse on ,cruchan ,ben2            
,but here1 above1 around1 below1        
,on mountain1 or in glen1               
,nor tree1 nor plant1 nor shrub1 nor    
flower1              ,nor aught of      

vegetative power1              ,the     
wearied eye may ken2              ,but  
all its rocks at random thrown1         
,black waves1 bare crags1 and banks of  
stone4                                  
,,lord ,,of ,,the ,,isles1 ,canto ,,iii 
,here1 again1 we see the absolute       
necessity of scientific and entire      
acquaintance with nature1 before this   
great artist can be understood4 ,that   
which1 to the ignorant1 is little more  
than an unnatural and meaningless       
confusion of steam-like vapor1 is to the
 experienced such a full and perfect    
expression of the character of the spot1
 as no means of art could have otherwise
 given4   ,sec4 #af4 ,the drawing of    
transparent vapor in the ,land's ,end4  
,sec4 #ag4 ,the individual character of 
its parts4  ,in the ,long ,ships        
,lighthouse1 ,land's ,end1 we have      
clouds without rain--at                 
twilight--enveloping the cliffs of the  
coast1 but concealing nothing1 every    
outline being visible through their     

gloom2 and not only the outline--for it 
is easy to do this--but the surface4    
,the bank of rocky coast approaches the 
spectator inch by inch1 felt clearer and
 clearer as it withdraws from the       
garment of cloud--not by edges more and 
more defined1 but by a surface more and 
more unveiled4 ,we have thus the        
painting1 not of a mere transparent     
veil1 but of a solid body of cloud1     
every inch of whose increasing distance 
is marked and felt4 ,but the great      
wonder of the picture is the intensity  
of gloom which is attained in pure warm 
gray1 without either blackness or       
blueness4 ,it is a gloom1 dependent     
rather on the enormous space and depth  
indicated1 than on actual pitch of      
color1 distant by real drawing1 without 
a grain of blue1 dark by real substance1
 without a stroke of blackness2 and with
 all this1 it is not formless1 but full 
of indications of character1 wild1      
irregular1 shattered1 and               
indefinite--full of the energy of storm1

 fiery in haste1 and yet flinging back  
out of its motion the fitful swirls of  
bounding drift1 of tortured vapor tossed
 up like men's hands1 as in defiance of 
the tempest1 the jets of resulting      
whirlwind1 hurled back from the rocks   
into the face of the coming darkness2   
which1 beyond all other characters1 mark
 the raised passion of the elements4 ,it
 is this untraceable1 unconnected1 yet  
perpetual form--this fulness of         
character absorbed in the universal     
energy--which distinguish nature and    
,turner from all their imitators4 ,to   
roll a volume of smoke before the wind1 
to indicate motion or violence by       
monotonous similarity of line and       
direction1 is for the multitude2 but to 
mark the independent passion1 the       
tumultuous separate existence of every  
wreath of writhing vapor1 yet swept away
 and overpowered by one omnipotence of  
storm1 and thus to bid us               
,be as a ,presence or a motion--one     
,among the many there----while the mists

                 ,flying1 and rainy     
vapors1 call out shapes                 
,and phantoms from the crags and solid  
earth1                 ,as fast as a    
musician scatters sounds                
,out of an instrument1--  this belongs  
only to nature and to him4   ,sec4 #ah4 
,deep studied form of swift rain-cloud  
in the ,coventry4  ,sec4 #ai4 ,compared 
with forms given by ,salvator4  ,the    
drawing of ,coventry may be             
particularized as a farther example of  
this fine suggestion of irregularity and
 fitfulness1 through very constant      
parallelism of direction1 both in rain  
and clouds4 ,the great mass of cloud1   
which traverses the whole picture1 is   
characterized throughout by severe right
 lines1 nearly parallel with each other1
 into which every one of its wreaths has
 a tendency to range itself2 but no one 
of these right lines is actually and    
entirely parallel to any other1 though  
all have a certain tendency1 more or    
less defined in each1 which impresses   

the mind with the most distinct idea of 
parallelism4 ,neither are any of the    
lines actually straight and unbroken2 on
 the contrary1 they are all made up of  
the most exquisite and varied curves1   
and it is the imagined line which joins 
the apices of these--a tangent to them  
all1 which is in reality straight4#dj   
,they are suggested1 not represented1   
right lines2 but the whole volume of    
cloud is visibly and totally bounded by 
them2 and1 in consequence1 its whole    
body is felt to be dragged out and      
elongated by the force of the tempest   
which it carries with it1 and every one 
of its wreaths to be 7as was before     
explained7 not so much something borne  
before or by the wind1 as the visible   
form and presence of the wind itself4   
,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 7#aei ,dulwich   
,gallery74 ,both are rolling masses of  
connected cloud2 but in ,turner's1 there

 is not one curve that repeats another1 
nor one curve in itself monotonous1 nor 
without character1 and yet every part   
and portion of the cloud is rigidly     
subjected to the same forward1 fierce1  
inevitable influence of storm4 ,in      
,salvator's1 every curve repeats its    
neighbor1 every curve is monotonous in  
itself1 and yet the whole cloud is      
curling about hither and thither1       
evidently without the slightest notion  
where it is going to1 and unregulated by
 any general influence whatsoever4 ,i   
could not bring together two finer or   
more instructive examples1 the one of   
everything that is perfect1 the other of
 everything that is childish or         
abominable1 in the representation of the
 same facts4   ,sec4 #bj4 ,entire       
expression of tempest by minute touches 
and circumstances         in the        
,coventry4  ,but there is yet more to be
 noticed in this noble sky of ,turner's4
 ,not only are the lines of the rolling 
cloud thus irregular in their           

parallelism1 but those of the falling   
rain are equally varied in their        
direction1 indicating the gusty         
changefulness of the wind1 and yet kept 
so straight and stern in their          
individual descent1 that we are not     
suffered to forget its strength4 ,this  
impression is still farther enhanced by 
the drawing of the smoke1 which blows   
every way at once1 yet turning          
perpetually in each of its swirls back  
in the direction of the wind1 but so    
suddenly and violently1 as almost to    
assume the angular lines of lightning4  
,farther1 to complete the impression1 be
 it observed that all the cattle1 both  
upon the near and distant hill-side1    
have left off grazing1 and are standing 
stock still and stiff1 with their heads 
down and their backs to the wind2 and   
finally1 that we may be told not only   
what the storm is1 but what it has been1
 the gutter at the side of the road is  
gushing in a complete torrent1 and      
particular attention is directed to it  

by the full burst of light in the sky   
being brought just above it1 so that all
 its waves are bright with the          
reflection4   ,sec4 #ba4 ,especially by 
contrast with a passage of extreme      
repose4  ,but ,i have not quite done    
with this noble picture yet4 ,impetuous 
clouds1 twisted rain1 flickering        
sunshine1 fleeting shadow1 gushing      
water1 and oppressed cattle1 all speak  
the same story of tumult1 fitfulness1   
power1 and velocity4 ,only one thing is 
wanted1 a passage of repose to contrast 
with it all1 and it is given4 ,high and 
far above the dark volumes of the swift 
rain-cloud1 are seen on the left1       
through their opening1 the quiet1       
horizontal1 silent flakes of the highest
 cirrus1 resting in the repose of the   
deep sky4 ,of all else that we have     
noticed in this drawing1 some faint idea
 can be formed from the engraving3 but  
not the slightest of the delicate and   
soft forms of these pausing vapors1 and 
still less of the exquisite depth and   

palpitating tenderness of the blue with 
which they are islanded4 ,engravers1    
indeed1 invariably lose the effect of   
all passages of cold color1 under the   
mistaken idea that it is to be kept pale
 in order to indicate distance2 whereas 
it ought commonly to be darker than the 
rest of the sky4   ,sec4 #bb4 ,the truth
 of this particular passage4 ,perfectly 
pure blue sky only         seen after   
rain1 and how seen4  ,sec4 #bc4 ,absence
 of this effect in the works of the old 
masters4  ,to appreciate the full truth 
of this passage1 we must understand     
another effect peculiar to the          
rain-cloud1 that its openings exhibit   
the purest blue which the sky ever      
shows4 ,for1 as we saw in the first     
chapter of this section1 that aqueous   
vapor always turns the sky more or less 
gray1 it follows that we never can see  
the azure so intense as when the greater
 part of this vapor has just fallen in  
rain4 ,then1 and then only1 pure blue   
sky becomes visible in the first        

openings1 distinguished especially by   
the manner in which the clouds melt into
 it2 their edges passing off in faint   
white threads and fringes1 through which
 the blue shines more and more          
intensely1 till the last trace of vapor 
is lost in its perfect color4 ,it is    
only the upper white clouds1 however1   
which do this1 or the last fragments of 
rain-clouds1 becoming white as they     
disappear1 so that the blue is never    
corrupted by the cloud1 but only paled  
and broken with pure white1 the purest  
white which the sky ever shows4 ,thus we
 have a melting and palpitating color1  
never the same for two inches together1 
deepening and broadening here and there 
into intensity of perfect azure1 then   
drifted and dying away through every    
tone of pure pale sky1 into the snow    
white of the filmy cloud4 ,over this    
roll the determined edges of the        
rain-clouds1 throwing it all far back1  
as a retired scene1 into the upper sky4 
,of this effect the old masters1 as far 

as ,i remember1 have taken no cognizance
 whatsoever2 all with them is1 as we    
partially noticed before1 either white  
cloud or pure blue3 they have no notion 
of any double-dealing or middle         
measures4 ,they bore a hole in the sky1 
and let you up into a pool of deep1     
stagnant blue1 marked off by the clear  
round edges of imperturbable1           
impenetrable cloud on all               
sides--beautiful in positive color1 but 
totally destitute of that exquisite     
gradation and change1 that fleeting1    
panting1 hesitating effort1 with which  
the first glance of the natural sky is  
shed through the turbulence of the      
earth-storm4   ,sec4 #bd4 ,success of   
our water-color artists in its          
rendering4 ,use of it by                
,turner4  ,they have some excuse1       
however1 for not attempting this1 in the
 nature of their material1 as one       
accidental dash of the brush with       
water-color on a piece of wet or damp   
paper1 will come nearer the truth and   

transparency of this rain-blue than the 
labor of a day in oils2 and the purity  
and felicity of some of the careless1   
melting water-color skies of ,cox and   
,tayler may well make us fastidious in  
all effects of this kind4 ,it is1       
however1 only in the drawings of ,turner
 that we have this perfect transparency 
and variation of blue1 given in         
association with the perfection of      
considered form4 ,in ,tayler and ,cox   
the forms are always partially          
accidental and unconsidered1 often      
essentially bad1 and always incomplete2 
in ,turner the dash of the brush is as  
completely under the rule of thought and
 feeling as its slowest line2 all that  
it does is perfect1 and could not be    
altered1 even in a hairbreadth1 without 
injury2 in addition to this1 peculiar   
management and execution are used in    
obtaining quality in the color itself1  
totally different from the manipulation 
of any other artist2 and none1 who have 
ever spent so much as one hour of their 

lives over his drawing1 can forget those
 dim passages of dreamy blue1 barred and
 severed with a thousand delicate and   
soft and snowy forms1 which1 gleaming in
 their patience of hope between the     
troubled rushing of the racked          
earth-cloud1 melt farther and farther   
back into the height of heaven1 until   
the eye is bewildered and the heart lost
 in the intensity of their peace4 ,i do 
not say that this is beautiful--,i do   
not say it is ideal1 nor refined--,i    
only ask you to watch for the first     
opening of the clouds after the next    
south rain1 and tell me if it be not    
true8   ,sec4 #be4 ,expression of near  
rain-cloud in the ,gosport1 and other   
works4  ,sec4 #bf4 ,contrasted with     
,gaspar ,poussin's rain-cloud in the    
,dido and ,aeneas4  ,the ,gosport       
affords us an instance more exquisite   
even than the passage above named in the
 ,coventry1 of the use of this melting  
and dewy blue1 accompanied by two       
distances of rain-cloud1 one towering   

over the horizon1 seen blue with        
excessive distance through crystal      
atmosphere2 the other breaking overhead 
in the warm1 sulphurous fragments of    
spray1 whose loose and shattering       
transparency1 being the most essential  
characteristic of the near rain-cloud1  
is precisely that which the old masters 
are sure to contradict4 ,look1 for      
instance1 at the wreaths of cloud8 in   
the ,dido and ,aeneas of ,gaspar        
,poussin1 with their unpleasant edges   
cut as hard and solid and opaque and    
smooth as thick black paint can make    
them1 rolled up over one another like a 
dirty sail badly reefed2 or look at the 
agreeable transparency and variety of   
the cloud-edge where it cuts the        
,mountain in ,n4 ,poussin's ,phocion1   
and compare this with the wreaths which 
float across the precipice in the second
 vignette in ,campbell1 or which gather 
around the ,ben ,lomond1 the white rain 
gleaming beneath their dark transparent 
shadows2 or which drift up along the    

flanks of the wooded hills1 called from 
the river by the morning light1 in the  
,oakhampton2 or which island the crags  
of ,snowdon in the ,llanberis1 or melt  
along the ,cumberland hills1 while      
,turner leads us across the sands of    
,morecambe ,bay4 ,this last drawing     
deserves especial notice2 it is of an   
evening in spring1 when the south rain  
has ceased at sunset1 and through the   
lulled and golden air1 the confused and 
fantastic mists float up along the      
hollows of the mountains1 white and     
pure1 the resurrection in spirit of the 
new-fallen rain1 catching shadows from  
the precipices1 and mocking the dark    
peaks with their own mountain-like but  
melting forms till the solid mountains  
seem in motion like those waves of      
cloud1 emerging and vanishing as the    
weak wind passes by their summits2 while
 the blue1 level night advances along   
the sea1 and the surging breakers leap  
up to catch the last light from the path
 of the sunset4  ,illustration3         

,,okehampton ,,castle4                  
,from a painting by ,turner4   ,sec4    
#bg4 ,turner's power of rendering mist4 
,sec4 #bh4 ,his effects of mist so      
perfect1 that if not at once understood1
         they can no more be explained  
or reasoned on than nature              
herself4  ,i need not1 however1 insist  
upon ,turner's peculiar power of        
rendering mist1 and all those passages  
of intermediate mystery1 between earth  
and air1 when the mountain is melting   
into the cloud1 or the horizon into the 
twilight2 because his supremacy in these
 points is altogether undisputed1 except
 by persons to whom it would be         
impossible to prove anything which did  
not fall under the form of a ,rule of   
,three4 ,nothing is more natural than   
that the studied form and color of this 
great artist should be little           
understood1 because they require for the
 full perception of their meaning and   
truth1 such knowledge and such time as  
not one in a thousand possesses1 or can 

bestow2 but yet the truth of them for   
that very reason is capable of          
demonstration1 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 letter1 or an     
offence4 ,but the aerial and misty      
effects of landscape1 being matters of  
which the eye should be simply          
cognizant1 and without effort of        
thought1 as it is of light1 must1 where 
they are exquisitely rendered1 either be
 felt at once1 or prove that degree of  
blindness and bluntness in the feelings 
of the observer which there is little   
hope of ever conquering4 ,of course for 
persons who have never seen in their    
lives a cloud vanishing on a            
mountain-side1 and whose conceptions of 
mist or vapor are limited to ambiguous  
outlines of spectral hackney-coaches and
 bodiless lamp-posts1 discern through a 
brown combination of sulphur1 soot1 and 
gaslight1 there is yet some hope2 we    
cannot1 indeed1 tell them what the      

morning mist is like in mountain air1   
but far be it from us to tell them that 
they are incapable of feeling its beauty
 if they will seek it for themselves4   
,but if you have ever in your life had  
one opportunity with your eyes and heart
 open1 of seeing the dew rise from a    
hill-pasture1 or the storm gather on a  
sea-cliff1 and if you have yet no       
feeling for the glorious passages of    
mingled earth and heaven which ,turner  
calls up before you into breathing1     
tangible being1 there is indeed no hope 
for your apathy--art will never touch   
you1 nor nature inform4   ,sec4 #bi4    
,various instances4  ,it would be       
utterly absurd1 among the innumerable   
passages of this kind given throughout  
his works1 to point to one as more      
characteristic or more perfect than     
another4 ,the ,simmer ,lake1 near       
,askrig1 for expression of mist pervaded
 with sunlight1--the ,lake ,lucerne1 a  
recent and unengraved drawing1 for the  
recession of near mountain form1 not    

into dark1 but into luminous cloud1 the 
most difficult thing to do in art1--the 
,harlech1 for expression of the same    
phenomena1 shown over vast spaces in    
distant ranges of hills1 the            
,ehrenbreitstein1 a recent drawing1 for 
expression of mist1 rising from the     
surface of water at sunset1--and1       
finally1 the glorious ,oberwesel and    
,nemi1#da for passages of all united1   
may1 however1 be named1 as noble        
instances1 though in naming five works  
,i insult five hundred4   ,sec4 #cj4    
,turner's more violent effects of       
tempest are never rendered by           
engravers4  ,sec4 #ca4 ,general system  
of landscape engraving4  ,sec4 #cb4 ,the
 storm in the ,stonehenge4  ,one word   
respecting ,turner's more violent       
storms1 for we have hitherto been       
speaking only of the softer rain-clouds1
 associated with gusty tempest1 but not 
of the thunder-cloud and the whirlwind4 
,if there be any one point in which     
engravers disgrace themselves more than 

in another1 it is in their rendering of 
dark and furious storm4 ,it appears to  
be utterly impossible to force it into  
their heads1 that an artist does not    
leave his color with a sharp edge and an
 angular form by accident1 or that they 
may have the pleasure of altering it and
 improving upon it2 and equally         
impossible to persuade them that energy 
and gloom may in some circumstances be  
arrived at without any extraordinary    
expenditure of ink4 ,i am aware of no   
engraver of the present day whose ideas 
of a storm-cloud are not comprised under
 two heads1 roundness and blackness2    
and1 indeed1 their general principles of
 translation 7as may be distinctly      
gathered from their larger works7 are   
the following3 #a4 ,where the drawing is
 gray1 make the paper black4 #b4 ,where 
the drawing is white1 cover the page    
with zigzag lines4 #c4 ,where the       
drawing has particularly tender tones1  
cross-hatch them4 #d4 ,where any outline
 is particularly angular1 make it round4

 #e4 ,where there are vertical          
reflections in water1 express them with 
very distinct horizontal lines4 #f4     
,where there is a passage of particular 
simplicity1 treat it in sections4 #g4   
,where there is anything intentionally  
concealed1 make it out4 ,yet1 in spite  
of the necessity which all engravers    
impose upon themselves1 of rigidly      
observing this code of general laws1 it 
is difficult to conceive how such pieces
 of work1 as the plates of ,stonehenge  
and ,winchelsea1 can ever have been     
presented to the public1 as in any way  
resembling1 or possessing even the most 
fanciful relation to the ,turner        
drawings of the same subjects4 ,the     
original of the ,stonehenge is perhaps  
the standard of storm-drawing1 both for 
the overwhelming power and gigantic     
proportions and spaces of its           
cloud-forms1 and for the tremendous     
qualities of lurid and sulphurous colors
 which are gained in them4 ,all its     
forms are marked with violent angles1 as

 if the whole muscular energy--so to    
speak--of the cloud1 were writhing in   
every fold1 and their fantastic and     
fiery volumes have a peculiar horror--an
 awful life--shadowed out in their      
strange1 swift1 fearful outlines1 which 
oppress the mind more than even the     
threatening of their gigantic gloom4    
,the white lightning1 not as it is drawn
 by less observant or less capable      
painters1 in zigzag fortifications1 but 
in its own dreadful irregularity of     
streaming fire1 is brought down1 not    
merely over the dark clouds1 but through
 the full light of an illumined opening 
to the blue1 which yet cannot abate the 
brilliancy of its white line2 and the   
track of the last flash along the ground
 is fearfully marked by the dog howling 
over the fallen shepherd1 and the ewe   
pressing her head upon the body of her  
dead lamb4   ,sec4 #cc4 ,general        
character of such effects given by      
,turner4 ,his expression         of     
falling rain4  ,i have not space1       

however1 to enter into examination of   
,turner's storm-drawing2 ,i can only    
warn the public against supposing that  
its effect is ever rendered by          
engravers4 ,the great principles of     
,turner are angular outline1 vastness   
and energy of form1 infinity of         
gradation1 and depth without blackness4 
,the great principles of the engravers  
7vide ,paestum1 in ,rogers's ,italy1 and
 the ,stonehenge1 above alluded to7 are 
rounded outline1 no edges1 want of      
character1 equality of strength1 and    
blackness without depth4   ,sec4 #cd4   
,recapitulation of the section4  ,i have
 scarcely1 ,i see1 on referring to what 
,i have written1 sufficiently insisted  
on ,turner's rendering of the rainy     
fringe1 whether in distances1 admitting 
or concealing more or less of the       
extended plain1 as in the ,waterloo1 and
 ,richmond 7with the girl and dog in the
 foreground17 or as in the              
,dunstaffnage1 ,glencoe1 ,st4 ,michael's
 ,mount1 and ,slave ,ship1 not reaching 

the earth1 but suspended in waving and  
twisted lines from the darkness of the  
zenith4 ,but ,i have no time for farther
 development of particular points2 ,i   
must defer discussion of them until we  
take up each picture to be viewed as a  
whole2 for the division of the sky which
 ,i have been obliged to make1 in order 
to render fully understood the          
peculiarities of character in the       
separate cloud regions1 prevents my     
speaking of any one work with justice to
 its concentration of various truth4 ,be
 it always remembered that we pretend   
not1 at present1 to give any account or 
idea of the sum of the works of any     
painter1 much less of the universality  
of ,turner's2 but only to explain in    
what real truth1 as far as it is        
explicable1 consists1 and to illustrate 
it by those pictures in which it most   
distinctly occurs1 or from which it is  
most visibly absent4 ,and it will only  
be in the full and separate discussion  
of individual works1 when we are        

acquainted also with what is beautiful1 
that we shall be completely able to     
prove or disprove the presence of the   
truth of nature4  ,the conclusion1 then1
 to which we are led by our present     
examination of the truth of clouds1 is1 
that the old masters attempted the      
representation of only one among the    
thousands of their systems of scenery1  
and were altogether false in the little 
they attempted2 while we can find       
records in modern art of every form or  
phenomenon of the heavens1 from the     
highest film that glorifies the ether to
 the wildest vapor that darkens the     
dust1 and in all these records we find  
the most clear language and close       
thought1 firm words1 and true message1  
unstinted fulness and unfailing faith4  
,sec4 #ce4 ,sketch of a few of the skies
 of nature1 taken as a whole1 compared  
with the works of ,turner and of the old
 masters4 ,morning on the               
plains4  ,sec4 #cf4 ,noon with gathering
 storms4  ,sec4 #cg4 ,sunset in tempest4

 ,serene midnight4  ,sec4 #ch4 ,and     
sunrise on the ,alps4  ,and indeed it is
 difficult for us to conceive how1 even 
without such laborious investigation as 
we have gone through1 any person can go 
to nature for a single day or hour1 when
 she is really at work in any of her    
nobler spheres of action1 and yet retain
 respect for the old masters2 finding1  
as find he will1 that every scene which 
rises1 rests1 or departs before him1    
bears with it a thousand glories of     
which there is not one shadow1 one      
image1 one trace or line1 in any of     
their works2 but which will illustrate  
to him1 at every new instant1 some      
passage which he had not before         
understood in the high works of modern  
art4 ,stand upon the peak of some       
isolated mountain at daybreak1 when the 
night mists first rise from off the     
plains1 and watch their white and       
lake-like fields as they float in level 
bays and winding gulfs about the        
islanded summits of the lower hills1    

untouched yet by more than dawn1 colder 
and more quiet than a windless sea under
 the moon of midnight2 watch when the   
first sunbeam is sent upon the silver   
channels1 how the foam of their         
undulating surface parts and passes     
away2 and down under their depths1 the  
glittering city and green pasture lie   
like ,atlantis1 between the white paths 
of winding rivers2 the flakes of light  
falling every moment faster and broader 
among the starry spires1 as the wreathed
 surges break and vanish above them1 and
 the confused crests and ridges of the  
dark hills shorten their gray shadows   
upon the plain4 ,has ,claude given this8
 ,wait a little longer1 and you shall   
see those scattered mists rallying in   
the ravines1 and floating up towards    
you1 along the winding valleys1 till    
they couch in quiet masses1 iridescent  
with the morning light1#db upon the     
broad breasts of the higher hills1 whose
 leagues of massy undulation will melt  
back and back into that robe of material

 light1 until they fade away1 lost in   
its lustre1 to appear again above1 in   
the serene heaven1 like a wild1 bright1 
impossible dream1 foundationless and    
inaccessible1 their very bases vanishing
 in the unsubstantial and mocking blue  
of the deep lake below4#dc ,has ,claude 
given this8 ,wait yet a little longer1  
and you shall see those mists gather    
themselves into white towers1 and stand 
like fortresses along the promontories1 
massy and motionless1 only piled with   
every instant higher and higher into the
 sky1#dd and casting longer shadows     
athwart the rocks2 and out of the pale  
blue of the horizon you will see forming
 and advancing a troop of narrow1 dark1 
pointed vapors1#de which will cover the 
sky1 inch by inch1 with their gray      
network1 and take the light off the     
landscape with an eclipse which will    
stop the singing of the birds and the   
motion of the leaves together2 and then 
you will see horizontal bars of black   
shadow forming under them1 and lurid    

wreaths create themselves1 you know not 
how1 along the shoulders of the hills2  
you never see them form1 but when you   
look back to a place which was clear an 
instant ago1 there is a cloud on it1    
hanging by the precipices1 as a hawk    
pauses over his prey4#df ,has ,claude   
given this8 ,and then you will hear the 
sudden rush of the awakened wind1 and   
you will see those watch-towers of vapor
 swept away from their foundations1 and 
waving curtains of opaque rain let down 
to the valleys1 swinging from the       
burdened clouds in black1 bending       
fringes1#dg or pacing in pale columns   
along the lake level1 grazing its       
surface into foam as they go4 ,and then1
 as the sun sinks1 you shall see the    
storm drift for an instant from on the  
hills1 leaving their broad sides        
smoking1 and loaded yet with snow-white 
torn1 steam-like rags of capricious     
vapor1 now gone1 now gathered again2#dh 
while the smouldering sun1 seeming not  
far away1 but burning like a red-hot    

ball beside you1 and as if you could    
reach it1 plunges through the rushing   
wind and rolling cloud with headlong    
fall1 as if it meant to rise no more1   
dyeing all the air about it with        
blood4#di ,has ,claude given this8 ,and 
then you shall hear the fainting tempest
 die in the hollow of the night1 and you
 shall see a green halo kindling on the 
summit of the eastern hills1#ej         
brighter--brighter yet1 till the large  
white circle of the slow moon is lifted 
up among the barred clouds1#ea step by  
step1 line by line2 star after star she 
quenches with her kindling light1       
setting in their stead an army of pale1 
penetrable1 fleecy wreaths in the       
heaven1 to give light upon the earth1   
which move together1 hand in hand1      
company by company1 troop by troop1 so  
measured in their unity of motion1 that 
the whole heaven seems to roll with     
them1 and the earth to reel under them4 
,ask ,claude1 or his brethren1 for that4
 ,and then wait yet for one hour until  

the east again becomes purple1#eb and   
the heaving mountains1 rolling against  
it in darkness1 like waves of a wild    
sea1 are drowned one by one in the glory
 of its burning2 watch the white        
glaciers blaze in their winding paths   
about the mountains1 like mighty        
serpents with scales of fire2 watch the 
columnar peaks of solitary snow1        
kindling downwards1 chasm by chasm1 each
 in itself a new morning2 their long    
avalanches cast down in keen streams    
brighter than the lightning1 sending    
each his tribute of driven snow1 like   
altar-smoke1 up to the heaven2 the      
rose-light of their silent domes        
flushing that heaven about them and     
above them1 piercing with purer light   
through its purple lines of lifted      
cloud1 casting a new glory on every     
wreath as it passes by1 until the whole 
heaven--one scarlet canopy1--is         
interwoven with a roof of waving flame1 
and tossing1 vault beyond vault1 as with
 the drifted wings of many companies of 

angels2 and then1 when you can look no  
more for gladness1 and when you are     
bowed down with fear and love of the    
,maker and ,doer of this1 tell me who   
has best delivered this ,his message    
unto men6   ,,footnotes    #cd ,i am    
unable to say to what height the real   
rain-cloud may     extend2 perhaps there
 are no mountains which rise altogether 
above     storm4 ,i have never been in a
 violent storm at a greater height than 
between #hjjj and #ijjj feet above the  
level of the sea4 ,there the            
rain-cloud is exceedingly light1        
compared to the ponderous darkness      
of the lower air4    #ce ,i ought here1 
however1 to have noted another effect of
 the     rain-cloud1 which1 so far as ,i
 know1 has been rendered only by        
,copley ,fielding4 ,it is seen chiefly  
in clouds gathering for rain1     when  
the sky is entirely covered with a gray 
veil rippled or waved     with pendent  
swells of soft texture1 but excessively 
hard and liny     in their edges4 ,i am 

not sure that this is an agreeable or   
impressive form of the rain-cloud1 but  
it is a frequent one1 and it     is     
often most faithfully given by          
,fielding2 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 passages2     and something of 
the same hardness of line is            
occasionally visible     in his drawing 
of clouds by whose nature it is not     
warranted4    #cf ,compare ,sect4 ,i4   
,chap4 ,,iv4 ,sec4 #e4    #cg ,it does  
not do so until the volumes lose their  
density by     inequality of motion1 and
 by the expansion of the warm air which 
conveys them4 ,they are then1 of course1
 broken into forms resembling     those 
of clouds4    #ch ,no conception can be 
formed of this picture from the         
engraving4     ,it is perhaps the most  
marvellous piece of execution and of    
gray     color existing1 except perhaps 
the drawing presently to be noticed1    

,land's ,end4 ,nothing else can be set  
beside it1 even of ,turner's own        
works--much less of any other man's4    
#ci ,i know no effect more strikingly   
characteristic of the     departure of a
 storm than the smoking of the mountain 
torrents4     ,the exhausted air is so  
thirsty of moisture1 that every jet of  
spray     is seized upon by it1 and     
converted into vapor as it springs2 and 
this vapor rises so densely from the    
surface of the stream as to     give it 
the exact appearance of boiling water4  
,i have seen the whole     course of the
 ,arve at ,chamonix one line of dense   
cloud1 dissipating     as soon as it had
 risen ten or twelve feet from the      
surface1 but     entirely concealing the
 water from an observer placed above it4
    #dj ,note especially the dark       
uppermost outline of the mass4    #da   
,in the possession of ,b4 ,g4 ,windus1  
,esq4 of ,tottenham4    #db ,i have     
often seen the white thin1 morning      
cloud1 edged with the     seven colors  

of the prism4 ,i am not aware of the    
cause of this     phenomenon1 for it    
takes place not when we stand with our  
backs to     the sun1 but in clouds near
 the sun itself1 irregularly and over   
indefinite spaces1 sometimes taking     
place in the body of the cloud4     ,the
 colors are distinct and vivid1 but have
 a kind of metallic     lustre upon     
them4    #dc ,lake ,lucerne4    #dd ,st4
 ,maurice 7,rogers's ,italy74    #de    
,vignette1 the ,great ,st4 ,bernard4    
#df ,vignette of the ,andes4    #dg ,st4
 ,michael's ,mount--,england series4    
#dh ,illustration to the ,antiquary4    
,goldeau1 a recent drawing of the       
highest order4    #di ,vignette to      
,campbell's ,last ,man4    #ej          
,caerlaverock4    #ea ,st4 ,denis4      
#eb ,alps at ,daybreak 7,rogers's       
,poems37 ,delphi1 and various           
vignettes4                              
,,chapter ,v4                           
,,effects ,,of ,,light ,,rendered ,,by  
,,modern ,,art4   ,sec4 #a4 ,reasons for

 merely at present naming1 without      
examining the        particular effects 
of light rendered by ,turner4  ,sec4 #b4
 ,hopes of the author for assistance in 
the future investigation of        them4
  ,i have before given my reasons       
7,sect4 ,,ii4 ,chap4 ,,iii47 for not    
wishing at present to enter upon the    
discussion of particular effects of     
light4 ,not only are we incapable of    
rightly viewing them1 or reasoning upon 
them1 until we are acquainted with the  
principles of the beautiful2 but1 as ,i 
distinctly limited myself1 in the       
present portion of the work1 to the     
examination of general truths1 it would 
be out of place to take cognizance of   
the particular phases of light1 even if 
it were possible to do so1 before we    
have some more definite knowledge of the
 material objects which they illustrate4
 ,i shall therefore1 at present1 merely 
set down a rough catalogue of the       
effects of light at different hours of  
the day1 which ,turner has represented3 

naming a picture or two1 as an example  
of each1 which we will hereafter take up
 one by one1 and consider the physical  
science and the feeling together4 ,and  
,i do this1 in the hope that1 in the    
mean time1 some admirer of the old      
masters will be kind enough to select   
from the works of any one of them1 a    
series of examples of the same effects1 
and to give me a reference to the       
pictures1 so that ,i may be able to     
compare each with each2 for1 as my      
limited knowledge of the works of       
,claude or ,poussin does not supply me  
with the requisite variety of effect1 ,i
 shall be grateful for assistance4  ,the
 following list1 of course1 does not    
name the hundredth part of the effects  
of light given by ,turner2 it only names
 those which are distinctly and markedly
 separate from each other1 and          
representative each of an entire class4 
,ten or twelve examples1 often many     
more1 might be given of each2 every one 
of which would display the effects of   

the same hour and light1 modified by    
different circumstances of weather1     
situation1 and character of objects     
subjected to them1 and especially by the
 management of the sky2 but it will be  
generally sufficient for our purposes to
 examine thoroughly one good example of 
each4  ,the prefixed letters express the
 direction of the light4 ,f4 front light
 7the sun in the centre1 or near the top
 of the picture27 ,l4 lateral light1 the
 sun out of the picture on the right or 
left of the spectator2 ,l4 ,f4 the light
 partly lateral1 partly fronting the    
spectator1 as when he is looking south1 
with the sun in the south-west2 ,l4 ,b4 
light partly lateral1 partly behind the 
spectator1 as when he is looking north1 
with the sun in the south-west4         
,,morning4                              
,,effects4                              
,,names ,,of ,,pictures4    ,l4   ,an   
hour before sunrise in winter4 ,violent 
,lowestoffe1 ,suffolk4          storm1  
with rain1 on the sea4 ,light-houses    

seen through it4                        
,f4   ,an hour before sunrise4 ,serene  
sky1 with      ,vignette to ,voyage     
light clouds4 ,dawn in the distance4    
of ,columbus4                           
,l4   ,ten minutes before sunrise4      
,violent           ,fowey ,harbor4      
storm4 ,torchlight4                     
,f4   ,sunrise4 ,sun only half above the
 horizon4     ,vignette to ,human       
,clear sky1 with light cirri4           
,life4                                  
,f4   ,sun just disengaged from horizon4
 ,misty1      ,alps at ,daybreak4       
with light cirri4                       
,f4   ,sun a quarter of an hour risen4  
,sky covered   ,castle ,upnor4          
with scarlet clouds4                    
,l4,f4 ,serene sky4 ,sun emerging from a
 bank          ,orford1 ,suffolk4       
of cloud on horizon1 a quarter of an    
hour            risen4                  
,l4,f4 ,same hour4 ,light mists in      
flakes on           ,skiddaw4           
hill-sides4 ,clear air4                 

,l4,f4 ,light flying rain-clouds        
gathering in         ,oakhampton4       
valleys4 ,same hour4                    
,l4,b4 ,same hour4 ,a night storm rising
 off the       ,lake of ,geneva4        
mountains4 ,dead calm4                  
,l4   ,sun half an hour risen4          
,cloudless sky4        ,beaugency4      
,l4   ,same hour4 ,light mists lying in 
the valleys4  ,kirby ,lonsdale4         
,f4   ,same hour4 ,bright cirri4 ,sun   
dimly seen       ,hohenlinden4          
through battle smoke1 with              
conflagration4                          
,l4   ,sun an hour risen4 ,cloudless and
 clear4       ,buckfastleigh4           
,,noon ,,and ,,afternoon4               
,,effects4                       ,,names
 ,,of ,,pictures4    ,l4,b4 ,midday4    
,dead calm1 with heat4 ,cloudless4      
,corinth4                               
,l4   ,same hour4 ,serene and bright1   
with            ,lantern at             
streaky clouds4                         
,st4 ,cloud4                            

,l4   ,same hour4 ,serene1 with         
multitudes of         ,shylock1 and     
other          the high cirrus4         
,venices4                               
,l4   ,bright sun1 with light wind and  
clouds4       ,richmond1 ,middlesex4    
,f4   ,two o'clock4 ,clouds gathering   
for rain1 with  ,warwick4 ,blenheim4    
heat4                                   
,f4   ,rain beginning1 with light clouds
 and wind4   ,piacenza4                 
,l4   ,soft rain1 with heat4            
,caldron ,snout ,fall4                  
,l4,f4 ,great heat4 ,thunder gathering4 
,malvern4                               
,l4   ,thunder breaking down1 after     
intense heat1    ,winchelsea4           
with furious wind4                      
,l4   ,violent rain and wind1 but cool4 
,llamberis1 ,coventry1                  
c4                                      
,l4,f4 ,furious storm1 with thunder4    
,stonehenge1 ,paestum1                  
c4                                      
,l4,b4 ,thunder retiring1 with rainbow4 

,dead calm1    ,nottingham4             
with heat4                              
,l4   ,about three o'clock1 summer4 ,air
 very         ,bingen4          cool and
 clear4 ,exhausted thunder-clouds       
low on hills4                           
,f4   ,descending sunbeams through soft 
clouds1      ,carew ,castle4            
after rain4                             
,l4   ,afternoon1 very clear1 after     
rain4 ,a few      ,saltash4             
clouds still on horizon4 ,dead calm4    
,f4   ,afternoon of cloudless day1 with 
heat4        ,mercury and ,argus4       
,oberwesel4 ,nemi4                      
,,evening4                              
,,effects4                       ,,names
 ,,of ,,pictures4    ,l4   ,an hour     
before sunset4 ,cloudless4              
,trematon ,castle4                      
,f4   ,half an hour before sunset4      
,light clouds4     ,lake ,albano4       
,misty air4                             
,florence4                              
,f4   ,within a quarter of an hour of   

sunset4        ,dater ,hora ,quieti4    
,mists rising4 ,light cirri4            
,l4,f4 ,ten minutes before sunset4      
,quite cloudless4   ,durham4            
,f4   ,same hour4 ,tumultuous spray of  
illumined      ,solomon's ,pools4       
rain-cloud4                             
,slave ship4                            
,f4   ,five minutes before sunset4 ,sky 
covered       ,temeraire4 ,napoleon4    
with illumined cirri4                   
,various vignettes4                     
,l4,b4 ,same hour4 ,serene sky4 ,full   
moon rising4      ,kenilworth4          
,f4   ,sun setting4 ,detached light     
cirri and clear   ,amboise4             
air4                                    
,l4   ,same hour4 ,cloudless4 ,new moon4
               ,troyes4                 
,l4,f4 ,same hour4 ,heavy storm clouds4 
,moonrise4      ,first vignette4        
,pleasures of                           
,memory4                                
,l4,b4 ,sun just set4 ,sky covered with 
clouds4 ,new    ,caudebec4          moon

 setting4                               
,l4,b4 ,sun five minutes set4 ,strong   
twilight1        ,wilderness of ,engedi4
          with storm clouds4 ,full      
moonrise4             ,assos4           
,l4,b4 ,same hour4 ,serene1 with light  
clouds4         ,montjan4               
,l4,b4 ,same hour4 ,serene4 ,new moon4  
,pyramid of ,caius                      
,cestius4                               
,l4,b4 ,sun a quarter of an hour set4   
,cloudless4      ,chateau de ,blois4    
,l4,f4 ,sun half an hour set4 ,light    
cirri4            ,clairmont4           
,f4   ,same hour4 ,dead calm at sea4    
,new moon and     ,cowes4               
evening star4                           
,f4   ,sun three quarters of an hour    
set4 ,moon       ,folkestone4           
struggling through storm clouds1 over   
heavy sea4                              
,,night4                                
,,effects4                       ,,names
 ,,of ,,pictures4    ,f4   ,an hour     
after sunset4 ,no moon4 ,torchlight4    

,st4 ,julien4 ,tours4                   
,f4   ,same hour4 ,moon rising4 ,fire   
from furnaces4   ,dudley4               
,l4,f4 ,same hour1 with storm clouds4   
,moon            ,nantes4               
rising4                                 
,l4   ,same hour1 with light of rockets 
and fire4    ,juliet and her ,nurse4    
,f4   ,midnight4 ,moonless1 with        
light-houses4        ,calais4           
,same hour1 with fire-light4            
,burning of                             
,parliament ,houses4                    
,f4   ,ditto4 ,full moon4 ,clear air1   
with delicate    ,towers of the ,heve4  
clouds4 ,light-houses4                  
,f4   ,ditto1 with conflagration1 battle
 smoke1 and  ,waterloo4          storm4 
,f4   ,ditto4 ,moonlight through mist4  
,buildings      ,vignette4 ,st4         
illuminated in interior4                
,herbert's ,isle4                       
,f4   ,ditto4 ,full moon with halo4     
,light             ,st4 ,denis4         
rain-clouds4                            

,f4   ,full moon4 ,perfectly serene4    
,sky covered      ,alnwick4 ,vignette of
          with white cirri4             
,rialto1 and ,bridge4                   
of ,sighs                               
,,section ,,iv4                         
,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,earth4              
,,chapter ,i4                           
,,of ,,general ,,structure4   ,sec4 #a4 
,first laws of the organization of the  
earth1 and their importance        in   
art4  ,by truth of earth1 we mean the   
faithful representation of the facts and
 forms of the bare ground1 considered as
 entirely divested of vegetation1       
through whatever disguise1 or under     
whatever modification the clothing of   
the landscape may occasion4 ,ground is  
to the landscape painter what the naked 
human body is to the historical4 ,the   
growth of vegetation1 the action of     
water1 and even of clouds upon it and   
around it1 are so far subject and       
subordinate to its forms1 as the folds  
of the dress and the fall of the hair   

are to the modulation of the animal     
anatomy4 ,nor is this anatomy always so 
concealed1 but in all sublime           
compositions1 whether of nature or art1 
it must be seen in its naked purity4    
,the laws of the organization of the    
earth are distinct and fixed as those of
 the animal frame1 simpler and broader1 
but equally authoritative and           
inviolable4 ,their results may be       
arrived at without knowledge of the     
interior mechanism2 but for that very   
reason ignorance of them is the more    
disgraceful1 and violation of them more 
unpardonable4 ,they are in the landscape
 the foundation of all other truths--the
 most necessary1 therefore1 even if they
 were not in themselves attractive2 but 
they are as beautiful as they are       
essential1 and every abandonment of them
 by the artist must end in deformity as 
it begins in falsehood4   ,sec4 #b4 ,the
 slight attention ordinarily paid to    
them4 ,their careful study        by    
modern artists4  ,that such abandonment 

is constant and total in the works of   
the old masters1 has escaped detection1 
only because of persons generally       
cognizant of art1 few have spent time   
enough in hill countries to perceive the
 certainty of the laws of hill anatomy2 
and because few1 even of those who      
possess such opportunities1 ever think  
of the common earth beneath their feet1 
as anything possessing specific form1 or
 governed by steadfast principles4 ,that
 such abandonment should have taken     
place cannot be surprising1 after what  
we have seen of their fidelity to skies4
 ,those artists who1 day after day1     
could so falsely represent what was     
forever before their eyes1 when it was  
to be one of the most important and     
attractive parts of their picture1 can  
scarcely be expected to give with truth 
what they could see only partially and  
at intervals1 and what was only to be in
 their picture a blue line in the       
horizon1 or a bright spot under the feet
 of their figures4  ,that such should be

 all the space allotted by the old      
landscape painters to the most          
magnificent phenomena of nature2 that   
the only traces of those ,apennines1    
which in ,claude's walks along the brow 
of the ,pincian1 forever bounded his    
horizon with their azure wall1 should1  
in his pictures1 be a cold white outline
 in the extreme of his tame distance2   
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-globe2 though it may indeed excite 
our surprise1 will1 perhaps1 when we    
have seen how these slight passages are 
executed1 be rather a subject of        
congratulation than of regret4 ,it      
might1 indeed1 have shortened our labor 
in the investigation of mountain truth1 
had not modern artists been so vast1    
comprehensive1 and multitudinous in     
their mountain drawings1 as to compel   
us1 in order to form the slightest      

estimate of their knowledge1 to enter   
into some examination of every variety  
of hill scenery4 ,we shall first gain   
some general notion of the broad        
organization of large masses1 and then  
take those masses to pieces1 until we   
come down to the crumbling soil of the  
foreground4   ,sec4 #c4 ,general        
structure of the earth4 ,the hills are  
its action1 the        plains its rest4 
,mountains are1 to the rest of the body 
of the earth1 what violent muscular     
action is to the body of man4 ,the      
muscles and tendons of its anatomy are1 
in the mountain1 brought out with fierce
 and convulsive energy1 full of         
expression1 passion1 and strength2 the  
plains and the lower hills are the      
repose and the effortless motion of the 
frame1 when its muscles lie dormant and 
concealed beneath the lines of its      
beauty1 yet ruling those lines in their 
every undulation4 ,this1 then1 is the   
first grand principle of the truth of   
the earth4 ,the spirit of the hills is  

action2 that of the lowlands1 repose2   
and between these there is to be found  
every variety of motion and of rest2    
from the inactive plain1 sleeping like  
the firmament1 with cities for stars1 to
 the fiery peaks1 which1 with heaving   
bosoms and exulting limbs1 with the     
clouds drifting like hair from their    
bright foreheads1 lift up their ,titan  
hands to ,heaven1 saying1 ,i live       
forever6   ,sec4 #d4 ,mountains come out
 from underneath the plains1 and are    
their        support4  ,but there is    
this difference between the action of   
the earth1 and that of a living         
creature1 that while the exerted limb   
marks its bones and tendons through the 
flesh1 the excited earth casts off the  
flesh altogether1 and its bones come out
 from beneath4 ,mountains are the bones 
of the earth1 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 soil1 and   

which spring up in the mountain ranges  
in vast pyramids or wedges1 flinging    
their garment of earth away from them on
 each side4 ,the masses of the lower    
hills are laid over and against their   
sides1 like the masses of lateral       
masonry against the skeleton arch of an 
unfinished bridge1 except that they     
slope up to and lean against the central
 ridge3 and1 finally1 upon the slopes of
 these lower hills are strewed the level
 beds of sprinkled gravel1 sand1 and    
clay1 which form the extent of the      
champaign4 ,here then is another grand  
principle of the truth of earth1 that   
the mountains must come from under all1 
and be the support of all2 and that     
everything else must be laid in their   
arms1 heap above heap1 the plains being 
the uppermost4 ,opposed to this truth is
 every appearance of the hills being    
laid upon the plains1 or built upon     
them4 ,nor is this a truth only of the  
earth on a large scale1 for every minor 
rock 7in position7 comes out from the   

soil about it as an island out of the   
sea1 lifting the earth near it like     
waves beating on its sides4   ,sec4 #e4 
,structure of the plains themselves4    
,their perfect level1 when              
deposited by quiet water4  ,such being  
the structure of the framework of the   
earth1 it is next to be remembered that 
all soil whatsoever1 wherever it is     
accumulated in greater quantity than is 
sufficient to nourish the moss of the   
wallflower1 has been so1 either by the  
direct transporting agency of water1 or 
under the guiding influence and power of
 water4 ,all plains capable of          
cultivation are deposits from some kind 
of water--some from swift and tremendous
 currents1 leaving their soil in        
sweeping banks and furrowed             
ridges--others1 and this is in mountain 
districts almost invariably the case1 by
 slow deposit from a quiet lake in the  
mountain hollow1 which has been         
gradually filled by the soil carried    
into it by streams1 which soil is of    

course finally left spread at the exact 
level of the surface of the former lake1
 as level as the quiet water itself4    
,hence we constantly meet with plains in
 hill districts1 which fill the hollows 
of the hills with as perfect and        
faultless a level as water1 and out of  
which the steep rocks rise at the edge  
with as little previous disturbance1 or 
indication of their forms beneath1 as   
they do from the margin of a quiet lake4
 ,every delta--and there is one at the  
head of every lake in every             
hill-district--supplies an instance of  
this4 ,the rocks at ,altorf plunge      
beneath the plain1 which the lake has   
left1 at as sharp an angle as they do   
into the lake itself beside the chapel  
of ,tell4 ,the plain of the ,arve1 at   
,sallenche1 is terminated so sharply by 
the hills to the south-east1 that ,i    
have seen a man sleeping with his back  
supported against the mountain1 and his 
legs stretched on the plain2 the slope  
which supported his back rising #ejjj   

feet above him1 and the couch of his    
legs stretched for five miles before    
him4 ,in distant effect these champaigns
 lie like deep1 blue1 undisturbed water1
 while the mighty hills around them     
burst out from beneath1 raging and      
tossing like a tumultuous sea4 ,the     
valleys of ,meyringen1 ,interlachen1    
,altorf1 ,sallenche1 ,st4 ,jean de      
,maurienne2 the great plain of ,lombardy
 itself1 as seen from ,milan or ,padua1 
under the ,alps1 the ,euganeans1 and the
 ,apennines2 and the ,campo ,felice     
under ,vesuvius1 are a few1 out of the  
thousand instances1 which must occur at 
once to the mind of every traveller4    
,sec4 #f4 ,illustrated by ,turner's     
,marengo4  ,let the reader now open     
,rogers's ,italy1 at the seventeenth    
page1 and look at the vignette which    
heads it of the battle of ,marengo4 ,it 
needs no comment4 ,it cannot but carry  
with it1 after what has been said1 the  
instant conviction that ,turner is as   
much of a geologist as he is of a       

