To the composition, the colouring and the light and shadow ought to correspond they must be of a forcible and decided character, avoiding whatever borders upon laborious exactness or petty distinctions of any kind. Greatness in painting is seldom attained by him who laboriously endeavours to distinguish between shades of hair, or the different texture and fabric of pieces of drapery. As to the handling of the several objects, let it be agreeable to the character of those objects themselves. If rugged, wild, or broken, let the touch correspond to these :-if smooth and even, take care that here also your handling be in character. In one sense this is like the clothing of figures. Be careful, says Du Piles, not to clothe a Hercules in taffeta, nor an Apollo in coarse stuff.

The best proof that can be shown of a landscape being true to the heroic character, is, when it will admit of strictly historic figures without any violation of unity in the piece, or any difference of character between those figures and the natural objects about them.

Taking the several sorts of landscape in the order formerly laid down, we now come to the Fanciful or Imaginative. For although philosophers make a great distinction between fancy and imagination, yet in the present instance, in painting, their similarity to each other is sufficiently near to warrant us in considering them as one and the same thing. If learned and remote distinctions are not sometimes laid aside, we shall find a difficulty in making ourselves always understood. As we cannot invariably act like philosophers, neither can we continually talk or write like them.

men.

A true picture of imagination I take to be one, the parts of which are in every respect beyond the reality of nature; but yet, at the same time that they go to the utmost extent of intellect and belief, preserve a proper degree of verisimilitude and of coherence with the general ideas of Pictures of this kind carry the imaginations of spectators into regions totally unthought of and unknown to them before. They, as it were, unveil another creation, which men have not the power to invent for themselves, although they can very readily enter into it when presented to them by another whose powers of invention are greater than their own. This very satisfactorily explains the reason why pictures of fancy or imagination obtain such a great ascendancy over the minds of men. It is because they give a greater range to, or extend the bounds of, the imaginative faculty of the human mind; a faculty which, above all others, affords the greatest delight to the soul. But, however great may be the pleasure derivable from pictures of this nature, and although greater licenses are allowable in this kind of painting than in any other, yet care must be taken to keep them within due bounds. If carried too

far, or beyond the comprehension of any save the painter,-instead of pleasure they will create disgust. If the picture be so imaginary as to become obscure, the great beauty is lost, which consists, if we may use such an expression, in keeping imagination within the bounds of credibility.

Although this style of painting has been much practised by the moderns, more especially in our own time, yet perhaps there are very few perfect examples of it; or such as have not in any part of them anything bordering upon common nature. Mr. Martin has undoubtedly succeeded by far the best; but even he is not on all occasions so perfect as might be wished. If Fuseli's fanciful figures could have been combined with the imaginative and ideal scenery of Martin, I doubt not we should have had more perfect pictures in this kind than any at present in existence.

Poetical pieces of this nature are very few in number when compared with the vast quantity of poetry already in the literary world. The poems of Ossian contain many very excellent examples of this manner; but we know of none where they are so numerous, or approach so near perfection, as in the poems of Coleridge. In the "Ancient Mariner" especially, there are pictures of this kind which perhaps can scarcely be excelled.

:

It has been said that great licenses are allowable in the imaginative style of painting and indeed we almost doubt whether some departure from ordinary modes of practice does not partially add to the effect intended to be produced. Thus, in regard to light and shadow, there have been disputes whether effects are admissible in good landscape.

In the department now treated upon, effects must be considered not only admissible, but, generally speaking, very proper to be introduced, inasmuch as they may be made extremely serviceable to the sentiment or feeling conveyed in the picture. Nay, some artists, in pictures of this kind, have even gone so far as to rest their principal strength upon the effect of light and shadow. But since they are principally living painters who, were we to mention particulars, would be referred to on this occasion, we shall abstain from giving examples. Though the practice itself is not much to be commended, yet we conceive it goes far towards proving the truth of our position.

We now come to treat on Classical landscape,—a style which, from the great names with which it is associated, has long been in high repute. Claude Lorrain may be looked upon as the greatest master in it, as the same in painting that Virgil was in poetry. Wilson was another master of very great excellencies. And in our own day we have works produced

which would have been a credit to either of those. Grace, elegance and purity, form the prevailing character of the classic landscape. It is nature refined from her dross, exalted into something heavenly, and breathing throughout a kind of quiet, mild, and feminine beauty: it tells of fair weather and happy times-of summer days and the golden age.

In the design and the drawing, delicacy rather than strength is necessary. Rugged mountains and abrupt breaks in the ground should generally be avoided: hills covered with verdure, and gentle declivities, are more congenial with that air of serenity and quiet which ought to reign throughout the piece. Indeed it may be taken as an almost invariable rule, that the colouring of the classic landscape should be much more tender and retiring than the colouring of the heroic landscape. Very deep, decided, and powerful colours appear to be out of character if employed upon a subject of a mild and merely beautiful nature. light and shadow, in like manner, should not be made too strong and forcible. He who might wish to represent a beautiful and delicate countenance, surely would not set himself upon painting deep shadows. The classic, by its very nature, admits of more detail than the heroic: one requires strength, the other grace and beauty. To obtain strength and force, it is always best to keep the work under the influence of general ideas; as Homer and Shakspeare give us great and forcible conceptions best by few words, expressing few but great and important circumstances; whereas in describing what is merely graceful and beautiful, more detail, more minute circumstances, and more individuality are requisite.