painter4 ,it is a summary of all we have
 been saying1 and a summary so distinct 
and clear1 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 arms1 and  
of the tumultuous action of the emergent
 summits4   ,sec4 #g4 ,general divisions
 of formation resulting from this       
arrangement4        ,plan of            
investigation4  ,we find1 according to  
this its internal structure1 which1 ,i  
believe1 with the assistance of ,turner1
 can scarcely now be misunderstood1 that
 the earth may be considered as divided 
into three great classes of formation1  
which geology has already named for us4 
,primary--the rocks1 which1 though in   
position lower than all others1 rise to 
form the central peaks1 or interior     
nuclei of all mountain ranges4          
,secondary--the rocks which are laid in 
beds above these1 and which form the    

greater proportion of all hill scenery4 
,tertiary--the light beds of sand1      
gravel1 and clay1 which are strewed upon
 the surface of all1 forming plains and 
habitable territory for man4 ,we shall  
find it convenient1 in examining the    
truth of art1 to adopt1 with a little   
modification1 the geological            
arrangement1 considering first1 the     
formation and character of the highest  
or central peaks2 then the general      
structure of the lower mountains1       
including in this division those        
composed of the various slates which a  
geologist would call primary2 and1      
lastly1 the minutiae and most delicate  
characters of the beds of these hills1  
when they are so near as to become      
foreground objects1 and the structure of
 the common soil which usually forms the
 greater space of an artist's           
foreground4 ,hence our task will arrange
 itself into three divisions--the       
investigation of the central mountains1 
of the interior mountains1 and of the   

foreground4                             
,,chapter ,,ii4                         
,,of ,,the ,,central ,,mountains4       
,sec4 #a4 ,similar character of the     
central peaks in all parts of the world4
  ,it does not always follow1 because a 
mountain is the highest of its group1   
that it is in reality one of the central
 range4 ,the ,jungfrau is only surpassed
 in elevation1 in the chain of which it 
is a member1 by the ,schreckhorn and    
,finster-,aarhorn2 but it is entirely a 
secondary mountain4 ,but the central    
peaks are usually the highest1 and may  
be considered as the chief components of
 all mountain scenery in the snowy      
regions4 ,being composed of the same    
rocks in all countries1 their external  
character is the same everywhere4 ,its  
chief essential points are the          
following4   ,sec4 #b4 ,their           
arrangements in pyramids or wedges1     
divided by vertical        fissures4    
,their summits are almost invariably    
either pyramids or wedges4 ,domes may be

 formed by superincumbent snow1 or      
appear to be formed by the continuous   
outline of a sharp ridge seen           
transversely1 with its precipice to the 
spectator2 but wherever a rock appears1 
the uppermost termination of that rock  
will be a steep edgy ridge1 or a sharp  
point1 very rarely presenting even a    
gentle slope on any of its sides1 but   
usually inaccessible unless encumbered  
with snow4  ,these pyramids and wedges  
split vertically1 or nearly so1 giving  
smooth faces of rock1 either            
perpendicular or very steeply inclined1 
which appear to be laid against the     
central wedge or peak1 like planks      
upright against a wall4 ,the surfaces of
 these show close parallelism2 their    
fissures are vertical1 and cut them     
smoothly1 like the edges of shaped      
planks4 ,often groups of these planks1  
if ,i may so call them1 rise higher than
 those between them and the central     
ridge1 forming detached ridges inclining
 towards the central one4 ,the planks   

are cut transversely1 sometimes by      
graceful curvilinear fissures2 sometimes
 by straight fissures1 which are        
commonly parallel to the slope of one of
 the sides of the peak1 while the main  
direction of the planks or leaves is    
parallel to that of its other side1 or  
points directly to its summit4 ,but the 
universal law of fracture is--first1    
that it is clean and sharp1 having a    
perfectly smooth surface1 and a         
perfectly sharp edge to all the         
fissures2 secondly1 that every fissure  
is steeply inclined1 and that a         
horizontal line1 or one approaching to  
it1 is an impossibility1 except in some 
turn of a curve4   ,sec4 #c4 ,causing   
groups of rock resembling an artichoke  
or rose4  ,hence1 however the light may 
fall1 these peaks are seen marked with  
sharp and defined shadows1 indicating   
the square edges of the planks of which 
they are made up1 which shadows         
sometimes are vertical1 pointing to the 
summit2 but are oftener parallel to one 

of the sides of the peak1 and           
intersected by a second series1 parallel
 to the other side4 ,where there has    
been much disintegration1 the peak is   
often surrounded with groups of lower   
ridges or peaks1 like the leaves of an  
artichoke or a rose1 all evidently part 
and parcel of the great peak2 but       
falling back from it1 as if it were a   
budding flower1 expanding its leaves one
 by one4   ,sec4 #d4 ,the faithful      
statement of these facts by ,turner in  
his ,alps at        ,daybreak4  ,now1 if
 ,i were giving a lecture on geology1   
and were searching for some means of    
giving the most faithful idea possible  
of the external appearance caused by    
this structure of the primary hills1 ,i 
should throw my geological outlines     
aside1 and take up ,turner's vignette of
 the ,alps at ,daybreak4 ,after what has
 been said1 a single glance at it will  
be enough4 ,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 shadow2 then the rise of the      
second low ridge on its side1 only to   
descend again precisely in the same     
line2 the two fissures of this peak1 one
 pointing to its summit1 the other      
rigidly parallel to the great slope     
which descends towards the sun2 then the
 sharp white aiguille on the right1 with
 the great fissure from its summit1     
rigidly and severely square1 as marked  
below1 where another edge of rock is    
laid upon it4 ,but this is not all2 the 
black rock in the foreground is equally 
a member of the mass1 its chief slope   
parallel with that of the mountain1 and 
all its fissures and lines inclined in  
the same direction2 and1 to complete the
 mass of evidence more forcibly still1  
we have the dark mass on the left       
articulated with absolute right lines1  
as parallel as if they had been drawn   
with a ruler1 indicating the tops of two
 of these huge plates or planks1        
pointing1 with the universal tendency1  

to the great ridge1 and intersected by  
fissures parallel to it4 ,throughout the
 extent of mountain1 not one horizontal 
line1 nor an approach to it1 is         
discernible4 ,this cannot be chance--it 
cannot be composition--it may not be    
beautiful--perhaps nature is very wrong 
to be so parallel1 and very disagreeable
 in being so straight2--but this is     
nature1 whether we admire it or not4    
,sec4 #e4 ,vignette of the ,andes and   
others4  ,in the vignette illustration  
to ,jacqueline1 we have another series  
of peaks1 whose structure is less       
developed1 owing to their distance1 but 
equally clear and faithful in all       
points1 as far as it is given4 ,but the 
vignette of ,aosta1 in ,italy1 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 compose2 and that of the  
,andes1 the second in ,campbell1 for its
 indication of the multitudes of the    

vertical and plank-like beds arranged   
almost like the leaves of a flower4     
,this last especially1 one of the very  
noblest1 most faithful1 most scientific 
statements of mountain form which even  
,turner has ever made1 can leave little 
more to be said or doubted4   ,sec4 #f4 
,necessary distance1 and consequent     
aerial effect on all such               
mountains4  ,now1 whenever these vast   
peaks1 rising from #ab1jjj to #bd1jjj   
feet above the sea1 form part of        
anything like a landscape1 that is to   
say1 whenever the spectator beholds them
 from the region of vegetation1 or even 
from any distance at which it is        
possible to get something like a view of
 their whole mass1 they must be at so   
great a distance from him as to become  
aerial and faint in all their details4  
,their summits1 and all those higher    
masses of whose character we have been  
speaking1 can by no possibility be      
nearer to him than twelve or fifteen    
miles2 to approach them nearer he must  

climb--must leave the region of         
vegetation1 and must confine his view to
 a part1 and that a very limited one1 of
 the mountain he is ascending4          
,whenever1 therefore1 these mountains   
are seen over anything like vegetation1 
or are seen in mass1 they must be in the
 far distance4 ,most artists would treat
 an horizon fifteen miles off very much 
as if it were mere air2 and though the  
greater clearness of the upper air      
permits the high summits to be seen with
 extraordinary distinctness1 yet they   
never can by any possibility have dark  
or deep shadows1 or intense dark relief 
against a light4 ,clear they may be1 but
 faint they must be1 and their great and
 prevailing characteristic1 as          
distinguished from other mountains1 is  
want of apparent solidity4 ,they rise in
 the morning light rather like sharp    
shades1 cast up into the sky1 than solid
 earth4 ,their lights are pure1 roseate1
 and cloud-like--their shadows          
transparent1 pale1 and opalescent1 and  

often indistinguishable from the air    
around them1 so that the mountain-top is
 seen in the heaven only by its flakes  
of motionless fire4   ,sec4 #g4 ,total  
want of any rendering of their phenomena
 in ancient art4  ,now1 let me once more
 ask1 though ,i am sufficiently tired of
 asking1 what record have we of anything
 like this in the works of the old      
masters8 ,there is no vestige in any    
existing picture of the slightest effort
 to represent the high hill ranges2 and 
as for such drawing of their forms as we
 have found in ,turner1 we might as well
 look for them among the ,chinese4 ,very
 possibly it may be all quite           
right1--very probably these men showed  
the most cultivated taste1 the most     
unerring judgment1 in filling their     
pictures with mole-hills and sand-heaps4
 ,very probably the withered and        
poisonous banks of ,avernus1 and the    
sand and cinders of the ,campagna1 are  
much more sublime things than the ,alps2
 but still what limited truth it is1 if 

truth it be1 when through the last fifty
 pages we have been pointing out fact   
after fact1 scene after scene1 in clouds
 and hills1 7and not individual facts   
nor scenes1 but great and important     
classes of them17 and still we have     
nothing to say when we come to the old  
masters2 but1 they are not here4 ,yet   
this is what we hear so constantly      
called painting general nature4   ,sec4 
#h4 ,character of the representations of
 ,alps in the distances of              
,claude4  ,sec4 #i4 ,their total want of
 magnitude and aerial distance4         
,although1 however1 there is no vestige 
among the old masters of any effort to  
represent the attributes of the higher  
mountains seen in comparative proximity1
 we are not altogether left without     
evidence of their having thought of them
 as sources of light in the extreme     
distance1 as for example1 in that of the
 reputed ,claude in our ,national       
,gallery1 called the ,marriage of ,isaac
 and ,rebecca4 ,i have not the slightest

 doubt of its being a most execrable    
copy2 for there is not one touch nor    
line of even decent painting in the     
whole picture2 but as connoisseurs have 
considered it a ,claude1 as it has been 
put in our ,gallery for a ,claude1 and  
as people admire it every day for a     
,claude1 ,i may at least presume it has 
those qualities of ,claude in it which  
are wont to excite the public           
admiration1 though it possesses none of 
those which sometimes give him claim to 
it2 and ,i have so reasoned1 and shall  
continue to reason upon it1 especially  
with respect to facts of form1 which    
cannot have been much altered by the    
copyist4 ,in the distance of that       
picture 7as well as in that of the      
,sinon before ,priam1 which ,i have     
little doubt is at least partially      
original1 and whose central group of    
trees is a very noble piece of painting7
 is something white1 which ,i believe   
must be intended for a snowy mountain1  
because ,i do not see that it can well  

be intended for anything else4 ,now no  
mountain of elevation sufficient to be  
so sheeted with perpetual snow1 can by  
any possibility sink so low on the      
horizon as this something of ,claude's1 
unless it be at a distance of from fifty
 to seventy miles4 ,at such distances1  
though the outline is invariably sharp  
and edgy to an excess1 yet all the      
circumstances of aerial perspective1    
faintness of shadow1 and isolation of   
light1 which ,i have described as       
characteristic of the ,alps fifteen     
miles off1 take place1 of course1 in a  
threefold degree2 the mountains rise    
from the horizon like transparent films1
 only distinguishable from mist by their
 excessively keen edges1 and their      
brilliant flashes of sudden light2 they 
are as unsubstantial as the air itself1 
and impress their enormous size by means
 of this aerialness1 in a far greater   
degree at these vast distances1 than    
even when towering above the spectator's
 head4 ,now1 ,i ask of the candid       

observer1 if there be the smallest      
vestige of an effort to attain--if there
 be the most miserable1 the most        
contemptible shadow of attainment of    
such an effect by ,claude8 ,does that   
white thing on the horizon look seventy 
miles off8 ,is it faint1 or fading1 or  
to be looked for by the eye before it   
can be found out8 ,does it look high8   
does it look large8 does it look        
impressive8 ,you cannot but feel that   
there is not a vestige of any kind or   
species of truth in that horizon2 and   
that1 however artistical it may be1 as  
giving brilliancy to the distance1      
7though1 as far as ,i have any feeling  
in the matter1 it only gives coldness17 
it is1 in the very branch of art on     
which ,claude's reputation chiefly      
rests1 aerial perspective1 hurling      
defiance to nature in her very teeth4   
,sec4 #aj4 ,and violation of specific   
form4  ,but there are worse failures yet
 in this unlucky distance4 ,aerial      
perspective is not a matter of paramount

 importance1 because nature infringes   
its laws herself and boldly too1 though 
never in a case like this before us2 but
 there are some laws which nature never 
violates--her laws of form4 ,no mountain
 was ever raised to the level of        
perpetual snow1 without an infinite     
multiplicity of form4 ,its foundation is
 built of a hundred minor mountains1    
and1 from these1 great buttresses run in
 converging ridges to the central peak4 
,there is no exception to this rule2 no 
mountain #ae1jjj feet high is ever      
raised without such preparation and     
variety of outwork4 ,consequently1 in   
distant effect1 when chains of such     
peaks are visible at once1 the          
multiplicity of form is absolutely      
oceanic2 and though it is possible in   
near scenes to find vast and simple     
masses composed of lines which run      
unbroken for a thousand feet1 or more1  
it is physically impossible when these  
masses are thrown seventy miles back1 to
 have simple outlines1 for then these   

large features become mere jags1 and    
hillocks1 and are heaped and huddled    
together with endless confusion4 ,to get
 a simple form1 seventy miles away1     
mountain lines would be required        
unbroken for leagues2 and this1 ,i      
repeat1 is physically impossible4 ,hence
 these mountains of ,claude1 having no  
indication of the steep vertical summits
 which we have shown to be the          
characteristic of the central ridges1   
having soft edges instead of decisive   
ones1 simple forms 7one line to the     
plain on each side7 instead of varied   
and broken ones1 and being painted with 
a crude raw white1 having no            
transparency1 nor filminess1 nor air in 
it1 instead of rising in the opalescent 
mystery which invariably characterizes  
the distant snows1 have the forms and   
the colors of heaps of chalk in a       
lime-kiln1 not of ,alps4 ,they are      
destitute of energy1 of height1 of      
distance1 of splendor1 and of variety1  
and are the work of a man1 whether      

,claude or not1 who had neither feeling 
for nature1 nor knowledge of art4       
,sec4 #aa4 ,even in his best works4  ,i 
should not1 however1 insist upon the    
faults of this picture1 believing it to 
be a copy1 if ,i had ever seen1 even in 
his most genuine works1 an extreme      
distance of ,claude with any of the     
essential characters of nature4 ,but    
although in his better pictures we have 
always beautiful drawing of the air1    
which in the copy before us is entirely 
wanting1 the real features of the       
extreme mountain distance are equally   
neglected or maligned in all4 ,there is1
 indeed1 air between us and it2 but ten 
miles1 not seventy miles1 of space4 ,let
 us observe a little more closely the   
practice of nature in such cases4       
,sec4 #ab4 ,farther illustration of the 
distant character of mountain chains4   
,sec4 #ac4 ,their excessive appearance  
of transparency4  ,the multiplicity of  
form which ,i have shown to be necessary
 in the outline1 is not less felt in the

 body of the mass4 ,for1 in all         
extensive hill ranges1 there are five or
 six lateral chains separated by deep   
valleys1 which rise between the         
spectator and the central ridge1 showing
 their tops one over another1 wave      
beyond wave1 until the eye is carried   
back to the faintest and highest forms  
of the principal chain4 ,these          
successive ridges1 and ,i speak now not 
merely of the ,alps1 but of mountains   
generally1 even as low as #cjjj feet    
above the sea1 show themselves in       
extreme distance merely as vertical     
shades1 with very sharp outlines1       
detached from one another by greater    
intensity1 according to their nearness4 
,it is with the utmost difficulty that  
the eye can discern any solidity or     
roundness in them2 the lights and shades
 of solid form are both equally lost in 
the blue of the atmosphere1 and the     
mountain tells only as a flat1          
sharp-edged film1 of which multitudes   
intersect and overtop one another1      

separated by the greater faintness of   
the retiring masses4 ,this is the most  
simple and easily imitated arrangement  
possible1 and yet1 both in nature and   
art1 it expresses distance and size in a
 way otherwise quite unattainable4 ,for 
thus1 the whole mass of one mountain    
being of one shade only1 the smallest   
possible difference in shade will serve 
completely to detach it from another1   
and thus ten or twelve distances may be 
made evident1 when the darkest and      
nearest is an aerial gray as faint as   
the sky2 and the beauty of such         
arrangements carried out as nature      
carries them1 to their highest degree1  
is1 perhaps1 the most striking feature  
connected with hill scenery3 you will   
never1 by any chance1 perceive in       
extreme distance1 anything like solid   
form or projection of the hills4 ,each  
is a dead1 flat1 perpendicular film or  
shade1 with a sharp edge darkest at the 
summit1 and lost as it descends1 and    
about equally dark whether turned       

towards the light or from it2 and of    
these successive films of mountain you  
will probably have half a dozen1 one    
behind another1 all showing with perfect
 clearness their every chasm and peak in
 the outline1 and not one of them       
showing the slightest vestige of        
solidity1 but on the contrary1 looking  
so thoroughly transparent1 that if it so
 happens1 as ,i have seen frequently1   
that a conical near hill meets with its 
summit the separation of two distant    
ones1 so that the right-hand slope of   
the nearer hill forms an apparent       
continuation of the right-hand slope of 
the left-hand farther hill1 and vice    
versa1 it is impossible to get rid of   
the impression that one or the more     
distant peaks is seen through the other4
   ,sec4 #ad4 ,illustrated from the     
works of ,turner and ,stanfield4 ,the   
,borromean         ,islands of the      
latter4  ,i may point out in            
illustration of these facts1 the        
engravings of two drawings of precisely 

the same chain of distant               
hills1--,stanfield's ,borromean         
,islands1 with the ,st4 ,gothard in the 
distance1 and ,turner's ,arona1 also    
with the ,st4 ,gothard in the distance4 
,far be it from me to indicate the      
former of these plates as in any way    
exemplifying the power of ,stanfield1 or
 affecting his reputation2 it is an     
unlucky drawing1 murdered by the        
engraver1 and as far from being         
characteristic of ,stanfield as it is   
from being like nature1 but it is just  
what ,i want1 to illustrate the         
particular error of which ,i speak2 and 
,i prefer showing this error where it   
accidentally exists in the works of a   
really great artist1 standing there     
alone1 to point it out where it is      
confused with other faults and          
falsehoods in the works of inferior     
hands4 ,the former of these plates is an
 example of everything which a hill     
distance is not1 and the latter of      
everything which it is4 ,in the former1 

we have the mountains covered with      
patchy lights1 which being of equal     
intensity whether near or distant1      
confuse all the distances together2     
while the eye1 perceiving that the light
 falls so as to give details of solid   
form1 yet finding nothing but insipid   
and formless spaces displayed by it1 is 
compelled to suppose that the whole body
 of the hill is equally monotonous and  
devoid of character2 and the effect upon
 it is not one whit more impressive and 
agreeable than might be received from a 
group of sand-heaps1 washed into        
uniformity by recent rain4   ,sec4 #ae4 
,turner's ,arona4  ,compare with this   
the distance of ,turner in ,arona4 ,it  
is totally impossible here to say which 
way the light falls on the distant      
hills1 except by the slightly increased 
decision of their edges turned towards  
it1 but the greatest attention is paid  
to get these edges decisive1 yet full of
 gradation1 and perfectly true in       
character of form4 ,all the rest of the 

mountain is then indistinguishable haze1
 and by the bringing of these edges more
 and more decisively over one another1  
,turner has given us between the        
right-hand side of the picture and the  
snow1 fifteen distinct distances1 yet   
every one of these distances in itself  
palpitating1 changeful1 and suggesting  
subdivision into countless multitude4   
,something of this is traceable even in 
the engraving1 and all the essential    
characters are perfectly well marked4 ,i
 think even the least experienced eye   
can scarcely but feel the truth of this 
distance as compared with ,stanfield's4 
,in the latter1 the eye gets something  
of the form1 and therefore wonders it   
sees no more2 the impression on it1     
therefore1 is of hills within distinctly
 visible distance1 indiscernible through
 want of light or dim atmosphere2 and   
the effect is1 of course1 smallness of  
space1 with obscurity of light and      
thickness of air4 ,in ,turner's the eye 
gets nothing of the substance1 and      

wonders it sees so much of the outline2 
the impression is1 therefore1 of        
mountains too far off to be ever        
distinctly seen1 rendered clear by      
brilliancy of light and purity of       
atmosphere2 and the effect1             
consequently1 vastness of space1 with   
intensity of light and crystalline      
transparency of air4   ,sec4 #af4       
,extreme distance of large objects      
always characterized by very            
sharp outline4  ,these truths are       
invariably given in every one of        
,turner's distances1 that is to say1 we 
have always in them two principal facts 
forced on our notice2 transparency1 or  
filminess of mass1 and excessive        
sharpness of edge4 ,and ,i wish         
particularly to insist upon this        
sharpness of edge1 because it is not a  
casual or changeful habit of nature2 it 
is the unfailing characteristic of all  
very great distances4 ,it is quite a    
mistake to suppose that slurred or      
melting lines are characteristic of     

distant large objects2 they may be so1  
as before observed1 7,sec4 ,,ii4 ,chap4 
,,iv4 ,sec4 #d17 when the focus of the  
eye is not adapted to them2 but1 when   
the eye is really directed to the       
distance1 melting lines are             
characteristic only of thick mist and   
vapor between us and the object1 not of 
the removal of the object4 ,if a thing  
has character upon its outline1 as a    
tree for instance1 or a mossy stone1 the
 farther it is removed from us1 the     
sharper the outline of the whole mass   
will become1 though in doing so1 the    
particular details which make up the    
character will become confused in the   
manner described in the same chapter4 ,a
 tree fifty yards from us1 taken as a   
mass1 has a soft outline1 because the   
leaves and interstices have some effect 
on the eye4 ,but put it ten miles off   
against the sky1 and its outline will be
 so sharp that you cannot tell it from a
 rock4 ,there are three trees on the    
,mont ,saleve1 about five miles from    

,geneva1 which from the city1 as they   
stand on the ridge of the hill1 are seen
 defined against the sky4 ,the keenest  
eye in the world could not tell them    
from stones4 ,so in a mountain five or  
six miles off1 bushes1 and heather1 and 
roughnesses of knotty ground and rock1  
have still some effect on the eye1 and  
by becoming confused and mingled as     
before described1 soften the outline4   
,but let the mountain be thirty miles   
off1 and its edge will be as sharp as a 
knife4 ,let it1 as in the case of the   
,alps1 be seventy or eighty miles off1  
and though it has become so faint that  
the morning mist is not so transparent1 
its outline will be beyond all imitation
 for excessive sharpness4 ,thus1 then1  
the character of extreme distance is    
always excessive keenness of edge4 ,if  
you soften your outline1 you either put 
mist between you and the object1 and in 
doing so diminish1 your distance1 for it
 is impossible you should see so far    
through mist as through clear air2 or1  

if you keep an impression of clear air1 
you bring the object close to the       
observer1 diminish its size in          
proportion1 and if the aerial colors1   
excessive blues1 etc41 be retained1     
represent an impossibility4   ,sec4 #ag4
 ,want of this decision in ,claude4     
,take ,claude's distance 7in ,no4 #bdd1 
,dulwich ,gallery17#ec on the right of  
the picture4 ,it is as pure blue as ever
 came from the pallet1 laid on thick2   
you cannot see through it1 there is not 
the slightest vestige of transparency or
 filminess about it1 and its edge is    
soft and blunt4 ,hence1 if it be meant  
for near hills1 the blue is impossible1 
and the want of details impossible1 in  
the clear atmosphere indicated through  
the whole picture4 ,if it be meant for  
extreme distance1 the blunt edge is     
impossible1 and the opacity is          
impossible4 ,i do not know a single     
distance of the ,italian school to which
 the same observation is not entirely   
applicable1 except1 perhaps1 one or two 

of ,nicholas ,poussin's4 ,they always   
involve1 under any supposition          
whatsoever1 at least two                
impossibilities4   ,sec4 #ah4 ,the      
perpetual rendering of it by ,turner4   
,i need scarcely mention in particular  
any more of the works of ,turner1       
because there is not one of his mountain
 distances in which these facts are not 
fully exemplified4 ,look at the last    
vignette--the ,farewell1 in ,rogers's   
,italy2 observe the excessive sharpness 
of all the edges1 almost amounting to   
lines1 in the distance1 while there is  
scarcely one decisive edge in the       
foreground4 ,look at the hills of the   
distance in the ,dunstaffnage1 ,glencoe1
 and ,loch ,achray1 7illustrations to   
,scott17 in the latter of which the     
left-hand side of the ,benvenue is      
actually marked with a dark line4 ,in   
fact1 ,turner's usual mode of executing 
these passages is perfectly evident in  
all his drawings2 it is not often that  
we meet with a very broad dash of wet   

color in his finished works1 but in     
these distances1 as we before saw of his
 shadows1 all the effect has been       
evidently given by a dash of very moist 
pale color1 probably turning the paper  
upside down1 so that a very firm edge   
may be left at the top of the mountain  
as the color dries4 ,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 distance1 
while all the other hills in the picture
 are distinctly darkest at the edge4    
,this plate1 though coarsely executed1  
is yet one of the noblest illustrations 
of mountain character and magnitude     
existing4   ,sec4 #ai4 ,effects of snow1
 how imperfectly studied4  ,such1 then1 
are the chief characteristics of the    
highest peaks and extreme distances of  
all hills1 as far as the forms of the   
rocks themselves1 and the aerial        
appearances especially belonging to     
them1 are alone concerned4 ,there is1   

however1 yet another point to be        
considered--the modification of their   
form caused by incumbent snow4          
,pictures of winter scenery are nearly  
as common as moonlights1 and are usually
 executed by the same order of artists1 
that is to say1 the most incapable2 it  
being remarkably easy to represent the  
moon as a white wafer on a black ground1
 or to scratch out white branches on a  
cloudy sky4 ,nevertheless1 among        
,flemish paintings several valuable     
representations of winter are to be     
found1 and some clever pieces of effect 
among the moderns1 as ,hunt's1 for      
instance1 and ,de ,wint's4 ,but all such
 efforts end in effect alone1 nor have  
,i ever in any single instance seen a   
snow wreath1 ,i do not say thoroughly1  
but even decently1 drawn4  ,in the range
 of inorganic nature1 ,i doubt if any   
object can be found more perfectly      
beautiful than a fresh1 deep snow-drift1
 seen under warm light4#ed ,its curves  
are of inconceivable perfection and     

changefulness1 its surface and          
transparency alike exquisite1 its light 
and shade of inexhaustible variety and  
inimitable finish1 the shadows sharp1   
pale1 and of heavenly color1 the        
reflected lights intense and            
multitudinous1 and mingled with the     
sweet occurrences of transmitted light4 
,no mortal hand can approach the majesty
 or loveliness of it1 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    
shade2 but this has never been          
attempted2 it could not be done except  
by artists of a rank exceedingly high1  
and there is something about the feeling
 of snow in ordinary scenery which such 
men do not like4 ,but when the same     
qualities are exhibited on a magnificent
 ,alpine scale and in a position where  
they interfere with no feeling of life1 
,i see not why they should be neglected1
 as they have hitherto been1 unless that
 the difficulty of reconciling the      

brilliancy of snow with a picturesque   
light and shade1 is so great that most  
good artists disguise or avoid the      
greater part of upper ,alpine scenery1  
and hint at the glacier so slightly1    
that they do not feel the necessity of  
careful study of its forms4 ,habits of  
exaggeration increase the evil3 ,i have 
seen a sketch from nature1 by one of the
 most able of our landscape painters1 in
 which a cloud had been mistaken for a  
snowy summit1 and the hint thus taken   
exaggerated1 as was likely1 into an     
enormous mass of impossible height1 and 
unintelligent form1 when the mountain   
itself1 for which the cloud had been    
mistaken1 though subtending an angle of 
about eighteen or twenty degrees1       
instead of the fifty attributed to it1  
was of a form so exquisite that it might
 have been a profitable lesson truly    
studied to ,phidias4 ,nothing but       
failure can result from such methods of 
sketching1 nor have ,i ever seen a      
single instance of an earnest study of  

snowy mountains by any one4 ,hence1     
wherever they are introduced1 their     
drawing is utterly unintelligent1 the   
forms being those of white rocks1 or of 
rocks lightly powdered with snow1       
showing sufficiently that not only the  
painters have never studied the mountain
 carefully from below1 but that they    
have never climbed into the snowy       
region4 ,harding's rendering of the high
 ,alps 7vide the engraving of ,chamonix1
 and of the ,wengern ,alp1 in the       
illustrations to ,byron7 is best2 but   
even he shows no perception of the real 
anatomy4 ,stanfield paints only white   
rocks instead of snow4 ,turner          
invariably avoids the difficulty1 though
 he has shown himself capable of        
grappling with it in the ice of the     
,liber ,studiorum1 7,mer de ,glace17    
which is very cold and slippery and very
 like ice2 but of the crusts and wreaths
 of the higher snow he has taken no     
cognizance4 ,even the vignettes to      
,rogers's ,poems fail in this respect4  

,it would be vain to attempt in this    
place to give any detailed account of   
the phenomena of the upper snows2 but it
 may be well to note those general      
principles which every artist ought to  
keep in mind when he has to paint an    
,alp4   ,sec4 #bj4 ,general principles  
of its forms on the ,alps4  ,snow is    
modified by the under forms of the hill 
in some sort1 as dress is by the anatomy
 of the human frame4 ,and as no dress   
can be well laid on without conceiving  
the body beneath1 so no ,alp can be     
drawn unless its under form is conceived
 first1 and its snow laid on afterwards4
  ,every high ,alp has as much snow upon
 it as it can hold or carry4 ,it is not1
 observe1 a mere coating of snow of     
given depth throughout1 but it is snow  
loaded on until the rocks can hold no   
more4 ,the surplus does not fall in the 
winter1 because1 fastened by continual  
frost1 the quantity of snow which an    
,alp can carry is greater than each     
single winter can bestow2 it falls in   

the first mild days of spring in        
enormous avalanches4 ,afterwards the    
melting continues1 gradually removing   
from all the steep rocks the small      
quantity of snow which was all they     
could hold1 and leaving them black and  
bare among the accumulated fields of    
unknown depth1 which occupy the         
capacious valleys and less inclined     
superfices of the mountain4  ,hence it  
follows that the deepest snow does not  
take nor indicate the actual forms of   
the rocks on which it lies1 but it hangs
 from peak to peak in unbroken and      
sweeping festoons1 or covers whole      
groups of peaks1 which afford it        
sufficient hold1 with vast and unbroken 
domes3 these festoons and domes being   
guided in their curves1 and modified in 
size1 by the violence and prevalent     
direction of the winter winds4  ,we     
have1 therefore1 every variety of       
indication of the under mountain form2  
first1 the mere coating1 which is soon  
to be withdrawn1 and which shows as a   

mere sprinkling or powdering after a    
storm on the higher peaks2 then the     
shallow incrustation on the steep sides 
glazed by the running down of its       
frequent meltings1 frozen again in the  
night2 then the deep snow more or less  
cramped or modified by sudden eminences 
of emergent rock1 or hanging in         
fractured festoons and huge blue        
irregular cliffs on the mountain flanks1
 and over the edges and summits of their
 precipices in nodding drifts1 far      
overhanging1 like a cornice1 7perilous  
things to approach the edge of from     
above27 finally1 the pure accumulation  
of overwhelming depth1 smooth1 sweeping1
 and almost cleftless1 and modified only
 by its lines of drifting4 ,countless   
phenomena of exquisite beauty belong to 
each of these conditions1 not to speak  
of the transition of the snow into ice  
at lower levels2 but all on which ,i    
shall at present insist is that the     
artist should not think of his ,alp     
merely as a white mountain1 but conceive

 it as a group of peaks loaded with an  
accumulation of snow1 and that          
especially he should avail himself of   
the exquisite curvatures1 never failing1
 by which the snow unites and opposes   
the harsh and broken lines of the rock4 
,i shall enter into farther detail on   
this subject hereafter2 at present it is
 useless to do so1 as ,i have no        
examples to refer to1 either in ancient 
or modern art4 ,no statement of these   
facts has hitherto been made1 nor any   
evidence given even of their            
observation1 except by the most inferior
 painters4#ee   ,sec4 #ba4 ,average     
paintings of ,switzerland4 ,its real    
spirit has scarcely yet         been    
caught4  ,various works in green and    
white appear from time to time on the   
walls of the ,academy1 like the ,alps   
indeed1 but so frightfully like1 that we
 shudder and sicken at the sight of     
them1 as we do when our best friend     
shows us into his dining-room1 to see a 
portrait of himself1 which everybody    

thinks very like4 ,we should be glad to 
see fewer of these1 for ,switzerland is 
quite beyond the power of any but       
first-rate men1 and is exceedingly bad  
practice for a rising artist2 but1 let  
us express a hope that ,alpine scenery  
will not continue to be neglected as it 
has been1 by those who alone are capable
 of treating it4 ,we love ,italy1 but we
 have had rather a surfeit of it        
lately2--too many peaked caps and       
flat-headed pines4 ,we should be very   
grateful to ,harding and ,stanfield if  
they would refresh us a little among the
 snow1 and give us1 what we believe them
 to be capable of giving us1 a faithful 
expression of ,alpine ideal4 ,we are    
well aware of the pain inflicted on an  
artist's mind by the preponderance of   
black1 and white1 and green1 over more  
available colors2 but there is          
nevertheless in generic ,alpine scenery1
 a fountain of feeling yet unopened--a  
chord of harmony yet untouched by art4  
,it will be struck by the first man who 

can separate what is national1 in       
,switzerland1 from what is ideal4 ,we do
 not want chalets and three-legged      
stools1 cow-bells and buttermilk4 ,we   
want the pure and holy hills1 treated as
 a link between heaven and earth4       
,,footnotes    #ec ,one of the most     
genuine ,claudes ,i know4    #ed        
,compare ,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 ,i4 ,chap4 
#i1 ,sec4 #e4    #ee ,i hear of some    
study of ,alpine scenery among the      
professors at     ,geneva2 but all      
foreign landscape that ,i have ever met 
with has been     so utterly ignorant   
that ,i hope for nothing except from our
 own     painters4                      
,,chapter ,,iii4                        
,,of ,,the ,,inferior ,,mountains4      
,sec4 #a4 ,the inferior mountains are   
distinguished from the central by being 
divided into beds4  ,we have next to    
investigate the character of those      
intermediate masses which constitute the
 greater part of all hill scenery1      
forming the outworks of the high ranges1

 and being almost the sole constituents 
of such lower groups as those of        
,cumberland1 ,scotland1 or ,south       
,italy4  ,all mountains whatsoever1 not 
composed of the granite or gneiss rocks 
described in the preceding chapter1 nor 
volcanic1 7these latter being           
comparatively rare17 are composed of    
beds1 not of homogeneous1 heaped        
materials1 but of accumulated layers1   
whether of rock or soil4 ,it may be     
slate1 sandstone1 limestone1 gravel1 or 
clay2 but whatever the substance1 it is 
laid in layers1 not in a mass4 ,these   
layers are scarcely ever horizontal1 and
 may slope to any degree1 often         
occurring vertical1 the boldness of the 
hill outline commonly depending in a    
great degree on their inclination4 ,in  
consequence of this division into beds1 
every mountain will have two great sets 
of lines more or less prevailing in its 
contours--one indicative of the surfaces
 of the beds1 where they come out from  
under each other--and the other         

indicative of the extremities or edges  
of the beds1 where their continuity has 
been interrupted4 ,and these two great  
sets of lines will commonly be at right 
angles with each other1 or nearly so4   
,if the surface of the bed approach a   
horizontal line1 its termination will   
approach the vertical1 and this is the  
most usual and ordinary way in which a  
precipice is produced4   ,sec4 #b4      
,farther division of these beds by      
joints4  ,farther1 in almost all rocks  
there is a third division of substance1 
which gives to their beds a tendency to 
split transversely in some directions   
rather than others1 giving rise to what 
geologists call joints1 and throwing the
 whole rock into blocks more or less    
rhomboidal2 so that the beds are not    
terminated by torn or ragged edges1 but 
by faces comparatively smooth and even1 
usually inclined to each other at some  
definite angle4 ,the whole arrangement  
may be tolerably represented by the     
bricks of a wall1 whose tiers may be    

considered as strata1 and whose sides   
and extremities will represent the      
joints by which those strata are        
divided1 varying1 however1 their        
direction in different rocks1 and in the
 same rock under differing              
circumstances4   ,sec4 #c4 ,and by lines
 of lamination4  ,finally1 in the       
slates1 grauwackes1 and some calcareous 
beds1 in the greater number1 indeed1 of 
mountain rocks1 we find another most    
conspicuous feature of general          
structure--the lines of lamination1     
which divide the whole rock into an     
infinite number of delicate plates or   
layers1 sometimes parallel to the       
direction or strike of the strata1      
oftener obliquely crossing it1 and      
sometimes1 apparently1 altogether       
independent of it1 maintaining a        
consistent and unvarying slope through a
 series of beds contorted and undulating
 in every conceivable direction4 ,these 
lines of lamination extend their        
influence to the smallest fragment1     

causing it 7as1 for example1 common     
roofing slate7 to break smooth in one   
direction1 and with a ragged edge in    
another1 and marking the faces of the   
beds and joints with distinct and       
numberless lines1 commonly far more     
conspicuous in a near view than the     
larger and more important divisions4    
,sec4 #d4 ,variety and seeming          
uncertainty under which these laws are  
manifested4  ,now1 it cannot be too     
carefully held in mind1 in examining the
 principles of mountain structure1 that 
nearly all the laws of nature with      
respect to external form are rather     
universal tendencies1 evidenced by a    
plurality of instances1 than imperative 
necessities complied with by all4 ,for  
instance1 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     
trunk1 and that the higher their point  
of insertion is1 the more they share in 

the upward tendency of the trunk itself4
 ,but yet there is not a single group of
 boughs in any one tree which does not  
show exceptions to the rule1 and present
 boughs lower in insertion1 and yet     
steeper in inclination1 than their      
neighbors4 ,nor is this defect or       
deformity1 but the result of the        
constant habit of nature to carry       
variety into her very principles1 and   
make the symmetry and beauty of her laws
 the more felt by the grace and         
accidentalism with which they are       
carried out4 ,no one familiar with      
foliage could doubt for an instant of   
the necessity of giving evidence of this
 downward tendency in the boughs2 but it
 would be nearly as great an offence    
against truth to make the law hold good 
with every individual branch1 as not to 
exhibit its influence on the majority4  
,now1 though the laws of mountain form  
are more rigid and constant than those  
of vegetation1 they are subject to the  
same species of exception in carrying   

out4 ,though every mountain has these   
great tendencies in its lines1 not one  
in a thousand of those lines is         
absolutely consistent with and obedient 
to this universal tendency4 ,there are  
lines in every direction1 and of almost 
every kind1 but the sum and aggregate of
 those lines will invariably indicate   
the universal force and influence to    
which they are all subjected2 and of    
these lines there will1 ,i repeat1 be   
two principal sets or classes1 pretty   
nearly at right angles with each other4 
,when both are inclined1 they give rise 
to peaks or ridges2 when one is nearly  
horizontal and the other vertical1 to   
table-lands and precipices4  ,this then 
is the broad organization of all hills1 
modified afterwards by time and weather1
 concealed by superincumbent soil and   
vegetation1 and ramified into minor and 
more delicate details in a way presently
 to be considered1 but nevertheless     
universal in its great first influence1 
and giving to all mountains a particular

 cast and inclination2 like the exertion
 of voluntary power in a definite       
direction1 an internal spirit1          
manifesting itself in every crag1 and   
breathing in every slope1 flinging and  
forcing the mighty mass towards the     
heaven with an expression and an energy 
like that of life4   ,sec4 #e4 ,the     
perfect expression of them in ,turner's 
,loch ,coriskin4  ,now1 as in the case  
of the structure of the central peaks   
described above1 so also here1 if ,i had
 to give a clear idea of this           
organization of the lower hills1 where  
it is seen in its greatest perfection1  
with a mere view to geological truth1 ,i
 should not refer to any geological     
drawings1 but ,i should take the ,loch  
,coriskin of ,turner4 ,it has luckily   
been admirably engraved1 and for all    
purposes of reasoning or form1 is nearly
 as effective in the print as in the    
drawing4 ,looking at any group of the   
multitudinous lines which make up this  
mass of mountain1 they appear to be     

running anywhere and everywhere2 there  
are none parallel to each other1 none   
resembling each other for a moment2 yet 
the whole mass is felt at once to be    
composed with the most rigid            
parallelism1 the surfaces of the beds   
towards the left1 their edges or        
escarpments towards the right4 ,in the  
centre1 near the top of the ridge1 the  
edge of a bed is beautifully defined1   
casting its shadow on the surface of the
 one beneath it2 this shadow marking by 
three jags the chasms caused in the     
inferior one by three of its parallel   
joints4 ,every peak in the distance is  
evidently subject to the same great     
influence1 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 right1   
parallel with those in the centre4      
,sec4 #f4 ,glencoe and other works4     
,sec4 #g4 ,especially the ,mount        
,lebanon4  ,turn to ,glencoe1 in the    
same series 7the ,illustrations to      

,scott74 ,we have in the mass of        
mountain on the left1 the most beautiful
 indication of vertical beds of a finely
 laminated rock1 terminated by even     
joints towards the precipice2 while the 
whole sweep of the landscape1 as far as 
the most distant peaks1 is evidently    
governed by one great and simple        
tendency upwards to the left1 those most
 distant peaks themselves lying over one
 another in the same direction4 ,in the 
,daphne hunting with ,leucippus1 the    
mountains on the left descend in two    
precipices to the plain1 each of which  
is formed by a vast escarpment of the   
beds whose upper surfaces are shown     
between the two cliffs1 sinking with an 
even slope from the summit of the lowest
 to the base of the highest1 under which
 they evidently descend1 being exposed  
in this manner for a length of five or  
six miles4 ,the same structure is shown1
 though with more complicated           
development1 on the left of the ,loch   
,katrine4 ,but perhaps the finest       

instance1 or at least the most marked of
 all1 will be found in the exquisite    
,mount ,lebanon1 with the convent of    
,st4 ,antonio1 engraved in ,finden's    
,bible4 ,there is not one shade nor     
touch on the rock which is not          
indicative of the lines of              
stratification2 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 truth2 there is 
no effort to disguise the repetition of 
forms1 no apparent aim at artificial    
arrangement or scientific grouping2 the 
rocks are laid one above another with   
unhesitating decision2 every shade is   
understood in a moment1 felt as a dark  
side1 or a shadow1 or a fissure1 and you
 may step from one block or bed to      
another until you reach the mountain    
summit4 ,and yet1 though there seems no 
effort to disguise the repetition of    
forms1 see how it is disguised1 just as 
nature would have done it1 by the       

perpetual play and changefulness of the 
very lines which appear so parallel2 now
 bending a little up1 or down1 or losing
 themselves1 or running into each other1
 the old story over and over            
again1--infinity4 ,for here is still the
 great distinction between ,turner's    
work and that of a common artist4       
,hundreds could have given the          
parallelism of blocks1 but none but     
himself could have done so without the  
actual repetition of a single line or   
feature4   ,sec4 #h4 ,compared with the 
work of ,salvator2  ,now compare with   
this the second mountain from the left  
in the picture of ,salvator1 ,no4 #bbj  
in the ,dulwich ,gallery4 ,the whole is 
first laid in with a very delicate and  
masterly gray1 right in tone1 agreeable 
in color1 quite unobjectionable for a   
beginning4 ,but how is this made into   
rock8 ,on the light side ,salvator gives
 us a multitude of touches1 all exactly 
like one another1 and therefore1 it is  
to be hoped1 quite patterns of          

perfection in rock-drawing1 since they  
are too good to be even varied4 ,every  
touch is a dash of the brush1 as nearly 
as possible in the shape of a comma1    
round and bright at the top1 convex on  
its right side1 concave on its left1 and
 melting off at the bottom into the     
gray4 ,these are laid in confusion one  
above another1 some paler1 some         
brighter1 some scarcely discernible1 but
 all alike in shape4 ,now1 ,i am not    
aware myself of any particular object1  
either in earth or heaven1 which these  
said touches do at all resemble or      
portray4 ,i do not1 however1 assert that
 they may not resemble                  
something--feathers1 perhaps2 but ,i do 
say1 and say with perfect confidence1   
that they may be ,chinese for rocks1 or 
,sanscrit for rocks1 or symbolical of   
rocks in some mysterious and undeveloped
 character2 but that they are no more   
like rocks than the brush that made     
them4 ,the dark sides appear to embrace 
and overhang the lights2 they cast no   

shadows1 are broken by no fissures1 and 
furnish1 as food for contemplation1     
nothing but a series of concave curves4 
,sec4 #i4 ,and of ,poussin4  ,yet if we 
go on to ,no4 #bfi1 we shall find       
something a great deal worse4 ,i can    
believe ,gaspar ,poussin capable of     
committing as much sin against nature as
 most people2 but ,i certainly do not   
suspect him of having had any hand in   
this thing1 at least after he was ten   
years old4 ,nevertheless1 it shows what 
he is supposed capable of by his        
admirers1 and will serve for a broad    
illustration of all those absurdities   
which he himself in a less degree1 and  
with feeling and thought to atone for   
them1 perpetually commits4 ,take the    
white bit of rock on the opposite side  
of the river1 just above the right arm  
of the ,niobe1 and tell me of what the  
square green daubs of the brush at its  
base can be conjectured to be typical4  
,rocks with pale-brown light sides1 and 
rich green dark sides1 are a phenomenon 

perhaps occurring in some of the        
improved passages of nature among our   
,cumberland lakes2 where ,i remember    
once having seen a bed of roses1 of     
peculiar magnificence1 tastefully and   
artistically assisted in effect by the  
rocks above it being painted pink to    
match2 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 produce2 even    
granting that these same sweeps of the  
brush could1 by any exercise of the     
imagination1 be conceived representative
 of a dark1 or any other side1 which is 
far more than ,i am inclined to grant2  
seeing that there is no east shadow1 no 
appearance of reflected light1 of       
substance1 or of character on the edge2 
nothing1 in short1 but pure1 staring    
green paint1 scratched heavily on a     
white ground4 ,nor is there a touch in  
the picture more expressive4 ,all are   
the mere dragging of the brush here and 
there and everywhere1 without meaning or

 intention2 winding1 twisting1          
zigzagging1 doing anything in fact which
 may serve to break up the light and    
destroy its breadth1 without bestowing  
in return one hint or shadow of anything
 like form4 ,this picture is1 indeed1 an
 extraordinary case1 but the ,salvator  
above mentioned is a characteristic and 
exceedingly favorable example of the    
usual mode of mountain drawing among the
 old landscape painters4#ef ,their      
admirers may be challenged to bring     
forward a single instance of their      
expressing1 or even appearing to have   
noted1 the great laws of structure above
 explained4 ,their hills are1 without   
exception1 irregular earthy heaps1      
without energy or direction of any kind1
 marked with shapeless shadows and      
meaningless lines2 sometimes1 indeed1   
where great sublimity has been aimed at1
 approximating to the pure and exalted  
ideal of rocks1 which1 in the most      
artistical specimens of ,china cups and 
plates1 we see suspended from aerial    

pagodas1 or balanced upon peacocks'     
tails1 but never warranting even the    
wildest theorist in the conjecture that 
their perpetrators had ever seen a      
mountain in their lives4 ,let us1       
however1 look farther into the          
modifications of character by which     
nature conceals the regularity of her   
first plan2 for although all mountains  
are organized as we have seen1 their    
organization is always modified1 and    
often nearly concealed1 by changes      
wrought upon them by external influence4
   ,sec4 #aj4 ,effects of external      
influence on mountain form4  ,we ought1 
when speaking of their stratification1  
to have noticed another great law1 which
 must1 however1 be understood with      
greater latitude of application than any
 of the others1 as very far from        
imperative or constant in particular    
cases1 though universal in its influence
 on the aggregate of all4 ,it is that   
the lines by which rocks are terminated1
 are always steeper and more inclined to

 the vertical as we approach the summit 
of the mountain4 ,thousands of cases are
 to be found in every group1 of rocks   
and lines horizontal at the top of the  
mountain and vertical at the bottom2 but
 they are still the exceptions1 and the 
average out of a given number of lines  
in any rock formation whatsoever1 will  
be found increasing in perpendicularity 
as they rise4 ,consequently the great   
skeleton lines of rock outline are      
always concave2 that is to say1 all     
distant ranges of rocky mountain        
approximate more or less to a series of 
concave curves1 meeting in peaks1 like a
 range of posts with chains hanging     
between4 ,i do not say that convex forms
 will not perpetually occur1 but that   
the tendency of the majority will always
 be to assume the form of sweeping1     
curved valleys1 with angular peaks2 not 
of rounded convex summits1 with angular 
valleys4 ,this structure is admirably   
exemplified in the second vignette in   
,rogers's ,italy1 and in ,piacenza4     

,sec4 #aa4 ,the gentle convexity caused 
by aqueous erosion4  ,but although this 
is the primary form of all hills1 and   
that which will always cut against the  
sky in every distant range1 there are   
two great influences whose tendency is  
directly the reverse1 and which modify1 
to a great degree1 both the evidences of
 stratification and this external form4 
,these are aqueous erosion and          
disintegration4 ,the latter only is to  
be taken into consideration when we have
 to do with minor features of crag2 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   
owing1 and which has much influence upon
 every one of their details4  ,now the  
tendency of aqueous action over a large 
elevated surface is always to make that 
surface symmetrically and evenly convex 
and dome-like1 sloping gradually more   
and more as it descends1 until it       
reaches an inclination of about #dj     

deg41 at which slope it will descend    
perfectly straight to the valley2 for at
 that slope the soil washed from above  
will accumulate upon the hill-side1 as  
it cannot lie in steeper beds4 ,this    
influence1 then1 is exercised more or   
less on all mountains1 with greater or  
less effect in proportion as the rock is
 harder or softer1 more or less liable  
to decomposition1 more or less recent in
 date of elevation1 and more or less    
characteristic in its original forms2   
but it universally induces1 in the lower
 parts of mountains1 a series of the    
most exquisitely symmetrical convex     
curves1 terminating1 as they descend to 
the valley1 in uniform and uninterrupted
 slopes2 this symmetrical structure     
being perpetually interrupted by cliffs 
and projecting masses1 which give       
evidence of the interior parallelism of 
the mountain anatomy1 but which         
interrupt the convex forms more         
frequently by rising out of them1 than  
by indentation4   ,sec4 #ab4 ,and the   

effect of the action of torrents4       
,there remains but one fact more to be  
noticed4 ,all mountains1 in some degree1
 but especially those which are composed
 of soft or decomposing substance1 are  
delicately and symmetrically furrowed by
 the descent of streams4 ,the traces of 
their action commence at the very       
summits1 fine threads1 and              
multitudinous1 like the uppermost       
branches of a delicate tree4 ,they unite
 in groups as they descend1             
concentrating gradually into dark       
undulating ravines1 into which the body 
of the mountain descends on each side1  
at first in a convex curve1 but at the  
bottom with the same uniform slope on   
each side which it assumes in its final 
descent to the plain1 unless the rock be
 very hard1 when the stream will cut    
itself a vertical chasm at the bottom of
 the curves1 and there will be no even  
slope4#eg ,if1 on the other hand1 the   
rock be very soft1 the slopes will      
increase rapidly in height and depth    

from day to day2 washed away at the     
bottom and crumbling at the top1 until1 
by their reaching the summit of the     
masses of rock which separate the active
 torrents1 the whole mountain is divided
 into a series of penthouse-like ridges1
 all guiding to its summit1 and becoming
 steeper and narrower as they ascend2   
these in their turn being divided by    
similar1 but smaller ravines--caused in 
the same manner--into the same kind of  
ridges2 and these again by another      
series1 the arrangement being carried   
finer and farther according to the      
softness of the rock4 ,the south side of
 ,saddleback1 in ,cumberland1 is a      
characteristic example2 and the         
,montagne du ,tacondy1 in ,chamonix1 a  
noble instance of one of these ridges or
 buttresses1 with all its subdivisions1 
on a colossal scale4   ,sec4 #ac4 ,the  
exceeding simplicity of contour caused  
by these influences4  ,sec4 #ad4 ,and   
multiplicity of feature4  ,now we wish  
to draw especial attention to the broad 

and bold simplicity of mass1 and the    
excessive complication of details1 which
 influences like these1 acting on an    
enormous scale1 must inevitably produce 
in all mountain groups2 because each    
individual part and promontory1 being   
compelled to assume the same symmetrical
 curves as its neighbors1 and to descend
 at precisely the same slope to the     
valley1 falls in with their prevailing  
lines1 and becomes a part of a great and
 harmonious whole1 instead of an        
unconnected and discordant individual4  
,it is true that each of these members  
has its own touches of specific         
character1 its own projecting crags and 
peculiar hollows2 but by far the greater
 portion of its lines will be such as   
unite with1 though they do not repeat1  
those of its neighbors1 and carry out   
the evidence of one great influence and 
spirit to the limits of the scene4 ,this
 effort is farther aided by the original
 unity and connection of the rocks      
themselves1 which though it often may be

 violently interrupted1 is never without
 evidence of existence2 for the very    
interruption itself forces the eye to   
feel that there is something to be      
interrupted1 a sympathy and similarity  
of lines and fractures1 which1 however  
full of variety and change of direction1
 never lose the appearance of symmetry  
of one kind or another4 ,but1 on the    
other hand1 it is to be remembered that 
these great sympathizing masses are not 
one mountain1 but a thousand mountains2 
that they are originally composed of a  
multitude of separate eminences1 hewn   
and chiselled indeed into associating   
form1 but each retaining still its      
marked points and features of           
character1--that each of these          
individual members has1 by the very     
process which assimilated it to the     
rest1 been divided and subdivided into  
equally multitudinous groups of minor   
mountains2 finally1 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       
torrent1 and the peak which has bowed   
itself to no terror of the storm4 ,hence
 we see that the same imperative laws   
which require perfect simplicity of     
mass1 require infinite and termless     
complication of detail1--that there will
 not be an inch nor a hairbreadth of the
 gigantic heap which has not its touch  
of separate character1 its own peculiar 
curve1 stealing out for an instant and  
then melting into the common line2 felt 
for a moment by the blue mist of the    
hollow beyond1 then lost when it crosses
 the enlightened slope1--that all this  
multiplicity will be grouped into larger
 divisions1 each felt by their          
increasing aerial perspective1 and their
 instants of individual form1 these into
 larger1 and these into larger still1   
until all are merged in the great       
impression and prevailing energy of the 
two or three vast dynasties which divide

 the kingdom of the scene4   ,sec4 #ae4 
,both utterly neglected in ancient art4 
,there is no vestige nor shadow of      
approach to such treatment as this in   
the whole compass of ancient art4       
,whoever the master1 his hills1 wherever
 he has attempted them1 have not the    
slightest trace of association or       
connection2 they are separate1          
conflicting1 confused1 petty and paltry 
heaps of earth2 there is no marking of  
distances or divisions in their body2   
they may have holes in them1 but no     
valleys1--protuberances and             
excrescences1 but no parts2 and in      
consequence are invariably diminutive   
and contemptible in their whole         
appearance and impression4   ,sec4 #af4 
,the fidelity of treatment in ,turner's 
,daphne and ,leucippas4  ,but look at   
the mass of mountain on the right in    
,turner's ,daphne hunting with          
,leucippus4 ,it is simple1 broad1 and   
united as one surge of a swelling sea2  
it rises in an unbroken line along the  

valley1 and lifts its promontories with 
an equal slope4 ,but it contains in its 
body ten thousand hills4 ,there is not a
 quarter of an inch of its surface      
without its suggestion of increasing    
distance and individual form4 ,first1 on
 the right1 you have a range of         
tower-like precipices1 the clinging wood
 climbing along their ledges and        
cresting their summits1 white waterfalls
 gleaming through its leaves2 not1 as in
 ,claude's scientific ideals1 poured in 
vast torrents over the top1 and         
carefully keeping all the way down on   
the most projecting parts of the sides2 
but stealing down1 traced from point to 
point1 through shadow after shadow1 by  
their evanescent foam and flashing      
light1--here a wreath1 and there a      
ray1--through the deep chasms and hollow
 ravines1 out of which rise the soft    
rounded slopes of mightier mountain1    
surge beyond surge1 immense and         
numberless1 of delicate and gradual     
curve1 accumulating in the sky until    

their garment of forest is exchanged for
 the shadowy fold of slumbrous morning  
cloud1 above which the utmost silver    
peak shines islanded and alone4 ,put    
what mountain painting you will beside  
this1 of any other artist1 and its      
heights will look like mole-hills in    
comparison1 because it will not have the
 unity nor the multiplicity which are in
 nature1 and with ,turner1 the signs of 
size4   ,sec4 #ag4 ,and in the          
,avalanche and ,inundation4  ,again1 in 
the ,avalanche and ,inundation1 we have 
for the whole subject nothing but one   
vast bank of united mountain1 and one   
stretch of uninterrupted valley4 ,though
 the bank is broken into promontory     
beyond promontory1 peak above peak1 each
 the abode of a new tempest1 the arbiter
 of a separate desolation1 divided from 
each other by the rushing of the snow1  
by the motion of the storm1 by the      
thunder of the torrent2 the mighty      
unison of their dark and lofty line1 the
 brotherhood of ages1 is preserved      

unbroken2 and the broad valley at their 
feet1 though measured league after      
league away by a thousand passages of   
sun and darkness1 and marked with fate  
beyond fate of hamlet and of inhabitant1
 lies yet but as a straight and narrow  
channel1 a filling furrow before the    
flood4 ,whose work will you compare with
 this8 ,salvator's gray heaps of earth1 
seven yards high1 covered with bunchy   
brambles1 that we may be under no       
mistake about the size1 thrown about at 
random in a little plain1 beside a      
zigzagging river1 just wide enough to   
admit of the possibility of there being 
fish in it1 and with banks just broad   
enough to allow the respectable angler  
or hermit to sit upon them conveniently 
in the foreground8 ,is there more of    
nature in such paltriness1 think you1   
than in the valley and the mountain     
which bend to each other like the trough
 of the sea2 with the flank of the one  
swept in one surge into the height of   
heaven1 until the pine forests lie on   

its immensity like the shadows of narrow
 clouds1 and the hollow of the other    
laid league by league into the blue of  
the air1 until its white villages flash 
in the distance only like the fall of a 
sunbeam8   ,sec4 #ah4 ,the rarity among 
secondary hills of steep slopes or high 
precipices4  ,but let us examine by what
 management of the details themselves   
this wholeness and vastness of effect   
are given4 ,we have just seen 7,sec4    
#aa7 that it is impossible for the slope
 of a mountain1 not actually a precipice
 of rock1 to exceed #ce deg4 or among   
secondary #dj deg41 and that by far the 
greater part of all hill-surface is     
composed of graceful curves of much less
 degree than this1 reaching #dj deg4    
only as their ultimate and utmost       
inclination4 ,it must be farther        
observed that the interruptions to such 
curves1 by precipices or steps1 are     
always small in proportion to the slopes
 themselves4 ,precipices rising         
vertically more than #ajj feet are very 

rare among the secondary hills of which 
we are speaking4 ,i am not aware of any 
cliff in ,england or ,wales where a     
plumb-line can swing clear for #bjj     
feet2 and even although sometimes1 with 
intervals1 breaks1 and steps1 we get    
perhaps #hjj feet of a slope of #fj deg4
 or #gj deg41 yet not only are these    
cases very rare1 but even these have    
little influence on the great contours  
of a mountain #djjj or #ejjj feet in    
elevation1 being commonly balanced by   
intervals of ascent not exceeding #f    
deg4 or #h deg44 ,the result of which   
is1 first1 that the peaks and precipices
 of a mountain appear as little more    
than jags or steps emerging from its    
great curves2 and1 secondly1 that the   
bases of all hills are enormously       
extensive as compared with their        
elevation1 so that there must be always 
a horizontal distance between the       
observer and the summit five or six     
times exceeding the perpendicular one4  
,sec4 #ai4 ,and consequent expression of

 horizontal distance in their ascent4   
,now it is evident1 that whatever the   
actual angle of elevation of the        
mountain may be1 every exhibition of    
this horizontal distance between us and 
the summit is an addition to its height1
 and of course to its impressiveness2   
while every endeavor to exhibit its     
slope as steep and sudden1 is diminution
 at once of its distance and elevation4 
,in consequence nature is constantly    
endeavoring to impress upon us this     
horizontal distance1 which1 even in     
spite of all her means of manifesting   
it1 we are apt to forget or             
underestimate2 and all her noblest      
effects depend on the full measurement  
and feeling of it4 ,and it is to the    
abundant and marvellous expression of it
 by ,turner1 that ,i would direct       
especial attention1 as being that which 
is in itself demonstrative of the       
highest knowledge and power--knowledge1 
in the constant use of lines of subdued 
slope in preference to steep or violent 

ascents1 and in the perfect subjection  
of all such features1 when they         
necessarily occur1 to the larger masses2
 and power1 in the inimitable statements
 of retiring space by mere painting of  
surface details1 without the aid of     
crossing shadows1 divided forms1 or any 
other artifice4   ,sec4 #bj4 ,full      
statement of all these facts in various 
works of ,turner1         ,caudebec1    
etc4  ,the ,caudebec1 in the ,rivers of 
,france1 is a fine instance of almost   
every fact which we have been pointing  
out4 ,we have in it1 first1 the clear   
expression of what takes place          
constantly among hills1--that the river1
 as it passes through the valley1 will  
fall backwards and forwards from side to
 side1 lying first1 if ,i may so speak1 
with all its weight against the hills on
 the one side1 and then against those on
 the other2 so that1 as here it is      
exquisitely told1 in each of its        
circular sweeps the whole force of its  
current is brought deep and close to the

 bases of the hills1 while the water on 
the side next the plain is shallow1     
deepening gradually4 ,in consequence of 
this1 the hills are cut away at their   
bases by the current1 so that their     
slopes are interrupted by precipices    
mouldering to the water4 ,observe first1
 how nobly ,turner has given us the     
perfect unity of the whole mass of hill1
 making us understand that every ravine 
in it has been cut gradually by streams4
 ,the first eminence1 beyond the city1  
is not disjointed from1 or independent  
of1 the one succeeding1 but evidently   
part of the same whole1 originally      
united1 separated only by the action of 
the stream between4 ,the association of 
the second and third is still more      
clearly told1 for we see that there has 
been a little longitudinal valley       
running along the brow of their former  
united mass1 which1 after the ravine had
 been cut between1 formed the two jags  
which ,turner has given us at the same  
point in each of their curves4 ,this    

great triple group has1 however1 been   
originally distinct from those beyond   
it2 for we see that these latter are    
only the termination of the enormous    
even slope1 which appears again on the  
extreme right1 having been interrupted  
by the rise of the near hills4 ,observe 
how the descent of the whole series is  
kept gentle and subdued1 never suffered 
to become steep except where it has been
 cut away by the river1 the sudden      
precipice caused by which is exquisitely
 marked in the last two promontories1   
where they are defined against the      
bright horizon2 and1 finally1 observe   
how1 in the ascent of the nearest       
eminence beyond the city1 without one   
cast shadow or any division of          
distances1 every yard of surface is felt
 to be retiring by the mere painting of 
its details1--how we are permitted to   
walk up it1 and along its top1 and are  
carried1 before we are half way up1 a   
league or two forward into the picture4 
,the difficulty of doing this1 however1 

can scarcely be appreciated except by an
 artist4   ,sec4 #ba4 ,the use of       
considering geological truths4  ,i do   
not mean to assert that this great      
painter is acquainted with the          
geological laws and facts he has thus   
illustrated2 ,i am not aware whether he 
be or not2 ,i merely wish to            
demonstrate1 in points admitting of     
demonstration1 that intense observation 
of1 and strict adherence to truth1 which
 it is impossible to demonstrate in its 
less tangible and more delicate         
manifestations4 ,however ,i may feel the
 truth of every touch and line1 ,i      
cannot prove truth1 except in large and 
general features2 and ,i leave it to the
 arbitration of every man's reason1     
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 sciences1 is not
 likely to be faithful also in small4   
,sec4 #bb4 ,expression of retiring      

surface by ,turner contrasted with the  
work         of ,claude4  ,honfleur1 and
 the scene between ,clairmont and       
,mauves1 supply us with farther         
instances of the same grand simplicity  
of treatment2 and the latter is         
especially remarkable for its expression
 of the furrowing of the hills by       
descending water1 in the complete       
roundness and symmetry of their curves1 
and in the delicate and sharp shadows   
which are cast in the undulating        
ravines4 ,it is interesting to compare  
with either of these noble works such   
hills as those of ,claude1 on the left  
of the picture marked #bfj in the       
,dulwich ,gallery4 ,there is no detail  
nor surface in one of them2 not an inch 
of ground for us to stand upon2 we must 
either sit astride upon the edge1 or    
fall to the bottom4 ,i could not point  
to a more complete instance of mountain 
calumniation2 nor can ,i oppose it more 
completely1 in every circumstance1 than 
with the ,honfleur of ,turner1 already  

mentioned2 in which there is not one    
edge nor division admitted1 and yet we  
are permitted to climb up the hill from 
the town1 and pass far into the mist    
along its top1 and so descend mile after
 mile along the ridge to seaward1 until1
 without one break in the magnificent   
unity of progress1 we are carried down  
to the utmost horizon4 ,and contrast the
 brown paint of ,claude1 which you can  
only guess to be meant for rock or soil 
because it is brown1 with ,turner's     
profuse1 pauseless richness of feature1 
carried through all the enormous        
space--the unmeasured wealth of         
exquisite detail1 over which the mind   
can dwell1 and walk1 and wander1 and    
feast forever1 without finding either   
one break in its vast simplicity1 or one
 vacuity in its exhaustless splendor4   
,sec4 #bc4 ,the same moderation of slope
 in the contours of his higher hills4   
,but these1 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 coteaux1 casting     
their oblique shadows on silver leagues 
of glancing rivers1--and olive-whitened 
promontories of ,alp and ,apennine1 are 
only instances of ,turner's management  
of the lower and softer hills4 ,in the  
bolder examples of his powers1 where he 
is dealing with lifted masses of        
enormous mountain1 we shall still find  
him as cautious in his use of violent   
slopes or vertical lines1 and still as  
studied in his expression of retiring   
surface4 ,we never get to the top of one
 of his hills without being tired with  
our walk2 not by the steepness1 observe1
 but by the stretch2 for we are carried 
up towards the heaven by such delicate  
gradation of line1 that we scarcely feel
 that we have left the earth before we  
find ourselves among the clouds4 ,the   
,skiddaw1 in the illustrations to       
,scott1 is a noble instance of this     
majestic moderation4 ,the mountain lies 

in the morning light1 like a level      
vapor2 its gentle lines of ascent are   
scarcely felt by the eye2 it rises      
without effort or exertion1 by the      
mightiness of its mass2 every slope is  
full of slumber2 and we know not how it 
has been exalted1 until we find it laid 
as a floor for the walking of the       
eastern clouds4 ,so again in the ,fort  
,augustus1 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 lake1 until1 when we are all 
but exhausted with the endless distance1
 the mountains make their last spring1  
and bear us1 in that instant of         
exertion1 half way to heaven4   ,sec4   
#bd4 ,the peculiar difficulty of        
investigating the more essential truths 
of hill outline4  ,i ought perhaps      
rather to have selected1 as instances of
 mountain form1 such elaborate works as 
the ,oberwesel or ,lake of ,uri1 but ,i 

have before expressed my dislike of     
speaking of such magnificent pictures as
 these by parts4 ,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 beauty2 for1 after all1 the most     
essential qualities of line1--those on  
which all right delineation of mountain 
character must depend1 are those which  
are only to be explained or illustrated 
by appeals to our feeling of what is    
beautiful4 ,there is an expression and a
 feeling about all the hill lines of    
nature1 which ,i think ,i shall be able1
 hereafter1 to explain2 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 
geologist1 or equated by the            
mathematician4 ,it is intangible1       
incalculable--a thing to be felt1 not   
understood--to be loved1 not            
comprehended--a music of the eyes1 a    
melody of the heart1 whose truth is     

known only by its sweetness4   ,sec4    
#be4 ,works of other modern artists4    
,clarkson ,stanfield4  ,sec4 #bf4       
,importance of particular and individual
 truth in hill drawing4  ,i can         
scarcely1 without repeating myself to   
tediousness1 enter at present into      
proper consideration of the mountain    
drawing of other modern painters4 ,we   
have1 fortunately1 several by whom the  
noble truths which we have seen so fully
 exemplified by ,turner are also deeply 
felt and faithfully rendered2 though    
there is a necessity1 for the perfect   
statement of them1 of such an unison of 
freedom of thought with perfect mastery 
over the greatest mechanical            
difficulties1 as we can scarcely hope to
 see attained by more than one man in   
our age4 ,very nearly the same words    
which we used in reference to           
,stanfield's drawings of the central    
clouds1 might be applied to his         
rendering of mountain truth4 ,he        
occupies exactly the same position with 

respect to other artists in earth as in 
cloud4 ,none can be said really to draw 
the mountain as he will1 to have so     
perfect a mastery over its organic      
development2 but there is1 nevertheless1
 in all his works1 some want of feeling 
and individuality4 ,he has studied and  
mastered his subject to the bottom1 but 
he trusts too much to that past study1  
and rather invents his hills from his   
possessed stores of knowledge1 than     
expresses in them the fresh ideas       
received from nature4 ,hence1 in all    
that he does1 we feel a little too much 
that the hills are his own4 ,we cannot  
swear to their being the particular     
crags and individual promontories which 
break the cone of ,ischia1 or shadow the
 waves of ,maggiore4 ,we are nearly     
sure1 on the contrary1 that nothing but 
the outline is local1 and that all the  
filling up has been done in the study4  
,now1 we have already shown 7,sect4 ,i4 
,chap4 ,,iii47 that particular truths   
are more important than general ones1   

and this is just one of the cases in    
which that rule especially applies4     
,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
 invention1 as the appearance that      
nothing has been imagined or invented4  
,we ought to feel of every inch of      
mountain1 that it must have existence in
 reality1 that if we had lived near the 
place we should have known every crag of
 it1 and that there must be people to   
whom every crevice and shadow of the    
picture is fraught with recollections1  
and colored with associations4 ,the     
moment the artist can make us feel      
this--the moment he can make us think   
that he has done nothing1 that nature   
has done all--that moment he becomes    
ennobled1 he proves himself great4 ,as  
long as we remember him1 we cannot      
respect him4 ,we honor him most when we 
most forget him4 ,he becomes great when 
he becomes invisible4 ,and we may1      

perhaps1 be permitted to express our    
hope that ,mr4 ,stanfield will--our     
conviction that he must--if he would    
advance in his rank as an artist1 attend
 more to local character1 and give us   
generally less of the ,stanfield        
limestone4 ,he ought to study with      
greater attention the rocks which afford
 finer divisions and more delicate parts
 7slates and gneiss27 and he ought to   
observe more fondly and faithfully those
 beautiful laws and lines of swell and  
curvature1 by intervals of which nature 
sets off and relieves the energy of her 
peaked outlines4 ,he is at present apt  
to be too rugged1 and1 in consequence1  
to lose size4 ,of his best manner of    
drawing hills1 ,i believe ,i can        
scarcely give a better example than the 
rocks of ,suli1 engraved in ,finden's   
illustrations to ,byron4 ,it is very    
grand and perfect in all parts and      
points4   ,sec4 #bg4 ,works of ,copley  
,fielding4 ,his hill feeling4  ,copley  
,fielding is peculiarly graceful and    

affectionate in his drawing of the      
inferior mountains4 ,but as with his    
clouds so with his hills2 as long as he 
keeps to silvery films of misty outline1
 or purple shadows mingled with the     
evening light1 he is true and beautiful2
 but the moment he withdraws the mass   
out of its veiling mystery1 he is lost4 
,his worst drawings1 therefore1 are     
those on which he has spent most time2  
for he is sure to show weakness wherever
 he gives detail4 ,we believe that all  
his errors proceed1 as we observed      
before1 from his not working with the   
chalk or pencil2 and that if he would   
paint half the number of pictures in the
 year which he usually produces1 and    
spend his spare time in hard dry study  
of forms1 the half he painted would be  
soon worth double the present value of  
all4 ,for he really has deep and genuine
 feeling of hill character--a far higher
 perception of space1 elevation1        
incorporeal color1 and all those        
qualities which are the poetry of       

mountains1 than any other of our        
water-color painters2 and it is an      
infinite pity that he should not give to
 these delicate feelings the power of   
realization1 which might be attained by 
a little labor4 ,a few thorough studies 
of his favorite mountains1 ,ben-,venue  
or ,ben-,cruachan1 in clear1 strong1    
front chiaroscuro1 allowing himself     
neither color nor mist1 nor any means of
 getting over the ground but downright  
drawing1 would1 we think1 open his eyes 
to sources of beauty of which he now    
takes no cognizance4 ,he ought not1     
however1 to repeat the same subjects so 
frequently1 as the casting about of the 
mind for means of varying them blunts   
the feelings to truth4 ,and he should   
remember that an artist1 who is not     
making progress1 is nearly certain to be
 retrograding2 and that progress is not 
to be made by working in the study1 or  
by mere labor bestowed on the repetition
 of unchanging conceptions4   ,sec4 #bh4
 ,works of ,j4 ,d4 ,harding and others4 

,j4 ,d4 ,harding would paint mountains  
very nobly1 if he made them of more     
importance in his compositions1 but they
 are usually little more than           
backgrounds for his foliage or          
buildings2 and it is his present system 
to make his backgrounds very slight4    
,his color is very beautiful3 indeed1   
both his and ,fielding's are far more   
refined than ,stanfield's4 ,we wish he  
would oftener take up some wild subject 
dependent for interest on its mountain  
forms alone1 as we should anticipate the
 highest results from his perfect       
drawing2 and we think that such an      
exercise1 occasionally gone completely  
through1 would counteract a tendency    
which we perceive in his present        
distances1 to become a little thin and  
cutting1 if not incomplete4  ,the late  
,g4 ,robson was a man most thoroughly   
acquainted with all the characteristics 
of our own island hills2 and some of the
 outlines of ,john ,varley showed very  
grand feeling of energy of form4        

,,footnotes    #ef ,i have above        
exhausted all terms of vituperation1 and
 probably     disgusted the reader2 and 
yet ,i have not spoken with enough      
severity3 ,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 ,palace4    #eg ,some terrific   
cuts and chasms of this kind occur on   
the north     side of the ,valais1 from 
,sion to ,briey4 ,the torrent from the  
great     ,aletsch glacier descends     
through one of them4 ,elsewhere chasms  
may     be found as narrow1 but few so  
narrow and deep4                        
,,chapter ,,iv4                         
,,of ,,the ,,foreground4   ,we have now 
only to observe the close               
characteristics of the rocks and soils  
to which the large masses of which we   
have been speaking1 owe their ultimate  
characters4   ,sec4 #a4 ,what rocks were
 the chief components of ancient        
landscape        foreground4  ,we have  

already seen that there exists a marked 
distinction between those stratified    
rocks whose beds are amorphous and      
without subdivision1 as many limestones 
and sandstones1 and those which are     
divided by lines of lamination1 as all  
slates4 ,the last kind of rock is the   
more frequent in nature1 and forms the  
greater part of all hill scenery2 it    
has1 however1 been successfully grappled
 with by few1 even of the moderns1      
except ,turner2 while there is no single
 example of any aim at it or thought of 
it among the ancients1 whose            
foregrounds1 as far as it is possible to
 guess at their intention through their 
concentrated errors1 are chosen from    
among the tufa and travertin of the     
lower ,apennines1 7the ugliest as well  
as the least characteristic rocks of    
nature17 and whose larger features of   
rock scenery1 if we look at them with a 
predetermination to find in them a      
resemblance of something1 may be        
pronounced at least liker the mountain  

limestone than anything else4 ,i shall  
glance1 therefore1 at the general       
characters of these materials first1 in 
order that we may be able to appreciate 
the fidelity of rock-drawing on which   
,salvator's reputation has been built4  
,sec4 #b4 ,salvator's limestones4 ,the  
real characters of the rock4 ,its       
fractures and obtuseness of angles4     
,the massive limestones separate        
generally into irregular blocks1 tending
 to the form of cubes or                
parallelopipeds1 and terminated by      
tolerably smooth planes4 ,the weather1  
acting on the edges of these blocks1    
rounds them off2 but the frost1 which1  
while it cannot penetrate nor split the 
body of the stone1 acts energetically on
 the angles1 splits off the rounded     
fragments1 and supplies sharp1 fresh1   
and complicated edges4 ,hence the angles
 of such blocks are usually marked by a 
series of steps and fractures1 in which 
the peculiar character of the rock is   
most distinctly seen2 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 part2 these thin   
laminae breaking easily1 and supplying a
 number of fissures and lines at the    
edge of the detached mass4 ,thus1 as a  
general principle1 if a rock have       
character anywhere1 it will be on the   
angle1 and however even and smooth its  
great planes may be1 it will usually    
break into variety where it turns a     
corner4 ,in one of the most exquisite   
pieces of rock truth ever put on canvas1
 the foreground of the ,napoleon in the 
,academy1 #ahdb1 this principle was     
beautifully exemplified in the          
complicated fractures of the upper angle
 just where it turned from the light1   
while the planes of the rock were varied
 only by the modulation they owed to the
 waves4 ,it follows from this structure 
that the edges of all rock being        
partially truncated1 first by large     
fractures1 and then by the rounding of  

the fine edges of these by the weather1 
perpetually present convex transitions  
from the light to the dark side1 the    
planes of the rock almost always        
swelling a little from the angle4       
,sec4 #c4 ,salvator's acute angles      
caused by the meeting of concave curves4
  ,now it will be found throughout the  
works of ,salvator1 that his most usual 
practice was to give a concave sweep of 
the brush for his first expression of   
the dark side1 leaving the paint darkest
 towards the light2 by which daring and 
original method of procedure he has     
succeeded in covering his foregrounds   
with forms which approximate to those of
 drapery1 of ribbons1 of crushed cocked 
hats1 of locks of hair1 of waves1       
leaves1 or anything1 in short1 flexible 
or tough1 but which of course are not   
only unlike1 but directly contrary to   
the forms which nature has impressed on 
rocks4#eh   ,sec4 #d4 ,peculiar         
distinctness of light and shade in the  
rocks of nature4  ,sec4 #e4 ,peculiar   

confusion of both in the rocks of       
,salvator4  ,and the circular and       
sweeping strokes or stains which are    
dashed at random over their surfaces1   
only fail of destroying all resemblance 
whatever to rock structure from their   
frequent want of any meaning at all1 and
 from the impossibility of our supposing
 any of them to be representative of    
shade4 ,now1 if there be any part of    
landscape in which nature develops her  
principles of light and shade more      
clearly than another1 it is rock2 for   
the dark sides of fractured stone       
receive brilliant reflexes from the     
lighted surfaces1 on which the shadows  
are marked with the most exquisite      
precision1 especially because1 owing to 
the parallelism of cleavage1 the        
surfaces lie usually in directions      
nearly parallel4 ,hence every crack and 
fissure has its shadow and reflected    
light separated with the most delicious 
distinctness1 and the organization and  
solid form of all parts are told with a 

decision of language1 which1 to be      
followed with anything like fidelity1   
requires the most transparent color1 and
 the most delicate and scientific       
drawing4 ,so far are the works of the   
old landscape-painters from rendering   
this1 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      
other2 and the strokes of the brush are 
not used to explain or express a form   
known or conceived1 but are dashed and  
daubed about without any aim beyond the 
covering of the canvas4 ,a rock1 the old
 masters appear to say to themselves1 is
 a great irregular1 formless1           
characterless lump2 but it must have    
shade upon it1 and any gray marks will  
do for that shade4   ,sec4 #f4 ,and     
total want of any expression of hardness
 or brittleness4  ,sec4 #g4 ,instances  
in particular pictures4  ,finally1 while
 few1 if any1 of the rocks of nature are

 untraversed by delicate and slender    
fissures1 whose black sharp lines are   
the only means by which the peculiar    
quality in which rocks most differ from 
the other objects of the landscape1     
brittleness1 can be effectually         
suggested1 we look in vain among the    
blots and stains with which the rocks of
 ancient art are loaded1 for any vestige
 or appearance of fissure or            
splintering4 ,toughness and malleability
 appear to be the qualities whose       
expression is most aimed at2 sometimes  
sponginess1 softness1 flexibility1      
tenuity1 and occasionally transparency4 
,take1 for instance1 the foreground of  
,salvator1 in ,no4 #bbj of the ,dulwich 
,gallery4 ,there is1 on the right-hand  
side of it1 an object1 which ,i never   
walk through the room without           
contemplating for a minute or two with  
renewed solicitude and anxiety of mind1 
indulging in a series of very wild and  
imaginative conjectures as to its       
probable or possible meaning4 ,i think  

there is reason to suppose that the     
artist intended it either for a very    
large stone1 or for the trunk of a tree2
 but any decision as to its being either
 one or the other of these must1 ,i     
conceive1 be the extreme of rashness4   
,it melts into the ground on one side1  
and might reasonably be conjectured to  
form a part of it1 having no trace of   
woody structure or color2 but on the    
other side it presents a series of      
concave curves1 interrupted by cogs like
 those of a water-wheel1 which the      
boldest theorist would certainly not    
feel himself warranted in supposing     
symbolical of rock4 ,the forms which    
this substance1 whatever it be1 assumes1
 will be found repeated1 though in a    
less degree1 in the foreground of ,no4  
#aei1 where they are evidently meant for
 rock4   ,sec4 #h4 ,compared with the   
works of ,stanfield4  ,sec4 #i4 ,their  
absolute opposition in every particular4
  ,let us contrast with this system of  
rock-drawing1 the faithful1 scientific1 

and dexterous studies of nature which we
 find in the works of ,clarkson         
,stanfield4 ,he is a man especially to  
be opposed to the old masters1 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 masses2   
and in the rendering of these it is     
impossible to go beyond him4 ,nothing   
can surpass his care1 his firmness1 or  
his success1 in marking the distinct and
 sharp light and shade by which the form
 is explained1 never confusing it with  
local color1 however richly his         
surface-texture may be given2 while the 
wonderful play of line with which he    
will vary1 and through which he will    
indicate1 the regularity of             
stratification1 is almost as instructive
 as that of nature herself4 ,i cannot   
point to any of his works as better or  
more characteristic than others2 but his
 ,ischia1 in the present ,british       

,institution1 may be taken as a fair    
average example4 ,the ,botallack ,mine1 
,cornwall1 engraved in the ,coast       
,scenery1 gives us a very finished and  
generic representation of rock1 whose   
primal organization has been violently  
affected by external influences4 ,we    
have the stratification and cleavage    
indicated at its base1 every fissure    
being sharp1 angular1 and decisive1     
disguised gradually as it rises by the  
rounding of the surface and the         
successive furrows caused by the descent
 of streams4 ,but the exquisite drawing 
of the foreground is especially worthy  
of notice4 ,no huge concave sweeps of   
the brush1 no daubing or splashing here4
 ,every inch of it is brittle and       
splintery1 and the fissures are         
explained to the eye by the most        
perfect1 speaking light and shade1--we  
can stumble over the edges of them4 ,the
 ,east ,cliff1 ,hastings1 is another    
very fine example1 from the exquisite   
irregularity with which its squareness  

of general structure is varied and      
disguised4 ,observe how totally contrary
 every one of its lines is to the       
absurdities of ,salvator4 ,stanfield's  
are all angular and straight1 every     
apparent curve made up of right lines1  
while ,salvator's are all sweeping and  
flourishing like so much penmanship4    
,stanfield's lines pass away into       
delicate splintery fissures4 ,salvator's
 are broad daubs throughout4 ,not one of
 ,stanfield's lines is like another4    
,every one of ,salvator's mocks all the 
rest4 ,all ,stanfield's curves1 where   
his universal angular character is      
massed1 as on the left-hand side1 into  
large sweeping forms1 are convex4       
,salvator's are every one concave4      
,sec4 #aj4 ,the rocks of ,j4 ,d4        
,harding4  ,the foregrounds of ,j4 ,d4  
,harding and rocks of his middle        
distances are also thoroughly admirable4
 ,he is not quite so various and        
undulating in his line as ,stanfield1   
and sometimes1 in his middle distances1 

is wanting in solidity1 owing to a      
little confusion of the dark side and   
shadow with each other1 or with the     
local color4 ,but his work1 in near     
passages of fresh-broken1 sharp-edged   
rock1 is absolute perfection1 excelling 
,stanfield in the perfect freedom and   
facility with which his fragments are   
splintered and scattered2 true in every 
line without the least apparent effort4 
,stanfield's best works are laborious1  
but ,harding's rocks fall from under his
 hand as if they had just crashed down  
the hill-side1 flying on the instant    
into lovely form4 ,in color also he     
incomparably surpasses ,stanfield1 who  
is apt to verge upon mud1 or be cold in 
his gray4 ,the rich1 lichenous1 and     
changeful warmth1 and delicate weathered
 grays of ,harding's rock1 illustrated  
as they are by the most fearless1 firm1 
and unerring drawing1 render his wild   
pieces of torrent shore the finest      
things1 next to the work of ,turner1 in 
,english foreground art4  ,j4 ,b4 ,pyne 

has very accurate knowledge of limestone
 rock1 and expresses it clearly and     
forcibly2 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 execution1   
evidently never studying from nature    
except with the previous determination  
to ,pynize everything4#ei   ,sec4 #aa4  
,characters of loose earth and soil4    
,sec4 #ab4 ,its exceeding grace and     
fulness of feature4  ,before passing to 
,turner1 let us take one more glance at 
the foregrounds of the old masters1 with
 reference1 not to their management of  
rock1 which is comparatively a rare     
component part of their foregrounds1 but
 to the common soil which they were     
obliged to paint constantly1 and whose  
forms and appearances are the same all  
over the world4 ,a steep bank of loose  
earth of any kind1 that has been at all 
exposed to the weather1 contains in it1 
though it may not be three feet high1   
features capable of giving high         

gratification to a careful observer4 ,it
 is almost a fac-simile of a mountain   
slope of soft and decomposing rock2 it  
possesses nearly as much variety of     
character1 and is governed by laws of   
organization no less rigid4 ,it is      
furrowed in the first place by          
undulating lines1 by the descent of the 
rain1 little ravines1 which are cut     
precisely at the same slope as those of 
the mountain1 and leave ridges scarcely 
less graceful in their contour1 and     
beautifully sharp in their chiselling4  
,where a harder knot of ground or a     
stone occurs1 the earth is washed from  
beneath it1 and accumulates above it1   
and there we have a little precipice    
connected by a sweeping curve at its    
summit with the great slope1 and casting
 a sharp dark shadow2 where the soil has
 been soft1 it will probably be washed  
away underneath until it gives way1 and 
leaves a jagged1 hanging1 irregular line
 of fracture2 and all these             
circumstances are explained to the eye  

in sunshine with the most delicious     
clearness2 every touch of shadow being  
expressive of some particular truth of  
structure1 and bearing witness to the   
symmetry into which the whole mass has  
been reduced4 ,where this operation has 
gone on long1 and vegetation has        
assisted in softening the outlines1 we  
have our ground brought into graceful   
and irregular curves1 of infinite       
variety1 but yet always so connected    
with each other1 and guiding to each    
other1 that the eye never feels them as 
separate things1 nor feels inclined to  
count them1 nor perceives a likeness in 
one to the other2 they are not          
repetitions of each other1 but are      
different parts of one system4 ,each    
would be imperfect without the one next 
to it4   ,sec4 #ac4 ,the ground of      
,teniers4  ,now it is all but impossible
 to express distinctly the particulars  
wherein this fine character of curve    
consists1 and to show in definite       
examples1 what it is which makes one    

representation right1 and another wrong4
 ,the ground of ,teniers for instance1  
in ,no4 #aci in the ,dulwich ,gallery1  
is an example of all that is wrong4 ,it 
is a representation of the forms of     
shaken and disturbed soil1 such as we   
should see here and there after an      
earthquake1 or over the ruins of fallen 
buildings4 ,it has not one contour nor  
character of the soil of nature1 and yet
 ,i can scarcely tell you why1 except   
that the curves repeat one another1 and 
are monotonous in their flow1 and are   
unbroken by the delicate angle and      
momentary pause with which the feeling  
of nature would have touched them1 and  
are disunited2 so that the eye leaps    
from this to that1 and does not pass    
from one to the other without being able
 to stop1 drawn on by the continuity of 
line2 neither is there any undulation or
 furrowing of watermark1 nor in one spot
 or atom of the whole surface1 is there 
distinct explanation of form to the eye 
by means of a determined shadow4 ,all is

 mere sweeping of the brush over the    
surface with various ground colors1     
without a single indication of character
 by means of real shade4   ,sec4 #ad4   
,importance of these minor parts and    
points4  ,sec4 #ae4 ,the observance of  
them is the real distinction between the
 master         and the novice4  ,let   
not these points be deemed unimportant2 
the truths of form in common ground are 
quite as valuable1 7let me anticipate   
myself for a moment17 quite as          
beautiful1 as any others which nature   
presents1 and in lowland landscape they 
present us with a species of line which 
it is quite impossible to obtain in any 
other way1--the alternately flowing and 
broken line of mountain scenery1 which1 
however small its scale1 is always of   
inestimable value1 contrasted with the  
repetitions of organic form which we are
 compelled to give in vegetation4 ,a    
really great artist dwells on every inch
 of exposed soil with care and delight1 
and renders it one of the most          

essential1 speaking and pleasurable     
parts of his composition4 ,and be it    
remembered1 that the man who1 in the    
most conspicuous part of his foreground1
 will violate truth with every stroke of
 the pencil1 is not likely to be more   
careful in other parts of it2 and that  
in the little bits which ,i fix upon for
 animadversion1 ,i am not pointing out  
solitary faults1 but only the most      
characteristic examples of the falsehood
 which is everywhere1 and which renders 
the whole foreground one mass of        
contradictions and absurdities4 ,nor do 
,i myself see wherein the great         
difference lies between a master and a  
novice1 except in the rendering of the  
finer truths1 of which ,i am at present 
speaking4 ,to handle the brush freely1  
and to paint grass and weeds with       
accuracy enough to satisfy the eye1 are 
accomplishments which a year or two's   
practice will give any man2 but to trace
 among the grass and weeds those        
mysteries of invention and combination1 

by which nature appeals to the          
intellect--to render the delicate       
fissure1 and descending curve1 and      
undulating shadow of the mouldering     
soil1 with gentle and fine finger1 like 
the touch of the rain itself--to find   
even in all that appears most trifling  
or contemptible1 fresh evidence of the  
constant working of the ,divine power   
for glory and for beauty1 and to teach  
it and proclaim it to the unthinking and
 the unregardless--this1 as it is the   
peculiar province and faculty of the    
master-mind1 so it is the peculiar duty 
which is demanded of it by the ,deity4  
,sec4 #af4 ,the ground of ,cuyp4  ,sec4 
#ag4 ,and of ,claude4  ,sec4 #ah4 ,the  
entire weakness and childishness of the 
latter4  ,sec4 #ai4 ,compared with the  
work of ,turner4  ,it would take me no  
reasonable nor endurable time1 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 originating1 in   

the drawing of foregrounds4 ,it is not  
this man1 nor that man1 nor one school  
nor another2 all agree in entire        
repudiation of everything resembling    
facts1 and in the high degree of        
absurdity of what they substitute for   
them4 ,even ,cuyp1 who evidently saw and
 studied near nature1 as an artist      
should do--not fishing for idealities1  
but taking what nature gave him1 and    
thanking her for it--even he appears to 
have supposed that the drawing of the   
earth might be trusted to chance or     
imagination1 and1 in consequence1 strews
 his banks with lumps of dough1 instead 
of stones4 ,perhaps1 however1 the       
beautiful foregrounds of ,claude afford 
the most remarkable instances of        
childishness and incompetence of all4   
,that of his morning landscape1 with the
 large group of trees and high          
single-arched bridge1 in the ,national  
,gallery1 is a pretty fair example of   
the kind of error which he constantly   
falls into4 ,i will not say anything of 

the agreeable composition of the three  
banks1 rising one behind another from   
the water4 ,i merely affirm that it     
amounts to a demonstration that all     
three were painted in the artist's      
study1 without any reference to nature  
whatever4 ,in fact1 there is quite      
enough intrinsic evidence in each of    
them to prove this1 seeing that what    
appears to be meant for vegetation upon 
them1 amounts to nothing more than a    
green stain on their surfaces1 the more 
evidently false because the leaves of   
the trees twenty yards farther off are  
all perfectly visible and distinct2 and 
that the sharp lines with which each    
cuts against that beyond it1 are not    
only such as crumbling earth could never
 show or assume1 but are maintained     
through their whole progress            
ungraduated1 unchanging1 and unaffected 
by any of the circumstances of varying  
shade to which every one of nature's    
lines is inevitably subjected4 ,in fact1
 the whole arrangement is the impotent  

struggle of a tyro to express1 by       
successive edges1 that approach of earth
 which he finds himself incapable of    
expressing by the drawing of the        
surface4 ,claude wished to make you     
understand that the edge of his pond    
came nearer and nearer3 he had probably 
often tried to do this with an unbroken 
bank1 or a bank only varied by the      
delicate and harmonized anatomy of      
nature2 and he had found that owing to  
his total ignorance of the laws of      
perspective1 such efforts on his part   
invariably ended in his reducing his    
pond to the form of a round ,o1 and     
making it look perpendicular4 ,much     
comfort and solace of mind1 in such     
unpleasant circumstances1 may be derived
 from instantly dividing the obnoxious  
bank into a number of successive        
promontories1 and developing their edges
 with completeness and intensity4 ,every
 school-girl's drawing1 as soon as her  
mind has arrived at so great a degree of
 enlightenment as to perceive that      

perpendicular water is objectionable1   
will supply us with edifying instances  
of this unfailing resource2 and this    
foreground of ,claude's is only one out 
of the thousand cases in which he has   
been reduced to it4 ,and if it be asked1
 how the proceeding differs from that of
 nature1 ,i have only to point to nature
 herself1 as she is drawn in the        
foreground of ,turner's ,mercury and    
,argus1 a case precisely similar to     
,claude's1 of earthy crumbling banks cut
 away by water4 ,it will be found in    
this picture 7and ,i am now describing  
nature's work and ,turner's with the    
same words7 that the whole distance is  
given by retirement of solid surface2   
and that if ever an edge is expressed1  
it is only felt for an instant1 and then
 lost again2 so that the eye cannot stop
 at it and prepare for a long jump to   
another like it1 but is guided over it1 
and round it1 into the hollow beyond2   
and thus the whole receding mass of     
ground1 going back for more than a      

quarter of a mile1 is made completely   
one--no part of it is separated from the
 rest for an instant--it is all united1 
and its modulations are members1 not    
divisions of its mass4 ,but those       
modulations are countless--heaving here1
 sinking there--now swelling1 now       
mouldering1 now blending1 now           
breaking--giving1 in fact1 to the       
foreground of this universal master1    
precisely the same qualities which we   
have before seen in his hills1 as       
,claude gave to his foreground precisely
 the same qualities which we had before 
found in his hills1--infinite unity in  
the one case1 finite division in the    
other4   ,sec4 #bj4 ,general features of
 ,turner's foreground4  ,let us1 then1  
having now obtained some insight into   
the principles of the old masters in    
foreground drawing1 contrast them       
throughout with those of our great      
modern master4 ,the investigation of the
 excellence of ,turner's drawing becomes
 shorter and easier as we proceed1      

because the great distinctions between  
his work and that of other painters are 
the same1 whatever the object or subject
 may be2 and after once showing the     
general characters of the particular    
specific forms under consideration1 we  
have only to point1 in the works of     
,turner1 to the same principles of      
infinity and variety in carrying them   
out1 which we have before insisted upon 
with reference to other subjects4       
,sec4 #ba4 ,geological structure of his 
rocks in the ,fall of the ,tees4  ,sec4 
#bb4 ,their convex surfaces and         
fractured edges4  ,sec4 #bc4 ,and       
perfect unity4  ,sec4 #bd4 ,various     
parts whose history is told us by the   
details of the         drawing4  ,the   
,upper ,fall of the ,tees1 ,yorkshire1  
engraved in the ,england series1 may be 
given as a standard example of          
rock-drawing to be opposed to the work  
of ,salvator4 ,we have1 in the great    
face of rock which divides the two      
streams1 horizontal lines which indicate

 the real direction of the strata1 and  
these same lines are given in ascending 
perspective all along the precipice on  
the right4 ,but we see also on the      
central precipice fissures absolutely   
vertical1 which inform us of one series 
of joints dividing these horizontal     
strata2 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      
joints1 running in a direction across   
the river4 ,accordingly1 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 beds1 which lie against each   
other with their sides towards us1 and  
are traversed downwards by the same     
vertical lines traceable on the face of 
the central cliff4 ,now1 let me direct  
especial attention to the way in which  
,turner has marked over this general and
 grand unity of structure1 the modifying

 effects of the weather and the torrent4
 ,observe how the whole surface of the  
hill above the precipice on the left#fj 
is brought into one smooth1 unbroken    
curvature of gentle convexity1 until it 
comes to the edge of the precipice1 and 
then1 just on the angle1 7compare ,sec4 
#b17 breaks into the multiplicity of    
fissure which marks its geological      
structure4 ,observe how every one of the
 separate blocks1 into which it divides1
 is rounded and convex in its salient   
edges turned to the weather1 and how    
every one of their inward angles is     
marked clear and sharp by the determined
 shadow and transparent reflex4 ,observe
 how exquisitely graceful are all the   
curves of the convex surfaces1          
indicating that every one of them has   
been modelled by the winding and        
undulating of running water2 and how    
gradually they become steeper as they   
descend1 until they are torn down into  
the face of the precipice4 ,finally1    
observe the exquisite variety of all the