The Pastoral landscape, which next comes under consideration, is perhaps the most pleasing and agreeable of any. Amid the multiplicity of human affairs which hurry men, some to the Court, some to the camp, and some into the world of merchandise, the natural bent and disposition of the mind becomes in a great measure changed: and in proportion as men are absorbed in the pursuit of their respective professions, or taken with the allurements of fashion, public amusements and company, so do their tastes for rural pleasure and retirement become vitiated and depraved. But, however far men may rush into these extremes, still the love of nature and rural scenery is so inherent in the human breast, that in all instances it has remained, in some degree or other, to the very last. As this kind of love for the beauties of nature is the last to forsake the breast, it is also the first which the human heart conceives. In childhood we love the flowers and green fields; and in mature age we still retain that love, ripened by time, and so thoroughly rooted in

the heart, that it is almost beyond the power of any ever entirely to eradicate.

circumstances what

It would be a somewhat curious inquiry in the history of the Arts, Whether the pastoral was the first kind of painting, as it was of poetry? We are far from having so many records and remains of the former as of the latter; so that perhaps it would be impossible to trace the progress of painting back to its beginning: but were we to hazard a conjecture upon the subject, we should say, that in all probability it was; especially, because looking back with regret upon the earlier days of innocence, men would as naturally record in design, those ideas which pleased them most, as in songs and poems. Yet we may readily believe that a long period of time, perhaps even of some centuries, might have elapsed before mankind had arrived at a degree of civilization equal to this; because painting, or designing, is an art which cannot be practised even on the poorest scale without the aid of many other arts. Previous to this, some knowledge of the method of mixing colours, of making tools to work with, and of preparing material to work upon, is absolutely necessary; all which things are not the inventions of mere savages, nor found out in a day. And herein lies the great difference between the æra of the poet and of the painter: for though the form of mind is the same in each, yet in all kingdoms emerging from barbarism, the latter does not appear till perhaps three or four or more centuries after the former; allowing, of course, that the art of paintingbe not introduced from other countries. The reason of this appears to be, in a great measure, because of the difference of the material (if we may so speak) which the poet and the painter employ to express their ideas; looking upon language and pictorial illustration to be only two different ways of expressing the same thing. A good picture ought to be as full of poetry as a good poem.

The poet appears first in society; because as soon as ever he has any language, or can talk, he is enabled to express himself. The language of his country is the colour he works with, his brush is in his mouth, and the minds of his countrymen are the material he paints upon. It is not so with the painter. He cannot express his ideas in language; for if he does, he converts himself into a poet at once. He must wait until the progress of civilization and national improvement, shall have caused such inventions and discoveries as will put him into possession of some more tangible materials for perpetuating his conceptions. When these were obtained, he would fall to work in expressing his ideas after the best fashion he was able; and these no doubt, in accordance with his own feelings, arising from the method of living and the simple manners of VOL. III No. 12.

E

the times, would most naturally turn upon rural scenery and the beauties of pastoral landscape. But to return to the immediate subject, from which we have somewhat deviated.

The pastoral landscape requires a more literal adherence to the ordinary appearances of nature than any of the other kinds of landscape before mentioned; because, as it brings us acquainted with characters and scenery with which we have a closer and more frequent connection, its very expression requires that truth and exactness of resemblance should be preserved, in order that it may the more readily conform to the ideas we had previously received from our own observation of nature. Unlike the classic or the heroic, it will not readily allow of many improvements or alterations upon ordinary Nature:-a resemblance of such Nature as all sorts of men can recognise is its great characteristic; but then the artist must be careful to choose that Nature in her most agreeable and picturesque aspects, taking heed, as we have already remarked, that he introduces nothing but what is in character with the scene represented, and agreeable to the feeling to be conveyed in the picture.

Milton formerly supplied us with an excellent illustration of the heroic landscape. He has also he furnished us with an equally good example of the pastoral when he described it as a

Of hill, and valley, rivers, woods, and plains.”

In the text, these two passages are together; and did we not imagine that every reader would of himself see their separate beauties, we might by a little contrast show how nicely the poet has discriminated between the characters of both;-how land and sea, forests, rocks and caves, are appropriated to the heroic; and hills and rivers, valleys, woods and plains, to the more pleasing pastoral. A peculiar spirit of quiet and gentleness ought to pervade the whole of the pastoral landscape. Nature should not appear as rude and savage as if human eyes had never seen her, nor human feet trod upon the soil; not as rough and hairy as a bear, nor yet as smooth as a cat. In avoiding the first extreme, take heed that you do not run into the last, for of the two it is decidedly the worst. Nothing can be more disagreeable than to see Nature spruced and polished till she looks like a fine lady on a holiday. Natural scenery must not in any way remind us of the garden and the pleasure-ground. And when looking at its trees and sloping hills and valleys, we should not have the shears, the scythe, and the roller brought to mind, rather than the autumn breeze, which lops off dead branches, the nibbling sheep, and the shepherd's foot. We like Nature refined, but not polished;