 touches which express fissure or shade2
 every one in varying directions and    
with new forms1 and yet throughout      
indicating that perfect parallelism     
which at once explained to us the       
geology of the rock1 and falling into   
one grand mass1 treated with the same   
simplicity of light and shade which a   
great portrait painter adopts in        
treating the features of the human face2
 which1 though each has its own separate
 chiaroscuro1 never disturb the         
wholeness and grandeur of the head1     
considered as one ball or mass4 ,so     
here1 one deep and marked piece of      
shadow indicates the greatest proximity 
of the rounded mass2 and from this every
 shade becomes fainter and fainter1     
until all are lost in the obscurity and 
dimness of the hanging precipice and the
 shattering fall4 ,again1 see how the   
same fractures just upon the edge take  
place with the central cliff above the  
right-hand fall1 and how the force of   
the water is told us by the confusion of

 debris accumulated in its channel4 ,in 
fact1 the great quality about ,turner's 
drawings which more especially proves   
their transcendent truth1 is the        
capability they afford us of reasoning  
on past and future phenomena1 just as if
 we had the actual rocks before us2 for 
this indicates not that one truth is    
given1 nor another1 not that a pretty or
 interesting morsel has been selected   
here and there1 but that the whole truth
 has been given1 with all the relations 
of its parts2 so that we can pick and   
choose our points of pleasure or of     
thought for ourselves1 and reason upon  
the whole with the same certainty which 
we should after having climbed and      
hammered over the rocks bit by bit4     
,with this drawing before him1 a        
geologist could give a lecture upon the 
whole system of aqueous erosion1 and    
speculate as safely upon the past and   
future states of this very spot1 as if  
he were standing and getting wet with   
the spray4 ,he would tell you1 at once1 

that the waterfall was in a state of    
rapid recession2 that it had once formed
 a wide cataract just at the spot where 
the figure is sitting on the heap of    
debris2 and that when it was there1 part
 of it came down by the channel on the  
left1 its bed being still marked by the 
delicately chiselled lines of fissure4  
,he would tell you that the foreground  
had also once been the top of the fall1 
and that the vertical fissures on the   
right of it were evidently then the     
channel of a side stream4 ,he would tell
 you that the fall was then much lower  
than it is now1 and that being lower1 it
 had less force1 and cut itself a       
narrower bed2 and that the spot where it
 reached the higher precipice is marked 
by the expansion of the wide basin which
 its increased violence has excavated1  
and by the gradually increasing         
concavity of the rocks below1 which we  
see have been hollowed into a complete  
vault by the elastic bound of the water4
 ,but neither he nor ,i could tell you  

with what exquisite and finished marking
 of every fragment and particle of soil 
or rock1 both in its own structure and  
the evidence it bears of these great    
influences1 the whole of this is        
confirmed and carried out4   ,sec4 #be4 
,beautiful instance of an exception to  
general rules in the         ,llanthony4
  ,with this inimitable drawing we may  
compare the rocks in the foreground of  
the ,llanthony4 ,these latter are not   
divided by joints1 but into thin        
horizontal and united beds1 which the   
torrent in its times of flood has       
chiselled away1 leaving one exposed     
under another1 with the sweeping marks  
of its eddies upon their edges4 ,and    
here we have an instance of an exception
 to a general rule1 occasioned by       
particular and local action4 ,we have   
seen that the action of water over any  
surface universally1 whether falling1 as
 in rain1 or sweeping1 as a torrent1    
induces convexity of form4 ,but when we 
have rocks in situ1 as here1 exposed at 

their edges to the violent action of an 
eddy1 that eddy will cut a vault or     
circular space for itself1 7as we saw on
 a large scale with the high waterfall17
 and we have a concave curve            
interrupting the general contours of the
 rock4 ,and thus ,turner 7while every   
edge of his masses is rounded1 and1 the 
moment we rise above the level of the   
water1 all is convex7 has interrupted   
the great contours of his strata with   
concave curves1 precisely where the last
 waves of the torrent have swept against
 the exposed edges of the beds4 ,nothing
 could more strikingly prove the depth  
of that knowledge by which every touch  
of this consummate artist is regulated1 
that universal command of subject which 
never acts for a moment on anything     
conventional or habitual1 but fills     
every corner and space with new evidence
 of knowledge1 and fresh manifestation  
of thought4   ,sec4 #bf4 ,turner's      
drawing of detached blocks of weathered 
stone4  ,the ,lower ,fall of the ,tees1 

with the chain-bridge1 might serve us   
for an illustration of all the          
properties and forms of vertical beds of
 rock1 as the upper fall has of         
horizontal2 but we pass rather to       
observe1 in detached pieces of          
foreground1 the particular modulation of
 parts which cannot be investigated in  
the grand combinations of general mass4 
,the blocks of stone which form the     
foreground of the ,ulleswater are1 ,i   
believe1 the finest example in the world
 of the finished drawing of rocks which 
have been subjected to violent aqueous  
action4 ,their surfaces seem to         
palpitate from the fine touch of the    
waves1 and every part of them is rising 
or falling in soft swell or gentle      
depression1 though the eye can scarcely 
trace the fine shadows on which this    
chiselling of the surface depends4 ,and 
with all this1 every block of them has  
individual character1 dependent on the  
expression of the angular lines of which
 its contours were first formed1 and    

which is retained and felt through all  
the modulation and melting of the       
water-worn surface4 ,and what is done   
here in the most important part of the  
picture1 to be especially attractive to 
the eye1 is often done by ,turner with  
lavish and overwhelming power1 in the   
accumulated debris of a wide foreground1
 strewed with the ruin of ages1 as1 for 
instance1 in the ,junction of the ,greta
 and ,tees1 where he has choked the     
torrent bed with a mass of shattered    
rock1 thrown down with the profusion and
 carelessness of nature herself2 and yet
 every separate block is a study1 7and  
has evidently been drawn from nature17  
chiselled and varied in its parts1 as if
 it were to be the chief member of a    
separate subject2 yet without ever      
losing1 in a single instance1 its       
subordinate position1 or occasioning1   
throughout the whole accumulated        
multitude1 the repetition of a single   
line4   ,sec4 #bg4 ,and of complicated  
foreground4  ,i consider cases like     

these1 of perfect finish and new        
conception1 applied and exerted in the  
drawing of every member of a confused   
and almost countlessly-divided system1  
about the most wonderful1 as well as the
 most characteristic passages of        
,turner's foregrounds4 ,it is done not  
less marvellously1 though less          
distinctly1 in the individual parts of  
all his broken ground1 as in examples   
like these of separate blocks4 ,the     
articulation of such a passage as the   
nearest bank1 in the picture we have    
already spoken of at so great length1   
the ,upper ,fall of the ,tees1 might    
serve us for a day's study1 if we were  
to go into it part by part2 but it is   
impossible to do this1 except with the  
pencil2 we can only repeat the same     
general observations1 about eternal     
change and unbroken unity1 and tell you 
to observe how the eye is kept          
throughout on solid and retiring        
surfaces1 instead of being thrown1 as by
 ,claude1 on flat and equal edges4 ,you 

cannot find a single edge in ,turner's  
work2 you are everywhere kept upon round
 surfaces1 and you go back on these you 
cannot tell how--never taking a leap1   
but progressing imperceptibly along the 
unbroken bank1 till you find yourself a 
quarter of a mile into the picture1     
beside the figure at the bottom of the  
waterfall4   ,sec4 #bh4 ,and of loose   
soil4  ,finally1 the bank of earth on   
the right of the grand drawing of       
,penmaen ,mawr1 may be taken as the     
standard of the representation of soft  
soil modelled by descending rain2 and   
may serve to show us how exquisite in   
character are the resultant lines1 and  
how full of every species of attractive 
and even sublime quality1 if we only are
 wise enough not to scorn the study of  
them4 ,the higher the mind1 it may be   
taken as a universal rule1 the less it  
will scorn that which appears to be     
small or unimportant2 and the rank of a 
painter may always be determined by     
observing how he uses1 and with what    

respect he views the minutiae of nature4
 ,greatness of mind is not shown by     
admitting small things1 but by making   
small things great under its influence4 
,he who can take no interest in what is 
small1 will take false interest in what 
is great2 he who cannot make a bank     
sublime1 will make a mountain           
ridiculous4   ,sec4 #bi4 ,the unison of 
all in the ideal foregrounds of the     
,academy         pictures4  ,sec4 #cj4  
,and the great lesson to be received    
from all4  ,it is not until we have made
 ourselves acquainted with these simple 
facts of form1 as they are illustrated  
by the slighter works of ,turner1 that  
we can become at all competent to enjoy 
the combination of all1 in such works as
 the ,mercury and ,argus1 or ,bay of    
,baiae1 in which the mind is at first   
bewildered by the abundant outpouring of
 the master's knowledge4 ,often as ,i   
have paused before these noble works1 ,i
 never felt on returning to them as if  
,i had ever seen them before2 for their 

abundance is so deep and various that   
the mind1 according to its own temper at
 the time of seeing1 perceives some new 
series of truths rendered in them1 just 
as it would on revisiting a natural     
scene2 and detects new relations and    
associations of these truths which set  
the whole picture in a different light  
at every return to it4 ,and this effect 
is especially caused by the management  
of the foreground2 for the more marked  
objects of the picture may be taken one 
by one1 and thus examined and known2 but
 the foregrounds of ,turner are so      
united in all their parts that the eye  
cannot take them by divisions1 but is   
guided from stone to stone1 and bank to 
bank1 discovering truths totally        
different in aspect1 according to the   
direction in which it approaches them1  
and approaching them in a different     
direction1 and viewing them as a part of
 a new system1 every time that it begins
 its course at a new point4 ,one lesson1
 however1 we are invariably taught by   

all1 however approached or viewed1--that
 the work of the ,great ,spirit of      
nature is as deep and unapproachable in 
the lowest as in the noblest            
objects1--that the ,divine mind is as   
visible in its full energy of operation 
on every lowly bank and mouldering      
stone1 as in the lifting of the pillars 
of heaven1 and settling the foundation  
of the earth2 and that to the rightly   
perceiving mind1 there is the same      
infinity1 the same majesty1 the same    
power1 the same unity1 and the same     
perfection1 manifest in the casting of  
the clay as in the scattering of the    
cloud1 in the mouldering of the dust as 
in the kindling of the day-star4        
,,footnotes    #eh ,i have cut out a    
passage in this place which insisted on 
the     angular character of rocks1--not
 because it was false1 but because      
it was incomplete1 and ,i cannot explain
 it nor complete it without     example4
 ,it is not the absence of curves1 but  
the suggestion of     hardness through  

curves1 and of the under tendencies of  
the inward     structure1 which form the
 true characteristics of rock form2 and 
,salvator1 whom neither here nor        
elsewhere ,i have abused enough1 is     
not wrong because he paints curved      
rocks1 but because his curves are       
the curves of ribbons and not of rocks2 
and the difference between     rock     
curvature and other curvature ,i cannot 
explain verbally1 but ,i     hope to do 
it hereafter by illustration2 and1 at   
present1 let the     reader study the   
rock-drawing of the ,mont ,st4 ,gothard 
subject1 in     the ,liber ,studiorum1  
and compare it with any examples of     
,salvator to     which he may happen to 
have access4 ,all the account of rocks  
here     given is altogether inadequate1
 and ,i only do not alter it because ,i 
first wish to give longer study to the  
subject4    #ei ,a passage which ,i     
happened to see in an ,essay of ,mr4    
,pyne's1 in     the ,art-,union1 about  
nature's foisting rubbish upon the      

artist1     sufficiently explains the   
cause of this decline4 ,if ,mr4 ,pyne   
will go     to nature1 as all great men 
have done1 and as all men who mean to be
     great must do1 that is not merely  
to be helped1 but to be taught     by   
her2 and will once or twice take her    
gifts1 without looking them     in the  
mouth1 he will most assuredly find--and 
,i say this in no     unkind or         
depreciatory feeling1 for ,i should say 
the same of all     artists who are in  
the habit of only sketching nature1 and 
not     studying her--that her worst is 
better than his best4 ,i am quite       
sure that if ,mr4 ,pyne1 or any other   
painter who has hitherto been     very  
careful in his choice of subject1 will  
go into the next     turnpike-road1 and 
taking the first four trees that he     
comes to in     the hedge1 give them a  
day each1 drawing them leaf for leaf1 as
 far     as may be1 and even their      
smallest boughs with as much care as if 
they were rivers1 or an important map of

 a newly-surveyed country1     he will  
find1 when he has brought them all home1
 that at least three     out of the four
 are better than the best he ever       
invented4 ,compare     ,part ,,iii4     
,sect4 ,i4 ,chap4 ,,iii4 ,sec4 #ab1 #ac1
 7the reference in the note     ought to
 be to ,chap4 ,,xv4 ,sec4 #g47    #fj   
,in the light between the waterfall and 
the large dark mass on     the extreme  
right4                                  
,,section ,v4                           
,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,water4              
,,chapter ,i4                     ,,of  
,,water1 ,,as ,,painted ,,by ,,the      
,,ancients4   ,sec4 #a4 ,sketch of the  
functions and infinite agency of water4 
,of all inorganic substances1 acting in 
their own proper nature1 and without    
assistance or combination1 water is the 
most wonderful4 ,if we think of it as   
the source of all the changefulness and 
beauty which we have seen in clouds2    
then as the instrument by which the     
earth we have contemplated was modelled 

into symmetry1 and its crags chiselled  
into grace2 then as1 in the form of     
snow1 it robes the mountains it has     
made1 with that transcendent light which
 we could not have conceived if we had  
not seen2 then as it exists in the form 
of the torrent--in the iris which spans 
it1 in the morning mist which rises from
 it1 in the deep crystalline pools which
 mirror its hanging shore1 in the broad 
lake and glancing river2 finally1 in    
that which is to all human minds the    
best emblem of unwearied1 unconquerable 
power1 the wild1 various1 fantastic1    
tameless unity of the sea2 what shall we
 compare to this mighty1 this universal 
element for glory and for beauty8 or how
 shall we follow its eternal            
changefulness of feeling8 ,it is like   
trying to paint a soul4   ,sec4 #b4 ,the
 ease with which a common representation
 of it may be given4 ,the               
impossibility of a faithful one4  ,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--is1  
perhaps1 the easiest task of art2 and   
even ordinary running or falling water  
may be sufficiently rendered1 by        
observing careful curves of projection  
with a dark ground1 and breaking a      
little white over it1 as we see done    
with judgment and truth by ,ruysdael4   
,but to paint the actual play of hue on 
the reflective surface1 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        
cataract1 or the precision and grace of 
the sea waves1 so exquisitely modelled1 
though so mockingly transient--so       
mountainous in its form1 yet so         
cloud-like in its motion--with its      
variety and delicacy of color1 when     
every ripple and wreath has some        
peculiar passage of reflection upon     
itself alone1 and the radiating and     
scintillating sunbeams are mixed with   
the dim hues of transparent depth and   

dark rock below2--to do this perfectly1 
is beyond the power of man2 to do it    
even partially1 has been granted to but 
one or two1 even of those few who have  
dared to attempt it4   ,sec4 #c4        
,difficulty of properly dividing the    
subject4  ,as the general laws which    
govern the appearances of water have    
equal effect on all its forms1 it would 
be injudicious to treat the subject in  
divisions2 for the same forces which    
govern the waves and foam of the        
torrent1 are equally influential on     
those of the sea2 and it will be more   
convenient to glance generally at the   
system of water-painting of each school 
and artist1 than to devote separate     
chapters to the examination of the lake1
 river1 or sea-painting of all4 ,we     
shall1 therefore1 vary our usual plan1  
and look first at the water-painting of 
the ancients2 then at that of the       
moderns generally2 lastly1 at that of   
,turner4   ,sec4 #d4 ,inaccuracy of     
study of water-effect among all         

painters4  ,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   
affected2 to describe them all would    
require a separate essay1 even if ,i    
possessed the requisite knowledge1 which
 ,i do not4 ,the accidental             
modifications under which general laws  
come into play are innumerable1 and     
often1 in their extreme complexity1     
inexplicable1 ,i suppose1 even by men of
 the most extended optical knowledge4   
,what ,i shall here state are a few only
 of the broadest laws verifiable by the 
reader's immediate observation1 but of  
which nevertheless1 ,i have found       
artists frequently ignorant2 owing to   
their habit of sketching from nature    
without thinking or reasoning1 and      
especially of finishing at home4 ,it is 
not often1 ,i believe1 that an artist   
draws the reflections in water as he    
sees them2 over large spaces1 and in    
weather that is not very calm1 it is    

nearly impossible to do so2 when it is  
possible1 sometimes in haste1 and       
sometimes in idleness1 and sometimes    
under the idea of improving nature1 they
 are slurred or misrepresented2 it is so
 easy to give something like a          
suggestive resemblance of calm water1   
that1 even when the landscape is        
finished from nature1 the water is      
merely indicated as something that may  
be done at any time1 and then1 in the   
home work1 come the cold leaden grays   
with some1 and the violent blues and    
greens with others1 and the horizontal  
lines with the feeble1 and the bright   
touches and sparkles with the dexterous1
 and everything that is shallow and     
commonplace with all4 ,now1 the fact is1
 that there is hardly a roadside pond or
 pool which has not as much landscape in
 it as above it4 ,it is not the brown1  
muddy1 dull thing we suppose it to be2  
it has a heart like ourselves1 and in   
the bottom of that there are the boughs 
of the tall trees1 and the blades of the

 shaking-grass1 and all manner of hues1 
of variable1 pleasant light out of the  
sky2 nay1 the ugly gutter1 that         
stagnates over the drain bars1 in the   
heart of the foul city1 is not          
altogether base2 down in that1 if you   
will look deep enough1 you may see the  
dark1 serious blue of far-off sky1 and  
the passing of pure clouds4 ,it is at   
your own will that you see in that      
despised stream1 either the refuse of   
the street1 or the image of the sky--so 
it is with almost all other things that 
we unkindly despise4 ,now1 this         
farseeing is just the difference between
 the great and the vulgar painter2 the  
common man knows the roadside pool is   
muddy1 and draws its mud2 the great     
painter sees beneath and behind the     
brown surface what will take him a day's
 work to follow1 but he follows it1 cost
 what it will4 ,and if painters would   
only go out to the nearest common and   
take the nearest dirty pond among the   
furze1 and draw that thoroughly1 not    

considering that it is water that they  
are drawing1 and that water must be done
 in a certain way2 but drawing          
determinedly what they see1 that is to  
say1 all the trees1 and their shaking   
leaves1 and all the hazy passages of    
disturbing sunshine2 and the bottom seen
 in the clearer little bits at the edge1
 and the stones of it1 and all the sky1 
and the clouds far down in the middle1  
drawn as completely1 and more delicately
 they must be1 than the real clouds     
above1 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 matter2 but now  
they do nothing of the kind1 but take   
the ugly1 round1 yellow surface for     
granted1 or else improve it1 and1       
instead of giving that refined1 complex1
 delicate1 but saddened and gloomy      
reflection in the polluted water1 they  
clear it up with coarse flashes of      
yellow1 and green1 and blue1 and spoil  
their own eyes1 and hurt ours2 failing1 

of course1 still more hopelessly in     
touching the pure1 inimitable light of  
waves thrown loose2 and so ,canaletto is
 still thought to have painted canals1  
and ,vandevelde and ,backhuysen to have 
painted sea1 and the uninterpreted      
streams and maligned sea hiss shame upon
 us from all their rocky beds and hollow
 shores4   ,sec4 #e4 ,difficulty of     
treating this part of the subject4  ,i  
approach this part of my subject with   
more despondency than any other1 and    
that for several reasons2 first1 the    
water painting of all the elder         
landscape painters1 excepting a few of  
the better passages of ,claude and      
,ruysdael1 is so execrable1 so beyond   
all expression and explanation bad2     
,claude's and ,ruysdael's best so cold  
and valueless1 that ,i do not know how  
to address those who like such painting2
 ,i do not know what their sensations   
are respecting sea4 ,i can perceive     
nothing in ,vandevelde or ,backhuysen of
 the lowest redeeming merit2 no power1  

no presence of intellect--or evidence of
 perception--of any sort or kind2 no    
resemblance--even the feeblest--of      
anything natural2 no invention--even the
 most sluggish--of anything agreeable4  
,had they given us staring green seas   
with hatchet edges1 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 ,academy1 the admiration  
of them would have been comprehensible2 
there being a natural predilection in   
the mind of men for green waves with    
curling tops1 but not for clay and wool2
 so that though ,i can understand1 in   
some sort1 why people admire everything 
else in old art1 why they admire        
,salvator's rocks1 and ,claude's        
foregrounds1 and ,hobbima's trees1 and  
,paul ,potter's cattle1 and ,jan        
,steen's pans2 and while ,i can perceive
 in all these likings a root which seems
 right and legitimate1 and to be        
appealed to2 yet when ,i find they can  
even endure the sight of a ,backhuysen  

on their room walls 7,i speak seriously7
 it makes me hopeless at once4 ,i may be
 wrong1 or they may be wrong1 but at    
least ,i can conceive of no principle or
 opinion common between us1 which either
 can address or understand in the other2
 and yet ,i am wrong in this want of    
conception1 for ,i know that ,turner    
once liked ,vandevelde1 and ,i can trace
 the evil influence of ,vandevelde on   
most of his early sea painting1 but     
,turner certainly could not have liked  
,vandevelde without some legitimate     
cause4 ,another discouraging point is   
that ,i cannot catch a wave1 nor        
,daguerreotype it1 and so there is no   
coming to pure demonstration2 but the   
forms and hues of water must always be  
in some measure a matter of dispute and 
feeling1 and the more so because there  
is no perfect or even tolerably perfect 
sea painting to refer to3 the sea never 
has been1 and ,i fancy never will be nor
 can be painted2 it is only suggested by
 means of more or less spiritual and    

intelligent conventionalism2 and though 
,turner has done enough to suggest the  
sea mightily and gloriously1 after all  
it is by conventionalism still1 and     
there remains so much that is unlike    
nature1 that it is always possible for  
those who do not feel his power to      
justify their dislike1 on very          
sufficient and reasonable grounds2 and  
to maintain themselves obstinately      
unreceptant of the good1 by insisting on
 the deficiency which no mortal hand can
 supply1 and which commonly is most     
manifest on the one hand1 where most has
 been achieved on the other4  ,with calm
 water the case is different4 ,facts are
 ascertainable and demonstrable there1  
and by the notice of one or two of the  
simplest1 we may obtain some notion of  
the little success and intelligence of  
the elder painters in this easier field1
 and so prove their probable failure in 
contending with greater difficulties4   
,sec4 #f4 ,general laws which regulate  
the phenomena of water4 ,first1 the     

imperfection of its reflective surface4 
,first3 ,water1 of course1 owing to its 
transparency1 possesses not a perfectly 
reflective surface1 like that of        
speculum metal1 but a surface whose     
reflective power is dependent on the    
angle at which the rays to be reflected 
fall4 ,the smaller this angle1 the      
greater are the number of rays          
reflected4 ,now1 according to the number
 of rays reflected is the force of the  
image of objects above1 and according to
 the number of rays transmitted is the  
perceptibility of objects below the     
water4 ,hence the visible transparency  
and reflective power of water are in    
inverse ratio4 ,in looking down into it 
from above1 we receive transmitted rays 
which exhibit either the bottom1 or the 
objects floating in the water2 or else  
if the water be deep and clear1 we      
receive very few rays1 and the water    
looks black4 ,in looking along water we 
receive reflected rays1 and therefore   
the image of objects above it4 ,hence1  

in shallow water on a level shore the   
bottom is seen at our feet1 clearly2 it 
becomes more and more obscure as it     
retires1 even though the water do not   
increase in depth1 and at a distance of 
twelve or twenty yards--more or less    
according to our height above the       
water--becomes entirely invisible1 lost 
in the lustre of the reflected surface4 
,sec4 #g4 ,the inherent hue of water    
modifies dark reflections1 and does not 
affect bright ones4  ,second3 ,the      
brighter the objects reflected1 the     
larger the angle at which reflection is 
visible2 it is always to be remembered  
that1 strictly speaking1 only light     
objects are reflected1 and that the     
darker ones are seen only in proportion 
to the number of rays of light that they
 can send2 so that a dark object        
comparatively loses its power to affect 
the surface of water1 and the water in  
the space of a dark reflection is seen  
partially with the image of the object1 
and partially transparent4 ,it will be  

found on observation that under a       
bank--suppose with dark trees above     
showing spaces of bright sky1 the bright
 sky is reflected distinctly1 and the   
bottom of the water is in those spaces  
not seen2 but in the dark spaces of     
reflection we see the bottom of the     
water1 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 reflection4  ,this is  
one of the most beautiful circumstances 
connected with water surface1 for by    
these means a variety of color and a    
grace and evanescence are introduced in 
the reflection otherwise impossible4 ,of
 course at great distances even the     
darkest objects cast distinct images1   
and the hue of the water cannot be seen1
 but in near water the occurrence of its
 own color modifying the dark           
reflections1 while it leaves light ones 
unaffected1 is of infinite value4       
,take1 by way of example1 an extract    
from my own diary at ,venice4  ,may     

#agth1 #d ,p4,m4 ,looking east the water
 is calm1 and reflects the sky and      
vessels1 with this peculiarity2 the sky1
 which is pale blue1 is in its          
reflection of the same kind of blue1    
only a little deeper2 but the vessels'  
hulls1 which are black1 are reflected in
 pale sea green1 i4e41 the natural color
 of the water under sunlight2 while the 
orange masts of the vessels1 wet with a 
recent shower1 are reflected without    
change of color1 only not quite so      
bright as above4 ,one ship has a white1 
another a red stripe1 7,i ought to have 
said horizontal along the gunwales17 'of
 these the water takes no notice4'      
,what is curious1 a boat passes across  
with white and dark figures1 the water  
reflects the dark ones in green1 and    
misses out all the white2 this is       
chiefly owing to the dark images being  
opposed to the bright reflected sky4  ,i
 have left the passage about the white  
and red stripe1 because it will be      
useful to us presently2 all that ,i wish

 to insist upon here is the showing of  
the local color 7pea green7 of the water
 in the spaces which were occupied by   
dark reflections1 and the unaltered     
color of the bright ones4   ,sec4 #h4   
,water takes no shadow4  ,third3 ,clear 
water takes no shadow1 and that for two 
reasons2 ,a perfect surface of speculum 
metal takes no shadow1 7this the reader 
may instantly demonstrate for himself17 
and a perfectly transparent body as air 
takes no shadow2 hence water1 whether   
transparent or reflective1 takes no     
shadow4  ,but shadows1 or the forms of  
them1 appear on water frequently and    
sharply3 it is necessary carefully to   
explain the causes of these1 as they are
 one of the most eminent sources of     
error in water painting4  ,first3 ,water
 in shade is much more reflective than  
water in sunlight4 ,under sunlight the  
local color of the water is commonly    
vigorous and active1 and forcibly       
affects1 as we have seen1 all the dark  
reflections1 commonly diminishing their 

depth4 ,under shade1 the reflective     
power is in a high degree increased1#fa 
and it will be found most frequently    
that the forms of shadows are expressed 
on the surface of water1 not by actual  
shade1 but by more genuine reflection of
 objects above4 ,this is another most   
important and valuable circumstance1 and
 we owe to it some phenomena of the     
highest beauty4  ,a very muddy river1 as
 the ,arno for instance at ,florence1 is
 seen during sunshine of its own yellow 
color1 rendering all reflections        
discolored and feeble4 ,at twilight it  
recovers its reflective power to the    
fullest extent1 and the mountains of    
,carrara are seen reflected in it as    
clearly as if it were a crystalline     
lake4 ,the ,mediterranean1 whose        
determined blue yields to hardly any    
modifying color in daytime1 receives at 
evening the image of its rocky shores4  
,on our own seas1 seeming shadows are   
seen constantly cast in purple and blue1
 upon pale green4 ,these are no shadows1

 but the pure reflection of dark or blue
 sky above1 seen in the shadowed space1 
refused by the local color of the sea in
 the sunlighted spaces1 and turned more 
or less purple by the opposition of the 
vivid green4   ,sec4 #i4 ,modification  
of dark reflections by shadow4  ,we have
 seen1 however1 above1 that the local   
color of water1 while it comparatively  
refuses dark reflections1 accepts bright
 ones without deadening them4 ,hence    
when a shadow is thrown across a space  
of water of strong local color1         
receiving1 alternately1 light and dark  
reflections1 it has no power of         
increasing the reflectiveness of the    
water in the bright spaces1 still less  
of diminishing it2 hence1 on all the    
dark reflections it is seen more or less
 distinctly1 on all the light ones it   
vanishes altogether4  ,let us take an   
instance of the exquisite complexity of 
effect induced by these various         
circumstances in co-operation4  ,suppose
 a space of clear water showing the     

bottom under a group of trees1 showing  
sky through their branches1 casting     
shadows on the surface of the water1    
which we will suppose also to possess   
some color of its own4 ,close to us1 we 
shall see the bottom1 with the shadows  
of the trees clearly thrown upon it1 and
 the color of the water seen in its     
genuineness by transmitted light4       
,farther off1 the bottom will be        
gradually lost sight of1 but it will be 
seen in the dark reflections much       
farther than in the light ones4 ,at last
 it ceases to affect even the former1   
and the pure surface effect takes place4
 ,the blue bright sky is reflected      
truly1 but the dark trees are reflected 
imperfectly1 and the color of the water 
is seen instead4 ,where the shadow falls
 on these dark reflections a darkness is
 seen plainly1 which is found to be     
composed of the pure clear reflection of
 the dark trees2 when it crosses the    
reflection of the sky1 the shadow of    
course1 being thus fictitious1 vanishes4

  ,farther1 of course on whatever dust  
and other foulness may be present in    
water1 real shadow falls clear and dark 
in proportion to the quantity of solid  
substance present4 ,on very muddy       
rivers1 real shadow falls in sunlight   
nearly as sharply as on land2 on our own
 sea1 the apparent shadow caused by     
increased reflection1 is much increased 
in depth by the chalkiness and impurity 
of the water4  ,farther1 when surface is
 rippled1 every ripple1 up to a certain 
variable distance on each side of the   
spectator1 and at a certain angle       
between him and the sun1 varying with   
the size and shape of the ripples1      
reflects to him a small image of the    
sun4 ,hence those dazzling fields of    
expanding light so often seen upon the  
sea4  ,any object that comes between the
 sun and these ripples1 takes from them 
the power of reflecting the sun1 and in 
consequence1 all their light2 hence any 
intervening objects cast apparent       
shadows upon such spaces of intense     

force1 and of the exact shape1 and in   
the exact place of real shadows1 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 mirror4 ,farther1 in all shallow   
water1 more or less in proportion to its
 shallowness1 but in some measure1 ,i   
suppose1 up to depths of forty or fifty 
fathoms1 and perhaps more1 the local    
color of the water depends in great     
measure on light reflected from the     
bottom4 ,this1 however1 is especially   
manifest in clear rivers like the       
,rhone1 where the absence of the light  
reflected from below forms an apparent  
shadow1 often visibly detached some     
distance from the floating object which 
casts it4   ,sec4 #aj4 ,examples on the 
water of the ,rhone4  ,the following    
extract from my own diary at ,geneva1   
with the subsequent one1 which is a     
continuation of that already given in   
part at ,venice1 will illustrate both   
this and the other points we have been  

stating4                                
,,geneva1 #bast ,april1 ,morning4  ,the 
sunlight falls from the cypresses of    
,rousseau's island straight towards the 
bridge4 ,the shadows of the bridge and  
of the trees fall on the water in leaden
 purple1 opposed to its general hue of  
aquamarine green4 ,this green color is  
caused by the light being reflected from
 the bottom1 though the bottom is not   
seen2 as is evident by its becoming     
paler towards the middle of the river1  
where the water shoals1 on which pale   
part the purple shadow of the small     
bridge falls most forcibly1 which       
shadow1 however1 is still only apparent1
 being the absence of this reflected    
light1 associated with the increased    
reflective power of the water1 which in 
those spaces reflects blue sky above4 ,a
 boat swings in the shoal water2 its    
reflection is cast in a transparent     
pea-green1 which is considerably darker 
than the pale aquamarine of the surface 
at the spot4 ,its shadow is detached    

from it just about half the depth of the
 reflection2 which1 therefore1 forms a  
bright green light between the keel of  
the boat and its shadow2 where the      
shadow cuts the reflection1 the         
reflection is darkest and something like
 the true color of the boat2 where the  
shadow falls out of the reflection1 it  
is of a leaden purple1 pale4 ,the boat  
is at an angle of about #bj deg4 below4 
,another boat nearer1 in deeper water1  
shows no shadow1 whatsoever1 and the    
reflection is marked by its transparent 
green1 while the surrounding water takes
 a lightish blue reflection from the    
sky4  ,the above notes1 after what has  
been said1 require no comment2 but one  
more case must be stated belonging to   
rough water4 ,every large wave of the   
sea is in ordinary circumstances divided
 into1 or rather covered by1 innumerable
 smaller waves1 each of which1 in all   
probability1 from some of its edges or  
surfaces reflects the sunbeams2 and     
hence result a glitter1 polish1 and     

vigorous light over the whole flank of  
the wave1 which are1 of course1         
instantly withdrawn within the space of 
a cast shadow1 whose form1 therefore1   
though it does not affect the great body
 or ground of the water in the least1 is
 sufficiently traceable by the          
withdrawal of the high lights2 also     
every string and wreath of foam above or
 within the wave takes real shadow1 and 
thus adds to the impression4  ,i have   
not stated one-half of the circumstances
 which produce or influence effects of  
shadow on water2 but lest ,i should     
confuse or weary the reader1 ,i leave   
him to pursue the subject for himself2  
enough having been stated to establish  
this general principle1 that whenever   
shadow is seen on clear water1 and1 in a
 measure1 even on foul water1 it is not1
 as on land1 a dark shade subduing where
 it falls the sunny general hue to a    
lower tone2 but it is a space of an     
entirely different color1 subject       
itself1 by its susceptibility of        

reflection1 to infinite varieties of    
depth and hue1 and liable1 under certain
 circumstances1 to disappear altogether2
 and that1 therefore1 whenever we have  
to paint such shadows1 it is not only   
the hue of the water itself that we have
 to consider1 but all the circumstances 
by which in the position attributed to  
them such shaded spaces could be        
affected4   ,sec4 #aa4 ,effect of ripple
 on distant water4  ,fourth3 ,if water  
be rippled1 the side of every ripple    
next to us reflects a piece of the sky1 
and the side of every ripple farthest   
from us reflects a piece of the opposite
 shore1 or of whatever objects may be   
beyond the ripple4 ,but as we soon lose 
sight of the farther sides of the       
ripples on the retiring surface1 the    
whole rippled space will then be        
reflective of the sky only4 ,thus1 where
 calm distant water receives reflections
 of high shores1 every extent of rippled
 surface appears as a bright line       
interrupting that reflection with the   

color of the sky4   ,sec4 #ab4          
,elongation of reflections by moving    
water4  ,fifth3 ,when a ripple or swell 
is seen at such an angle as to afford a 
view of its farther side1 it carries the
 reflection of objects farther down than
 calm water would4 ,therefore all motion
 in water elongates reflections1 and    
throws them into confused vertical      
lines4 ,the real amount of this         
elongation is not distinctly visible1   
except in the case of very bright       
objects1 and especially of lights1 as of
 the sun1 moon1 or lamps by a river     
shore1 whose reflections are hardly ever
 seen as circles or points1 which of    
course they are on perfectly calm water1
 but as long streams of tremulous light4
  ,but it is strange that while we are  
constantly in the habit of seeing the   
reflection of the sun1 which ought to be
 a mere circle1 elongated into a stream 
of light extending from the horizon to  
the shore1 the elongation of the        
reflection of a sail or other object to 

one-half of this extent is received1 if 
represented in a picture1 with          
incredulity by the greater number of    
spectators4 ,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        
themselves4 ,i have heard the truth of  
this simple effect disputed over and    
over again by intelligent persons1 and  
yet on any water so exposed as the      
lagoons of ,venice1 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 spectator4  ,there is1  
however1 a strange arbitrariness about  
this elongation of reflection1 which    
prevents it from being truly felt4 ,if  
we see on an extent of lightly swelling 
water surface the image of a bank of    
white clouds1 with masses of higher     
accumulation at intervals1 the water    
will not usually reflect the whole bank 
in an elongated form1 but it will       

commonly take the eminent parts1 and    
reflect them in long straight columns of
 defined breadth1 and miss the          
intermediate lower parts altogether2 and
 even in doing this it will be          
capricious1 for it will take one        
eminence1 and miss another1 with no     
apparent reason2 and often when the sky 
is covered with white clouds1 some of   
those clouds will cast long tower-like  
reflections1 and others none1 so        
arbitrarily that the spectator is often 
puzzled to find out which are the       
accepted and which the refused4  ,in    
many cases of this kind it will be found
 rather that the eye is1 from want of   
use and care1 insensible to the         
reflection than that the reflection is  
not there2 and a little thought and     
careful observation will show us that   
what we commonly suppose to be a surface
 of uniform color is1 indeed1 affected  
more or less by an infinite variety of  
hues1 prolonged1 like the sun image1    
from a great distance1 and that our     

apprehension of its lustre1 purity1 and 
even of its surface1 is in no small     
degree dependent on our feeling of these
 multitudinous hues1 which the continual
 motion of that surface prevents us from
 analyzing or understanding for what    
they are4   ,sec4 #ac4 ,effect of       
rippled water on horizontal and inclined
 images4  ,sixth3 ,rippled water1 of    
which we can see the farther side of the
 waves1 will reflect a perpendicular    
line clearly1 a bit of its length being 
given on the side of each wave1 and     
easily joined by the eye4 ,but if the   
line slope1 its reflection will be      
excessively confused and disjointed2 and
 if horizontal1 nearly invisible4 ,it   
was this circumstance which prevented   
the red and white stripe of the ships at
 ,venice1 noticed above1 from being     
visible4   ,sec4 #ad4 ,to what extent   
reflection is visible from above4       
,seventh3 ,every reflection is the image
 in reverse of just so much of the      
objects beside the water1 as we could   

see if we were placed as much under the 
level of the water as we are actually   
above it4 ,if an object be so far back  
from the bank1 that if we were five feet
 under the water level we could not see 
it over the bank1 then1 standing five   
feet above the water1 we shall not be   
able to see its image under the         
reflected bank4 ,hence the reflection of
 all objects that have any slope back   
from the water is shortened1 and at last
 disappears as we rise above it4 ,lakes 
seen from a great height appear like    
plates of metal set in the landscape1   
reflecting the sky but none of their    
shores4   ,sec4 #ae4 ,deflection of     
images on agitated water4  ,eighth3 ,any
 given point of the object above the    
water is reflected1 if reflected at all1
 at some spot in a vertical line beneath
 it1 so long as the plane of the water  
is horizontal4 ,on rippled water a      
slight deflection sometimes takes place1
 and the image of a vertical tower will 
slope a little away from the wind1 owing

 to the casting of the image on the     
sloping sides of the ripples4 ,on the   
sloping sides of large waves the        
deflection is in proportion to the      
slope4 ,for rough practice1 after the   
slope of the wave is determined1 let the
 artist turn his paper until it becomes 
horizontal1 and then paint the          
reflections of any object upon it as on 
level water1 and he will be right4      
,sec4 #af4 ,necessity of watchfulness as
 well as of science4       ,licenses1   
how taken by great men4  ,such are the  
most common and general optical laws    
which are to be taken into consideration
 in the painting of water4 ,yet1 in the 
application of them1 as tests of good or
 bad water painting1 we must be cautious
 in the extreme4 ,an artist may know all
 these laws1 and comply with them1 and  
yet paint water execrably2 and he may be
 ignorant of every one of them1 and1 in 
their turn1 and in certain places1      
violate every one of them1 and yet paint
 water gloriously4 ,thousands of        

exquisite effects take place in nature1 
utterly inexplicable1 and which can be  
believed only while they are seen2 the  
combinations and applications of the    
above laws are so varied and complicated
 that no knowledge or labor could1 if   
applied analytically1 keep pace with    
them4 ,constant and eager watchfulness1 
and portfolios filled with actual       
statements of water-effect1 drawn on the
 spot and on the instant1 are worth more
 to the painter than the most extended  
optical knowledge2 without these all his
 knowledge will end in a pedantic       
falsehood4 ,with these it does not      
matter how gross or how daring here and 
there may be his violations of this or  
that law2 his very transgressions will  
be admirable4  ,it may be said1 that    
this is a dangerous principle to advance
 in these days of idleness4 ,i cannot   
help it2 it is true1 and must be        
affirmed4 ,of all contemptible          
criticism1 the most to be contemned is  
that which punishes great works of art  

when they fight without armor1 and      
refuses to feel or acknowledge the great
 spiritual refracted sun of their truth1
 because it has risen at a false angle1 
and burst upon them before its appointed
 time4 ,and yet1 on the other hand1 let 
it be observed that it is not feeling1  
nor fancy1 nor imagination1 so called1  
that ,i have put before science1 but    
watchfulness1 experience1 affection and 
trust in nature2 and farther let it be  
observed1 that there is a difference    
between the license taken by one man and
 another1 which makes one license       
admirable1 and the other punishable2 and
 that this difference is of a kind      
sufficiently discernible by every       
earnest person1 though it is not so     
explicable as that we can beforehand say
 where and when1 or even to whom1 the   
license is to be forgiven4 ,in the      
,paradise of ,tintoret1 in the ,academy 
of ,venice1 the ,angel is seen in the   
distance driving ,adam and ,eve out of  
the garden4 ,not1 for ,tintoret1 the    

leading to the gate with consolation or 
counsel2 his strange ardor of conception
 is seen here as everywhere4 ,full speed
 they fly1 the angel and the human      
creatures2 the angel wrapt in an orb of 
light floats on1 stooped forward in his 
fierce flight1 and does not touch the   
ground2 the chastised creatures rush    
before him in abandoned terror4 ,all    
this might have been invented by        
another1 though in other hands it would 
assuredly have been offensive2 but one  
circumstance which completes the story  
could have been thought of or dared by  
none but ,tintoret4 ,the ,angel casts a 
,,shadow before him towards ,adam and   
,eve4  ,now that a globe of light should
 cast a shadow is a license1 as far as  
mere optical matters are concerned1 of  
the most audacious kind4 ,but how       
beautiful is the circumstance in its    
application here1 showing that the      
angel1 who is light to all else around  
him1 is darkness to those whom he is    
commissioned to banish forever4  ,i have

 before noticed the license of ,rubens  
in making his horizon an oblique line4  
,his object is to carry the eye to a    
given point in the distance4 ,the road  
winds to it1 the clouds fly at it1 the  
trees nod to it1 a flock of sheep       
scamper towards it1 a carter points his 
whip at it1 his horses pull for it1 the 
figures push for it1 and the horizon    
slopes to it4 ,if the horizon had been  
horizontal1 it would have embarrassed   
everything and everybody4  ,in ,turner's
 ,pas de ,calais there is a buoy poised 
on the ridge of a near wave4 ,it casts  
its reflection vertically down the flank
 of the wave1 which slopes steeply4 ,i  
cannot tell whether this is a license or
 a mistake2 ,i suspect the latter1 for  
the same thing occurs not unfrequently  
in ,turner's seas2 but ,i am almost     
certain that it would have been done    
wilfully in this case1 even had the     
mistake been pointed out1 for the       
vertical line is necessary to the       
picture1 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 fault4   ,sec4
 #ag4 ,various licenses or errors in    
water painting of ,claude1 ,cuyp1       
,vandevelde4  ,in one of the smaller    
rooms of the ,uffizii at ,florence1 off 
the ,tribune1 there are two so-called   
,claudes2 one a pretty wooded landscape1
 ,i think a copy1 the other a marine    
with architecture1 very sweet and       
genuine4 ,the sun is setting at the side
 of the picture1 it casts a long stream 
of light upon the water4 ,this stream of
 light is oblique1 and comes from the   
horizon1 where it is under the sun1 to a
 point near the centre of the picture4  
,if this had been done as a license1 it 
would be an instance of most absurd and 
unjustifiable license1 as the fault is  
detected by the eye in a moment1 and    
there is no occasion nor excuse for it4 
,but ,i imagine it to be an instance    
rather of the harm of imperfect science4
 ,taking his impression instinctively   

from nature1 ,claude usually did what is
 right and put his reflection vertically
 under the sun2 probably1 however1 he   
had read in some treatise on optics that
 every point in this reflection was in a
 vertical plane between the sun and     
spectator2 or he might have noticed     
walking on the shore that the reflection
 came straight from the sun to his feet1
 and intending to indicate the position 
of the spectator1 drew in his next      
picture the reflection sloping to the   
supposed point1 the error being         
excusable enough1 and plausible enough  
to have been lately revived and         
systematized4#fb  ,in the picture of    
,cuyp1 ,no4 #hc in the ,dulwich         
,gallery1 the post at the end of the    
bank casts three or four radiating      
reflections4 ,this is visibly neither   
license nor half science1 but pure      
ignorance4 ,again1 in the picture       
attributed to ,paul ,potter1 ,no4 #agf1 
,dulwich ,gallery1 ,i believe most      
people must feel1 the moment they look  

at it1 that there is something wrong    
with the water1 that it looks odd1 and  
hard1 and like ice or lead2 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 lustrous1 
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   
moss1 rather than like a pond4 ,the     
reason is1 that while this water        
receives clear reflections from the     
fence and hedge on the left1 and is     
everywhere smooth and evidently capable 
of giving true images1 it yet reflects  
none of the cows4  ,in the ,vandevelde  
7#aac7 there is not a line of ripple or 
swell in any part of the sea2 it is     
absolutely windless1 and the near boat  
casts its image with great fidelity1    
which being unprolonged downwards       
informs us that the calm is perfect1    
7,rule ,v417 and being unshortened      
informs us that we are on a level with  

the water1 or nearly so4 7,rule ,,vii47 
,yet underneath the vessel on the right1
 the gray shade which stands for        
reflection breaks off immediately1      
descending like smoke a little way below
 the hull1 then leaving the masts and   
sails entirely unrecorded4 ,this ,i     
imagine to be not ignorance1 but        
unjustifiable license4 ,vandevelde      
evidently desired to give an impression 
of great extent of surface1 and thought 
that if he gave the reflection more     
faithfully1 as the tops of the masts    
would come down to the nearest part of  
the surface1 they would destroy the     
evidence of distance1 and appear to set 
the ship above the boat instead of      
beyond it4 ,i doubt not in such awkward 
hands that such would indeed have been  
the case1 but he is not on that account 
to be excused for painting his surface  
with gray horizontal lines1 as is done  
by nautically-disposed children2 for no 
destruction of distance in the ocean is 
so serious a loss as that of its        

liquidity4 ,it is better to feel a want 
of extent in the sea1 than an extent    
which we might walk upon or play at     
billiards upon4   ,sec4 #ah4 ,and       
,canaletto4  ,among all the pictures of 
,canaletto1 which ,i have ever seen1 and
 they are not a few1 ,i remember but one
 or two where there is any variation    
from one method of treatment of the     
water4 ,he almost always covers the     
whole space of it with one monotonous   
ripple1 composed of a coat of           
well-chosen1 but perfectly opaque and   
smooth sea-green1 covered with a certain
 number1 ,i cannot state the exact      
average1 but it varies from three       
hundred and fifty to four hundred and   
upwards1 according to the extent of     
canvas to be covered1 of white concave  
touches1 which are very properly        
symbolical of ripple4  ,and1 as the     
canal retires back from the eye1 he very
 geometrically diminishes the size of   
his ripples1 until he arrives at an even
 field of apparently smooth water4 ,by  

our sixth rule1 this rippling water as  
it retires should show more and more of 
the reflection of the sky above it1 and 
less and less of that of objects beyond 
it1 until1 at two or three hundred yards
 down the canal1 the whole field of     
water should be one even gray or blue1  
the color of the sky receiving no       
reflections whatever of other objects4  
,what does ,canaletto do8 ,exactly in   
proportion as he retires1 he displays   
more and more of the reflection of      
objects1 and less and less of the sky1  
until1 three hundred yards away1 all the
 houses are reflected as clear and sharp
 as in a quiet lake4  ,this1 again1 is  
wilful and inexcusable violation of     
truth1 of which the reason1 as in the   
last case1 is the painter's             
consciousness of weakness4 ,it is one of
 the most difficult things in the world 
to express the light reflection of the  
blue sky on a distant ripple1 and to    
make the eye understand the cause of the
 color1 and the motion of the apparently

 smooth water1 especially where there   
are buildings above to be reflected1 for
 the eye never understands the want of  
the reflection4 ,but it is the easiest  
and most agreeable thing in the world to
 give the inverted image3 it occupies a 
vast space of otherwise troublesome     
distance in the simplest way possible1  
and is understood by the eye at once4   
,hence ,canaletto is glad1 as any other 
inferior workman would be1 not to say   
obliged1 to give the reflections in the 
distance4 ,but when he comes up close to
 the spectator1 he finds the smooth     
surface just as troublesome near1 as the
 ripple would have been far off4 ,it is 
a very nervous thing for an ignorant    
artist to have a great space of vacant  
smooth water to deal with1 close to him1
 too far down to take reflections from  
buildings1 and yet which must be made to
 look flat and retiring and transparent4
 ,canaletto1 with his sea-green1 did not
 at all feel himself equal to anything  
of this kind1 and had therefore no      

resource but in the white touches above 
described1 which occupy the alarming    
space without any troublesome necessity 
for knowledge or invention1 and supply  
by their gradual diminution some means  
of expressing retirement of surface4 ,it
 is easily understood1 therefore1 why he
 should adopt this system1 which is just
 what any awkward workman would         
naturally cling to1 trusting to the     
inaccuracy of observation of the public 
to secure him from detection4   ,sec4   
#ai4 ,why unpardonable4  ,now in all    
these cases it is not the mistake or the
 license itself1 it is not the          
infringement of this or that law which  
condemns the picture1 but it is the     
spirit and habit of mind in which the   
license is taken1 the cowardice or      
bluntness of feeling1 which infects     
every part alike1 and deprives the whole
 picture of vitality4 ,canaletto1 had he
 been a great painter1 might have cast  
his reflections wherever he chose1 and  
rippled the water wherever he chose1 and

 painted his sea sloping if he chose1   
and neither ,i nor any one else should  
have dared to say a word against him2   
but he is a little and a bad painter1   
and so continues everywhere multiplying 
and magnifying mistakes1 and adding     
apathy to error1 until nothing can any  
more be pardoned in him4 ,if it be but  
remembered that every one of the        
surfaces of those multitudinous ripples 
is in nature a mirror which catches1    
according to its position1 either the   
image of the sky or of the silver beaks 
of the gondolas1 or of their black      
bodies and scarlet draperies1 or of the 
white marble1 or the green sea-weed on  
the low stones1 it cannot but be felt   
that those waves would have something   
more of color upon them than that opaque
 dead green4 ,green they are by their   
own nature1 but it is a transparent and 
emerald hue1 mixing itself with the     
thousand reflected tints without        
overpowering the weakest of them2 and   
thus1 in every one of those individual  

waves1 the truths of color are          
contradicted by ,canaletto by the       
thousand4  ,venice is sad and silent    
now1 to what she was in his time2 the   
canals are choked gradually one by one1 
and the foul water laps more and more   
sluggishly against the rent foundations2
 but even yet1 could ,i but place the   
reader at the early morning on the quay 
below the ,rialto1 when the market      
boats1 full laden1 float into groups of 
golden color1 and let him watch the     
dashing of the water about their        
glittering steely heads1 and under the  
shadows of the vine leaves1 and show him
 the purple of the grapes and the figs1 
and the glowing of the scarlet gourds   
carried away in long streams upon the   
waves1 and among them1 the crimson fish 
baskets1 plashing and sparkling1 and    
flaming as the morning sun falls on     
their wet tawny sides1 and above1 the   
painted sails of the fishing boats1     
orange and white1 scarlet and blue1 and 
better than all such florid color1 the  

naked1 bronzed1 burning limbs of the    
seamen1 the last of the old ,venetian   
race1 who yet keep the right ,giorgione 
color on their brows and bosoms1 in     
strange contrast with the sallow sensual
 degradation of the creatures that live 
in the cafes of the ,piazza1 he would   
not be merciful to ,canaletto any more4 
,sec4 #bj4 ,the ,dutch painters of sea4 
,yet even ,canaletto1 in relation to the
 truths he had to paint1 is spiritual1  
faithful1 powerful1 compared to the     
,dutch painters of sea4 ,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 attention1 which is never given2 but 
it is not so easily understood1         
considering how many there are who love 
the sea1 and look at it1 that           
,vandevelde and such others should be   
tolerated4 ,as ,i before said1 ,i feel  
utterly hopeless in addressing the      
admirers of these men1 because ,i do not

 know what it is in their works which is
 supposed to be like nature4 ,foam      
appears to me to curdle and cream on the
 wave sides and to fly1 flashing from   
their crests1 and not to be set astride 
upon them like a peruke2 and waves      
appear to me to fall1 and plunge1 and   
toss1 and nod1 and crash over1 and not  
to curl up like shavings2 and water     
appears to me1 when it is gray1 to have 
the gray of stormy air mixed with its   
own deep1 heavy1 thunderous1 threatening
 blue1 and not the gray of the first    
coat of cheap paint on a deal door2 and 
many other such things appear to me     
which1 as far as ,i can conjecture by   
what is admired of marine painting1     
appear to no one else2 yet ,i shall have
 something more to say about these men  
presently1 with respect to the effect   
they have had upon ,turner2 and         
something more1 ,i hope1 hereafter1 with
 the help of illustration4   ,sec4 #ba4 
,ruysdael1 ,claude1 and ,salvator4      
,there is a sea-piece of ,ruysdael's in 

the ,louvre#fc which1 though nothing    
very remarkable in any quality of art1  
is at least forceful1 agreeable1 and1 as
 far as it goes1 natural2 the waves have
 much freedom of action1 and power of   
color2 the wind blows hard over the     
shore1 and the whole picture may be     
studied with profit as a proof that the 
deficiency of color and everything else 
in ,backhuysen's works1 is no fault of  
the ,dutch sea4 ,there is sublimity and 
power in every field of nature from the 
pole to the line2 and though the        
painters of one country are often better
 and greater1 universally1 than those of
 another1 this is less because the      
subjects of art are wanting anywhere1   
than because one country or one age     
breeds mighty and thinking men1 and     
another none4  ,ruysdael's painting of  
falling water and brook scenery is also 
generally agreeable--more than agreeable
 it can hardly be considered4 ,there    
appears no exertion of mind in any of   
his works2 nor are they calculated to   

produce either harm or good by their    
feeble influence4 ,they are good        
furniture pictures1 unworthy of praise1 
and undeserving of blame4  ,the seas of 
,claude are the finest pieces of        
water-painting in ancient art4 ,i do not
 say that ,i like them1 because they    
appear to me selections of the          
particular moment when the sea is most  
insipid and characterless2 but ,i think 
that they are exceedingly true to the   
forms and time selected1 or at least    
that the fine instances of them are so1 
of which there are exceedingly few4  ,on
 the right hand of one of the marines of
 ,salvator1 in the ,pitti palace1 there 
is a passage of sea reflecting the      
sunrise1 which is thoroughly good1 and  
very like ,turner2 the rest of the      
picture1 as the one opposite to it1     
utterly virtueless4 ,i have not seen any
 other instance of ,salvator's painting 
water with any care1 it is usually as   
conventional as the rest of his work1   
yet conventionalism is perhaps more     

tolerable in water-painting than        
elsewhere2 and if his trees and rocks   
had been good1 the rivers might have    
been generally accepted without         
objection4   ,sec4 #bb4 ,nicholas       
,poussin4  ,the merits of ,poussin as a 
sea or water painter may1 ,i think1 be  
sufficiently determined by the ,deluge  
in the ,louvre1 where the breaking up of
 the fountains of the deep is typified  
by the capsizing of a wherry over a     
weir4  ,in the outer porch of ,st4      
,mark's at ,venice1 among the mosaics on
 the roof1 there is a representation of 
the deluge4 ,the ground is dark blue2   
the rain is represented in bright white 
undulating parallel stripes2 between    
these stripes is seen the massy outline 
of the ark1 a bit between each stripe1  
very dark and hardly distinguishable    
from the sky2 but it has a square window
 with a bright golden border1 which     
glitters out conspicuously1 and leads   
the eye to the rest--the sea below is   
almost concealed with dead bodies4  ,on 

the font of the church of ,san ,frediano
 at ,lucca1 there is a representation   
of--possibly--the ,israelites and       
,egyptians in the ,red ,sea4 ,the sea is
 typified by undulating bands of stone1 
each band composed of three plies       
7almost the same type is to be seen in  
the glass-painting of the twelfth and   
thirteenth centuries1 as especially at  
,chartres74 ,these bands would perhaps  
be hardly felt as very aqueous1 but for 
the fish which are interwoven with them 
in a complicated manner1 their heads    
appearing at one side of every band1 and
 their tails at the other4  ,both of    
these representatives of deluge1 archaic
 and rude as they are1 ,i consider      
better1 more suggestive1 more inventive1
 and more natural1 than ,poussin's4     
,indeed1 this is not saying anything    
very depreciatory1 as regards the ,st4  
,mark's one1 for the glittering of the  
golden window through the rain is       
wonderfully well conceived1 and almost  
deceptive1 looking as if it had just    

caught a gleam of sunlight on its panes1
 and there is something very sublime in 
the gleam of this light above the       
floating corpses4 ,but the other        
instance is sufficiently grotesque and  
imperfect1 and yet1 ,i speak with       
perfect seriousness1 it is1 ,i think1   
very far preferable to ,poussin's4  ,on 
the other hand1 there is a just medium  
between the meanness and apathy of such 
a conception as his1 and the            
extravagance1 still more contemptible1  
with which the subject has been treated 
in modern days4#fd ,i am not aware that 
,i can refer to any instructive example 
of this intermediate course1 for ,i fear
 the reader is by this time wearied of  
hearing of ,turner1 and the plate of    
,turner's picture of the deluge is so   
rare that it is of no use to refer to   
it4   ,sec4 #bc4 ,venetians and         
,florentines4 ,conclusion4  ,it seems   
exceedingly strange that the great      
,venetian painters should have left us  
no instance1 as far as ,i know1 of any  

marine effects carefully studied4 ,as   
already noted1 whatever passages of sea 
occur in their backgrounds are merely   
broad extents of blue or green surface1 
fine in color1 and coming dark usually  
against the horizon1 well enough to be  
understood as sea1 7yet even that not   
always without the help of a ship17 but 
utterly unregarded in all questions of  
completion and detail4 ,the water even  
in ,titian's landscape is almost always 
violently though grandly conventional1  
and seldom forms an important feature4  
,among the religious schools very sweet 
motives occur1 but nothing which for a  
moment can be considered as real        
water-painting4 ,perugino's sea is      
usually very beautifully felt2 his river
 in the fresco of ,sta4 ,maddalena at   
,florence is freely indicated1 and looks
 level and clear2 the reflections of the
 trees given with a rapid zigzag stroke 
of the brush4 ,on the whole1 ,i suppose 
that the best imitations of level water 
surface to be found in ancient art are  

in the clear ,flemish landscapes4       
,cuyp's are usually very satisfactory1  
but even the best of these attain       
nothing more than the agreeable         
suggestion of calm pond or river4 ,of   
any tolerable representation of water in
 agitation1 or under any circumstances  
that bring out its power and character1 
,i know no instance2 and the more       
capable of noble treatment the subject  
happens to be1 the more manifest        
invariably is the painter's want of     
feeling in every effort1 and of         
knowledge in every line4   ,,footnotes  
#fa ,i state this merely as a fact3 ,i  
am unable satisfactorily to     account 
for it on optical principles1 and were  
it otherwise1 the     investigation     
would be of little interest to the      
general reader1 and     little value to 
the artist4    #fb ,parsey's            
,convergence of ,perpendiculars4 ,i have
 not space here     to enter into any   
lengthy exposure of this mistake1 but   
reasoning is     fortunately            

unnecessary1 the appeal to experiment   
being easy4 ,every     picture is the   
representation1 as before stated1 of a  
vertical plate     of glass1 with what  
might be seen through it1 drawn on its  
surface4     ,let a vertical plate of   
glass be taken1 and wherever it be      
placed1     whether the sun be at its   
side or at its centre1 the reflection   
will     always be found in a vertical  
line under the sun1 parallel with the   
side of the glass4 ,the pane of any     
window looking to sea is all the        
apparatus necessary for this experiment1
 and yet it is not long     since this  
very principle was disputed with me by a
 man of much     taste and information1 
who supposed ,turner to be wrong in     
drawing     the reflection straight down
 at the side of his picture1 as in his  
,lancaster ,sands1 and innumerable other
 instances4    #fc ,in the last edition 
of this work was the following          
passage3--,i     wish ,ruysdael had     
painted one or two rough seas4 ,i       

believe if he had     he might have     
saved the unhappy public from much      
grievous     victimizing1 both in mind  
and pocket1 for he would have shown that
     ,vandevelde and ,backhuysen were   
not quite sea-deities4 ,the writer      
has to thank the editor of ,murray's    
,handbook of ,painting in ,italy     for
 pointing out the oversight4 ,he had    
passed many days in the     ,louvre     
before the above passage was written1   
but had not been in the     habit of    
pausing long anywhere except in the last
 two rooms1     containing the pictures 
of the ,italian school4 ,the conjecture1
     however1 shows that he had not     
ill-estimated the power of ,ruysdael2   
nor does he consider it as in anywise   
unfitting him for the task he     has   
undertaken1 that for every hour passed  
in galleries he has     passed days on  
the seashore4    #fd ,i am here1 of     
course1 speaking of the treatment of the
 subject     as a landscape only2 many  
mighty examples of its conception occur 

where the sea1 and all other adjuncts1  
are entirely subservient to     the     
figures1 as with ,raffaelle and ,m4     
,angelo4                                
,,chapter ,,ii4                         
,,of ,,water1 ,,as ,,painted ,,by ,,the 
,,moderns4   ,sec4 #a4 ,general power of
 the moderns in painting quiet water4   
,the lakes of        ,fielding4  ,there 
are few men among modern landscape      
painters1 who cannot paint quiet water  
at least suggestively1 if not           
faithfully4 ,those who are incapable of 
doing this1 would scarcely be considered
 artists at all2 and anything like the  
ripples of ,canaletto1 or the black     
shadows of ,vandevelde1 would be looked 
upon as most unpromising1 even in the   
work of a novice4 ,among those who most 
fully appreciate and render the         
qualities of space and surface in calm  
water1 perhaps ,copley ,fielding stands 
first4 ,his expanses of windless lake   
are among the most perfect passages of  
his works2 for he can give surface as   

well as depth1 and make his lake look   
not only clear1 but1 which is far more  
difficult1 lustrous4 ,he is less        
dependent than most of our artists upon 
reflections2 and can give substance1    
transparency1 and extent1 where another 
painter would be reduced to paper2 and  
he is exquisitely refined in his        
expression of distant breadth1 by the   
delicate line of ripple interrupting the
 reflection1 and by aerial qualities of 
color4 ,nothing1 indeed1 can be purer or
 more refined than his general feeling  
of lake sentiment1 were it not for a    
want of simplicity--a fondness for      
pretty1 rather than impressive color1   
and a consequent want of some of the    
higher expression of repose4   ,sec4 #b4
 ,the calm rivers of ,de ,wint1 ,j4     
,holland1 etc4  ,sec4 #c4 ,the character
 of bright and violent falling water4   
,sec4 #d4 ,as given by ,nesfield4       
,hundreds of men might be named1 whose  
works are highly instructive in the     
management of calm water4 ,de ,wint is  

singularly powerful and certain1        
exquisitely bright and vigorous in      
color4 ,the late ,john ,varley produced 
some noble passages4 ,i have seen1 some 
seven years ago1 works by ,j4 ,holland1 
which were1 ,i think1 as near perfection
 as water-color can be carried--for bona
 fide truth1 refined and finished to the
 highest degree4 ,but the power of      
modern artists is not brought out until 
they have greater difficulties to       
struggle with4 ,stand for half an hour  
beside the fall of ,schaffhausen1 on the
 north side where the rapids are long1  
and watch how the vault of water first  
bends1 unbroken1 in pure1 polished      
velocity1 over the arching rocks at the 
brow of the cataract1 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 star2 and how the     
trees are lighted above it under all    
their leaves1 at the instant that it    
breaks into foam2 and how all the       

hollows of that foam burn with green    
fire like so much shattering            
chrysoprase2 and how1 ever and anon1    
startling you with its white flash1 a   
jet of spray leaps hissing out of the   
fall like a rocket1 bursting in the wind
 and driven away in dust1 filling the   
air with light2 and how1 through the    
curdling wreaths of the restless1       
crashing abyss below1 the blue of the   
water1 paled by the foam in its body1   
shows purer than the sky through white  
rain-cloud2 while the shuddering iris   
stoops in tremulous stillness over all1 
fading and flushing alternately through 
the choking spray and shattered         
sunshine1 hiding itself at last among   
the thick golden leaves which toss to   
and fro in sympathy with the wild water2
 their dripping masses lifted at        
intervals1 like sheaves of loaded corn1 
by some stronger gush from the cataract1
 and bowed again upon the mossy rocks as
 its roar dies away2 the dew gushing    
from their thick branches through       

drooping clusters of emerald herbage1   
and sparkling in white threads along the
 dark rocks of the shore1 feeding the   
lichens which chase and checker them    
with purple and silver4 ,i believe1 when
 you have stood by this for half an     
hour1 you will have discovered that     
there is something more in nature than  
has been given by ,ruysdael4 ,probably  
you will not be much disposed to think  
of any mortal work at the time2 but when
 you look back to what you have seen1   
and are inclined to compare it with art1
 you will remember--or ought to         
remember--,nesfield4 ,he is a man of    
extraordinary feeling1 both for the     
color and the spirituality of a great   
waterfall2 exquisitely delicate in his  
management of the changeful veil of     
spray or mist2 just in his curves and   
contours2 and unequalled in color except
 by ,turner4 ,none of our water-color   
painters can approach him in the        
management of the variable hues of clear
 water over weeded rocks2 but his       

feeling for it often leads him a little 
too far1 and1 like ,copley ,fielding1 he
 loses sight of simplicity and dignity  
for the sake of delicacy or prettiness4 
,his waterfalls are1 however1 unequalled
 in their way2 and1 if he would         
remember1 that in all such scenes there 
is much gloom as well as much splendor1 
and relieve the lustre of his attractive
 passages of color with more definite   
and prevalent grays1 and give a little  
more substance to parts of his picture  
unaffected by spray1 his work would be  
nearly perfect4 ,his seas are also most 
instructive2 a little confused in       
chiaroscuro1 but refined in form and    
admirable in color4   ,sec4 #e4 ,the    
admirable water-drawing of ,j4 ,d4      
,harding4  ,sec4 #f4 ,his color2 and    
painting of sea4  ,j4 ,d4 ,harding is1  
,i think1 nearly unequalled in the      
drawing of running water4 ,i do not know
 what ,stanfield would do2 ,i have never
 seen an important piece of torrent     
drawn by him2 but ,i believe even he    

could scarcely contend with the         
magnificent abandon of ,harding's brush4
 ,there is perhaps nothing which tells  
more in the drawing of water than       
decisive and swift execution2 for1 in a 
rapid touch the hand naturally falls    
into the very curve of projection which 
is the absolute truth2 while in slow    
finish1 all precision of curve and      
character is certain to be lost1 except 
under the hand of an unusually powerful 
master4 ,but ,harding has both knowledge
 and velocity1 and the fall of his      
torrents is beyond praise2 impatient1   
chafing1 substantial1 shattering1       
crystalline1 and capricious2 full of    
various form1 yet all apparently        
instantaneous and accidental1 nothing   
conventional1 nothing dependent upon    
parallel lines or radiating curves2 all 
broken up and dashed to pieces over the 
irregular rock1 and yet all in unity of 
motion4 ,the color also of his falling  
and bright water is very perfect2 but in
 the dark and level parts of his        

torrents he has taken up a bad gray1    
which has hurt some of his best         
pictures4 ,his gray in shadows under    
rocks or dark reflections is admirable2 
but it is when the stream is in full    
light1 and unaffected by reflections in 
distance1 that he gets wrong4 ,we       
believe that the fault is in a want of  
expression of darkness in the color1    
making it appear like a positive hue of 
the water1 for which it is much too dead
 and cold4  ,harding seldom paints sea1 
and it is well for ,stanfield that he   
does not1 or the latter would have to   
look to his crown4 ,all that we have    
seen from his hand is1 as coast sea1    
quite faultless2 we only wish he would  
paint it more frequently2 always1       
however1 with a veto upon ,french       
fishing-boats4 ,in the ,exhibition of   
#ahdb1 he spoiled one of the most superb
 pieces of seashore and sunset which    
modern art has produced1 with the       
pestilent square sail of one of these   
clumsy craft1 which the eye could not   

escape from4   ,sec4 #g4 ,the sea of    
,copley ,fielding4 ,its exceeding grace 
and rapidity4  ,before passing to our   
great sea painter1 we must again refer  
to the works of ,copley ,fielding4 ,it  
is with his sea as with his sky1 he can 
only paint one1 and that an easy one1   
but it is1 for all that1 an impressive  
and a true one4 ,no man has ever given1 
with the same flashing freedom1 the race
 of a running tide under a stiff breeze1
 nor caught1 with the same grace and    
precision1 the curvature of the breaking
 wave1 arrested or accelerated by the   
wind4 ,the forward fling of his foam1   
and the impatient run of his surges1    
whose quick1 redoubling dash we can     
almost hear1 as they break in their     
haste upon their own bosoms1 are nature 
itself1 and his sea gray or green was1  
nine years ago1 very right1 as color2   
always a little wanting in transparency1
 but never cold or toneless4 ,since that
 time1 he seems to have lost the sense  
of greenness in water1 and has verged   

more and more on the purple and black1  
with unhappy results4 ,his sea was      
always dependent for effect on its light
 or dark relief against the sky1 even   
when it possessed color2 but it now has 
lost all local color and transparency   
together1 and is little more than a     
study of chiaroscuro in an exceedingly  
ill-chosen gray4 ,besides1 the perpetual
 repetition of the same idea is         
singularly weakening to the mind4       
,fielding1 in all his life1 can only be 
considered as having produced one sea   
picture4 ,the others are duplicates4 ,he
 ought to go to some sea of perfect     
clearness and brilliant color1 as that  
on the coast of ,cornwall1 or of the    
,gulf of ,genoa1 and study it sternly in
 broad daylight1 with no black clouds   
nor drifting rain to help him out of his
 difficulties4 ,he would then both learn
 his strength and add to it4   ,sec4 #h4
 ,its high aim at character4  ,sec4 #i4 
,but deficiency in the requisite quality
 of grays4  ,sec4 #aj4 ,variety of the  

grays of nature4  ,but there is one     
point in all his seas deserving especial
 praise--a marked aim at character4 ,he 
desires1 especially in his latter works1
 not so much to produce an agreeable    
picture1 a scientific piece of          
arrangement1 or delightful melody of    
color1 as to make us feel the utter     
desolation1 the cold1 withering1 frozen 
hopelessness of the continuous storm and
 merciless sea4 ,and this is peculiarly 
remarkable in his denying himself all   
color1 just in the little bits which an 
artist of inferior mind would paint in  
sienna and cobalt4 ,if a piece of broken
 wreck is allowed to rise for an instant
 through the boiling foam1 though the   
blue stripe of a sailor's jacket1 or a  
red rag of a flag would do all our      
hearts good1 we are not allowed to have 
it2 it would make us too comfortable1   
and prevent us from shivering and       
shrinking as we look1 and the artist1   
with admirable intention1 and most      
meritorious self-denial1 expresses his  

piece of wreck with a dark1 cold brown4 
,now we think this aim and effort worthy
 of the highest praise1 and we only wish
 the lesson were taken up and acted on  
by our other artists2 but ,mr4 ,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 picture2 for the   
eye1 deprived of all means of enjoying  
the gray hues1 merely as a contrast to  
bright points1 becomes painfully        
fastidious in the quality of the hues   
themselves1 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 stimulus4  
,that gray which would be taken frankly 
and freely for an expression of gloom1  
if it came behind a yellow sail or a red
 cap1 is examined with invidious and    
merciless intentness when there is      
nothing to relieve it1 and1 if not able 
to bear the investigation1 if neither   
agreeable nor variable in its hue1      

renders the picture weak instead of     
impressive1 and unpleasant instead of   
awful4 ,and indeed the management of    
nature might teach him this2 for though1
 when using violent contrasts1 she      
frequently makes her gloom somewhat     
monotonous1 the moment she gives up her 
vivid color1 and depends upon her       
desolation1 that moment she begins to   
steal the greens into her sea-gray1 and 
the browns and yellows into her         
cloud-gray1 and the expression of       
variously tinted light through all4 ,nor
 is ,mr4 ,fielding without a model in   
art1 for the ,land's ,end1 and          
,lowestoffe1 and ,snowstorm1 7in the    
,academy1 #ahdb17 of ,turner1 are       
nothing more than passages of the most  
hopeless1 desolate1 uncontrasted grays1 
and yet are three of the very finest    
pieces of color that have come from his 
hand4 ,and we sincerely hope that ,mr4  
,fielding will gradually feel the       
necessity of such studied melodies of   
quiet color1 and will neither fall back 

into the old tricks of contrast1 nor    
continue to paint with purple and ink4  
,if he will only make a few careful     
studies of gray from the mixed          
atmosphere of spray1 rain1 and mist of a
 gale that has been three days hard at  
work1 not of a rainy squall1 but of a   
persevering and powerful storm1 and not 
where the sea is turned into milk and   
magnesia by a chalk coast1 but where it 
breaks pure and green on gray slate or  
white granite1 as along the cliffs of   
,cornwall1 we think his pictures would  
present some of the finest examples of  
high intention and feeling to be found  
in modern art4   ,sec4 #aa4 ,works of   
,stanfield4 ,his perfect knowledge and  
power4  ,sec4 #ab4 ,but want of feeling4
 ,general sum of truth presented by     
modern art4  ,the works of ,stanfield   
evidently1 and at all times1 proceed    
from the hand of a man who has both     
thorough knowledge of his subject1 and  
thorough acquaintance with all the means
 and principles of art4 ,we never       

criticise them1 because we feel1 the    
moment we look carefully at the drawing 
of any single wave1 that the knowledge  
possessed by the master is much greater 
than our own1 and therefore believe that
 if anything offends us in any part of  
the work1 it is nearly certain to be our
 fault1 and not the painter's4 ,the     
local color of ,stanfield's sea is      
singularly true and powerful1 and       
entirely independent of any tricks of   
chiaroscuro4 ,he will carry a mighty    
wave up against the sky1 and make its   
whole body dark and substantial against 
the distant light1 using all the while  
nothing more than chaste and            
unexaggerated local color to gain the   
relief4 ,his surface is at once         
lustrous1 transparent1 and accurate to a
 hairbreadth in every curve2 and he is  
entirely independent of dark skies1 deep
 blues1 driving spray1 or any other     
means of concealing want of form1 or    
atoning for it4 ,he fears no difficulty1
 desires no assistance1 takes his sea in

 open daylight1 under general sunshine1 
and paints the element in its pure color
 and complete forms4 ,but we wish that  
he were less powerful1 and more         
interesting2 or that he were a little   
less ,diogenes-like1 and did not scorn  
all that he does not want4 ,now that he 
has shown us what he can do without such
 aids1 we wish he would show us what he 
can do with them4 ,he is1 as we have    
already said1 wanting in what we have   
just been praising in                   
,fielding--impressiveness4 ,we should   
like him to be less clever1 and more    
affecting--less wonderful1 and more     
terrible2 and as the very first step    
towards such an end1 to learn how to    
conceal4 ,we are1 however1 trenching    
upon matters with which we have at      
present nothing to do2 our concern is   
now only with truth1 and one work of    
,stanfield alone presents us with as    
much concentrated knowledge of sea and  
sky1 as1 diluted1 would have lasted any 
one of the old masters his life4 ,and   

let it be especially observed1 how      
extensive and how varied is the truth of
 our modern masters--how it comprises a 
complete history of that nature of      
which1 from the ancients1 you only here 
and there can catch a stammering        
descriptive syllable--how ,fielding has 
given us every character of the quiet   
lake1 ,robson#fe of the mountain tarn1  
,de ,wint of the lowland river1         
,nesfield of the radiant cataract1      
,harding of the roaring torrent1        
,fielding of the desolate sea1          
,stanfield of the blue1 open1 boundless 
ocean4 ,arrange all this in your mind1  
observe the perfect truth of it in all  
its parts1 compare it with the          
fragmentary falsities of the ancients1  
and then1 come with me to ,turner4      
,,footnotes    #fe ,i ought before to   
have alluded to the works of the late   
,g4     ,robson4 ,they are a little     
disagreeable in execution1 but there is 
a     feeling of the character of deep  
calm water in them quite     unequalled1

 and different from the works and       
thoughts of all other     men4          
,,chapter ,,iii4                        
,,of ,,water1 ,,as ,,painted ,,by       
,,turner4   ,sec4 #a4 ,the difficulty of
 giving surface to smooth water4  ,sec4 
#b4 ,is dependent on the structure of   
the eye1 and the focus by which         
the reflected rays are perceived4  ,i   
believe it is a result of the experience
 of all artists1 that it is the easiest 
thing in the world to give a certain    
degree of depth and transparency to     
water2 but that it is next thing to     
impossible1 to give a full impression of
 surface4 ,if no reflection be given--a 
ripple being supposed--the water looks  
like lead3 if reflection be given1 it in
 nine cases out of ten looks morbidly   
clear and deep1 so that we always go    
down into it1 even when the artist most 
wishes us to glide over it4 ,now1 this  
difficulty arises from the very same    
circumstance which occasions the        
frequent failure in effect of the best  

drawn foregrounds1 noticed in ,section  
,,ii4 ,chapter ,,iii41 the change1      
namely1 of focus necessary in the eye in
 order to receive rays of light coming  
from different distances4 ,go to the    
edge of a pond1 in a perfectly calm day1
 at some place where there is duckweed  
floating on the surface1--not thick1 but
 a leaf here and there4 ,now1 you may   
either see in the water the reflection  
of the sky1 or you may see the duckweed2
 but you cannot1 by any effort1 see both
 together4 ,if you look for the         
reflection1 you will be sensible of a   
sudden change or effort in the eye1 by  
which it adapts itself to the reception 
of the rays which have come all the way 
from the clouds1 have struck on the     
water1 and so been sent up again to the 
eye4 ,the focus you adopt is one fit for
 great distance2 and1 accordingly1 you  
will feel that you are looking down a   
great way under the water1 while the    
leaves of the duckweed1 though they lie 
upon the water at the very spot on which

 you are gazing so intently1 are felt   
only as a vague1 uncertain interruption1
 causing a little confusion in the image
 below1 but entirely indistinguishable  
as leaves1--and even their color unknown
 and unperceived4 ,unless you think of  
them1 you will not even feel that       
anything interrupts your sight1 so      
excessively slight is their effect4 ,if1
 on the other hand1 you make up your    
mind to look for the leaves of the      
duckweed1 you will perceive an          
instantaneous change in the effort of   
the eye1 by which it becomes adapted to 
receive near rays--those which have only
 come from the surface of the pond4 ,you
 will then see the delicate leaves of   
the duckweed with perfect clearness1 and
 in vivid green2 but while you do so1   
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  
hues1 without form or meaning1 which1 to
 investigate1 or find out what they mean

 or are1 you must quit your hold of the 
duckweed1 and plunge down4   ,sec4 #c4  
,morbid clearness occasioned in painting
 of water by distinctness of            
reflections4  ,sec4 #d4 ,how avoided by 
,turner4  ,sec4 #e4 ,all reflections on 
distant water are distinct4  ,hence it  
appears1 that whenever we see plain     
reflections of comparatively distant    
objects1 in near water1 we cannot       
possibly see the surface1 and vice      
versa2 so that when in a painting we    
give the reflections with the same      
clearness with which they are visible in
 nature1 we presuppose the effort of the
 eye to look under the surface1 and1 of 
course1 destroy the surface1 and induce 
an effect of clearness which1 perhaps1  
the artist has not particularly wished  
to attain1 but which he has found       
himself forced into1 by his reflections1
 in spite of himself4 ,and the reason of
 this effect of clearness appearing     
preternatural is1 that people are not in
 the habit of looking at water with the 

distant focus adapted to the            
reflections1 unless by particular       
effort4 ,we invariably1 under ordinary  
circumstances1 use the surface focus2   
and1 in consequence1 receive nothing    
more than a vague and confused          
impression of the reflected colors and  
lines1 however clearly1 calmly1 and     
vigorously all may be defined           
underneath1 if we choose to look for    
them4 ,we do not look for them1 but     
glide along over the surface1 catching  
only playing light and capricious color 
for evidence of reflection1 except where
 we come to images of objects close to  
the surface1 which the surface focus is 
of course adapted to receive2 and these 
we see clearly1 as of the weeds on the  
shore1 or of sticks rising out of the   
water1 etc4 ,hence1 the ordinary effect 
of water is only to be rendered by      
giving the reflections of the margin    
clear and distinct 7so clear they       
usually are in nature1 that it is       
impossible to tell where the water      

begins27 but the moment we touch the    
reflection of distant objects1 as of    
high trees or clouds1 that instant we   
must become vague and uncertain in      
drawing1 and1 though vivid in color and 
light as the object itself1 quite       
indistinct in form and feature4 ,if we  
take such a piece of water as that in   
the foreground of ,turner's ,chateau of 
,prince ,albert1 the first impression   
from it is1--,what a wide surface6 ,we  
glide over it a quarter of a mile into  
the picture before we know where we are1
 and yet the water is as calm and       
crystalline as a mirror2 but we are not 
allowed to tumble into it1 and gasp for 
breath as we go down1--we are kept upon 
the surface1 though that surface is     
flashing and radiant with every hue of  
cloud1 and sun1 and sky1 and foliage4   
,but the secret is in the drawing of    
these reflections4#ff ,we cannot tell   
when we look at them and for them1 what 
they mean4 ,they have all character1 and
 are evidently reflections of something 

definite and determined2 but yet they   
are all uncertain and inexplicable2     
playing color and palpitating shade1    
which1 though we recognize in an instant
 for images of something1 and feel that 
the water is bright1 and lovely1 and    
calm1 we cannot penetrate nor interpret3
 we are not allowed to go down to them1 
and we repose1 as we should in nature1  
upon the lustre of the level surface4   
,it is in this power of saying          
everything1 and yet saying nothing too  
plainly1 that the perfection of art     
here1 as in all other cases1 consists4  
,but as it was before shown in ,sect4   
,,ii4 ,chap4 ,,iii4 that the focus of   
the eye required little alteration after
 the first half mile of distance1 it is 
evident that on the distant surface of  
water1 all reflections will be seen     
plainly2 for the same focus adapted to a
 moderate distance of surface will      
receive with distinctness rays coming   
from the sky1 or from any other         
distance1 however great4 ,thus we always

 see the reflection of ,mont ,blanc on  
the ,lake of ,geneva1 whether we take   
pains to look for it or not1 because the
 water upon which it is cast is itself a
 mile off2 but if we would see the      
reflection of ,mont ,blanc in the ,lac  
de ,chede1 which is close to us1 we must
 take some trouble about the matter1    
leave the green snakes swimming upon the
 surface1 and plunge for it4 ,hence     
reflections1 if viewed collectively1 are
 always clear in proportion to the      
distance of the water on which they are 
cast4 ,and now look at ,turner's        
,ulleswater1 or any of his distant lake 
expanses1 and you will find every crag  
and line of the hills rendered in them  
with absolute fidelity1 while the near  
surface shows nothing but a vague       
confusion of exquisite and lustrous     
tint4 ,the reflections even of the      
clouds will be given far off1 while     
those of near boats and figures will be 
confused and mixed among each other1    
except just at the water-line4   ,sec4  

#f4 ,the error of ,vandevelde4  ,and now
 we see what ,vandevelde ought to have  
done with the shadow of his ship spoken 
of in the first chapter of this section4
 ,in such a calm1 we should in nature1  
if we had looked for the reflection1    
have seen it clear from the water-line  
to the flag on the mainmast2 but in so  
doing1 we should have appeared to       
ourselves to be looking under the water1
 and should have lost all feeling of    
surface4 ,when we looked at the surface 
of the sea1--as we naturally should1--we
 should have seen the image of the hull 
absolutely clear and perfect1 because   
that image is cast on distant water2 but
 we should have seen the image of the   
masts and sails gradually more confused 
as they descended1 and the water close  
to us would have borne only upon its    
surface a maze of flashing color and    
indefinite hue4 ,had ,vandevelde1       
therefore1 given the perfect image of   
his ship1 he would have represented a   
truth dependent on a particular effort  

of the eye1 and destroyed his surface4  
,but his business was to give1 not a    
distinct reflection1 but the colors of  
the reflection in mystery and disorder  
upon his near water1 all perfectly      
vivid1 but none intelligible2 and had he
 done so1 the eye would not have        
troubled itself to search them out2 it  
would not have cared whence or how the  
colors came1 but it would have felt them
 to be true and right1 and rested       
satisfied upon the polished surface of  
the clear sea4 ,of the perfect truth1   
the best examples ,i can give are       
,turner's ,saltash and ,castle ,upnor4  
,sec4 #g4 ,difference in arrangement of 
parts between the reflected object and  
its image4  ,be it next observed that   
the reflection of all near objects is1  
by our fifth rule1 not an exact copy of 
the parts of them which we see above the
 water1 but a totally different view and
 arrangement of them1 that which we     
should get if we were looking at them   
from beneath4 ,hence we see the dark    

sides of leaves hanging over a stream1  
in their reflection1 though we see the  
light sides above1 and all objects and  
groups of objects are thus seen in the  
reflection under different lights1 and  
in different positions with respect to  
each other from those which they assume 
above2 some which we see on the bank    
being entirely lost in their reflection1
 and others which we cannot see on the  
bank brought into view4 ,hence nature   
contrives never to repeat herself1 and  
the surface of water is not a mockery1  
but a new view of what is above it4 ,and
 this difference in what is represented1
 as well as the obscurity of the        
representation1 is one of the chief     
sources by which the sensation of       
surface is kept up in the reality4 ,the 
reflection is not so remarkable1 it does
 not attract the eye in the same degree 
when it is entirely different from the  
images above1 as when it mocks them and 
repeats them1 and we feel that the space
 and surface have color and character of

 their own1 and that the bank is one    
thing and the water another4 ,it is by  
not making this change manifest1 and    
giving underneath a mere duplicate of   
what is seen above1 that artists are apt
 to destroy the essence and substance of
 water1 and to drop us through it4      
,sec4 #h4 ,illustrated from the works of
 ,turner4  ,sec4 #i4 ,the boldness and  
judgment shown in the observance of it4 
,now one instance will be sufficient to 
show the exquisite care of ,turner in   
this respect4 ,on the left-hand side of 
his ,nottingham1 the water 7a smooth    
canal7 is terminated by a bank fenced up
 with wood1 on which1 just at the edge  
of the water1 stands a white sign-post4 
,a quarter of a mile back1 the hill on  
which ,nottingham ,castle stands rises  
steeply nearly to the top of the        
picture4 ,the upper part of this hill is
 in bright golden light1 and the lower  
in very deep gray shadow1 against which 
the white board of the sign-post is seen
 entirely in light relief1 though1 being

 turned from the light1 it is itself in 
delicate middle tint1 illumined only on 
the edge4 ,but the image of all this in 
the canal is very different4 ,first1 we 
have the reflection of the piles of the 
bank1 sharp and clear1 but under this we
 have not what we see above it1 the dark
 base of the hill1 7for this being a    
quarter of a mile back1 we could not see
 over the fence if we were looking from 
below17 but the golden summit of the    
hill1 the shadow of the under part      
having no record nor place in the       
reflection4 ,but this summit1 being very
 distant1 cannot be seen clearly by the 
eye while its focus is adapted to the   
surface of the water1 and accordingly   
its reflection is entirely vague and    
confused2 you cannot tell what it is    
meant for1 it is mere playing golden    
light4 ,but the sign-post1 being on the 
bank close to us1 will be reflected     
clearly1 and accordingly its distinct   
image is seen in the midst of this      
confusion4 ,but it now is relieved1 not 

against the dark base1 but against the  
illumined summit of the hill1 and it    
appears1 therefore1 instead of a white  
space thrown out from blue shade1 a dark
 gray space thrown out from golden      
light4 ,i do not know that any more     
magnificent example could be given of   
concentrated knowledge1 or of the daring
 statement of most difficult truth4 ,for
 who but this consummate artist would   
have had courage1 even if he had        
perceived the laws which required it1 to
 undertake in a single small space of   
water1 the painting of an entirely new  
picture1 with all its tones and         
arrangements altered1--what was made    
above bright by opposition to blue1     
being underneath made cool and dark by  
opposition to gold2--or would have dared
 to contradict so boldly the ordinary   
expectation of the uncultivated eye1 to 
find in the reflection a mockery for the
 reality8 ,but the reward is immediate1 
for not only is the change most grateful
 to the eye1 and most exquisite as      

composition1 but the surface of the     
water in consequence of it is felt to be
 as spacious as it is clear1 and the eye
 rests not on the inverted image of the 
material objects1 but on the element    
which receives them4 ,and we have a     
farther instance in this passage of the 
close study which is required to enjoy  
the works of ,turner1 for another artist
 might have altered the reflection or   
confused it1 but he would not have      
reasoned upon it so as to find out what 
the exact alteration must be2 and if we 
had tried to account for the reflection1
 we should have found it false or       
inaccurate4 ,but the master mind of     
,turner1 without effort1 showers its    
knowledge into every touch1 and we have 
only to trace out even his slightest    
passages1 part by part1 to find in them 
the universal working of the deepest    
thought1 that consistency of every minor
 truth which admits of and invites the  
same ceaseless study as the work of     
nature herself4   ,sec4 #aj4 ,the       

texture of surface in ,turner's painting
 of calm water4  ,there is1 however1 yet
 another peculiarity in ,turner's       
painting of smooth water1 which1 though 
less deserving of admiration1 as being  
merely a mechanical excellence1 is not  
less wonderful than its other qualities1
 nor less unique--a peculiar texture1   
namely1 given to the most delicate tints
 of the surface1 when there is little   
reflection from anything except sky or  
atmosphere1 and which1 just at the      
points where other painters are reduced 
to paper1 gives to the surface of       
,turner the greatest appearance of      
substantial liquidity4 ,it is impossible
 to say how it is produced2 it looks    
like some modification of body color2   
but it certainly is not body color used 
as by other men1 for ,i have seen this  
expedient tried over and over again     
without success2 and it is often        
accompanied by crumbling touches of a   
dry brush1 which never could have been  
put upon body color1 and which could not

 have shown through underneath it4 ,as a
 piece of mechanical excellence1 it is  
one of the most remarkable things in the
 works of the master2 and it brings the 
truth of his water-painting up to the   
last degree of perfection1 often        
rendering those passages of it the most 
attractive and delightful1 which from   
their delicacy and paleness of tint1    
would have been weak and papery in the  
hands of any other man4 ,the best       
instance of it ,i can give1 is1 ,i      
think1 the distance of the ,devonport   
with the ,dockyards4   ,sec4 #aa4 ,its  
united qualities4  ,after all1 however1 
there is more in ,turner's painting of  
water surface than any philosophy of    
reflection1 or any peculiarity of means1
 can account for or accomplish2 there is
 a might and wonder about it which will 
not admit of our whys and hows4 ,take1  
for instance1 the picture of the ,sun of
 ,venice going to ,sea1 of #ahdc1       
respecting which1 however1 there are one
 or two circumstances which may as well 

be noted besides its water-painting4    
,the reader1 if he has not been at      
,venice1 ought to be made aware that the
 ,venetian fishing-boats1 almost without
 exception1 carry canvas painted with   
bright colors1 the favorite design for  
the centre being either a cross or a    
large sun with many rays1 the favorite  
colors being red1 orange1 and black1    
blue occurring occasionally4 ,the       
radiance of these sails and of the      
bright and grotesque vanes at the       
mast-heads under sunlight is beyond all 
painting1 but it is strange that1 of    
constant occurrence as these boats are  
on all the lagoons1 ,turner alone should
 have availed himself of them4 ,nothing 
could be more faithful than the boat    
which was the principal object in this  
picture1 in the cut of the sail1 the    
filling of it1 the exact height of the  
boom above the deck1 the quartering of  
it with color1 finally and especially1  
the hanging of the fish-baskets about   
the bows4 ,all these1 however1 are      

comparatively minor merits1 7though not 
the blaze of color which the artist     
elicited from the right use of these    
circumstances17 but the peculiar power  
of the picture was the painting of the  
sea surface1 where there were no        
reflections to assist it4 ,a stream of  
splendid color fell from the boat1 but  
that occupied the centre only2 in the   
distance1 the city and crowded boats    
threw down some playing lines1 but these
 still left on each side of the boat a  
large space of water reflecting nothing 
but the morning sky4 ,this was divided  
by an eddying swell1 on whose continuous
 sides the local color of the water was 
seen1 pure aquamarine1 7a beautiful     
occurrence of closely-observed truth17  
but still there remained a large blank  
space of pale water to be treated1 the  
sky above had no distinct details and   
was pure faint gray1 with broken white  
vestiges of cloud3 it gave no help      
therefore4 ,but there the water lay1 no 
dead gray flat paint1 but downright     

clear1 playing1 palpable surface1 full  
of indefinite hue1 and retiring as      
regularly and visibly back and far away1
 as if there had been objects all over  
it to tell the story by perspective4    
,now it is the doing of this which tries
 the painter1 and it is his having done 
this which made me say above that no man
 had ever painted the surface of calm   
water but ,turner4 ,the ,san ,benedetto1
 looking towards ,fusina1 contained a   
similar passage1 equally fine2 in one of
 the ,canale della ,guidecca the        
specific green color of the water is    
seen in front1 with the shadows of the  
boats thrown on it in purple2 all1 as it
 retires1 passing into the pure         
reflective blue4   ,sec4 #ab4 ,relation 
of various circumstances of past        
agitation1 etc41 by the         most    
trifling incidents1 as in the ,cowes4   
,but ,turner is not satisfied with this4
 ,he is never altogether content unless 
he can1 at the same time that he takes  
advantage of all the placidity of       

repose1 tell us something either about  
the past commotion of the water1 or of  
some present stirring of tide or current
 which its stillness does not show1 or  
give us something or other to think     
about and reason upon1 as well as to    
look at4 ,take a few instances4 ,his    
,cowes1 ,isle of ,wight1 is a summer    
twilight about half an hour1 or more1   
after sunset4 ,intensity of repose is   
the great aim throughout1 and the unity 
of tone of the picture is one of the    
finest things that ,turner has ever     
done4 ,but there is not only quietness1 
there is the very deepest solemnity in  
the whole of the light1 as well as in   
the stillness of the vessels2 and       
,turner wishes to enhance this feeling  
by representing not only repose1 but    
power in repose1 the emblem1 in the sea1
 of the quiet ships of war4             
,accordingly1 he takes the greatest     
possible pains to get his surface       
polished1 calm1 and smooth1 but he      
indicates the reflection of a buoy1     

floating a full quarter of a mile off1  
by three black strokes with wide        
intervals between them1 the last of     
which touches the water within twenty   
yards of the spectator4 ,now these three
 reflections can only indicate the      
farther sides of three rises of an      
enormous swell1 and give by their       
intervals of separation1 a space of from
 twelve to twenty yards for the breadth 
of each wave1 including the sweep       
between them1 and this swell is farther 
indicated by the reflection of the new  
moon falling1 in a wide zigzag line4    
,the exceeding majesty which this single
 circumstance gives to the whole        
picture1 the sublime sensation of power 
and knowledge of former exertion which  
we instantly receive from it1 if we have
 but acquaintance with nature enough to 
understand its language1 render this    
work not only a piece of the most       
refined truth1 7as which ,i have at     
present named it17 but to my mind1 one  
of the highest pieces of intellectual   

art existing4   ,sec4 #ac4 ,in scenes on
 the ,loire and ,seine4  ,again1 in the 
scene on the ,loire1 with the square    
precipice and fiery sunset1 in the      
,rivers of ,france1 repose has been     
aimed at in the same way1 and most      
thoroughly given2 but the immense width 
of the river at this spot makes it look 
like a lake or sea1 and it was therefore
 necessary that we should be made       
thoroughly to understand and feel that  
this is not the calm of still water1 but
 the tranquillity of a majestic current4
 ,accordingly1 a boat swings at anchor  
on the right2 and the stream1 dividing  
at its bow1 flows towards us in two     
long1 dark waves1 especial attention to 
which is enforced by the one on the left
 being brought across the reflected     
stream of sunshine1 which it separates1 
and which is broken in the nearer water 
by the general undulation and agitation 
caused by the boat's wake2 a wake caused
 by the waters passing it1 not by its   
going through the water4   ,sec4 #ad4   

,expression of contrary waves caused by 
recoil from shore4  ,sec4 #ae4 ,various 
other instances4  ,again1 in the        
,confluence of the ,seine and ,marne1 we
 have the repose of the wide river      
stirred by the paddles of the steamboat1
 7whose plashing we can almost hear1 for
 we are especially compelled to look at 
them by their being made the central    
note of the composition--the blackest   
object in it1 opposed to the strongest  
light17 and this disturbance is not     
merely caused by the two lines of surge 
from the boat's wake1 for any other     
painter must have given these1 but      
,turner never rests satisfied till he   
has told you all in his power2 and he   
has not only given the receding surges1 
but these have gone on to the shore1    
have struck upon it1 and been beaten    
back from it in another line of weaker  
contrary surges1 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 left1 and whose
 reverted direction is exquisitely given
 where their lines cross the calm water1
 close to the spectator1 and marked also
 by the sudden vertical spring of the   
spray just where they intersect the     
swell from the boat2 and in order that  
we may fully be able to account for     
these reverted waves1 we are allowed1   
just at the extreme right-hand limit of 
the picture1 to see the point where the 
swell from the boat meets the shore4 ,in
 the ,chaise de ,gargantua we have the  
still water lulled by the dead calm     
which usually precedes the most violent 
storms1 suddenly broken upon by a       
tremendous burst of wind from the       
gathered thunder-clouds1 scattering the 
boats1 and raising the water into rage1 
except where it is sheltered by the     
hills4 ,in the ,jumieges and ,vernon we 
have farther instances of local         
agitation1 caused1 in the one instance1 
by a steamer1 in the other1 by the large
 water-wheels under the bridge1 not1    

observe1 a mere splashing about the     
wheel itself1 this is too far off to be 
noticeable1 so that we should not have  
even known that the objects beneath the 
bridge were water-wheels1 but for the   
agitation recorded a quarter of a mile  
down the river1 where its current       
crosses the sunlight4 ,and thus there   
will scarcely ever be found a piece of  
quiet water by ,turner1 without some    
story in it of one kind or another2     
sometimes a slight1 but beautiful       
incident--oftener1 as in the ,cowes1    
something on which the whole sentiment  
and intention of the picture in a great 
degree depends2 but invariably          
presenting some new instance of varied  
knowledge and observation1 some fresh   
appeal to the highest faculties of the  
mind4   ,sec4 #af4 ,turner's painting of
 distant expanses of water4 ,calm1      
interrupted         by ripple4  ,sec4   
#ag4 ,and ripple1 crossed by sunshine4  
,of extended surfaces of water1 as      
rendered by ,turner1 the ,loch ,katrine 

and ,derwent-water1 of the              
,illustrations to ,scott1 and the ,loch 
,lomond1 vignette in ,rogers's ,poems1  
are characteristic instances4 ,the first
 of these gives us the most distant part
 of the lake entirely under the         
influence of a light breeze1 and        
therefore entirely without reflections  
of the objects on its borders2 but the  
whole near half is untouched by the     
wind1 and on that is cast the image of  
the upper part of ,ben-,venue and of the
 islands4 ,the second gives us the      
surface1 with just so much motion upon  
it as to prolong1 but not to destroy1   
the reflections of the dark             
woods1--reflections only interrupted by 
the ripple of the boat's wake4 ,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 ,canaletto4 ,we see in the nearest   
boat that though the lines of the       
gunwale are much blacker and more       

conspicuous than that of the cutwater1  
yet the gunwale lines1 being nearly     
horizontal1 have no reflection          
whatsoever2 while the line of the       
cutwater1 being vertical1 has a distinct
 reflection of three times its own      
length4 ,but even these tremulous       
reflections are only visible as far as  
the islands2 beyond them1 as the lake   
retires into distance1 we find it       
receives only the reflection of the gray
 light from the clouds1 and runs in one 
flat white field up between the hills2  
and besides all this1 we have another   
phenomenon1 quite new1 given to us1--the
 brilliant gleam of light along the     
centre of the lake4 ,this is not caused 
by ripple1 for it is cast on a surface  
rippled all over2 but it is what we     
could not have without ripple1--the     
light of a passage of sunshine4 ,i have 
already 7,chap4 ,i41 ,sec4 #i7 explained
 the cause of this phenomenon1 which    
never can by any possibility take place 
on calm water1 being the multitudinous  

reflection of the sun from the sides of 
the ripples1 causing an appearance of   
local light and shadow2 and being       
dependent1 like real light and shadow1  
on the passage of the clouds1 though the
 dark parts of the water are the        
reflections of the clouds1 not the      
shadows of them2 and the bright parts   
are the reflections of the sun1 and not 
the light of it4 ,this little vignette1 
then1 will entirely complete the system 
of ,turner's universal truth in quiet   
water4 ,we have seen every phenomenon   
given by him1--the clear reflection1 the
 prolonged reflection1 the reflection   
broken by ripple1 and finally the ripple
 broken by light and shade2 and it is   
especially to be observed how careful he
 is1 in this last case1 when he uses the
 apparent light and shade1 to account   
for it by showing us in the whiteness of
 the lake beyond1 its universal         
subjection to ripple4   ,sec4 #ah4 ,his 
drawing of distant rivers4  ,sec4 #ai4  
,and of surface associated with mist4   

,we have not spoken of ,turner's        
magnificent drawing of distant rivers1  
which1 however1 is dependent only on    
more complicated application of the same
 laws1 with exquisite perspective4 ,the 
sweeps of river in the ,dryburgh1       
7,illustrations to ,scott17 and         
,melrose1 are bold and characteristic   
examples1 as well as the ,rouen from    
,st4 ,catherine's ,hill1 and the        
,caudebec1 in the ,rivers of ,france4   
,the only thing which in these works    
requires particular attention1 is the   
care with which the height of the       
observer above the river is indicated by
 the loss of the reflections of its     
banks4 ,this is1 perhaps1 shown most    
clearly in the ,caudebec4 ,if we had    
been on a level with the river1 its     
whole surface would have been darkened  
by the reflection of the steep and high 
banks2 but being far above it1 we can   
see no more of the image than we could  
of the hill itself1 if it were actually 
reversed under the water2 and therefore 

we see that ,turner gives us only a     
narrow line of dark water1 immediately  
under the precipice1 the broad surface  
reflecting only the sky4 ,this is also  
finely shown on the left-hand side of   
the ,dryburgh4  ,but all these early    
works of the artist have been eclipsed  
by some recent drawings of ,switzerland4
 ,these latter are not to be described  
by any words1 but they must be noted    
here not only as presenting records of  
lake effect on grander scale1 and of    
more imaginative character than any     
other of his works1 but as combining    
effects of the surface of mist with the 
surface of water4 ,two or three of the  
,lake of ,lucerne1 seen from above1 give
 the melting of the mountain            
promontories beneath into the clear     
depth1 and above into the clouds2 one of
 ,constance shows the vast lake at      
evening1 seen not as water1 but its     
surface covered with low white mist1    
lying league beyond league in the       
twilight like a fallen space of moony   

cloud2 one of ,goldau shows the ,lake of
 ,zug appearing through the chasm of a  
thunder-cloud under sunset1 its whole   
surface one blaze of fire1 and the      
promontories of the hills thrown out    
against it1 like spectres2 another of   
,zurich gives the playing of the green  
waves of the river among white streams  
of moonlight3 two purple sunsets on the 
,lake of ,zug are distinguished for the 
glow obtained without positive color1   
the rose and purple tints being in great
 measure brought by opposition out of   
browns3 finally1 a drawing executed in  
#ahde of the town of ,lucerne from the  
lake is unique for its expression of    
water surface reflecting the clear green
 hue of sky at twilight4   ,sec4 #bj4   
,his drawing of falling water1 with     
peculiar expression of weight4  ,sec4   
#ba4 ,the abandonment and plunge of     
great cataracts4 ,how given by him4  ,it
 will be remembered that it was said    
above1 that ,turner was the only painter
 who had ever represented the surface of

 calm or the force of agitated water4   
,he obtains this expression of force in 
falling or running water by fearless and
 full rendering of its forms4 ,he never 
loses himself and his subject in the    
splash of the fall--his presence of mind
 never fails as he goes down2 he does   
not blind us with the spray1 or veil the
 countenance of his fall with its own   
drapery4 ,a little crumbling white1 or  
lightly rubbed paper1 will soon give the
 effect of indiscriminate foam2 but     
nature gives more than foam--she shows  
beneath it1 and through it1 a peculiar  
character of exquisitely studied form   
bestowed on every wave and line of fall2
 and it is this variety of definite     
character which ,turner always aims at1 
rejecting1 as much as possible1         
everything that conceals or overwhelms  
it4 ,thus1 in the ,upper ,fall of the   
,tees1 though the whole basin of the    
fall is blue and dim with the rising    
vapor1 yet the whole attention of the   
spectator is directed to that which it  

was peculiarly difficult to render1 the 
concentric zones and delicate curves of 
the falling water itself2 and it is     
impossible to express with what         
exquisite accuracy these are given4     
,they are the characteristic of a       
powerful stream descending without      
impediment or break1 but from a narrow  
channel1 so as to expand as it falls4   
,they are the constant form which such a
 stream assumes as it descends2 and yet 
,i think it would be difficult to point 
to another instance of their being      
rendered in art4 ,you will find nothing 
in the waterfalls even of our best      
painters1 but springing lines of        
parabolic descent1 and splashing1       
shapeless foam2 and1 in consequence1    
though they may make you understand the 
swiftness of the water1 they never let  
you feel the weight of it2 the stream in
 their hands looks active1 not supine1  
as if it leaped1 not as if it fell4 ,now
 water will leap a little way1 it will  
leap down a weir or over a stone1 but it

 tumbles over a high fall like this2 and
 it is when we have lost the parabolic  
line1 and arrived at the catenary1--when
 we have lost the spring of the fall1   
and arrived at the plunge of it1 that we
 begin really to feel its weight and    
wildness4 ,where water takes its first  
leap from the top1 it is cool1 and      
collected1 and uninteresting1 and       
mathematical1 but it is when it finds   
that it has got into a scrape1 and has  
farther to go than it thought for1 that 
its character comes out2 it is then that
 it begins to writhe1 and twist1 and    
sweep out zone after zone in wilder     
stretching as it falls1 and to send down
 the rocket-like1 lance-pointed1        
whizzing shafts at its sides1 sounding  
for the bottom4 ,and it is this         
prostration1 this hopeless abandonment  
of its ponderous power to the air1 which
 is always peculiarly expressed by      
,turner1 and especially in the case     
before us2 while our other artists1     
keeping to the parabolic line1 where    

they do not lose themselves in smoke and
 foam1 make their cataract look muscular
 and wiry1 and may consider themselves  
fortunate if they can keep it from      
stopping4 ,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
 waterfall1 and therefore cannot        
appreciate their exquisite fidelity to  
nature4  ,in the ,chain ,bridge over the
 ,tees1 this passiveness and swinging of
 the water to and fro are yet more      
remarkable2 while we have another       
characteristic of a great waterfall     
given to us1 that the wind1 in this     
instance coming up the valley against   
the current1 takes the spray up off the 
edges1 and carries it back in little    
torn1 reverted rags and threads1 seen in
 delicate form against the darkness on  
the left4 ,but we must understand a     
little more about the nature of running 
water before we can appreciate the      
drawing either of this1 or any other of 

,turner's torrents4   ,sec4 #bb4        
,difference in the action of water1 when
 continuous and when                    
interrupted4 ,the interrupted stream    
fills the hollows of its bed4  ,sec4    
#bc4 ,but the continuous stream takes   
the shape of its bed4  ,sec4 #bd4 ,its  
exquisite curved lines4  ,when water1   
not in very great body1 runs in a rocky 
bed much interrupted by hollows1 so that
 it can rest every now and then in a    
pool as it goes along1 it does not      
acquire a continuous velocity of motion4
 ,it pauses after every leap1 and       
curdles about1 and rests a little1 and  
then goes on again2 and if in this      
comparatively tranquil and rational     
state of mind it meets with an obstacle1
 as a rock or stone1 it parts on each   
side of it with a little bubbling foam1 
and goes round2 if it comes to a step in
 its bed1 it leaps it lightly1 and then 
after a little plashing at the bottom1  
stops again to take breath4 ,but if its 
bed be on a continuous slope1 not much  

interrupted by hollows1 so that it      
cannot rest1 or if its own mass be so   
increased by flood that its usual       
resting-places are not sufficient for   
it1 but that it is perpetually pushed   
out of them by the following current1   
before it has had time to tranquillize  
itself1 it of course gains velocity with
 every yard that it runs2 the impetus   
got at one leap is carried to the credit
 of the next1 until the whole stream    
becomes one mass of unchecked1          
accelerating motion4 ,now when water in 
this state comes to an obstacle1 it does
 not part at it1 but clears it1 like a  
racehorse2 and when it comes to a       
hollow1 it does not fill it up and run  
out leisurely at the other side1 but it 
rushes down into it and comes up again  
on the other side1 as a ship into the   
hollow of the sea4 ,hence the whole     
appearance of the bed of the stream is  
changed1 and all the lines of the water 
altered in their nature4 ,the quiet     
stream is a succession of leaps and     

pools2 the leaps are light and springy1 
and parabolic1 and make a great deal of 
splashing when they tumble into the     
pool2 then we have a space of quiet     
curdling water1 and another similar leap
 below4 ,but the stream when it has     
gained an impetus takes the shape of its
 bed1 never stops1 is equally deep and  
equally swift everywhere1 goes down into
 every hollow1 not with a leap1 but with
 a swing1 not foaming1 nor splashing1   
but in the bending line of a strong     
sea-wave1 and comes up again on the     
other side1 over rock and ridge1 with   
the ease of a bounding leopard2 if it   
meet a rock three or four feet above the
 level of its bed1 it will neither part 
nor foam1 nor express any concern about 
the matter1 but clear it in a smooth    
dome of water1 without apparent         
exertion1 coming down again as smoothly 
on the other side2 the whole surface of 
the surge being drawn into parallel     
lines by its extreme velocity1 but      
foamless1 except in places where the    

form of the bed opposes itself at some  
direct angle to such a line of fall1 and
 causes a breaker2 so that the whole    
river has the appearance of a deep and  
raging sea1 with this only difference1  
that the torrent-waves always break     
backwards1 and sea-waves forwards4      
,thus1 then1 in the water which has     
gained an impetus1 we have the most     
exquisite arrangements of curved lines1 
perpetually changing from convex to     
concave1 and vice versa1 following every
 swell and hollow of the bed with their 
modulating grace1 and all in unison of  
motion1 presenting perhaps the most     
beautiful series of inorganic forms     
which nature can possibly produce2 for  
the sea runs too much into similar and  
concave curves with sharp edges1 but    
every motion of the torrent is united1  
and all its curves are modifications of 
beautiful line4   ,sec4 #be4 ,turner's  
careful choice of the historical truth4 
,sec4 #bf4 ,his exquisite drawing of the
 continuous torrent in the ,llanthony   

,abbey4  ,we see1 therefore1 why ,turner
 seizes on these curved lines of the    
torrent1 not only as being among the    
most beautiful forms of nature1 but     
because they are an instant expression  
of the utmost power and velocity1 and   
tell us how the torrent has been flowing
 before we see it4 ,for the leap and    
splash might be seen in the sudden      
freakishness of a quiet stream1 or the  
fall of a rivulet over a mill-dam2 but  
the undulating line is the exclusive    
attribute of the mountain-torrent1#fg   
whose fall and fury have made the       
valleys echo for miles2 and thus the    
moment we see one of its curves over a  
stone in the foreground1 we know how far
 it has come1 and how fiercely4 ,and in 
the drawing we have been speaking of1   
the lower fall of the ,tees1 in the     
foreground of the ,killiecrankie and    
,rhymer's ,glen1 and of the ,st4        
,maurice1 in ,rogers's ,italy1 we shall 
find the most exquisite instances of the
 use of such lines2 but the most perfect

 of all in the ,llanthony ,abbey1 which 
may be considered as the standard of    
torrent-drawing4 ,the chief light of the
 picture here falls upon the surface of 
the stream1 swelled by recent rain1 and 
its mighty waves come rolling down close
 to the spectator1 green and clear1 but 
pale with anger1 in gigantic1 unbroken1 
oceanic curves1 bending into each other 
without break or foam1 though jets of   
fiery spray are cast into the air along 
the rocky shore1 and rise in the        
sunshine in dusty vapor4 ,the whole     
surface is one united race of mad       
motion2 all the waves dragged1 as ,i    
have described1 into lines and furrows  
by their swiftness1 and every one of    
these fine forms is drawn with the most 
studied chiaroscuro of delicate color1  
grays and greens1 as silvery and pure as
 the finest passages of ,paul ,veronese1
 and with a refinement of execution     
which the eye strains itself in looking 
into4 ,the rapidity and gigantic force  
of this torrent1 the exquisite          

refinement of its color1 and the        
vividness of foam which is obtained     
through a general middle tint1 render it
 about the most perfect piece of        
painting of running water in existence4 
,sec4 #bg4 ,and of the interrupted      
torrent in the ,mercury and ,argus4     
,now this picture is1 as was noticed in 
our former reference to it1 full of     
expression of every kind of motion3 the 
clouds are in wild haste2 the sun is    
gleaming fast and fitfully through the  
leaves2 the rain drifting away along the
 hill-side2 and the torrent1 the        
principal object1 to complete the       
impression1 is made the wildest thing of
 all and not only wild before us1 and   
with us1 but bearing with it in its     
every motion1 from its long course1 the 
record of its rage4 ,observe how        
differently ,turner uses his torrent    
when the spirit of the picture is       
repose4 ,in the ,mercury and ,argus1 we 
have also a stream in the foreground2   
but1 in coming down to us1 we see it    

stopping twice in two quiet and glassy  
pools1 upon which the drinking cattle   
cast an unstirred image4 ,from the      
nearest of these1 the water leaps in    
three cascades into another basin close 
to us2 it trickles in silver threads    
through the leaves at its edge1 and     
falls tinkling and splashing 7though in 
considerable body7 into the pool1       
stirring its quiet surface1 at which a  
bird is stooping to drink1 with         
concentric and curdling ripples which   
divide round the stone at its farthest  
border1 and descend in sparkling foam   
over the lip of the basin4 ,thus we     
find1 in every case1 the system of      
,turner's truth entirely unbroken1 each 
phase and phenomenon of nature being    
recorded exactly where it is most       
valuable and impressive4   ,sec4 #bh4   
,various cases4  ,we have not1 however1 
space to follow out the variety of his  
torrent-drawing4 ,the above two examples
 are characteristic of the two great    
divisions or classes of torrents--that  

whose motion is continuous1 and whose   
motion is interrupted3 all drawing of   
running water will resolve itself into  
the representation of one or other of   
these4 ,the descent of the distant      
stream in the vignette to the ,boy of   
,egremond is slight1 but very striking2 
and the ,junction of the ,greta and     
,tees1 a singular instance of the bold  
drawing of the complicated forms of a   
shallow stream among multitudinous      
rocks4 ,a still finer example occurs in 
a recent drawing of ,dazio ,grande1 on  
the ,st4 ,gothard1 the waves of the     
,toccia1 clear and blue1 fretting among 
the granite debris which were brought   
down by the storm that destroyed the    
whole road4 ,in the ,ivy bridge the     
subject is the rest of the torrent in a 
pool among fallen rocks1 the forms of   
the stones are seen through the clear   
brown water1 and their reflections      
mingle with those of the foliage4       
,sec4 #bi4 ,sea painting4 ,impossibility
 of truly representing foam4  ,more     

determined efforts have at all periods  
been made in sea painting than in       
torrent painting1 yet less successful4  
,as above stated1 it is easy to obtain a
 resemblance of broken running water by 
tricks and dexterities1 but the sea must
 be legitimately drawn2 it cannot be    
given as utterly disorganized and       
confused1 its weight and mass must be   
expressed1 and the efforts at expression
 of it end in failure with all but the  
most powerful men2 even with these few a
 partial success must be considered     
worthy of the highest praise4  ,as the  
right rendering of the ,alps depends on 
power of drawing snow1 so the right     
painting of the sea must depend1 at     
least in all coast scenery1 in no small 
measure on the power of drawing foam4   
,yet there are two conditions of foam of
 invariable occurrence on breaking      
waves1 of which ,i have never seen the  
slightest record attempted2 first the   
thick creamy curdling overlapping massy 
form which remains for a moment only    

after the fall of the wave1 and is seen 
in perfection in its running up the     
beach2 and secondly1 the thin white     
coating into which this subsides1 which 
opens into oval gaps and clefts1        
marbling the waves over their whole     
surface1 and connecting the breakers on 
a flat shore by long dragging streams of
 white4  ,it is evident that the        
difficulty of expressing either of these
 two conditions must be immense4 ,the   
lapping and curdling form is difficult  
enough to catch even when the lines of  
its undulation alone are considered2 but
 the lips1 so to speak1 which lie along 
these lines1 are full1 projecting1 and  
marked by beautiful light and shade2    
each has its high light1 a gradation    
into shadow of indescribable delicacy1 a
 bright reflected light and a dark cast 
shadow2 to draw all this requires labor1
 and care1 and firmness of work1 which1 
as ,i imagine1 must always1 however     
skilfully bestowed1 destroy all         
impression of wildness1 accidentalism1  

and evanescence1 and so kill the sea4   
,again1 the openings in the thin        
subsided foam in their irregular        
modifications of circular and oval      
shapes dragged hither and thither1 would
 be hard enough to draw even if they    
could be seen on a flat surface2 instead
 of which1 every one of the openings is 
seen in undulation on a tossing surface1
 broken up over small surges and        
ripples1 and so thrown into perspectives
 of the most hopeless intricacy4 ,now it
 is not easy to express the lie of a    
pattern with oval openings on the folds 
of drapery4 ,i do not know that any one 
under the mark of ,veronese or ,titian  
could even do this as it ought to be    
done1 yet in drapery much stiffness and 
error may be overlooked2 not so in      
sea1--the slightest inaccuracy1 the     
slightest want of flow and freedom in   
the line1 is attached by the eye in a   
moment of high treason1 and ,i believe  
success to be impossible4  ,yet there is
 not a wave or any violently agitated   

sea on which both these forms do not    
appear1 the latter especially1 after    
some time of storm1 extends over their  
whole surfaces2 the reader sees1        
therefore1 why ,i said that sea could   
only be painted by means of more or less
 dexterous conventionalisms1 since two  
of its most enduring phenomena cannot be
 represented at all4   ,sec4 #cj4       
,character of shore-breakers1 also      
inexpressible4  ,again1 as respects the 
form of breakers on an even shore1 there
 is difficulty of no less formidable    
kind4 ,there is in them an              
irreconcilable mixture of fury and      
formalism4 ,their hollow surface is     
marked by parallel lines1 like those of 
a smooth mill-weir1 and graduated by    
reflected and transmitted lights of the 
most wonderful intricacy1 its curve     
being at the same time necessarily of   
mathematical purity and precision2 yet  
at the top of this curve1 when it nods  
over1 there is a sudden laxity and      
giving way1 the water swings and jumps  

along the ridge like a shaken chain1 and
 the motion runs from part to part as it
 does through a serpent's body4 ,then   
the wind is at work on the extreme edge1
 and instead of letting it fling itself 
off naturally1 it supports it1 and1     
drives it back1 or scrapes it off1 and  
carries it bodily away2 so that the     
spray at the top is in a continual      
transition between forms projected by   
their own weight1 and forms blown and   
carried off with their weight overcome2 
then at last1 when it has come down1 who
 shall say what shape that may be       
called1 which shape has none of the     
great crash where it touches the beach4 
,i think it is that last crash which is 
the great taskmaster4 ,nobody can do    
anything with it4 ,i have seen ,copley  
,fielding come very close to the jerk   
and nod of the lifted threatening edge1 
curl it very successfully1 and without  
any look of its having been in papers1  
down nearly to the beach1 but the final 
fall has no thunder in it4 ,turner has  

tried hard for it once or twice1 but it 
will not do4 ,the moment is given in the
 ,sidon of the ,bible ,illustrations1   
and more elaborately in a painting of   
,bamborough2 in both these cases there  
is little foam at the bottom1 and the   
fallen breaker looks like a wall1 yet   
grand always2 and in the latter picture 
very beautifully assisted in expression 
by the tossing of a piece of cable1     
which some figures are dragging ashore1 
and which the breaker flings into the   
air as it falls4 ,perhaps the most      
successful rendering of the forms was in
 the ,hero and ,leander1 but there the  
drawing was rendered easier by the      
powerful effect of light which disguised
 the foam4   ,sec4 #ca4 ,their effect1  
how injured when seen from the shore4   
,it is not1 however1 from the shore that
 ,turner usually studies his sea4 ,seen 
from the land1 the curl of the breakers1
 even in nature1 is somewhat uniform and
 monotonous2 the size of the waves out  
at sea is uncomprehended1 and those     

nearer the eye seem to succeed and      
resemble each other1 to move slowly to  
the beach1 and to break in the same     
lines and forms4  ,afloat even twenty   
yards from the shore1 we receive a      
totally different impression4 ,every    
wave around us appears vast--every one  
different from all the rest--and the    
breakers present1 now that we see them  
with their backs towards us1 the grand1 
extended1 and varied lines of long      
curvature1 which are peculiarly         
expressive both of velocity and power4  
,recklessness1 before unfelt1 is        
manifested in the mad1 perpetual1       
changeful1 undirected motion1 not of    
wave after wave1 as it appears from the 
shore1 but of the very same water rising
 and falling4 ,of waves that            
successively approach and break1 each   
appears to the mind a separate          
individual1 whose part being performed1 
it perishes1 and is succeeded by        
another2 and there is nothing in this to
 impress us with the idea of            

restlessness1 any more than in any      
successive and continuous functions of  
life and death4 ,but it is when we      
perceive that it is no succession of    
wave1 but the same water constantly     
rising1 and crashing1 and recoiling1 and
 rolling in again in new forms and with 
fresh fury1 that we perceive the        
perturbed spirit1 and feel the intensity
 of its unwearied rage4 ,the sensation  
of power is also trebled2 for not only  
is the vastness of apparent size much   
increased1 but the whole action is      
different2 it is not a passive wave     
rolling sleepily forward until it       
tumbles heavily1 prostrated upon the    
beach1 but a sweeping exertion of       
tremendous and living strength1 which   
does not now appear to fall1 but to     
burst upon the shore2 which never       
perishes1 but recoils and recovers4     
,sec4 #cb4 ,turner's expression of heavy
 rolling sea4  ,sec4 #cc4 ,with peculiar
 expression of weight4  ,aiming at these
 grand characters of the ,sea1 ,turner  

almost always places the spectator1 not 
on the shore1 but twenty or thirty yards
 from it1 beyond the first range of the 
breakers1 as in the ,land's ,end1       
,fowey1 ,dunbar1 and ,laugharne4 ,the   
latter has been well engraved1 and may  
be taken as a standard of the expression
 of fitfulness and power4 ,the grand    
division of the whole space of the sea  
by a few dark continuous furrows of     
tremendous swell1 7the breaking of one  
of which alone has strewed the rocks in 
front with ruin17 furnishes us with an  
estimate of space and strength1 which at
 once reduces the men upon the shore to 
insects2 and yet through this terrific  
simplicity there is indicated a         
fitfulness and fury in the tossing of   
the individual lines1 which give to the 
whole sea a wild1 unwearied1 reckless   
incoherency1 like that of an enraged    
multitude1 whose masses act together in 
frenzy1 while not one individual feels  
as another4 ,especial attention is to be
 directed to the flatness of all the    

lines1 for the same principle holds in  
sea which we have seen in mountains4    
,all the size and sublimity of nature   
are given not by the height1 but by the 
breadth of her masses3 and ,turner1 by  
following her in her sweeping lines1    
while he does not lose the elevation of 
its surges1 adds in a tenfold degree to 
their power3 farther1 observe the       
peculiar expression of weight which     
there is in ,turner's waves1 precisely  
of the same kind which we saw in his    
waterfall4 ,we have not a cutting1      
springing1 elastic line--no jumping or  
leaping in the waves3 that is the       
characteristic of ,chelsea ,reach or    
,hampstead ,ponds in a storm4 ,but the  
surges roll and plunge with such        
prostration and hurling of their mass   
against the shore1 that we feel the     
rocks are shaking under them2 and1 to   
add yet more to this impression1 observe
 how little1 comparatively1 they are    
broken by the wind2 above the floating  
wood1 and along the shore1 we have      

indication of a line of torn spray2 but 
it is a mere fringe along the ridge of  
the surge--no interference with its     
gigantic body4 ,the wind has no power   
over its tremendous unity of force and  
weight4 ,finally1 observe how1 on the   
rocks on the left1 the violence and     
swiftness of the rising wave are        
indicated by precisely the same lines   
which we saw were indicative of fury in 
the torrent4 ,the water on these rocks  
is the body of the wave which has just  
broken1 rushing up over them2 and in    
doing so1 like the torrent1 it does not 
break1 nor foam1 nor part upon the rock1
 but accommodates itself to every one of
 its swells and hollows1 with undulating
 lines1 whose grace and variety might   
alone serve us for a day's study2 and it
 is only where two streams of this      
rushing water meet in the hollow of the 
rock1 that their force is shown by the  
vertical bound of the spray4            
,illustration3 ,,port ,r,u,y,s,d,ae,l4  
,from a painting by ,turner4   ,sec4    

#cd4 ,peculiar action of recoiling      
waves4  ,sec4 #ce4 ,and of the stroke of
 a breaker on the shore4  ,sec4 #cf4    
,general character of sea on a rocky    
coast given by ,turner in the           
,land's ,end4  ,in the distance of this 
grand picture1 there are two waves which
 entirely depart from the principle     
observed by all the rest1 and spring    
high into the air4 ,they have a message 
for us which it is important that we    
should understand4 ,their leap is not a 
preparation for breaking1 neither is it 
caused by their meeting with a rock4 ,it
 is caused by their encounter with the  
recoil of the preceding wave4 ,when a   
large surge1 in the act of breaking1    
just as it curls over1 is hurled against
 the face either of a wall or of a      
vertical rock1 the sound of the blow is 
not a crash nor a roar2 it is a report  
as loud as1 and in every respect similar
 to1 that of a great gun1 and the wave  
is dashed back from the rock with force 
scarcely diminished1 but reversed in    

direction1--it now recedes from the     
shore1 and at the instant that it       
encounters the following breaker1 the   
result is the vertical bound of both    
which is here rendered by ,turner4 ,such
 a recoiling wave will proceed out to   
sea through ten or twelve ranges of     
following breakers1 before it is        
overpowered4 ,the effect of the         
encounter is more completely and        
palpably given in the ,quilleboeuf1 in  
the ,rivers of ,france4 ,it is          
peculiarly instructive here1 as         
informing us of the nature of the coast1
 and the force of the waves1 far more   
clearly than any spray about the rocks  
themselves could have done4 ,but the    
effect of the blow at the shore itself  
is given in the ,land's ,end1 and       
vignette to ,lycidas4 ,under favorable  
circumstances1 with an advancing tide   
under a heavy gale1 where the breakers  
feel the shore underneath them a moment 
before they touch the rock1 so as to nod
 over when they strike1 the effect is   

nearly incredible except to an          
eyewitness4 ,i have seen the whole body 
of the wave rise in one white1 vertical1
 broad fountain1 eighty feet above the  
sea1 half of it beaten so fine as to be 
borne away by the wind1 the rest turning
 in the air when exhausted1 and falling 
back with a weight and crash like that  
of an enormous waterfall4 ,this is given
 most completely in the ,lycidas1 and   
the blow of a less violent wave among   
broken rocks1 not meeting it with an    
absolute wall1 along the shore of the   
,land's ,end4 ,this last picture is a   
study of sea whose whole organization   
has been broken up by constant recoils  
from a rocky coast4 ,the ,laugharne     
gives the surge and weight of the ocean 
in a gale1 on a comparatively level     
shore2 but the ,land's ,end1 the entire 
disorder of the surges when every one of
 them1 divided and entangled among      
promontories as it rolls in1 and beaten 
back part by part from walls of rock on 
this side and that side1 recoils like   

the defeated division of a great army1  
throwing all behind it into disorder1   
breaking up the succeeding waves into   
vertical ridges1 which in their turn1   
yet more totally shattered upon the     
shore1 retire in more hopeless          
confusion1 until the whole surface of   
the sea becomes one dizzy whirl of      
rushing1 writhing1 tortured1 undirected 
rage1 bounding1 and crashing1 and       
coiling in an anarchy of enormous power1
 subdivided into myriads of waves1 of   
which every one is not1 be it           
remembered1 a separate surge1 but part  
and portion of a vast one1 actuated by  
internal power1 and giving in every     
direction the mighty undulation of      
impetuous line which glides over the    
rocks and writhes in the wind1          
overwhelming the one1 and piercing the  
other with the form1 fury1 and swiftness
 of a sheet of lambent fire4 ,and       
throughout the rendering of all this1   
there is not one false curve given1 not 
one which is not the perfect expression 

of visible motion2 and the forms of the 
infinite sea are drawn throughout with  
that utmost mastery of art which1       
through the deepest study of every line1
 makes every line appear the wildest    
child of chance1 while yet each is in   
itself a subject and a picture different
 from all else around4 ,of the color of 
this magnificent sea ,i have before     
spoken2 it is a solemn green gray1 7with
 its foam seen dimly through the        
darkness of twilight17 modulated with   
the fulness1 changefulness1 and sadness 
of a deep1 wild melody4   ,sec4 #cg4    
,open seas of ,turner's earlier times4  
,the greater number of ,turner's        
paintings of open sea belong to a       
somewhat earlier period than these      
drawings2 nor1 generally speaking1 are  
they of equal value4 ,it appears to me  
that the artist had at that time either 
less knowledge of1 or less delight in1  
the characteristics of deep water than  
of coast sea1 and that1 in consequence1 
he suffered himself to be influenced by 

some of the qualities of the ,dutch     
sea-painters4 ,in particular1 he        
borrowed from them the habit of casting 
a dark shadow on the near waves1 so as  
to bring out a stream of light behind2  
and though he did this in a more        
legitimate way than they1 that is to    
say1 expressing the light by touches on 
the foam1 and indicating the shadow as  
cast on foamy surface1 still the habit  
has induced much feebleness and         
conventionality in the pictures of the  
period4 ,his drawing of the waves was   
also somewhat petty and divided1 small  
forms covered with white flat spray1 a  
condition which ,i doubt not the artist 
has seen on some of the shallow ,dutch  
seas1 but which ,i have never met with  
myself1 and of the rendering of which   
therefore ,i cannot speak4 ,yet even in 
these1 which ,i think among the poorest 
works of the painter1 the expressions of
 breeze1 motion1 and light1 are very    
marvellous2 and it is instructive to    
compare them either with the lifeless   

works of the ,dutch themselves1 or with 
any modern imitations of them1 as for   
instance with the seas of ,callcott1    
where all the light is white and all the
 shadows gray1 where no distinction is  
made between water and foam1 or between 
real and reflective shadow1 and which   
are generally without evidence of the   
artists having ever seen the sea4  ,some
 pictures1 however1 belonging to this   
period of ,turner are free from the     
,dutch infection1 and show the real     
power of the artist4 ,a very important  
one is in the possession of ,lord       
,francis ,egerton1 somewhat heavy in its
 forms1 but remarkable for the grandeur 
of distance obtained at the horizon2 a  
much smaller1 but more powerful example 
is the ,port ,ruysdael in the possession
 of ,e4 ,bicknell1 ,esq41 with which ,i 
know of no work at all comparable for   
the expression of the white1 wild1 cold1
 comfortless waves of northern sea1 even
 though the sea is almost subordinate to
 the awful rolling clouds4 ,both these  

pictures are very gray4 ,the ,pas de    
,calais has more color1 and shows more  
art than either1 yet is less impressive4
 ,recently1 two marines of the same     
subdued color have appeared 7#ahdc7     
among his more radiant works4 ,one1     
,ostend1 somewhat forced and affected1  
but the other1 also called ,port        
,ruysdael1 is among the most perfect sea
 pictures he has produced1 and          
especially remarkable as being painted  
without one marked opposition either of 
color or of shade1 all quiet and simple 
even to an extreme1 so that the picture 
was exceedingly unattractive at first   
sight4 ,the shadow of the pier-head on  
the near waves is marked solely by      
touches indicative of reflected light1  
and so mysteriously that when the       
picture is seen near1 it is quite       
untraceable1 and comes into existence as
 the spectator retires4 ,it is thus of  
peculiar truth and value2 and           
instructive as a contrast to the dark   
shadows of his earlier time4   ,sec4    

#ch4 ,effect of sea after prolonged     
storm4  ,few people1 comparatively1 have
 ever seen the effect on the sea of a   
powerful gale continued without         
intermission for three or four days and 
nights1 and to those who have not1 ,i   
believe it must be unimaginable1 not    
from the mere force or size of surge1   
but from the complete annihilation of   
the limit between sea and air4 ,the     
water from its prolonged agitation is   
beaten1 not into mere creaming foam1 but
 into masses of accumulated yeast1#fh   
which hang in ropes and wreaths from    
wave to wave1 and where one curls over  
to break1 form a festoon like a drapery1
 from its edge2 these are taken up by   
the wind1 not in dissipating dust1 but  
bodily1 in writhing1 hanging1 coiling   
masses1 which make the air white and    
thick as with snow1 only the flakes are 
a foot or two long each2 the surges     
themselves are full of foam in their    
very bodies1 underneath1 making them    
white all through1 as the water is under

 a great cataract2 and their masses1    
being thus half water and half air1 are 
torn to pieces by the wind whenever they
 rise1 and carried away in roaring      
smoke1 which chokes and strangles like  
actual water4 ,add to this1 that when   
the air has been exhausted of its       
moisture by long rain1 the spray of the 
sea is caught by it as described above1 
7,section ,,iii4 ,chapter ,,vi4 ,sec4   
#ac17 and covers its surface not merely 
with the smoke of finely divided water1 
but with boiling mist2 imagine also the 
low rain-clouds brought down to the very
 level of the sea1 as ,i have often seen
 them1 whirling and flying in rags and  
fragments from wave to wave2 and        
finally1 conceive the surges themselves 
in their utmost pitch of power1         
velocity1 vastness1 and madness1 lifting
 themselves in precipices and peaks1    
furrowed with their whirl of ascent1    
through all this chaos2 and you will    
understand that there is indeed no      
distinction left between the sea and    

air2 that no object1 nor horizon1 nor   
any landmark or natural evidence of     
position is left2 that the heaven is all
 spray1 and the ocean all cloud1 and    
that you can see no farther in any      
direction than you could see through a  
cataract4 ,suppose the effect of the    
first sunbeam sent from above to show   
this annihilation to itself1 and you    
have the sea picture of the ,academy1   
#ahdb--the ,snowstorm1 one of the very  
grandest statements of sea-motion1 mist1
 and light that has ever been put on    
canvas1 even by ,turner4 ,of course it  
was not understood2 his finest works    
never are2 but there was some apology   
for the public's not comprehending this1
 for few people have had the opportunity
 of seeing the sea at such a time1 and  
when they have1 cannot face it4 ,to hold
 by a mast or a rock1 and watch it1 is a
 prolonged endurance of drowning which  
few people have courage to go through4  
,to those who have1 it is one of the    
noblest lessons of nature4   ,sec4 #ci4 

,turner's noblest work1 the deep open   
sea in the ,slave ,ship4  ,but1 ,i      
think1 the noblest sea that ,turner has 
ever painted1 and1 if so1 the noblest   
certainly ever painted by man1 is that  
of the ,slave ,ship1 the chief ,academy 
picture of the ,exhibition of #ahdj4 ,it
 is a sunset on the ,atlantic after     
prolonged storm2 but the storm is       
partially lulled1 and the torn and      
streaming rain-clouds are moving in     
scarlet lines to lose themselves in the 
hollow of the night4 ,the whole surface 
of sea included in the picture is       
divided into two ridges of enormous     
swell1 not high1 nor local1 but a low1  
broad heaving of the whole ocean1 like  
the lifting of its bosom by deep-drawn  
breath after the torture of the storm4  
,between these two ridges1 the fire of  
the sunset falls along the trough of the
 sea1 dyeing it with an awful but       
glorious light1 the intense and lurid   
splendor which burns like gold and      
bathes like blood4 ,along this fiery    

path and valley1 the tossing waves by   
which the swell of the sea is restlessly
 divided1 lift themselves in dark1      
indefinite1 fantastic forms1 each       
casting a faint and ghastly shadow      
behind it along the illumined foam4     
,they do not rise everywhere1 but three 
or four together in wild groups1        
fitfully and furiously1 as the under    
strength of the swell compels or permits
 them2 leaving between them treacherous 
spaces of level and whirling water1 now 
lighted with green and lamp-like fire1  
now flashing back the gold of the       
declining sun1 now fearfully dyed from  
above with the indistinguishable images 
of the burning clouds1 which fall upon  
them in flakes of crimson and scarlet1  
and give to the reckless waves the added
 motion of their own fiery flying4      
,purple and blue1 the lurid shadows of  
the hollow breakers are cast upon the   
mist of the night1 which gathers cold   
and low1 advancing like the shadow of   
death upon the guilty#fi ship as it     

labors amidst the lightning of the sea1 
its thin masts written upon the sky in  
lines of blood1 girded with condemnation
 in that fearful hue which signs the sky
 with horror1 and mixes its flaming     
flood with the sunlight1--and cast far  
along the desolate heave of the         
sepulchral waves1 incarnadines the      
multitudinous sea4   ,sec4 #dj4 ,its    
united excellences and perfection as a  
whole4  ,i believe1 if ,i were reduced  
to rest ,turner's immortality upon any  
single work1 ,i should choose this4 ,its
 daring conception--ideal in the highest
 sense of the word--is based on the     
purest truth1 and wrought out with the  
concentrated knowledge of a life2 its   
color is absolutely perfect1 not one    
false or morbid hue in any part or line1
 and so modulated that every square inch
 of canvas is a perfect composition2 its
 drawing as accurate as fearless2 the   
ship buoyant1 bending1 and full of      
motion2 its tones as true as they are   
wonderful2#gj and the whole picture     

dedicated to the most sublime of        
subjects and impressions--7completing   
thus the perfect system of all truth1   
which we have shown to be formed by     
,turner's works7--the power1 majesty1   
and deathfulness of the open1 deep1     
illimitable ,sea4   ,,footnotes    #ff  
,not altogether4 ,i believe here1 as in 
a former case1 ,i have     attributed   
far too much influence to this change of
 focus4 ,in     ,turner's earlier works 
the principle is not found4 ,in the     
rivers of     the ,yorkshire drawings1  
every reflection is given clearly1 even 
to     the farthest depth1 and yet the  
surface is not lost1 and it would       
deprive the painter of much power if he 
were not sometimes so to     represent  
them1 especially when his object is     
repose2 it being1 of     course1 as     
lawful for him to choose one adaptation 
of the sight as     another4 ,i have1   
however1 left the above paragraphs as   
first     written1 because they are     
true1 although ,i think they make too   

much     of an unimportant matter4 ,the 
reader may attribute to them such       
weight as he thinks fit4 ,he is referred
 to ,sec4 #aa of this chapter1 and      
to ,sec4 #d of the first chapter of this
 section4    #fg ,on a large scale it is
 so1 but the same lines are to be seen  
for the moment whenever water becomes   
exceedingly rapid1 and yet     feels the
 bottom as it passes1 being not thrown  
up or cast clear of     it4 ,in general1
 the drawing of water fails from being  
too     interrupted1 the forms flung    
hither and thither1 and broken up and   
covered with bright touches1 instead of 
being wrought out in their     real     
unities of curvature4 ,it is difficult  
enough to draw a curved     surface1    
even when it is rough and has texture2  
but to indicate the     varied and      
sweeping forms of a crystalline and     
polished substance1     requires far    
more skill and patience than most       
artists possess4 ,in     some respects1 
it is impossible4 ,i do not suppose any 

means of art     are capable of rightly 
expressing the smooth1 multitudinous    
rippling     of a rapid rivulet of      
shallow water1 giving its transparency  
lustre     and fully-developed forms2   
and the greater number of the lines and 
actions of torrent-waves are equally    
inexpressible4 ,the effort     should1  
nevertheless1 always be made1 and       
whatever is sacrificed in     color1    
freedom1 or brightness1 the real        
contours ought always in     some       
measure to be drawn1 as a careful       
draughtsman secures those of     flesh1 
or any other finely-modelled surface4   
,it is better1 in many     respects1 the
 drawing should miss of being like      
water1 than that     it should miss in  
this one respect the grandeur of water4 
,many     tricks of scratching and      
dashing will bring out a deceptive      
resemblance2 the determined and         
laborious rendering of contour alone    
secures sublimity4    #fh ,the yesty    
waves of ,shakspeare have made the      

likeness     familiar1 and probably most
 readers take the expression as merely  
equivalent to foamy2 but ,shakspeare    
knew better4 ,sea-foam does     not1    
under ordinary circumstances1 last a    
moment after it is formed1     but      
disappears1 as above described1 in a    
mere white film4 ,but the     foam of a 
prolonged tempest is altogether         
different2 it is whipped                
foam1--thick1 permanent1 and1 in a foul 
or discolored sea1 very     ugly1       
especially in the way it hangs about the
 tops of the waves1     and gathers into
 clotted concretions before the driving 
wind4 ,the     sea looks truly working  
or fermenting4 ,the following passage   
from     ,fenimore ,cooper is an        
interesting confirmation of the rest of 
the     above description1 which may be 
depended upon as entirely free from     
exaggeration3--,for the first time ,i   
now witnessed a tempest at sea4         
,gales1 and pretty hard ones1 ,i had    
often seen1 but the force of the        

wind on this occasion as much exceeded  
that in ordinary gales of     wind1 as  
the force of these had exceeded that of 
a whole-sail     breeze4 ,the seas      
seemed crushed2 the pressure of the     
swooping     atmosphere1 as the currents
 of the air went howling over the       
surface     of the ocean1 fairly        
preventing them from rising2 or where a 
mound     of water did appear1 it was   
scooped up and borne off in spray1 as   
the axe dubs inequalities from the log4 
,when the day returned1 a     species of
 lurid1 sombre light was diffused over  
the watery waste1     though nothing was
 visible but the ocean and the ship4    
,even the     sea-birds seemed to have  
taken refuge in the caverns of the      
adjacent     coast1 none reappearing    
with the dawn4 ,the air was full of     
spray1     and it was with difficulty   
that the eye could penetrate as far into
     the humid atmosphere as half a     
mile1--,miles ,wattingford4 ,half a     
mile is an over-estimate in coast4      

#fi ,she is a slaver1 throwing her      
slaves overboard4 ,the near sea is      
encumbered with corpses4    #gj ,there  
is a piece of tone of the same kind1    
equal in one part1     but not so united
 with the rest of the picture1 in the   
storm scene     illustrative of the     
,antiquary1--a sunset light on polished 
sea4 ,i     ought to have particularly  
mentioned the sea in the ,lowestoffe1 as
 a     piece of the cutting motion of   
shallow water1 under storm1             
altogether in gray1 which should be     
especially contrasted1 as a     piece of
 color1 with the grays of ,vandevelde4  
,and the sea in the     ,great ,yarmouth
 should have been noticed for its       
expression of water     in violent      
agitation1 seen in enormous extent from 
a great     elevation4 ,there is almost 
every form of sea in it1--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 sands1 bringing fragments of bright 
sky down into     their yellow waste4   
,there is hardly one of the views of the
 ,southern     ,coast which does not    
give some new condition or circumstance 
of sea4                                 
,,section ,,vi4                         
,,of ,,truth ,,of                       
,,vegetation4--,,conclusion4            
,,chapter ,i4                           
,,of ,,truth ,,of ,,vegetation4   ,sec4 
#a4 ,frequent occurrence of foliage in  
the works of the old masters4  ,we have 
now arrived at the consideration of what
 was1 with the old masters1 the subject 
of most serious and perpetual study4 ,if
 they do not give us truth here1 they   
cannot have the faculty of truth in     
them2 for foliage is the chief component
 part of all their pictures1 and is     
finished by them with a care and labor  
which1 if bestowed without attaining    
truth1 must prove either their total    
bluntness of perception1 or total       
powerlessness of hand4 ,with the        

,italian school ,i can scarcely         
recollect a single instance in which    
foliage does not form the greater part  
of the picture2 in fact1 they are rather
 painters of tree-portrait than         
landscape painters2 for rocks1 and sky1 
and architecture are usually mere       
accessories and backgrounds to the dark 
masses of laborious foliage1 of which   
the composition principally consists4   
,yet we shall be less detained by the   
examination of foliage than by our      
former subjects2 since where specific   
form is organized and complete1 and the 
occurrence of the object universal1 it  
is easy1 without requiring any laborious
 attention in the reader1 to demonstrate
 to him quite as much of the truth or   
falsehood of various representations of 
it1 as may serve to determine the       
character and rank of the painter4      
,sec4 #b4 ,laws common to all forest    
trees4 ,their branches do not taper1 but
        only divide4  ,it will be best  
to begin as nature does1 with the stems 

and branches1 and then to put the leaves
 on4 ,and in speaking of trees          
generally1 be it observed1 when ,i say  
all trees1 ,i mean only those ordinary  
forest or copse trees of ,europe1 which 
are the chief subjects of the landscape 
painter4 ,i do not mean to include every
 kind of foliage which by any accident  
can find its way into a picture1 but the
 ordinary trees of ,europe1--oak1 elm1  
ash1 hazel1 willow1 birch1 beech1       
poplar1 chestnut1 pine1 mulberry1 olive1
 ilex1 carubbe1 and such others4 ,i do  
not purpose to examine the              
characteristics of each tree2 it will be
 enough to observe the laws common to   
all4 ,first1 then1 neither the stems nor
 the boughs of any of the above trees   
taper1 except where they fork4 ,wherever
 a stem sends off a branch1 or a branch 
a lesser bough1 or a lesser bough a bud1
 the stem or the branch is1 on the      
instant1 less in diameter by the exact  
quantity of the branch or the bough they
 have sent off1 and they remain of the  

same diameter2 or if there be any       
change1 rather increase than diminish   
until they send off another branch or   
bough4 ,this law is imperative and      
without exception2 no bough1 nor stem1  
nor twig1 ever tapering or becoming     
narrower towards its extremity by a     
hairbreadth1 save where it parts with   
some portion of its substance at a fork 
or bud1 so that if all the twigs and    
sprays at the top and sides of the tree1
 which are1 and have been1 could be     
united without loss of space1 they would
 form a round log of the diameter of the
 trunk from which they spring4   ,sec4  
#c4 ,appearance of tapering caused by   
frequent buds4  ,but as the trunks of   
most trees send off twigs and sprays of 
light under foliage1 of which every     
individual fibre takes precisely its own
 thickness of wood from the parent stem1
 and as many of these drop off1 leaving 
nothing but a small excrescence to      
record their existence1 there is        
frequently a slight and delicate        

appearance of tapering bestowed on the  
trunk itself2 while the same operation  
takes place much more extensively in the
 branches1 it being natural to almost   
all trees to send out from their young  
limbs more wood than they can support1  
which1 as the stem increases1 gets      
contracted at the point of insertion1 so
 as to check the flow of the sap1 and   
then dies and drops off1 leaving all    
along the bough1 first on one side1 then
 on another1 a series of small          
excrescences1 sufficient to account for 
a degree of tapering1 which is yet so   
very slight1 that if we select a portion
 of a branch with no real fork or living
 bough to divide it or diminish it1 the 
tapering is scarcely to be detected by  
the eye2 and if we select a portion     
without such evidences of past          
ramification1 there will be found none  
whatsoever4   ,sec4 #d4 ,and care of    
nature to conceal the parallelism4  ,but
 nature takes great care and pains to   
conceal this uniformity in her boughs4  

,they are perpetually parting with      
little sprays here and there1 which     
steal away their substance cautiously1  
and where the eye does not perceive the 
theft1 until1 a little way above1 it    
feels the loss2 and in the upper parts  
of the tree1 the ramifications take     
place so constantly and delicately1 that
 the effect upon the eye is precisely   
the same as if the boughs actually      
tapered1 except here and there1 where   
some avaricious one1 greedy of          
substance1 runs on for two or three     
yards without parting with anything1 and
 becomes ungraceful in so doing4   ,sec4
 #e4 ,the degree of tapering which may  
be represented as continuous4  ,hence we
 see that although boughs may1 and must 
be represented as actually tapering1    
they must only be so when they are      
sending off foliage and sprays1 and when
 they are at such a distance that the   
particular forks and divisions cannot be
 evident to the eye2 and farther1 even  
in such circumstances the tapering never

 can be sudden or rapid4 ,no bough ever1
 with appearance of smooth tapering1    
loses more than one tenth of its        
diameter in a length of ten diameters4  
,any greater diminution than this must  
be accounted for by visible             
ramification1 and must take place by    
steps1 at each fork4   ,sec4 #f4 ,the   
trees of ,gaspar ,poussin2  ,and        
therefore we see at once that the stem  
of ,gaspar ,poussin's tall tree1 on the 
right of the ,la ,riccia1 in the        
,national ,gallery1 is a painting of a  
carrot or a parsnip1 not of the trunk of
 a tree4 ,for1 being so near that every 
individual leaf is visible1 we should   
not have seen1 in nature1 one branch or 
stem actually tapering4 ,we should have 
received an impression of graceful      
diminution2 but we should have been     
able1 on examination1 to trace it joint 
by joint1 fork by fork1 into the        
thousand minor supports of the leaves4  
,gaspar ,poussin's stem1 on the         
contrary1 only sends off four or five   

minor branches altogether1 and both it  
and they taper violently1 and without   
showing why or wherefore--without       
parting with a single twig--without     
showing one vestige of roughness or     
excrescence--and leaving1 therefore1    
their unfortunate leaves to hold on as  
best they may4 ,the latter1 however1 are
 clever leaves1 and support themselves  
as swarming bees do1 hanging on by each 
other4   ,sec4 #g4 ,and of the ,italian 
school generally1 defy this law4  ,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 it1--the ,view near ,albano4
 ,this latter is a representation of an 
ornamental group of elephants' tusks1   
with feathers tied to the ends of them4 
,not the wildest imagination could ever 
conjure up in it the remotest           
resemblance to the bough of a tree4 ,it 
might be the claws of a witch--the      
talons of an eagle--the horns of a      
fiend2 but it is a full assemblage of   

every conceivable falsehood which can be
 told respecting foliage--a piece of    
work so barbarous in every way1 that one
 glance at it ought to prove the        
complete charlatanism and trickery of   
the whole system of the old landscape   
painters4 ,for ,i will depart for once  
from my usual plan1 of abstaining from  
all assertion of a thing's being        
beautiful or otherwise2 ,i will say     
here1 at once1 that such drawing as this
 is as ugly as it is childish1 and as   
painful as it is false2 and that the man
 who could tolerate1 much more1 who     
could deliberately set down such a thing
 on his canvas1 had neither eye nor     
feeling for one single attribute or     
excellence of ,god's works4 ,he might   
have drawn the other stem in excusable  
ignorance1 or under some false          
impression of being able to improve upon
 nature2 but this is conclusive and     
unpardonable4 ,again1 take the stem of  
the chief tree in ,claude's ,narcissus4 
,it is a very faithful portrait of a    

large boa-constrictor1 with a handsome  
tail2 the kind of trunk which young     
ladies at fashionable boarding-schools  
represent with nosegays at the top of   
them1 by way of forest scenery4   ,sec4 
#h4 ,the truth1 as it is given by ,j4   
,d4 ,harding4  ,let us refresh ourselves
 for a moment1 by looking at the truth4 
,we need not go to ,turner1 we will go  
to the man who1 next to him1 is         
unquestionably the greatest master of   
foliage in ,europe--,j4 ,d4 ,harding4   
,take the trunk of the largest          
stone-pine1 ,plate #be1 in the ,park and
 the ,forest4 ,for the first nine or ten
 feet from the ground it does not lose  
one hairbreadth of its diameter4 ,but   
the shoot1 broken off just under the    
crossing part of the distant tree1 is   
followed by an instant diminution of the
 trunk1 perfectly appreciable both by   
the eye and the compasses4 ,again1 the  
stem maintains undiminished thickness1  
up to the two shoots on the left1 from  
the loss of which it suffers again      

perceptibly4 ,on the right1 immediately 
above1 is the stump of a very large     
bough1 whose loss reduces the trunk     
suddenly to about two-thirds of what it 
was at the root4 ,diminished again1 less
 considerably1 by the minor branch close
 to this stump1 it now retains its      
diameter up to the three branches1      
broken off just under the head1 where it
 once more loses in diameter1 and       
finally branches into the multitude of  
head-boughs1 of which not one will be   
found tapering in any part1 but losing  
themselves gradually by division among  
their offshoots and spray4 ,this is     
nature1 and beauty too4   ,sec4 #i4     
,boughs1 in consequence of this law1    
must diminish where they        divide4 
,those of the old masters often do not4 
,but the old masters are not satisfied  
with drawing carrots for boughs4 ,nature
 can be violated in more ways than one1 
and the industry with which they seek   
out and adopt every conceivable mode of 
contradicting her is matter of no small 

interest4 ,it is evident1 from what we  
have above stated of the structure of   
all trees1 that as no boughs diminish   
where they do not fork1 so they cannot  
fork without diminishing4 ,it is        
impossible that the smallest shoot can  
be sent out of a bough without a        
diminution of the diameter above it2 and
 wherever a branch goes off it must not 
only be less in diameter than the bough 
from which it springs1 but the bough    
beyond the fork must be less by         
precisely the quantity of the branch it 
has sent off4#ga ,now observe the bough 
underneath the first bend of the great  
stem in ,claude's ,narcissus2 it sends  
off four branches like the ribs of a    
leaf4 ,the two lowest of these are both 
quite as thick as the parent stem1 and  
the stem itself is much thicker after it
 has sent off the first one than it was 
before4 ,the top boughs of the central  
tree1 in the ,marriage of ,isaac and    
,rebecca1 ramify in the same scientific 
way4   ,sec4 #aj4 ,boughs must multiply 

as they diminish4 ,those of the old     
masters         do not4  ,sec4 #aa4     
,bough-drawing of ,salvator4  ,but there
 are further conclusions to be drawn    
from this great principle in trees4 ,as 
they only diminish where they divide1   
their increase of number is in precise  
proportion to their diminution of size1 
so that whenever we come to the         
extremities of boughs1 we must have a   
multitude of sprays sufficient to make  
up1 if they were united1 the bulk of    
that from which they spring4 ,where a   
bough divides into two equal            
ramifications1 the diameter of each of  
the two is about two-thirds that of the 
single one1 and the sum of their        
diameters1 therefore1 one-fourth greater
 than the diameter of the single one4   
,hence1 if no boughs died or were lost1 
the quantity of wood in the sprays would
 appear one-fourth greater than would be
 necessary to make up the thickness of  
the trunk4 ,but the lost boughs remove  
the excess1 and therefore1 speaking     

broadly1 the diameters of the outer     
boughs put together would generally just
 make up the diameter of the trunk4     
,precision in representing this is      
neither desirable nor possible4 ,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 stem4 ,but to do this1  
there must be1 what there always is in  
nature1 an exceeding complexity of the  
outer sprays4 ,this complexity gradually
 increases towards their extremities1 of
 course exactly in proportion to the    
slenderness of the twigs4 ,the slenderer
 they become1 the more there are of     
them1 until at last1 at the extremities 
of the tree1 they form a mass of        
intricacy1 which in winter1 when it can 
be seen1 is scarcely distinguishable    
from fine herbage1 and is beyond all    
power of definite representation2 it can
 only be expressed by a mass of involved

 strokes4 ,also1 as they shoot out in   
every direction1 some are nearer1 some  
more distant2 some distinct1 some faint2
 and their intersections and relations  
of distance are marked with the most    
exquisite gradations of aerial          
perspective4 ,now it will be found      
universally in the works of ,claude1    
,gaspar1 and ,salvator1 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 ones1 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 it1       
entirely dependent on its single        
strength1 have been too much1 as well   
they may be1 for its powers of solitary 
endurance4 ,this total ignorance of tree
 structure is shown throughout their    
works4 ,the ,sinon before ,priam is an  
instance of it in a really fine work of 
,claude's1 but the most gross examples  

are in the works of ,salvator4 ,it      
appears that this latter artist was     
hardly in the habit of studying from    
nature at all after his boyish ramble   
among the ,calabrian hills2 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 studio1 the proof derivable from    
this illegitimate tapering being one of 
the most convincing4 ,the painter is    
always visibly embarrassed to reduce the
 thick boughs to spray1 and feeling 7for
 ,salvator naturally had acute feeling  
for truth7 that the bough was wrong when
 it tapered suddenly1 he accomplishes   
its diminution by an impossible         
protraction2 throwing out shoot after   
shoot until his branches straggle all   
across the picture1 and at last         
disappear unwillingly where there is no 
room for them to stretch any farther4   
,the consequence is1 that whatever      
leaves are put upon such boughs have    
evidently no adequate support1 their    

power of leverage is enough to uproot   
the tree2 or if the boughs are left     
bare1 they have the look of the long    
tentacula of some complicated marine    
monster1 or of the waving endless       
threads of bunchy sea-weed1 instead of  
the firm1 upholding1 braced1 and bending
 grace of natural boughs4 ,i grant that 
this is in a measure done by ,salvator  
from a love of ghastliness1 and that in 
certain scenes it is in a sort          
allowable2 but it is in a far greater   
degree done from pure ignorance of tree 
structure1 as is sufficiently proved by 
the landscape of the ,pitti palace1     
,peace burning the arms of ,war2 where  
the spirit of the scene is intended to  
be quite other than ghastly1 and yet the
 tree branches show the usual errors in 
an extraordinary degree2 every one of   
their arrangements is impossible1 and   
the trunk of the tree could not for a   
moment support the foliage it is loaded 
with4 ,so also in the pictures of the   
,guadagni palace4 ,and even where the   

skeleton look of branches is justifiable
 or desirable1 there is no occasion for 
any violation of natural laws4 ,i have  
seen more spectral character in the real
 limbs of a blasted oak1 than ever in   
,salvator's best monstrosities2 more    
horror is to be obtained by right       
combination of inventive line1 than by  
drawing tree branches as if they were   
wing-bones of a pterodactyle4 ,all      
departure from natural forms to give    
fearfulness is mere ,germanism2 it is   
the work of fancy1 not of               
imagination1#gb and instantly degrades  
whatever it affects to third-rate level4
 ,there is nothing more marked in truly 
great men1 than their power of being    
dreadful without being false or         
licentious4 ,in ,tintoret's ,murder of  
,abel1 the head of the sacrificed       
firstling lies in the corner of the     
foreground1 obscurely sketched in1 and  
with the light gleaming upon its glazed 
eyes4 ,there is nothing exaggerated     
about the head1 but there is more horror

 got out of it1 and more of death       
suggested by its treatment1 than if he  
had turned all the trees of his picture 
into skeletons1 and raised a host of    
demons to drive the club4   ,sec4 #ab4  
,all these errors especially shown in   
,claude's sketches and                  
concentrated in a work of ,g4           
,poussin's4  ,sec4 #ac4 ,impossibility  
of the angles of boughs being taken out 
of them by         wind4  ,it is curious
 that in ,salvator's sketches or        
etchings there is less that is wrong    
than in his paintings1--there seems a   
fresher remembrance of nature about     
them4 ,not so with ,claude4 ,it is only 
by looking over his sketches1 in the    
,british ,museum1 that a complete and   
just idea is to be formed of his        
capacities of error2 for the feeling and
 arrangement of many of them are those  
of an advanced age1 so that we can      
scarcely set them down for what they    
resemble--the work of a boy ten years   
old2 and the drawing being seen without 

any aids of tone or color to set it off1
 shows in its naked falsehood4 ,the     
windy landscape of ,poussin1 opposite   
the ,dido and ,aeneas1 in the ,national 
,gallery1 presents us1 in the foreground
 tree1 with a piece of atrocity which ,i
 think1 to any person who candidly      
considers it1 may save me all farther   
trouble of demonstrating the errors of  
ancient art4 ,i do not in the least     
suspect the picture3 the tones of it1   
and much of the handling1 are masterly2 
yet that foreground tree comprises every
 conceivable violation of truth which   
the human hand can commit1 or head      
invent1 in drawing a tree--except only1 
that it is not drawn root uppermost4 ,it
 has no bark1 no roughness nor character
 of stem2 its boughs do not grow out of 
each other1 but are stuck into each     
other2 they ramify without diminishing1 
diminish without ramifying1 are         
terminated by no complicated sprays1    
have their leaves tied to their ends1   
like the heads of ,dutch brooms2 and    

finally1 and chiefly1 they are evidently
 not made of wood1 but of some soft     
elastic substance1 which the wind can   
stretch out as it pleases1 for there is 
not a vestige of an angle in any one of 
them4 ,now1 the fiercest wind that ever 
blew upon the earth1 could not take the 
angles out of the bough of a tree an    
inch thick4 ,the whole bough bends      
together1 retaining its elbows1 and     
angles1 and natural form1 but affected  
throughout with curvature in each of its
 parts and joints4 ,that part of it     
which was before perpendicular being    
bent aside1 and that which was before   
sloping1 being bent into still greater  
inclination1 the angle at which the two 
parts meet remains the same2 or if the  
strain be put in the opposite direction1
 the bough will break long before it    
loses its angle4 ,you will find it      
difficult to bend the angles out of the 
youngest sapling1 if they be marked2 and
 absolutely impossible1 with a strong   
bough4 ,you may break it1 but you will  

not destroy its angles4 ,and if you     
watch a tree in the wildest storm1 you  
will find that though all its boughs are
 bending1 none lose their character but 
the utmost shoots and sapling spray4    
,hence ,gaspar ,poussin1 by his bad     
drawing1 does not make his storm strong1
 but his tree weak2 he does not make his
 gust violent1 but his boughs of        
,india-rubber4   ,sec4 #ad4             
,bough-drawing of ,titian4  ,these laws 
respecting vegetation are so far more   
imperative than those which were stated 
respecting water1 that the greatest     
artist cannot violate them without      
danger1 because they are laws resulting 
from organic structure1 which it is     
always painful to see interrupted2 on   
the other hand1 they have this in common
 with all laws1 that they may be        
observed with mathematical precision1   
yet with no grateful result2 the        
disciplined eye and the life in the     
woods are worth more than all botanical 
knowledge4 ,for there is that about the 

growing of the tree trunk1 and that     
grace in its upper ramification which   
cannot be taught1 and which cannot even 
be seen but by eager watchfulness4      
,there is not an ,exhibition passes1 but
 there appear in it hundreds of         
elaborate paintings of trees1 many of   
them executed from nature4 ,for three   
hundred years back1 trees have been     
drawn with affection by all the         
civilized nations of ,europe1 and yet ,i
 repeat boldly1 what ,i before asserted1
 that no men but ,titian and ,turner    
ever drew the stem of a tree4           
,generally1 ,i think1 the perception of 
the muscular qualities of the tree trunk
 incomplete1 except in men who have     
studied the human figure1 and in loose  
expression of those characters1 the     
painter who can draw the living muscle  
seldom fails2 but the thoroughly        
peculiar lines belonging to woody fibre1
 can only be learned by patient forest  
study2 and hence in all the trees of the
 merely historical painters1 there is   

fault of some kind or another1 commonly 
exaggeration of the muscular swellings1 
or insipidity and want of spring in     
curvature1 or fantasticism and          
unnaturalness of arrangement1 and       
especially a want of the peculiar       
characters of bark which express the    
growth and age of the tree2 for bark is 
no mere excrescence1 lifeless and       
external--it is a skin of especial      
significance in its indications of the  
organic form beneath2 in places under   
the arms of the tree it wrinkles up and 
forms fine lines round the trunk1       
inestimable in their indication of the  
direction of its surface2 in others1 it 
bursts or peels longitudinally1 and the 
rending and bursting of it are          
influenced in direction and degree by   
the under-growth and swelling of the    
woody fibre1 and are not a mere         
roughness and granulated pattern of the 
hide4 ,where there are so many points to
 be observed1 some are almost always    
exaggerated1 and others missed1         

according to the predilections of the   
painter4 ,rembrandt and ,albert ,durer  
have given some splendid examples of    
woody texture1 but both miss the grace  
of the great lines4 ,titian took a      
larger view and reached a higher truth1 
yet 7as before noticed7 from the habit  
of drawing the figure1 he admits too    
much flaccidity and bend1 and sometimes 
makes his tree trunks look flexible like
 sea-weed4 ,there is a peculiar         
stiffness and spring about the curves of
 the wood1 which separates them         
completely from animal curves1 and which
 especially defies recollection or      
invention2 it is so subtile that it     
escapes but too often1 even in the most 
patient study from nature2 it lies      
within the thickness of a pencil line4  
,farther1 the modes of ramification of  
the upper branches are so varied1       
inventive1 and graceful1 that the least 
alteration of them1 even in the measure 
of a hairbreadth1 spoils them2 and      
though it is sometimes possible to get  

rid of a troublesome bough1 accidentally
 awkward1 or in some minor respects to  
assist the arrangement1 yet so far as   
the real branches are copied1 the hand  
libels their lovely curvatures even in  
its best attempts to follow them4       
,sec4 #ae4 ,bough-drawing of ,turner4   
,these two characters1 the woody        
stiffness hinted through muscular line1 
and the inventive grace of the upper    
boughs1 have never been rendered except 
by ,turner2 he does not merely draw them
 better than others1 but he is the only 
man who has ever drawn them at all4 ,of 
the woody character1 the tree subjects  
of the ,liber ,studiorum afford marked  
examples2 the ,cephalus and ,procris1   
scenes near the ,grand ,chartreuse and  
,blair ,athol1 ,juvenile ,tricks1 and   
,hedging and ,ditching1 may be          
particularized2 in the ,england series1 
the ,bolton ,abbey is perhaps a more    
characteristic and thoroughly           
,turneresque example than any4  ,of the 
arrangement of the upper boughs1 the    

,aesacus and ,hesperie is perhaps the   
most consummate example1 the absolute   
truth and simplicity and freedom from   
anything like fantasticism or animal    
form being as marked on the one hand1 as
 the exquisite imaginativeness of the   
lines on the other3 among the ,yorkshire
 subjects the ,aske ,hall1 ,kirby       
,lonsdale ,churchyard1 and ,brignall    
,church are most characteristic3 among  
the ,england subjects the ,warwick1     
,dartmouth ,cove1 ,durham1 and ,chain   
,bridge over the ,tees1 where the piece 
of thicket on the right has been well   
rendered by the engraver1 and is        
peculiarly expressive of the aerial     
relations and play of light among       
complex boughs4 ,the vignette at the    
opening of ,rogers's ,pleasures of      
,memory1 that of ,chiefswood ,cottage in
 the ,illustrations to ,scott's ,works1 
and the ,chateau de la belle ,gabrielle1
 engraved for the ,keepsake1 are among  
the most graceful examples accessible to
 every one2 the ,crossing the ,brook    

will occur at once to those acquainted  
with the artist's gallery4 ,the drawing 
of the stems in all these instances1 and
 indeed in all the various and frequent 
minor occurrences of such subject       
throughout the painter's works is       
entirely unique1 there is nothing of the
 same kind in art4   ,sec4 #af4         
,leafage4 ,its variety and symmetry4    
,sec4 #ag4 ,perfect regularity of       
,poussin4  ,let us1 however1 pass to the
 leafage of the elder landscape         
painters1 and see if it atones for the  
deficiencies of the stems4 ,one of the  
most remarkable characters of natural   
leafage is the constancy with which1    
while the leaves are arranged on the    
spray with exquisite regularity1 that   
regularity is modified in their actual  
effect4 ,for as in every group of leaves
 some are seen sideways1 forming merely 
long lines1 some foreshortened1 some    
crossing each other1 every one          
differently turned and placed from all  
the others1 the forms of the leaves1    

though in themselves similar1 give rise 
to a thousand strange and differing     
forms in the group2 and the shadows of  
some1 passing over the others1 still    
farther disguise and confuse the mass1  
until the eye can distinguish nothing   
but a graceful and flexible disorder of 
innumerable forms1 with here and there a
 perfect leaf on the extremity1 or a    
symmetrical association of one or two1  
just enough to mark the specific        
character and to give unity and grace1  
but never enough to repeat in one group 
what was done in another--never enough  
to prevent the eye from feeling that1   
however regular and mathematical may be 
the structure of parts1 what is composed
 out of them is as various and infinite 
as any other part of nature4 ,nor does  
this take place in general effect only4 
,break off an elm bough1 three feet     
long1 in full leaf1 and lay it on the   
table before you1 and try to draw it1   
leaf for leaf4 ,it is ten to one if in  
the whole bough1 7provided you do not   

twist it about as you work17 you find   
one form of a leaf exactly like another2
 perhaps you will not even have one     
complete4 ,every leaf will be oblique1  
or foreshortened1 or curled1 or crossed 
by another1 or shaded by another1 or    
have something or other the matter with 
it2 and though the whole bough will look
 graceful and symmetrical1 you will     
scarcely be able to tell how or why it  
does so1 since there is not one line of 
it like another4 ,now go to ,gaspar     
,poussin1 and take one of his sprays    
where they come against the sky2 you may
 count it all round1 one1 two1 three1   
four1 one bunch2 five1 six1 seven1      
eight1 two bunches2 nine1 ten1 eleven1  
twelve1 three bunches2 with four leaves 
each1--and such leaves6 every one       
precisely the same as its neighbor1     
blunt and round at the end1 7where every
 forest leaf is sharp1 except that of   
the fig-tree17 tied together by the     
roots1 and so fastened on to the        
demoniacal claws above described1 one   

bunch to each claw4   ,sec4 #ah4        
,exceeding intricacy of nature's        
foliage4  ,but if nature is so various  
when you have a bough on the table      
before you1 what must she be when she   
retires from you1 and gives you her     
whole mass and multitude8 ,the leaves   
then at the extremities become as fine  
as dust1 a mere confusion of points and 
lines between you and the sky1 a        
confusion which you might as well hope  
to draw sea-sand particle by particle1  
as to imitate leaf for leaf4 ,this1 as  
it comes down into the body of the tree1
 gets closer1 but never opaque2 it is   
always transparent1 with crumbling      
lights in it letting you through to the 
sky2 then1 out of this1 come1 heavier   
and heavier1 the masses of illumined    
foliage1 all dazzling and inextricable1 
save here and there a single leaf on the
 extremities2 then1 under these1 you get
 deep passages of broken1 irregular     
gloom1 passing into transparent1        
green-lighted1 misty hollows2 the       

twisted stems glancing through them in  
their pale and entangled infinity1 and  
the shafted sunbeams1 rained from above1
 running along the lustrous leaves for  
an instant2 then lost1 then caught again
 on some emerald bank or knotted root1  
to be sent up again with a faint reflex 
on the white under-sides of dim groups  
of drooping foliage1 the shadows of the 
upper boughs running in gray network    
down the glossy stems1 and resting in   
quiet checkers upon the glittering      
earth2 but all penetrable and           
transparent1 and1 in proportion1        
inextricable and incomprehensible1      
except where across the labyrinth and   
the mystery of the dazzling light and   
dream-like shadow1 falls1 close to us1  
some solitary spray1 some wreath of two 
or three motionless large leaves1 the   
type and embodying of all that in the   
rest we feel and imagine1 but can never 
see4   ,sec4 #ai4 ,how contradicted by  
the tree-patterns of ,g4 ,poussin4      
,now1 with thus much of nature in your  

mind1 go to ,gaspar ,poussin's ,view    
near ,albano1 in the ,national ,gallery4
 ,it is the very subject to unite all   
these effects1--a sloping bank shaded   
with intertwined forest2--and what has  
,gaspar given us8 ,a mass of smooth1    
opaque1 varnished brown1 without one    
interstice1 one change of hue1 or any   
vestige of leafy structure in its       
interior1 or in those parts of it1 ,i   
should say1 which are intended to       
represent interior2 but out of it1 over 
it rather1 at regular intervals1 we have
 circular groups of greenish touches1   
always the same in size1 shape1 and     
distance from each other1 containing so 
exactly the same number of touches each1
 that you cannot tell one from another4 
,there are eight or nine and thirty of  
them1 laid over each other like         
fish-scales2 the shade being most       
carefully made darker and darker as it  
recedes from each until it comes to the 
edge of the next1 against which it cuts 
in the same sharp circular line1 and    

then begins to decline again1 until the 
canvas is covered1 with about as much   
intelligence or feeling of art as a     
house-painter has in marbling a         
wainscot1 or a weaver in repeating an   
ornamental pattern4 ,what is there in   
this1 which the most determined         
prejudice in favor of the old masters   
can for a moment suppose to resemble    
trees8 ,it is exactly what the most     
ignorant beginner1 trying to make a     
complete drawing1 would lay             
down1--exactly the conception of trees  
which we have in the works of our worst 
drawing-masters1 where the shade is laid
 on with the black-lead and stump1 and  
every human power exerted to make it    
look like a kitchen-grate well polished4
   ,sec4 #bj4 ,how followed by          
,creswick4  ,oppose to this the drawing 
even of our somewhat inferior           
tree-painters4 ,i will not insult       
,harding by mentioning his work after   
it1 but take ,creswick1 for instance1   
and match one of his sparkling bits of  

green leafage with this tree-pattern of 
,poussin's4 ,i do not say there is not a
 dignity and impressiveness about the   
old landscape1 owing to its simplicity2 
and ,i am very far from calling         
,creswick's good tree-painting2 it is   
false in color and deficient in mass and
 freedom1 and has many other defects1   
but it is the work of a man who has     
sought earnestly for truth2 and who1    
with one thought or memory of nature in 
his heart1 could look at the two        
landscapes1 and receive ,poussin's with 
ordinary patience8 ,take ,creswick in   
black and white1 where he is            
unembarrassed by his fondness for       
pea-green1 the illustrations1 for       
instance1 to the ,nut-brown ,maid1 in   
the ,book of ,english ,ballads4 ,look at
 the intricacy and fulness of the dark  
oak foliage where it bends over the     
brook1 see how you can go through it1   
and into it1 and come out behind it to  
the quiet bit of sky4 ,observe the gray1
 aerial transparency of the stunted     

copse on the left1 and the entangling of
 the boughs where the light near foliage
 detaches itself4 ,above all1 note the  
forms of the masses of light4 ,not      
things like scales or shells1 sharp at  
the edge and flat in the middle1 but    
irregular and rounded1 stealing in and  
out accidentally from the shadow1 and   
presenting1 as the masses of all trees  
do1 in general outline1 a resemblance to
 the specific forms of the leaves of    
which they are composed4 ,turn over the 
page1 and look into the weaving of the  
foliage and sprays against the dark     
night-sky1 how near they are1 yet how   
untraceable2 see how the moonlight      
creeps up underneath them1 trembling and
 shivering on the silver boughs above2  
note also1 the descending bit of ivy on 
the left1 of which only two leaves are  
made out1 and the rest is confusion1 or 
tells only in the moonlight like faint  
flakes of snow4   ,sec4 #ba4 ,perfect   
unity in nature's foliage4  ,but nature 
observes another principle in her       

foliage more important even than its    
intricacy4 ,she always secures an       
exceeding harmony and repose4 ,she is so
 intricate that her minuteness of parts 
becomes to the eye1 at a little         
distance1 one united veil or cloud of   
leaves1 to destroy the evenness of which
 is perhaps a greater fault than to     
destroy its transparency4 ,look at      
,creswick's oak again1 in its dark      
parts4 ,intricate as it is1 all is      
blended into a cloud-like harmony of    
shade1 which becomes fainter and        
fainter1 as it retires1 with the most   
delicate flatness and unity of tone4    
,and it is by this kind of vaporescence1
 so to speak1 by this flat1 misty1      
unison of parts1 that nature1 and her   
faithful followers1 are enabled to keep 
the eye in perfect repose in the midst  
of profusion1 and to display beauty of  
form1 wherever they choose1 to the      
greatest possible advantage1 by throwing
 it across some quiet1 visionary passage
 of dimness and rest4   ,sec4 #bb4      

,total want of it in ,both and ,hobbima4
  ,it is here that ,hobbima and ,both   
fail4 ,they can paint oak leafage       
faithfully1 but do not know where to    
stop1 and by doing too much1 lose the   
truth of all1--lose the very truth of   
detail at which they aim1 for all their 
minute work only gives two leaves to    
nature's twenty4 ,they are evidently    
incapable of even thinking of a tree1   
much more of drawing it1 except leaf by 
leaf2 they have no notion nor sense of  
simplicity1 mass1 or obscurity1 and when
 they come to distance1 where it is     
totally impossible that leaves should be
 separately seen1 yet1 being incapable  
of conceiving or rendering the grand and
 quiet forms of truth1 they are reduced 
to paint their bushes with dots and     
touches expressive of leaves three feet 
broad each4 ,nevertheless there is a    
genuine aim in their works1 and their   
failure is rather to be attributed to   
ignorance of art1 than to such want of  
sense for nature as we find in ,claude  

or ,poussin2 and when they come close   
home1 we sometimes receive from them    
fine passages of mechanical truth4      
,sec4 #bc4 ,how rendered by ,turner4    
,but let us oppose to their works the   
group of trees on the left in ,turner's 
,marly4#gc ,we have there perfect and   
ceaseless intricacy to oppose to        
,poussin1--perfect and unbroken repose  
to oppose to ,hobbima2 and in the unity 
of these the perfection of truth4 ,this 
group may be taken as a fair standard of
 ,turner's tree-painting4 ,we have in it
 the admirably drawn stems1 instead of  
the claws or the serpents2 full1        
transparent1 boundless intricacy1       
instead of the shell pattern2 and misty 
depth of intermingled light and leafage1
 instead of perpetual repetition of one 
mechanical touch4   ,sec4 #bd4 ,the near
 leafage of ,claude4 ,his middle        
distances are good4  ,i have already    
spoken 7,section ,,ii4 ,chapter ,,iv4   
,sec4 #ae17 of the way in which mystery 
and intricacy are carried even into the 

nearest leaves of the foreground1 and   
noticed the want of such intricacy even 
in the best works of the old masters4   
,claude's are particularly deficient1   
for by representing every particular    
leaf of them1 or trying to do so1 he    
makes nature finite1 and even his       
nearest bits of leafage are utterly     
false1 for they have neither shadows    
modifying their form1 7compare ,section 
,,ii4 ,chapter ,,iii4 ,sec4 #g17 nor    
sparkling lights1 nor confused          
intersections of their own forms and    
lines2 and the perpetual repetition of  
the same shape of leaves and the same   
arrangement1 relieved from a black      
ground1 is more like an ornamental      
pattern for dress than the painting of a
 foreground4 ,nevertheless1 the foliage 
of ,claude1 in his middle distances1 is 
the finest and truest part of his       
pictures1 and1 on the whole1 affords the
 best example of good drawing to be     
found in ancient art4 ,it is always     
false in color1 and has not boughs      

enough amongst it1 and the stems        
commonly look a great deal nearer than  
any part of it1 but it is still         
graceful1 flexible1 abundant1 intricate2
 and1 in all but color and connection   
with stems1 very nearly right4 ,of the  
perfect painting of thick1 leafy        
foreground1 ,turner's ,mercury and      
,argus1 and ,oakhampton1 are the        
standards4#gd   ,sec4 #be4 ,universal   
termination of trees in symmetrical     
curves4  ,sec4 #bf4 ,altogether         
unobserved by the old masters4 ,always  
given by ,turner4  ,the last and most   
important truth to be observed          
respecting trees1 is that their boughs  
always1 in finely grown individuals1    
bear among themselves such a ratio of   
length as to describe with their        
extremities a symmetrical curve1        
constant for each species2 and within   
this curve all the irregularities1      
segments1 and divisions of the tree are 
included1 each bough reaching the limit 
with its extremity1 but not passing it4 

,when a tree is perfectly grown1 each   
bough starts from the trunk with just so
 much wood as1 allowing for constant    
ramification1 will enable it to reach   
the terminal line2 or if by mistake1 it 
start with too little1 it will proceed  
without ramifying till within a distance
 where it may safely divide2 if on the  
contrary it start with too much1 it will
 ramify quickly and constantly2 or1 to  
express the real operation more         
accurately1 each bough1 growing on so as
 to keep even with its neighbors1 takes 
so much wood from the trunk as is       
sufficient to enable it to do so1 more  
or less in proportion as it ramifies    
fast or slowly4 ,in badly grown trees1  
the boughs are apt to fall short of the 
curve1 or at least1 there are so many   
jags and openings that its symmetry is  
interrupted2 and in young trees1 the    
impatience of the upper shoots          
frequently breaks the line2 but in      
perfect and mature trees1 every bough   
does its duty completely1 and the line  

of curve is quite filled up1 and the    
mass within it unbroken1 so that the    
tree assumes the shape of a dome1 as in 
the oak1 or1 in tall trees1 of a pear1  
with the stalk downmost4 ,the old       
masters paid no attention whatsoever to 
this great principle4 ,they swing their 
boughs about1 anywhere and everywhere2  
each stops or goes on just as it likes1 
nor will it be possible1 in any of their
 works1 to find a single example in     
which any symmetrical curve is indicated
 by the extremities4#ge  ,but ,i need   
scarcely tell any one in the slightest  
degree acquainted with the works of     
,turner1 how rigidly and constantly he  
adheres to this principle of nature2    
taking in his highest compositions the  
perfect ideal form1 every spray being   
graceful and varied in itself1 but      
inevitably terminating at the assigned  
limit1 and filling up the curve without 
break or gap2 in his lower works1 taking
 less perfect form1 but invariably      
hinting the constant tendency in all1   

and thus1 in spite of his abundant      
complexity1 he arranges his trees under 
simpler and grander forms than any other
 artist1 even among the moderns4   ,sec4
 #bg4 ,foliage painting on the          
,continent4  ,it was above asserted that
 ,j4 ,d4 ,harding is1 after ,turner1 the
 greatest master of foliage in ,europe2 
,i ought1 however1 to state that my     
knowledge of the modern landscape of    
,germany is very limited1 and that1 even
 with respect to ,france and ,italy1 ,i 
judge rather from the general tendency  
of study and character of mind visible  
in the annual ,exhibition of the        
,louvre1 and in some galleries of modern
 paintings at ,milan1 ,venice1 and      
,florence1 than from any detailed       
acquaintance with the works of their    
celebrated painters4 ,yet ,i think ,i   
can hardly be mistaken4 ,i have seen    
nothing to induce me to take a closer   
survey2 no life knowledge or emotion in 
any quarter2 nothing but the meanest and
 most ignorant copyism of vulgar        

details1 coupled with a style of        
conception resembling that of the       
various lithographic ideals on the first
 leaves of the music of pastoral        
ballads4 ,an exception ought1 however1  
to be made in favor of ,french etching2 
some studies in black and white may be  
seen in the narrow passages of the      
,louvre of very high merit1 showing     
great skill and delicacy of execution1  
and most determined industry2 7in fact1 
,i think when the ,french artist fails1 
it is never through fear of labor27 nay1
 more than this1 some of them exhibit   
acute perception of landscape character 
and great power of reaching simple      
impressions of gloom1 wildness1 sound1  
and motion4 ,some of their illustrated  
works also exhibit these powers in a    
high degree2 there is a spirit1 fire1   
and sense of reality about some of the  
wood-cuts to the large edition of ,paul 
and ,virginia1 and a determined         
rendering of separate feeling in each1  
such as we look for in vain in our own  

ornamental works4#gf ,but the ,french   
appear to have no teaching such as might
 carry them beyond this2 their entire   
ignorance of color renders the          
assumption of the brush instantly fatal1
 and the false1 forced1 and impious     
sentiment of the nation renders anything
 like grand composition altogether      
impossible4   ,sec4 #bh4 ,foliage of ,j4
 ,d4 ,harding4 ,its deficiencies4  ,it  
is therefore only among good artists of 
our own school that ,i think any fair   
comparison can be instituted1 and ,i    
wish to assert ,harding's knowledge of  
foliage more distinctly1 because he     
neither does justice to himself1 nor is1
 ,i think1 rightly estimated by his     
fellow-artists4 ,i shall not make any   
invidious remarks respecting            
individuals1 but ,i think it necessary  
to state generally1 that the style of   
foliage painting chiefly characteristic 
of the pictures on the line of the      
,royal ,academy is of the most degraded 
kind2#gg and that1 except ,turner and   

,mulready1 we have1 as far as ,i know1  
no ,royal ,academician capable of       
painting even the smallest portion of   
foliage in a dignified or correct       
manner2 all is lost in green shadows    
with glittering yellow lights1 white    
trunks with black patches on them1 and  
leaves of no species in particular4     
,much laborious and clever foliage      
drawing is to be found in the rooms of  
the ,new ,water-,color ,society2 but we 
have no one in any wise comparable to   
,harding for thorough knowledge of the  
subject1 for power of expression in a   
sketch from nature1 or for natural and  
unaffected conception in the study4     
,maintaining for him this high position1
 it is necessary that ,i should also    
state those deficiencies which appear to
 me to conceal his real power1 and in no
 small degree to prevent his progress4  
,sec4 #bi4 ,his brilliancy of execution 
too manifest4  ,his over-fondness for   
brilliant execution ,i have already     
noticed4 ,he is fonder of seeing        

something tolerably like a tree produced
 with few touches1 than something very  
like a tree produced with many4 ,now1 it
 is quite allowable that occasionally1  
and in portions of his picture1 a great 
artist should indulge himself in this   
luxury of sketching1 yet it is a        
perilous luxury2 it blunts the feeling  
and weakens the hand4 ,i have said      
enough in various places respecting the 
virtues of negligence and of finish1    
7compare above the chapter on ,ideas of 
,power in ,part ,i4 ,sect4 ,,ii41 and   
,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 ,i4 ,ch4 ,x4 ,sec4  
#d17 and ,i need only say here1         
therefore1 that ,harding's foliage is   
never sufficiently finished1 and has at 
its best the look of a rapid sketch from
 nature touched upon at home4 ,in #ahdc1
 7,i think17 there was a pretty drawing 
in the rooms of the ,water-,color       
,society1--the clear green water of a   
torrent resting among stones1 with      
copse-like wood on each side1 a bridge  
in the distance1 a white flower         

7water-lily87 catching the eye in front2
 the tops of the trees on the left of   
this picture were mere broad blots of   
color dashed upon the sky and connected 
by stems4 ,i allow the power necessary  
to attain any look of foliage by such   
means1 but it is power abused3 by no    
such means can any of the higher virtue 
and impressiveness of foliage be        
rendered4 ,in the use of body color for 
near leaves1 his execution is also too  
hasty2 often the touches are mere square
 or round dots1 which can be understood 
only for foliage by their arrangement4  
,this fault was especially marked in the
 trees of his picture painted for the   
,academy two years ago2 they were very  
nearly shapeless1 and could not stand   
even in courtesy for walnut leaves1 for 
which judging by the make of the tree1  
they must have been intended4   ,sec4   
#cj4 ,his bough-drawing and choice of   
form4  ,his drawing of boughs is1 in all
 points of demonstrable law1 right1 and 
very frequently easy and graceful also2 

yet it has two eminent faults1 the      
first1 that the flow of the bough is    
sacrificed to its texture1 the pencil   
checking itself and hesitating at dots1 
and stripes1 and knots1 instead of      
following the grand and unbroken        
tendency of growth3 the second1 that    
however good the arrangement may be as  
far as regards merely flexibility1      
intricacy1 and freedom1 there are none  
of those composed groups of line which  
are unfailing in nature4 ,harding's work
 is not grand enough to be natural4 ,the
 drawings in the park and the forest1   
are1 ,i believe1 almost facsimiles of   
sketches made from nature2 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 tree1 and that no single      
branch or spray has been faithfully     
copied or patiently studied4  ,this want
 of close study necessarily causes      
several deficiencies of feeling         
respecting general form4 ,harding's     

choice is always of tree forms          
comparatively imperfect1 leaning this   
way and that1 and unequal in the lateral
 arrangements of foliage4 ,such forms   
are often graceful1 always picturesque1 
but rarely grand2 and when              
systematically adopted1 untrue4 ,it     
requires more patient study to attain   
just feeling of the dignity and         
character of a purely formed tree with  
all its symmetries perfect4   ,sec4 #ca4
 ,local color1 how far expressible in   
black and white1 and with what          
advantage4  ,one more cause of          
incorrectness ,i may note1 though it is 
not peculiar to the artist's            
tree-drawing1 but attaches to his       
general system of sketching4 ,in        
,harding's valuable work on the use of  
the ,lead ,pencil1 there is one         
principle advanced which ,i believe to  
be false and dangerous1 that the local  
color of objects is not thereby to be   
rendered4 ,i think the instance given is
 that of some baskets1 whose darkness is

 occasioned solely by the touches       
indicating the wicker-work4 ,now1 ,i    
believe1 that an essential difference   
between the sketch of a great and of a  
comparatively inferior master is1 that  
the former is conceived entirely in     
shade and color1 and its masses are     
blocked out with reference to both1     
while the inferior draughtsman checks at
 textures and petty characters of       
object4 ,if ,rembrandt had had to sketch
 such baskets1 he would have troubled   
himself very little about the           
wicker-work2 but he would have looked to
 see where they came dark or light on   
the sand1 and where there were any      
sparkling points of light on the wet    
osiers4 ,these darks and lights he would
 have scratched in with the fastest     
lines he could1 leaving no white paper  
but at the wet points of lustre2 if he  
had had time1 the wicker-work would have
 come afterwards4#gh ,and ,i think1 that
 the first thing to be taught to any    
pupil1 is neither how to manage the     

pencil1 nor how to attain character of  
outline1 but rather to see where things 
are light and where they are dark1 and  
to draw them as he sees them1 never     
caring whether his lines be dexterous or
 slovenly4 ,the result of such study is 
the immediate substitution of downright 
drawing for symbolism1 and afterwards a 
judicious moderation in the use of      
extreme lights and darks2 for where     
local colors are really drawn1 so much  
of what seems violently dark is found to
 come light against something else1 and 
so much of what seems high light to come
 dark against the sky1 that the         
draughtsman trembles at finding himself 
plunged either into blackness or        
whiteness1 and seeks1 as he should1 for 
means of obtaining force without either4
  ,it is in consequence of his evident  
habit of sketching more with a view to  
detail and character than to the great  
masses1 that ,harding's chiaroscuro is  
frequently crude1 scattered1 and petty4 
,black shadows occur under his distant  

trees1 white high lights on his         
foreground rocks1 the foliage and trunks
 are divided by violent oppositions into
 separate masses1 and the branches lose 
in spots of moss and furrowings of bark 
their soft roundings of delicate form1  
and their grand relations to each other 
and the sky4   ,sec4 #cb4 ,opposition   
between great manner and great          
knowledge4  ,it is owing to my respect  
for the artist1 and my belief in his    
power and conscientious desire to do    
what is best1 that ,i have thus extended
 these somewhat unkind remarks4 ,on the 
other hand1 it is to be remembered1 that
 his knowledge of nature is most        
extended1 and his dexterity of drawing  
most instructive1 especially considering
 his range of subject2 for whether in   
water1 rock1 or foliage1 he is equally  
skilful in attaining whatever he        
desires1 7though he does not always     
desire all that he ought27 and artists  
should keep in mind1 that neither       
grandeur of manner nor truth of system  

can atone for the want of this knowledge
 and this skill4 ,constable's manner is 
good and great1 but being unable to draw
 even a log of wood1 much more a trunk  
of a tree or a stone1 he left his works 
destitute of substance1 mere studies of 
effect without any expression of        
specific knowledge2 and thus even what  
is great in them has been productive1 ,i
 believe1 of very great injury in its   
encouragement of the most superficial   
qualities of the ,english school4       
,sec4 #cc4 ,foliage of ,cox1 ,fielding1 
and ,cattermole4  ,the foliage of ,david
 ,cox has been already noticed 7preface 
to second edition47 ,it is altogether   
exquisite in color1 and in its          
impressions of coolness1 shade1 and     
mass2 of its drawing ,i cannot say      
anything1 but that ,i should be sorry to
 see it better4 ,copley ,fielding's is  
remarkable for its intricacy and        
elegance2 it is1 however1 not free from 
affectation1 and1 as has been before    
remarked1 is always evidently composed  

in the study4 ,the execution is too     
rough and woolly2 it is wanting in      
simplicity1 sharpness1 and              
freshness1--above all in specific       
character3 not1 however1 in his middle  
distances1 where the rounded masses of  
forest and detached blasted trunks of   
fir are usually very admirable4         
,cattermole has very grand conceptions  
of general form1 but wild and without   
substance1 and therefore incapable of   
long maintaining their attractiveness1  
especially lately1 the execution having 
become in the last degree coarse and    
affected4 ,this is bitterly to be       
regretted1 for few of our artists would 
paint foliage better1 if he would paint 
it from nature1 and with reverence4     
,sec4 #cd4 ,hunt and ,creswick4 ,green1 
how to be rendered expressive of light1 
and offensive if otherwise4  ,hunt1 ,i  
think1 fails1 and fails only1 in        
foliage2 fails1 as the ,daguerreotype   
does1 from over-fidelity2 for foliage   
will not be imitated1 it must be        

reasoned out and suggested2 yet ,hunt is
 the only man we have who can paint the 
real leaf green under sunlight1 and1 in 
this respect1 his trees are             
delicious1--summer itself4 ,creswick has
 sweet feeling1 and tries for the real  
green too1 but1 from want of science in 
his shadows1 ends in green paint instead
 of green light2 in mere local color1   
instead of color raised by sunshine4    
,one example is enough to show where the
 fault lies4 ,in his picture of the     
,weald of ,kent1 in the ,british        
,institution this year1 there was a     
cottage in the middle distance with     
white walls1 and a red roof4 ,the dark  
sides of the white walls and of the roof
 were of the same color1 a dark         
purple--wrong for both4 ,repeated       
inaccuracies of this kind necessarily   
deprive even the most brilliant color of
 all appearance of sunshine1 and they   
are much to be deprecated in ,creswick1 
as he is one of the very few artists who
 do draw from nature and try for nature4

 ,some of his thickets and torrent-beds 
are most painfully studied1 and yet he  
cannot draw a bough nor a stone4 ,i     
suspect he is too much in the habit of  
studying only large views on the spot1  
and not of drawing small portions       
thoroughly4 ,i trust it will be seen    
that these1 as all other remarks that ,i
 have made throughout this volume on    
particular works1 are not in            
depreciation of1 or unthankfulness for1 
what the artist has done1 but in the    
desire that he should do himself more   
justice and more honor4 ,i have much    
pleasure in ,creswick's works1 and ,i am
 glad always to see them admired by     
others4   ,sec4 #ce4 ,conclusion4 ,works
 of ,j4 ,linnell and ,s4 ,palmer4  ,i   
shall conclude this sketch of the       
foliage art of ,england1 by mention of  
two artists1 whom ,i believe to be      
representative of a considerable class1 
admirable in their reverence and        
patience of study1 yet unappreciated by 
the public1 because what they do is     

unrecommended by dexterities of         
handling4 ,the forest studies of ,j4    
,linnell are peculiarly elaborate1 and1 
in many points1 most skilful2 they fail 
perhaps of interest1 owing to           
over-fulness of detail and a want of    
generalization in the effect2 but even a
 little more of the ,harding sharpness  
of touch would set off their sterling   
qualities1 and make them felt4 ,a less  
known artist1 ,s4 ,palmer1 lately       
admitted a member of the ,old           
,water-,color ,society1 is deserving of 
the very highest place among faithful   
followers of nature4 ,his studies of    
foreign foliage especially are beyond   
all praise for care and fulness4 ,i have
 never seen a stone pine or a cypress   
drawn except by him2 and his feeling is 
as pure and grand as his fidelity is    
exemplary4 ,he has not1 however1 yet1 ,i
 think1 discovered what is necessary and
 unnecessary in a great picture2 and his
 works1 sent to the ,society's rooms1   
have been most unfavorable examples of  

his power1 and have been generally1 as  
yet1 in places where all that is best in
 them is out of sight4 ,i look to him1  
nevertheless1 unless he lose himself in 
over-reverence for certain              
conventionalisms of the elder schools1  
as one of the probable renovators and   
correctors of whatever is failing or    
erroneous in the practice of ,english   
art4   ,,footnotes    #ga ,it sometimes 
happens that a morbid direction of      
growth will     cause an exception here 
and there to this rule1 the bough       
swelling     beyond its legitimate size2
 knots and excrescences1 of course1     
sometimes interfere with the effect of  
diminution4 ,i believe that in     the  
laurel1 when it grows large and old1    
singular instances may be     found of  
thick upper boughs and over quantity of 
wood at the     extremities4 ,all these 
accidents or exceptions are felt as such
 by     the eye4 ,they may occasionally 
be used by the painter in savage or     
grotesque scenery1 or as points of      

contrast1 but are no excuse for     his 
ever losing sight of the general law4   
#gb ,compare ,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 ,,ii4  
,chap4 ,,iv4 ,sec4 #f1 #g4    #gc ,this 
group ,i have before noticed as         
singularly 7but1 ,i doubt     not1      
accidentally1 and in consequence of the 
love of the two great     painters for  
the same grand forms7 resembling that   
introduced by     ,tintoret in the      
background of his ,cain and ,abel4      
#gd ,the above paragraphs ,i have left  
as originally written1 because     they 
are quite true as far as they reach2 but
 like many other     portions of this   
essay1 they take in a very small portion
 of the     truth4 ,i shall not add to  
them at present1 because ,i can explain 
my     meaning better in our            
consideration of the laws of beauty2 but
 the     reader must bear in mind that  
what is above stated refers1            
throughout1 to large masses of foliage  
seen under broad     sunshine1--and it  
has especial reference to ,turner's     

enormous scale     of scene1 and intense
 desire of light4 ,in twilight1 when    
tree-forms     are seen against sky1    
other laws come into operation1 as well 
as in     subject of narrow limits and  
near foreground4 ,it is1 ,i think1 to be
     regretted that ,turner does not in 
his ,academy pictures sometimes     take
 more confined and gloomy subjects1 like
 that grand one1 near     the           
,chartreuse1 of the ,liber ,studiorum1  
wherein his magnificent     power of    
elaborating close foliage might be      
developed2 but1 for the     present1 let
 the reader1 with respect to what has   
been here said of     close foliage1    
note the drawing of the leaves in that  
plate1 in the     ,aesacus and          
,hesperie1 and the ,cephalus1 and the   
elaboration of the     foregrounds in   
the ,yorkshire drawings2 let him compare
 what is said     of ,turner's foliage  
painting above in ,part ,,ii4 ,sect4 ,i4
 ,chap4 ,,vii4 ,sec4     #dj1 ,sec4 #da1
 and of ,titian's previously1 as well as

 ,part ,,iii4 ,sect4 ,i4     ,chap4     
,,viii41 and ,sect4 ,,ii4 ,chap4 ,,iv4  
,sec4 #ba4 ,i shall hereafter           
endeavor to arrange the subject in a    
more systematic manner2 but     what    
additional observations ,i may have to  
make will none of them be     in any    
wise more favorable to ,gaspar1         
,salvator1 or ,hobbima1 than the        
above paragraphs4    #ge ,perhaps in    
some instances1 this may be the case    
with the trees     of ,nicholas         
,poussin2 but even with him the boughs  
only touch the     line of limit with   
their central points of extremity1 and  
are not     sectors of the great        
curve--forming a part of it with        
expanded     extremities1 as in nature4 
,draw a few straight lines1 from the    
centre to the circumference of a circle4
 ,the forms included between     them   
are the forms of the individual boughs  
of a fine tree1 with all     their      
ramifications 7only the external curve  
is not a circle1 but     more frequently

 two parabolas--which1 ,i believe1 it is
 in the     oak--or an ellipse47 ,but   
each bough of the old masters is        
club-shaped1 and broadest1 not at the   
outside of the tree1 but a     little   
way towards its centre4    #gf ,on the  
other hand1 nothing can be more         
exquisitely ridiculous     than the     
,french illustrations of a second or    
third-rate order1 as     those to the   
,harmonies of ,lamartine4    #gg ,of    
,stanfield's foliage ,i remember too    
little to enable me to     form any     
definite judgment2 it is a pity that he 
so much neglects     this noble element 
of landscape4    #gh ,it is true that   
many of ,rembrandt's etchings are merely
 in     line1 but it may be observed    
that the subject is universally         
conceived in light and shade1 and that  
the lines are either merely     guides  
in the arrangement1 or an exquisite     
indication of the     key-notes of      
shade1 on which the after-system of it  
is to be     based--portions of         

fragmentary finish1 showing the         
completeness of     the conception4     
,,chapter ,,ii4                         
,,general ,,remarks ,,respecting ,,the  
,,truth ,,of ,,turner4   ,sec4 #a4 ,no  
necessity of entering into discussion of
 architectural truth4  ,we have now     
arrived at some general conception of   
the extent of ,turner's knowledge1 and  
the truth of his practice1 by the       
deliberate examination of the           
characteristics of the four great       
elements of landscape--sky1 earth1      
water1 and vegetation4 ,i have not      
thought it necessary to devote a chapter
 to architecture1 because enough has    
been said on this subject in ,part ,,ii4
 ,sect4 ,i4 ,chap4 ,,vii42 and its      
general truths1 which are those with    
which the landscape painter1 as such1 is
 chiefly concerned1 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 application4 ,turner's      
knowledge of perspective probably adds  
to his power in the arrangement of every
 order of subject2 but ignorance on this
 head is rather disgraceful than        
knowledge meritorious4 ,it is           
disgraceful1 for instance1 that any man 
should commit such palpable and         
atrocious errors in ordinary perspective
 as are seen in the quay in ,claude's   
sea-piece1 ,no4 #ad1 ,national ,gallery1
 or in the curved portico of ,no4 #cj2  
but still these are not points to be    
taken into consideration as having      
anything to do with artistical rank1    
just as1 though we should say it was    
disgraceful if a great poet could not   
spell1 we should not consider such a    
defect as in any way taking from his    
poetical rank4 ,neither is there        
anything particularly belonging to      
architecture1 as such1 which it is any  
credit to an artist to observe or       
represent2 it is only a simple and clear
 field for the manifestation of his     

knowledge of general laws4 ,any surveyor
 or engineer could have drawn the steps 
and balustrade in the ,hero and         
,leander1 as well as ,turner has2 but   
there is no man living but himself who  
could have thrown the accidental shadows
 upon them4 ,i may1 however1 refer for  
general illustration of ,turner's power 
as an architectural draughtsman1 to the 
front of ,rouen ,cathedral1 engraved in 
the ,rivers of ,france1 and to the ,ely 
in the ,england4 ,i know nothing in art 
which can be set beside the former of   
these for overwhelming grandeur and     
simplicity of effect1 and inexhaustible 
intricacy of parts4 ,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 illustrate4  
,sec4 #b4 ,extreme difficulty of        
illustrating or explaining the highest  
truth4  ,sec4 #c4 ,the positive rank of 
,turner is in no degree shown in the    
foregoing pages1 but only his relative  

rank4  ,sec4 #d4 ,the exceeding         
refinement of his truth4  ,sec4 #e4     
,there is nothing in his works which can
 be enjoyed without        knowledge4   
,sec4 #f4 ,and nothing which knowledge  
will not enable us to enjoy4  ,the      
difference in the accuracy of the lines 
of the ,torso of the ,vatican1 7the     
,maestro of ,m4 ,angelo17 from those in 
one of ,m4 ,angelo's finest works1 could
 perhaps scarcely be appreciated by any 
eye or feeling undisciplined by the most
 perfect and practical anatomical       
knowledge4 ,it rests on points of such  
traceless and refined delicacy1 that    
though we feel them in the result1 we   
cannot follow them in the details4 ,yet 
they are such and so great as to place  
the ,torso alone in art1 solitary and   
supreme2 while the finest of ,m4        
,angelo's works1 considered with respect
 to truth alone1 are said to be only on 
a level with antiques of the second     
class1 under the ,apollo and ,venus1    
that is1 two classes or grades below the

 ,torso4 ,but suppose the best sculptor 
in the world1 possessing the most entire
 appreciation of the excellence of the  
,torso1 were to sit down1 pen in hand1  
to try and tell us wherein the peculiar 
truth of each line consisted8 ,could any
 words that he could use make us feel   
the hairbreadth of depth and distance on
 which all depends8 or end in anything  
more than bare assertions of the        
inferiority of this line to that1 which1
 if we did not perceive for ourselves1  
no explanation could ever illustrate to 
us8 ,he might as well endeavor to       
explain to us by words some taste or    
other subject of sense1 of which we had 
no experience4 ,and so it is with all   
truths of the highest order2 they are   
separated from those of average         
precision by points of extreme delicacy1
 which none but the cultivated eye can  
in the least feel1 and to express which1
 all words are absolutely meaningless   
and useless4 ,consequently1 in all that 
,i have been saying of the truth of     

artists1 ,i have been able to point out 
only coarse1 broad1 and explicable      
matters2 ,i have been perfectly unable  
to express 7and indeed ,i have made no  
endeavor to express7 the finely drawn   
and distinguished truth in which all the
 real excellence of art consists4 ,all  
those truths which ,i have been able to 
explain and demonstrate in ,turner1 are 
such as any artist of ordinary powers of
 observation ought to be capable of     
rendering4 ,it is disgraceful to omit   
them2 but it is no very great credit to 
observe them4 ,i have indeed proved that
 they have been neglected1 and          
disgracefully so1 by those men who are  
commonly considered the ,fathers of     
,art2 but in showing that they have been
 observed by ,turner1 ,i have only      
proved him to be above other men in     
knowledge of truth1 ,i have not given   
any conception of his own positive rank 
as a ,painter of ,nature4 ,but it stands
 to reason1 that the men1 who in broad1 
simple1 and demonstrable matters are    

perpetually violating truth1 will not be
 particularly accurate or careful in    
carrying out delicate and refined1 and  
undemonstrable matters2 and it stands   
equally to reason1 that the man who1 as 
far as argument or demonstration can go1
 is found invariably truthful1 will1 in 
all probability1 be truthful to the last
 line1 and shadow of a line4 ,and such  
is1 indeed1 the case with every touch of
 this consummate artist2 the essential  
excellence--all that constitutes the    
real and exceeding value of his         
works--is beyond and above expression2  
it is a truth inherent in every line1   
and breathing in every hue1 too delicate
 and exquisite to admit of any kind of  
proof1 nor to be ascertained except by  
the highest of tests--the keen feeling  
attained by extended knowledge and long 
study4 ,two lines are laid on canvas2   
one is right and another wrong4 ,there  
is no difference between them           
appreciable by the compasses--none      
appreciable by the ordinary eye--none   

which can be pointed out1 if it is not  
seen4 ,one person feels it1--another    
does not2 but the feeling or sight of   
the one can by no words be communicated 
to the other3 it would be unjust if it  
could1 for that feeling and sight have  
been the reward of years of labor4 ,and 
there is1 indeed1 nothing in            
,turner--not one dot nor line--whose    
meaning can be understood without       
knowledge2 because he never aims at     
sensual impressions1 but at the deep    
final truth1 which only meditation can  
discover1 and only experience recognize4
 ,there is nothing done or omitted by   
him1 which does not imply such a        
comparison of ends1 such rejection of   
the least worthy1 7as far as they are   
incompatible with the rest17 such       
careful selection and arrangement of all
 that can be united1 as can only be     
enjoyed by minds capable of going       
through the same process1 and           
discovering the reasons for the choice4 
,and1 as there is nothing in his works  

which can be enjoyed without knowledge1 
so there is nothing in them which       
knowledge will not enable us to enjoy4  
,there is no test of our acquaintance   
with nature so absolute and unfailing as
 the degree of admiration we feel for   
,turner's painting4 ,precisely as we are
 shallow in our knowledge1 vulgar in our
 feeling1 and contracted in our views of
 principles1 will the works of this     
artist be stumbling-blocks or           
foolishness to us3--precisely in the    
degree in which we are familiar with    
nature1 constant in our observation of  
her1 and enlarged in our understanding  
of her1 will they expand before our eyes
 into glory and beauty4 ,in every new   
insight which we obtain into the works  
of ,god1 in every new idea which we     
receive from ,his creation1 we shall    
find ourselves possessed of an          
interpretation and a guide to something 
in ,turner's works which we had not     
before understood4 ,we may range over   
,europe1 from shore to shore2 and from  

every rock that we tread upon1 every sky
 that passes over our heads1 every local
 form of vegetation or of soil1 we shall
 receive fresh illustration of his      
principles--fresh confirmation of his   
facts4 ,we shall feel1 wherever we go1  
that he has been there before           
us--whatever we see1 that he has seen   
and seized before us3 and we shall at   
last cease the investigation1 with a    
well-grounded trust1 that whatever we   
have been unable to account for1 and    
what we still dislike in his works1 has 
reason for it1 and foundation like the  
rest2 and that even where he has failed 
or erred1 there is a beauty in the      
failure which none are able to equal1   
and a dignity in the error which none   
are worthy to reprove4   ,sec4 #g4 ,his 
former rank and progress4  ,sec4 #h4    
,standing of his present works4 ,their  
mystery is the consequence of           
their fullness4  ,there has been marked 
and constant progress in his mind2 he   
has not1 like some few artists1 been    

without childhood2 his course of study  
has been as evidently as it has been    
swiftly progressive1 and in different   
stages of the struggle1 sometimes one   
order of truth1 sometimes another1 has  
been aimed at or omitted4 ,but from the 
beginning to the present height of his  
career1 he has never sacrificed a       
greater truth to a less4 ,as he         
advanced1 the previous knowledge or     
attainment was absorbed in what         
succeeded1 or abandoned only if         
incompatible1 and never abandoned       
without a gain2 and his present works   
present the sum and perfection of his   
accumulated knowledge1 delivered with   
the impatience and passion of one who   
feels too much1 and knows too much1 and 
has too little time to say it in1 to    
pause for expression1 or ponder over his
 syllables4 ,there is in them the       
obscurity1 but the truth1 of prophecy2  
the instinctive and burning language1   
which would express less if it uttered  
more1 which is indistinct only by its   

fulness1 and dark with its abundant     
meaning4 ,he feels now1 with            
long-trained vividness and keenness of  
sense1 too bitterly the impotence of the
 hand1 and the vainness of the color to 
catch one shadow or one image of the    
glory which ,god has revealed to him4   
,he has dwelt and communed with nature  
all the days of his life2 he knows her  
now too well1 he cannot palter over the 
material littleness of her outward form2
 he must give her soul1 or he has done  
nothing1 and he cannot do this with the 
flax1 and the earth1 and the oil4 ,i    
cannot gather the sunbeams out of the   
east1 or ,i would make them tell you    
what ,i have seen2 but read this1 and   
interpret this1 and let us remember     
together4 ,i cannot gather the gloom out
 of the night-sky1 or ,i would make that
 teach you what ,i have seen2 but read  
this1 and interpret this1 and let us    
feel together4 ,and if you have not that
 within you which ,i can summon to my   
aid1 if you have not the sun in your    

spirit1 and the passion in your heart1  
which my words may awaken1 though they  
be indistinct and swift1 leave me2 for  
,i will give you no patient mockery1 no 
laborious insult of that glorious       
nature1 whose ,i am and whom ,i serve4  
,let other servants imitate the voice   
and the gesture of their master1 while  
they forget his message4 ,hear that     
message from me2 but remember1 that the 
teaching of ,divine truth must still be 
a mystery4                              
,,chapter ,,iii4                        
,,conclusion4--,,modern ,,art ,,and     
,,modern ,,criticism4   ,we have only1  
in conclusion1 to offer a few general   
remarks respecting modern art and modern
 criticism4   ,sec4 #a4 ,the entire     
prominence hitherto given to the works  
of one artist        caused only by our 
not being able to take cognizance of    
character4  ,sec4 #b4 ,the feelings of  
different artists are incapable of full 
comparison4  ,sec4 #c4 ,but the fidelity
 and truth of each are capable of real  

comparison4  ,sec4 #d4 ,especially      
because they are equally manifested in  
the treatment of        all subjects4   
,sec4 #e4 ,no man draws one thing well1 
if he can draw nothing else4  ,we wish1 
in the first place1 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 artist1  
can scarcely fail of bearing in the     
minds of most readers4 ,when we pass to 
the examination of what is beautiful and
 expressive in art1 we shall frequently 
find distinctive qualities in the minds 
even of inferior artists1 which have led
 them to the pursuit and embodying of   
particular trains of thought1 altogether
 different from those which direct the  
compositions of other men1 and incapable
 of comparison with them4 ,now1 when    
this is the case1 we should consider it 
in the highest degree both invidious and
 illogical1 to say of such different    
modes of exertion of the intellect1 that

 one is in all points greater or nobler 
than another4 ,we shall probably find   
something in the working of all minds   
which has an end and a power peculiar to
 itself1 and which is deserving of free 
and full admiration1 without any        
reference whatsoever to what has1 in    
other fields1 been accomplished by other
 modes of thought1 and directions of    
aim4 ,we shall1 indeed1 find a wider    
range and grasp in one man than in      
another2 but yet it will be our own     
fault if we do not discover something in
 the most limited range of mind which is
 different from1 and in its way better  
than1 anything presented to us by the   
more grasping intellect4 ,we all know   
that the nightingale sings more nobly   
than the lark2 but who1 therefore1 would
 wish the lark not to sing1 or would    
deny that it had a character of its own1
 which bore a part among the melodies of
 creation no less essential than that of
 the more richly-gifted bird8 ,and thus 
we shall find and feel that whatever    

difference may exist between the        
intellectual powers of one artist and   
another1 yet wherever there is any true 
genius1 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 mind2 and we should be as 
mistaken as we should be unjust and     
invidious1 if we refused to receive this
 their peculiar message with gratitude  
and veneration1 merely because it was a 
sentence and not a volume4 ,but the case
 is different when we examine their     
relative fidelity to given facts4 ,that 
fidelity depends on no peculiar modes of
 thought or habits of character2 it is  
the result of keen sensibility1 combined
 with high powers of memory and         
association4 ,these qualities1 as such1 
are the same in all men2 character or   
feeling may direct their choice to this 
or that object1 but the fidelity with   
which they treat either the one or the  
other1 is dependent on those simple     

powers of sense and intellect which are 
like and comparable in all1 and of which
 we can always say that they are greater
 in this man1 or less in that without   
reference to the character of the       
individual4 ,those feelings which direct
 ,cox to the painting of wild1 weedy    
banks1 and cool1 melting skies1 and     
those which directed ,barret to the     
painting of glowing foliage and         
melancholy twilight1 are both just and  
beautiful in their way1 and are both    
worthy of high praise and gratitude1    
without necessity1 nay1 without proper  
possibility of comparing one with the   
other4 ,but the degree of fidelity with 
which the leaves of the one and the     
light of the other are rendered1 depends
 upon faculties of sight1 sense1 and    
memory common to both1 and perfectly    
comparable2 and we may say fearlessly1  
and without injustice1 that one or the  
other1 as the case may be1 is more      
faithful in that which they have chosen 
to represent4 ,it is also to be         

remembered that these faculties of sense
 and memory are not partial in their    
effect2 they will not induce fidelity in
 the rendering of one class of object1  
and fail of doing so in another4 ,they  
act equally1 and with equal results1    
whatever may be the matter subjected to 
them2 the same delicate sense which     
perceives the utmost grace of the fibres
 of a tree1 will be equally unerring in 
tracing the character of cloud2 and the 
quick memory which seizes and retains   
the circumstances of a flying effect of 
shadow or color1 will be equally        
effectual in fixing the impression of   
the instantaneous form of a moving      
figure or a breaking wave4 ,there are   
indeed one or two broad distinctions in 
the nature of the senses1--a sensibility
 to color1 for instance1 being very     
different from a sensibility to form2 so
 that a man may possess one without the 
other1 and an artist may succeed in mere
 imitation of what is before him1 of    
air1 sunlight1 etc41 without possessing 

sensibility at all4 ,but wherever we    
have1 in the drawing of any one object1 
sufficient evidence of real intellectual
 power1 of the sense which perceives the
 essential qualities of a thing1 and the
 judgment which arranges them so as to  
illustrate each other1 we may be quite  
certain that the same sense and judgment
 will operate equally on whatever is    
subjected to them1 and that the artist  
will be equally great and masterly in   
his drawing of all that he attempts4    
,hence we may be quite sure that        
wherever an artist appears to be        
truthful in one branch of art1 and not  
in another1 the apparent truth is either
 owing to some trickery of imitation1 or
 is not so great as we suppose it to be4
 ,in nine cases out of ten1 people who  
are celebrated for drawing only one     
thing1 and can only draw one thing1 draw
 that one thing worse than anybody else4
 ,an artist may indeed confine himself  
to a limited range of subject1 but if he
 be really true in his rendering of     

this1 his power of doing more will be   
perpetually showing itself in           
accessories and minor points4 ,there are
 few men1 for instance1 more limited in 
subject than ,hunt1 and yet ,i do not   
think there is another man in the old   
,water-,color ,society1 with so keen an 
eye for truth1 or with power so         
universal4 ,and this is the reason for  
the exceeding prominence which in the   
foregoing investigation one or two      
artists have always assumed over the    
rest1 for the habits of accurate        
observation and delicate powers of hand 
which they possess1 have equal effect1  
and maintain the same superiority in    
their works1 to whatever class of       
subject they may be directed4 ,and thus 
we have been compelled1 however         
unwillingly1 to pass hastily by the     
works of many gifted men1 because1      
however pure their feeling1 or original 
their conceptions1 they were wanting in 
those faculties of the hand and mind    
which insure perfect fidelity to nature3

 it will be only hereafter1 when we are 
at liberty to take full cognizance of   
the thought1 however feebly it may be   
clothed in language1 that we shall be   
able to do real justice to the disciples
 either of modern or of ancient art4    
,sec4 #f4 ,general conclusions to be    
derived from our past investigation4    
,but as far as we have gone at present1 
and with respect only to the material   
truth1 which is all that we have been   
able to investigate1 the conclusion to  
which we must be led is as clear as it  
is inevitable2 that modern artists1 as a
 body1 are far more just and full in    
their views of material things than any 
landscape painters whose works are      
extant--but that ,j4 ,m4 ,w4 ,turner is 
the only man who has ever given an      
entire transcript of the whole system of
 nature1 and is1 in this point of view1 
the only perfect landscape painter whom 
the world has ever seen4   ,sec4 #g4    
,truth1 a standard of all excellence4   
,nor are we disposed to recede from our 

assertion made in ,sec4 ,i4 ,ch4 ,i4    
,sec4 #aj1 that this material truth is  
indeed a perfect test of the relative   
rank of painters1 though it does not in 
itself constitute that rank4 ,we shall  
be able to prove that truth and beauty1 
knowledge and imagination1 invariably   
are associated in art2 and we shall be  
able to show that not only in truth to  
nature1 but in all other points1 ,turner
 is the greatest landscape painter who  
has ever lived4 ,but his superiority is1
 in matters of feeling1 one of kind1 not
 of degree4 ,superiority of degree      
implies a superseding of others1        
superiority of kind only sustaining a   
more important1 but not more necessary  
part1 than others4 ,if truth were all   
that we required from art1 all other    
painters might cast aside their brushes 
in despair1 for all that they have done 
he has done more fully and accurately2  
but when we pass to the higher          
requirements of art1 beauty and         
character1 their contributions are all  

equally necessary and desirable1 because
 different1 and however inferior in     
position or rank1 are still perfect of  
their kind2 their inferiority is only   
that of the lark to the nightingale1 or 
of the violet to the rose4   ,sec4 #h4  
,modern criticism4 ,changefulness of    
public taste4  ,sec4 #i4 ,yet associated
 with a certain degree of judgment4     
,sec4 #aj4 ,duty of the press4  ,such   
then is the rank and standing of our    
modern artists4 ,we have1 living with   
us1 and painting for us1 the greatest   
painter of all time2 a man with whose   
supremacy of power no intellect of past 
ages can be put in comparison for a     
moment4 ,let us next inquire what is the
 rank of our critics4 ,public taste1 ,i 
believe1 as far as it is the encourager 
and supporter of art has been the same  
in all ages1--a fitful and vacillating  
current of vague impression1 perpetually
 liable to change1 subject to epidemic  
desires1 and agitated by infectious     
passion1 the slave of fashion1 and the  

fool of fancy1 but yet always           
distinguishing with singular            
clearsightedness1 between that which is 
best and that which is worst of the     
particular class of food which its      
morbid appetite may call for2 never     
failing to distinguish that which is    
produced by intellect1 from that which  
is not1 though it may be intellect      
degraded by ministering to its misguided
 will4 ,public taste may thus degrade a 
race of men capable of the highest      
efforts in art into the portrait        
painters of ephemeral fashions1 but it  
will yet not fail of discovering who1   
among these portrait painters1 is the   
man of most mind4 ,it will separate the 
man who would have become ,buonaroti    
from the man who would have become      
,bandinelli1 though it will employ both 
in painting curls1 and feathers1 and    
bracelets4 ,hence1 generally speaking1  
there is no comparative injustice done1 
no false elevation of the fool above the
 man of mind1 provided only that the man

 of mind will condescend to supply the  
particular article which the public     
chooses to want4 ,of course a thousand  
modifying circumstances interfere with  
the action of the general rule2 but1    
taking one case with another1 we shall  
very constantly find the price which the
 picture commands in the market a pretty
 fair standard of the artist's rank of  
intellect4 ,the press1 therefore1 and   
all who pretend to lead the public      
taste1 have not so much to direct the   
multitude whom to go to1 as what to ask 
for4 ,their business is not to tell us  
which is our best painter1 but to tell  
us whether we are making our best       
painter do his best4   ,sec4 #aa4       
,qualifications necessary for           
discharging it4  ,sec4 #ab4 ,general    
incapability of modern critics4  ,sec4  
#ac4 ,and inconsistency with themselves4
  ,now none are capable of doing this1  
but those whose principles of judgment  
are based both on thorough practical    
knowledge of art1 and on broad general  

views of what is true and right1 without
 reference to what has been done at one 
time or another1 or in one school or    
another4 ,nothing can be more perilous  
to the cause of art1 than the constant  
ringing in our painters' ears of the    
names of great predecessors1 as their   
examples or masters4 ,i had rather hear 
a great poet1 entirely original in his  
feeling and aim1 rebuked or maligned for
 not being like ,wordsworth or          
,coleridge1 than a great painter        
criticised for not putting us in mind of
 ,claude or ,poussin4 ,but such         
references to former excellence are the 
only refuge and resource of persons     
endeavoring to be critics without being 
artists4 ,they cannot tell you whether a
 thing is right or not2 but they can    
tell you whether it is like something   
else or not4 ,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 practice1

 and ignorant of truth1 but possessing  
just enough of feeling to enjoy the     
solemnity of ancient art1 who1 not      
distinguishing that which is really     
exalted and valuable in the modern      
school1 nor having any just idea of the 
real ends or capabilities of landscape  
art1 consider nothing right which is not
 based on the conventional principles of
 the ancients1 and nothing true which   
has more of nature in it than of        
,claude4 ,but it is strange that while  
the noble and unequalled works of modern
 landscape painters are thus maligned   
and misunderstood1 our historical       
painters--such as we have--are permitted
 to pander more fatally every year to   
the vicious ,english taste1 which can   
enjoy nothing but what is theatrical1   
entirely unchastised1 nay1 encouraged   
and lauded by the very men who endeavor 
to hamper our great landscape painters  
with rules derived from consecrated     
blunders4 ,the very critic who has just 
passed one of the noblest works of      

,turner--that is to say1 a masterpiece  
of art1 to which ,time can show no      
parallel--with a ribald jest1 will yet  
stand gaping in admiration before the   
next piece of dramatic glitter and      
grimace1 suggested by the society1 and  
adorned with the appurtenances of the   
greenroom1 which he finds hung low upon 
the wall as a brilliant example of the  
ideal of ,english art4 ,it is natural   
enough indeed1 that the persons who are 
disgusted by what is pure and noble1    
should be delighted with what is vicious
 and degraded2 but it is singular that  
those who are constantly talking of     
,claude and ,poussin1 should never even 
pretend to a thought of ,raffaelle4 ,we 
could excuse them for not comprehending 
,turner1 if they only would apply the   
same cut-and-dried criticisms where they
 might be applied with truth1 and       
productive of benefit2 but we endure not
 the paltry compound of ignorance1 false
 taste1 and pretension1 which assumes   
the dignity of classical feeling1 that  

it may be able to abuse whatever is     
above the level of its understanding1   
but bursts into genuine rapture with all
 that is meretricious1 if sufficiently  
adapted to the calibre of its           
comprehension4   ,sec4 #ad4 ,how the    
press may really advance the cause of   
art4  ,to notice such criticisms1       
however1 is giving them far more        
importance than they deserve4 ,they can 
lead none astray but those whose        
opinions are absolutely valueless1 and  
we did not begin this chapter with any  
intent of wasting our time on these     
small critics1 but in the hope of       
pointing out to the periodical press    
what kind of criticism is now most      
required by our school of landscape art1
 and how it may be in their power1 if   
they will1 to regulate its impulses1    
without checking its energies1 and      
really to advance both the cause of the 
artist1 and the taste of the public4    
,sec4 #ae4 ,morbid fondness at the      
present day for unfinished works4  ,sec4

 #af4 ,by which the public defraud      
themselves4  ,sec4 #ag4 ,and in         
pandering to which1 artists ruin        
themselves4  ,sec4 #ah4 ,necessity of   
finishing works of art perfectly4  ,one 
of the most morbid symptoms of the      
general taste of the present day1 is a  
too great fondness for unfinished works4
 ,brilliancy and rapidity of execution  
are everywhere sought as the highest    
good1 and so that a picture be cleverly 
handled as far as it is carried1 little 
regard is paid to its imperfection as a 
whole4 ,hence some artists are          
permitted1 and others compelled1 to     
confine themselves to a manner of       
working altogether destructive of their 
powers1 and to tax their energies1 not  
to concentrate the greatest quantity of 
thought on the least possible space of  
canvas1 but to produce the greatest     
quantity of glitter and claptrap in the 
shortest possible time4 ,to the idler   
and the trickster in art1 no system can 
be more advantageous2 but to the man who

 is really desirous of doing something  
worth having lived for--to a man of     
industry1 energy1 or feeling1 we believe
 it to be the cause of the most bitter  
discouragement4 ,if ever1 working upon a
 favorite subject or a beloved idea1 he 
is induced to tax his powers to the     
utmost1 and to spend as much time upon  
his picture as he feels necessary for   
its perfection1 he will not be able to  
get so high a price for the result1     
perhaps1 of a twelvemonth's thought1 as 
he might have obtained for half-a-dozen 
sketches with a forenoon's work in each1
 and he is compelled either to fall back
 upon mechanism1 or to starve4 ,now the 
press should especially endeavor to     
convince the public1 that by this       
purchase of imperfect pictures they not 
only prevent all progress and           
development of high talent1 and set     
tricksters and mechanics on a level with
 men of mind1 but defraud and injure    
themselves4 ,for there is no doubt      
whatever1 that1 estimated merely by the 

quantity of pleasure it is capable of   
conveying1 a well-finished picture is   
worth to its possessor half-a-dozen     
incomplete ones2 and that a perfect     
drawing is1 simply as a source of       
delight1 better worth a hundred guineas 
than a drawing half as finished is worth
 thirty4 ,on the other hand1 the body of
 our artists should be kept in mind1    
that by indulging the public with rapid 
and unconsidered work1 they are not only
 depriving themselves of the benefit    
which each picture ought to render to   
them1 as a piece of practice and study1 
but they are destroying the refinement  
of general taste1 and rendering it      
impossible for themselves ever to find a
 market for more careful works1         
supposing that they were inclined to    
execute them4 ,nor need any single      
artist be afraid of setting the example1
 and producing labored works1 at        
advanced prices1 among the cheap1 quick 
drawings of the day4 ,the public will   
soon find the value of the complete     

work1 and will be more ready to give a  
large sum for that which is             
inexhaustible1 than a quota of it for   
that which they are wearied of in a     
month4 ,the artist who never lets the   
price command the picture1 will soon    
find the picture command the price4 ,and
 it ought to be a rule with every       
painter never to let a picture leave his
 easel while it is yet capable of       
improvement1 or of having more thought  
put into it4 ,the general effect is     
often perfect and pleasing1 and not to  
be improved upon1 when the details and  
facts are altogether imperfect and      
unsatisfactory4 ,it may be              
difficult--perhaps the most difficult   
task of art--to complete these details1 
and not to hurt the general effect2 but 
until the artist can do this1 his art is
 imperfect and his picture unfinished4  
,that only is a complete picture which  
has both the general wholeness and      
effect of nature1 and the inexhaustible 
perfection of nature's details4 ,and it 

is only in the effort to unite these    
that a painter really improves4 ,by     
aiming only at details1 he becomes a    
mechanic2 by aiming only at generals1 he
 becomes a trickster3 his fall in both  
cases is sure4 ,two questions the artist
 has1 therefore1 always to ask          
himself1--first1 ,is my whole right8    
,secondly1 ,can my details be added to8 
,is there a single space in the picture 
where ,i can crowd in another thought8  
,is there a curve in it which ,i can    
modulate--a line which ,i can           
graduate--a vacancy ,i can fill8 ,is    
there a single spot which the eye1 by   
any peering or prying1 can fathom or    
exhaust8 ,if so1 my picture is          
imperfect2 and if1 in modulating the    
line or filling the vacancy1 ,i hurt the
 general effect1 my art is imperfect4   
,sec4 #ai4 ,sketches not sufficiently   
encouraged4  ,but1 on the other hand1   
though incomplete pictures ought neither
 to be produced nor purchased1 careful  
and real sketches ought to be valued    

much more highly than they are4 ,studies
 in chalk1 of landscape1 should form a  
part of every ,exhibition1 and a room   
should be allotted to drawings and      
designs of figures in the ,academy4 ,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     
were1 and which1 thank ,heaven6 never   
will be--occupied instead1 by careful   
studies for historical pictures2 not    
blots of chiaroscuro1 but delicate      
outlines with the pen or crayon4   ,sec4
 #bj4 ,brilliancy of execution or       
efforts at invention not to be          
tolerated in young artists4  ,sec4 #ba4 
,the duty and after privileges of all   
students4  ,from young artists1 in      
landscape1 nothing ought to be tolerated
 but simple bona fide imitation of      
nature4 ,they have no business to ape   
the execution of masters1--to utter weak
 and disjointed repetitions of other    
men's words1 and mimic the gestures of  

the preacher1 without understanding his 
meaning or sharing in his emotions4 ,we 
do not want their crude ideas of        
composition1 their unformed conceptions 
of the ,beautiful1 their unsystematized 
experiments upon the ,sublime4 ,we scorn
 their velocity2 for it is without      
direction3 we reject their decision2 for
 it is without grounds3 we contemn their
 composition2 for it is without         
materials3 we reprobate their choice2   
for it is without comparison4 ,their    
duty is neither to choose1 nor compose1 
nor imagine1 nor experimentalize2 but to
 be humble and earnest in following the 
steps of nature1 and tracing the finger 
of ,god4 ,nothing is so bad a symptom1  
in the work of young artists1 as too    
much dexterity of handling2 for it is a 
sign that they are satisfied with their 
work1 and have tried to do nothing more 
than they were able to do4 ,their work  
should be full of failures2 for these   
are the signs of efforts4 ,they should  
keep to quiet colors--grays and browns2 

and1 making the early works of ,turner  
their example1 as his latest are to be  
their object of emulation1 should go to 
nature in all singleness of heart1 and  
walk with her laboriously and           
trustingly1 having no other thoughts but
 how best to penetrate her meaning1 and 
remember her instruction1 rejecting     
nothing1 selecting nothing1 and scorning
 nothing2 believing all things to be    
right and good1 and rejoicing always in 
the truth4 ,then1 when their memories   
are stored1 and their imaginations fed1 
and their hands firm1 let them take up  
the scarlet and the gold1 give the reins
 to their fancy1 and show us what their 
heads are made of4 ,we will follow them 
wherever they choose to lead2 we will   
check at nothing2 they are then our     
masters1 and are fit to be so4 ,they    
have placed themselves above our        
criticism1 and we will listen to their  
words in all faith and humility2 but not
 unless they themselves have before     
bowed1 in the same submission1 to a     

higher ,authority and ,master4   ,sec4  
#bb4 ,necessity among our greater       
artists of more singleness of aim4      
,among our greater artists1 the chief   
want1 at the present day1 is that of    
solemnity and definite purpose4 ,we have
 too much picture-manufacturing1 too    
much making up of lay figures with a    
certain quantity of foliage1 and a      
certain quantity of sky1 and a certain  
quantity of water1--a little bit of all 
that is pretty1 a little sun1 and a     
little shade1--a touch of pink1 and a   
touch of blue1--a little sentiment1 and 
a little sublimity1 and a little humor1 
and a little antiquarianism1--all very  
neatly associated in a very charming    
picture1 but not working together for a 
definite end4 ,or if the aim be higher1 
as was the case with ,barrett and       
,varley1 we are generally put off with  
stale repetitions of eternal            
composition2 a great tree1 and some     
goats1 and a bridge and a lake1 and the 
,temple at ,tivoli1 etc4 ,now we should 

like to see our artists working out1    
with all exertion of their concentrated 
powers1 such marked pieces of landscape 
character as might bear upon them the   
impression of solemn1 earnest1 and      
pervading thought1 definitely directed1 
and aided by every accessory of detail1 
color1 and idealized form1 which the    
disciplined feeling1 accumulated        
knowledge1 and unspared labor of the    
painter could supply4 ,i have alluded1  
in the second preface1 to the deficiency
 of our modern artists in these great   
points of earnestness and completeness2 
and ,i revert to it1 in conclusion1 as  
their paramount failing1 and one fatal  
in many ways to the interests of art4   
,our landscapes are all descriptive1 not
 reflective1 agreeable and              
conversational1 but not impressive nor  
didactic4 ,they have no other foundation
 than                       ,that       
vivacious versatility1            ,which
 many people take for want of heart4    
,they err2 'tis merely what is called   

mobility2            ,a thing of        
temperament1 and not of art1            
,though seeming so from its supposed    
facility4                    99       99
       99       99       99             
,this makes your actors1 artists1 and   
romancers2            ,little that's    
great--but much of what is clever4      
,only it is to be observed that--in     
painters--this vivacity is not always   
versatile4 ,it is to be wished that it  
were1 but it is no such easy matter to  
be versatile in painting4 ,shallowness  
of thought insures not its variety1 nor 
rapidity of production its originality4 
,whatever may be the case in literature1
 facility is in art inconsistent with   
invention4 ,the artist who covers most  
canvas always shows1 even in the sum of 
his works1 the least expenditure of     
thought4#gi ,i have never seen more than
 four works of ,john ,lewis on the walls
 of the ,water-,color ,exhibition2 ,i   
have counted forty from other hands2 but
 have found in the end that the forty   

were a multiplication of one1 and the   
four a concentration of forty4 ,and     
therefore ,i would earnestly plead with 
all our artists1 that they should make  
it a law never to repeat themselves2 for
 he who never repeats himself will not  
produce an inordinate number of         
pictures1 and he who limits himself in  
number gives himself at least the       
opportunity of completion4 ,besides1 all
 repetition is degradation of the art2  
it reduces it from headwork to handwork2
 and indicates something like a         
persuasion on the part of the artist    
that nature is exhaustible or art       
perfectible2 perhaps1 even1 by him      
exhausted and perfected4 ,all copyists  
are contemptible1 but the copyist of    
himself the most so1 for he has the     
worst original4   ,sec4 #bc4 ,what      
should be their general aim4  ,let then 
every picture be painted with earnest   
intention of impressing on the spectator
 some elevated emotion1 and exhibiting  
to him some one particular1 but exalted1

 beauty4 ,let a real subject be         
carefully selected1 in itself suggestive
 of1 and replete with1 this feeling and 
beauty2 let an effect of light and color
 be taken which may harmonize with both2
 and a sky1 not invented1 but           
recollected1 7in fact1 all so-called    
invention is in landscape nothing more  
than appropriate recollection--good in  
proportion as it is distinct47 ,then let
 the details of the foreground be       
separately studied1 especially those    
plants which appear peculiar to the     
place3 if any one1 however unimportant1 
occurs there1 which occurs not          
elsewhere1 it should occupy a prominent 
position2 for the other details1 the    
highest examples of the ideal forms#hj  
or characters which he requires are to  
be selected by the artist from his      
former studies1 or fresh studies made   
expressly for the purpose1 leaving as   
little as possible--nothing1 in fact1   
beyond their connection and             
arrangement--to mere imagination4       

,finally1 when his picture is thus      
perfectly realized in all its parts1 let
 him dash as much of it out as he likes2
 throw1 if he will1 mist around         
it--darkness--or dazzling and confused  
light--whatever1 in fact1 impetuous     
feeling or vigorous imagination may     
dictate or desire2 the forms1 once so   
laboriously realized1 will come out     
whenever they do occur with a startling 
and impressive truth1 which the         
uncertainty in which they are veiled    
will enhance rather than diminish2 and  
the imagination1 strengthened by        
discipline and fed with truth1 will     
achieve the utmost of creation that is  
possible to finite mind4  ,the artist   
who thus works will soon find that he   
cannot repeat himself if he would2 that 
new fields of exertion1 new subjects of 
contemplation open to him in nature day 
by day1 and that1 while others lament   
the weakness of their invention1 he has 
nothing to lament but the shortness of  
life4   ,sec4 #bd4 ,duty of the press   

with respect to the works of ,turner4   
,and now but one word more1 respecting  
the great artist whose works have formed
 the chief subject of this treatise4    
,all the greatest qualities of those    
works--all that is mental in them1 has  
not yet been so much as touched upon4   
,none but their lightest and least      
essential excellences have been proved1 
and1 therefore1 the enthusiasm with     
which ,i speak of them must necessarily 
appear overcharged and absurd4 ,it1     
might1 perhaps1 have been more prudent  
to have withheld the full expression of 
it till ,i had shown the full grounds   
for it2 but once written1 such          
expression must remain till ,i have     
justified it4 ,and1 indeed1 ,i think    
there is enough1 even in the foregoing  
pages1 to show that these works are1 as 
far as concerns the ordinary critics of 
the press1 above all animadversion1 and 
above all praise2 and that1 by the      
public1 they are not to be received as  
in any way subjects or matters of       

opinion1 but of ,faith4 ,we are not to  
approach them to be pleased1 but to be  
taught2 not to form a judgment1 but to  
receive a lesson4 ,our periodical       
writers1 therefore1 may save themselves 
the trouble either of blaming or        
praising3 their duty is not to pronounce
 opinions upon the work of a man who has
 walked with nature threescore years2   
but to impress upon the public the      
respect with which they are to be       
received1 and to make request to him1 on
 the part of the people of ,england1    
that he would now touch no unimportant  
work--that he would not spend time on   
slight or small pictures1 but give to   
the nation a series of grand1           
consistent1 systematic1 and completed   
poems4 ,we desire that he should follow 
out his own thoughts and intents of     
heart1 without reference to any human   
authority4 ,but we request1 in all      
humility1 that those thoughts may be    
seriously and loftily given2 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 nations4
 ,in all that he says1 we believe2 in   
all that he does we trust4#ha ,it is    
therefore that we pray him to utter     
nothing lightly--to do nothing          
regardlessly4 ,he stands upon an        
eminence1 from which he looks back over 
the universe of ,god1 and forward over  
the generations of men4 ,let every work 
of his hand be a history of the one1 and
 a lesson to the other4 ,let each       
exertion of his mighty mind be both hymn
 and prophecy1--adoration1 to the       
,deity1--revelation to mankind4         
,,footnotes    #gi ,of course this      
assertion does not refer to the         
differences in     mode of execution1   
which enable one painter to work faster 
or slower     than another1 but only to 
the exertion of mind1 commonly          
manifested     by the artist1 according 
as he is sparing or prodigal of         
production4    #hj ,talk of improving   

nature when it is                       
nature--,nonsense4--,e4     ,v4         
,rippingille4 ,i have not yet spoken of 
the difference--even in     what we     
commonly call ,nature--between imperfect
 and ideal form3 the     study of this  
difficult question must1 of course1 be  
deferred until     we have examined the 
nature of our impressions of beauty2 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 her4 
,many of the works     of our greatest  
artists have for their subjects nothing 
but hacked     and hewn remnants of     
farm-yard vegetation1 branded root and  
branch1     from their birth1 by the    
prong and the pruning-hook2 and the     
feelings once accustomed to take        
pleasure in such abortions1 can         
scarcely become perceptive of forms     
truly ideal4 ,i have just said          
7#dbc7 that young painters should go to 

nature trustingly1--rejecting           
nothing1 and selecting nothing3 so they 
should2 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 
agriculturist1 nor stiffened into       
court-dress by the landscape            
gardener4 ,it must be the pure1 wild    
volition and energy of the     creation 
which they follow--not subdued to the   
furrow1 and     cicatrized to the       
pollard--not persuaded into proprieties1
 nor     pampered into diseases4 ,let   
them work by the torrent-side1 and in   
the forest shadows2 not by purling      
brooks and under tonsile     shades4 ,it
 is impossible to enter here into       
discussion of what man     can or cannot
 do1 by assisting natural operations3 it
 is an     intricate question3 nor can  
,i1 without anticipating what ,i shall  
have hereafter to advance1 show how or  
why it happens that the     racehorse is
 not the artist's ideal of a horse1 nor 

a prize tulip     his ideal of a flower2
 but so it is4 ,as far as the painter is
     concerned1 man never touches nature
 but to spoil2--he operates on     her  
as a barber would on the ,apollo2 and if
 he sometimes increases     some        
particular power or                     
excellence1--strength or agility in the 
animal--tallness1 or fruitfulness1 or   
solidity in the tree1--he     invariably
 loses that balance of good qualities   
which is the chief     sign of perfect  
specific form2 above all1 he destroys   
the appearance     of free volition and 
felicity1 which1 as ,i shall show       
hereafter1     is one of the essential  
characters of organic beauty4 ,until1   
however1 ,i can enter into the          
discussion of the nature of beauty1     
the only advice ,i can safely give the  
young painter1 is to keep     clear of  
clover-fields and parks1 and to hold to 
the unpenetrated     forest and the     
unfurrowed hill4 ,there he will find    
that every     influence is noble1 even 

when destructive--that decay itself is  
beautiful1--and that1 in the elaborate  
and lovely composition of all           
things1 if at first sight it seems less 
studied than the works of     men1 the  
appearance of ,art is only prevented by 
the presence of     ,power4             
,nature never did betray                
,the heart that loved her3 'tis her     
privilege1              ,through all the
 years of this our life1 to lead        
,from joy to joy2 for she can so inform 
,the mind that is within us1 so impress 
,with quietness and beauty1 and so feed 
,with lofty thoughts1 that neither evil 
tongues1              ,rash judgments1  
nor the sneers of selfish men           
,shall e'er prevail against us1 or      
disturb              ,our cheerful      
faith1 that all which we behold         
,is full of blessings4                  
,,wordsworth4    #ha ,it has been       
hinted1 in some of the reviews of the   
,second ,volume     of this work1 that  
the writer's respect for ,turner has    

diminished     since the above passage  
was written4 ,he would1 indeed1 have    
been     deserving of little attention  
if1 with the boldness manifested on     
the preceding pages1 he had advanced    
opinions based on so shallow            
foundation as that the course of three  
years could effect     modification of  
them4 ,he was justified by the sudden   
accession of     power which the great  
artist exhibited at the period when this
     volume was first published1 as well
 as by the low standard of the          
criticism to which he was subjected1 in 
claiming1 with respect to     his then  
works1 a submission of judgment1 greater
 indeed than may     generally be       
accorded to even the highest human      
intellect1 yet not     greater than such
 a master might legitimately claim from 
such     critics2 and the cause of the  
peculiar form of advocacy into which    
the preceding chapters necessarily fell1
 has been already stated     more than  
once4 ,in the following sections it     

became necessary1 as     they treated a 
subject of intricate relations1 and     
peculiar     difficulty1 to obtain a    
more general view of the scope and      
operation     of art1 and to avoid all  
conclusions in any wise referable to the
     study of particular painters4 ,the 
reader will therefore find1 not     that
 lower rank is attributed to ,turner1   
but that he is now compared     with the
 greatest men1 and occupies his true    
position among the most     noble of all
 time4                                  
,,postscript4  ,the above passage was   
written in the year #ahdc2 too late4 ,it
 is true that soon after the publication
 of this work1 the abuse of the press1  
which had been directed against ,turner 
with unceasing virulence during the     
production of his noblest works1 sank   
into timid animadversion1 or changed    
into unintelligent praise2 but not      
before illness1 and1 in some degree1    
mortification1 had enfeebled the hand   
and chilled the heart of the painter4   

,this year 7#ahea7 he has no picture on 
the walls of the ,academy2 and the      
,times of ,may #c;d says1 ,we miss those
 works of ,,inspiration6  ,we miss6 ,who
 misses8--,the populace of ,england     
rolls by to weary itself in the great   
bazaar of ,kensington1 little thinking  
that a day will come when those veiled  
vestals and prancing amazons1 and goodly
 merchandise of precious stones and     
gold1 will all be forgotten as though   
they had not been1 but that the light   
which has faded from the walls of the   
,academy is one which a million of      
,koh-i-,noors could not rekindle1 and   
that the year #ahea will in the far     
future be remembered less for what it   
has displayed than for what it has      
withdrawn4     ,,denmark ,,hill1 ,june1 
#ahea4                           ,,end  
,,of ,,the ,,first ,,volume4          99
       99       99       99       99    
,,corrections ,,made ,,to ,,the         
,,original ,,text4  ,page xiii3 'attack 
of the following colums' corrected to   

'columns'4  ,page lxiii3 7,table of     
,contents7 ,sec4 #h4 ,monotony and      
falsehood444 #bci   corrected to #bcj4  
,page #cd3 'attained with greater       
porportional' corrected to              
'proportional'4  ,page #gd3 'exquisite  
truths of specfic' corrected to         
'specific'4  ,page #hd3 'things as in   
the right exhbition' corrected to       
'exhibition'4  ,page #hi3 'man's working
 from nature comtinually' changed to    
'continually'4  ,page #adf3 ',but ,i    
allow this inferiority only with respect
 to the   paintings1' superfluous comma 
omitted4  ,page #bgg3 ',but the vignette
 of ,aosta1 in the ,italy'1 'the'       
omitted4  ,page #bha3 'lateral chains   
separated rll' corrected to 'all'4      
,footnote #da3 ,comma after ,esq changed
 to period4  ,footnote #gd3 'is above   
stated refers1 thoughout' changed to    
'throughout'4