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artists call composition; but there is thorough affection for the thing drawn; they are serious and quiet in the highest degree, certain qualities of atmosphere and texture in them have never been excelled, and certain facts of mountain scenery never but by them expressed, as, for instance, the stillness and depth of the mountain tarns, with the reversed imagery of their darkness signed across by the soft lines of faintly touching winds; the solemn flush of the brown fern and glowing heath under evening light; the purple mass of mountains far removed, seen against clear still twilight. With equal gratitude I look to the drawings of David Cox, which, in spite of their loose and seemingly careless execution, are not less serious in their meaning, nor less important in their truth. I must, however, in reviewing those modern works in which certain modes of execution are particularly manifested, insist especially on this general principle, applicable to all times of art; that what is usually called the style or manner of an artist is, in all good art, nothing but the best means of getting at the particular truth which the artist wanted; it is not a mode peculiar to himself of getting at the same truths as other men, but the only mode of getting the particular facts he desires, and which mode, if others had desired to express those facts, they also must have adopted. All habits. of execution persisted in under no such necessity, but because the artist has invented them, or desires to show his dexterity in them, are utterly base; for every good painter finds so much difficulty in reaching the end he sees and desires, that he has no time nor power left for playing tricks on the road to it; he catches at the easiest and best means he can get; it is possible that such means may be singular, and then it will be said that his style is strange; but it is not a style at all, it is the saying of a particular thing in the only way in which it possibly can be said. Thus the reed pen outline and peculiar touch of Prout, which are frequently considered as mere manner, are in fact the only means of expressing the crumbling character of stone which the artist loves and desires. That character never has been expressed except by him, nor will it ever be expressed except by his means. And it is of the greatest importance to distinguish this kind of necessary and virtuous manner from the conventional manners very frequent in derivative schools,

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I always utterly to be contemned, wherein an artist, desiring Ching and feeling nothing, executes everything in his own ticular mode, and teaches emulous scholars how to do with Ficulty what might have been done with ease. It is true that re are sometimes instances in which great masters have ployed different means of getting at the same end, but in ese cases their choice has been always of those which to them peared the shortest and most complete; their practice has ver been prescribed by affectation or continued from habit, cept so far as must be expected from such weakness as is comon to all men; from hands that necessarily do most readily at they are most accustomed to do, and minds always liable prescribe to the hands that which they can do most readily. The recollection of this will keep us from being offended with e loose and blotted handling of David Cox. There is no her means by which his object could be attained. The loosess, coolness, and moisture of his herbage; the rustling umpled freshness of his broad-leaved weeds; the play of pleast light across his deep heathered moor or plashing sand; the elting of fragments of white mist into the dropping blue above; this has not been fully recorded except by him, and what ere is of accidental in his mode of reaching it, answers gracelly to the accidental part of nature herself. Yet he is capable more than this, and if he suffers himself uniformly to paint neath his capability, that which began in feeling must necesrily end in manner. He paints too many small pictures, and rhaps has of late permitted his peculiar execution to be more anifest than is necessary. Of this, he is himself the best judge. or almost all faults of this kind the public are answerable, ot the painter. I have alluded to one of his grander worksch as I should wish always to see him paint—in the preface; other, I think still finer, a red sunset on distant hills, almost equalled for truth and power of color, was painted by him veral years ago, and remains, I believe, in his own possession.

1. Copley elding.

enomena of stant color.

The deserved popularity of Copley Fielding has rendered it less necessary for me to allude frequently to his works in the following pages than it would herwise have been, more especially as my own sympathies and njoyments are so entirely directed in the channel which his art

has taken, that I am afraid of trusting them too far. Yet I may, perhaps, be permitted to speak of myself so far as I suppose my own feelings to be representative of those of a class; and I suppose that there are many who, like myself, at some period of their life have derived more intense and healthy pleasure from the works of this painter than of any other whatsoever; healthy, because always based on his faithful and simple rendering of nature, and that of very lovely and impressive nature, altogether freed from coarseness, violence, or vulgarity. Various references to that which he has attained will be found subsequently what I am now about to say respecting what he has not attained, is not in depreciation of what he has accomplished, but in regret at his suffering powers of a high order to remain in any measure dormant.

He indulges himself too much in the use of crude color. Pure cobalt, vioient rose, and purple, are of frequent occurrence in his distances; pure siennas and other browns in his foregrounds, and that not as expressive of lighted but of local color. The reader will find in the following chapters that I am no advocate for subdued coloring; but crude color is not bright color, and there was never a noble or brilliant work of color yet produced, whose real form did not depend on the subduing of its tints rather than the elevation of them.

It is perhaps one of the most difficult lessons to learn in art, that the warm colors of distance, even the most glowing, are subdued by the air so as in no wise to resemble the same color seen on a foreground object; so that the rose of sunset on clouds or mountains has a gray in it which distinguishes it from the rose color of the leaf of a flower; and the mingling of this gray of distance, without in the slightest degree taking away the expression of the intense and perfect purity of the color in and by itself, is perhaps the last attainment of the great landscape colorist. In the same way the blue of distance, however intense, is not the blue of a bright blue flower, and it is not distinguished from it by different texture merely, but by a certain intermixture and under current of warm color, which is altogether wanting in many of the blues of Fielding's distances; and so of every bright distant color; while in foreground where colors may be, and ought to be, pure, yet that any of them are

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ressive of light is only to be felt where there is the accurate ing of them to their relative shadows which we find in the rks of Giorgione, Titian, Tintoret, Veronese, Turner, and other great colorists in proportion as they are so. Of this ing of light to shadow Fielding is altogether regardless, so at his foregrounds are constantly assuming the aspect of overarged local color instead of sunshine, and his figures and tle look transparent.

Beauty of untain foreund.

Again, the finishing of Fielding's foregrounds, as regards their drawing, is minute without accuracy, multitudinous without thought, and confused thout mystery. Where execution is seen to be in measure cidental, as in Cox, it may be received as representative of mat is accidental in nature; but there is no part of Fielding's reground that is accidental; it is evidently worked and reorked, dotted, rubbed, and finished with great labor, and here the virtue, playfulness, and freedom of accident are thus moved, one of two virtues must be substituted for them. ther we must have the deeply studied and imaginative foreround, of which every part is necessary to every other, and hose every spark of light is essential to the well-being of the hole, of which the foregrounds of Turner in the Liber Stuorum are the most eminent examples I know, or else we must ave in some measure the botanical faithfulness and realizaon of the early masters. Neither of these virtues is to be found Fielding's. Its features, though grouped with feeling, are et scattered and inessential. Any one of them might be tered in many ways without doing harm; there is no proporoned, necessary, unalterable relation among them; no evidence f invention or of careful thought, while on the other hand here is no botanical or geological accuracy, nor any point on hich the eye may rest with thorough contentment in its realizaion.

It seems strange that to an artist of so quick feeling the etails of a mountain foreground should not prove irresistibly ttractive, and entice him to greater accuracy of study. There s not a fragment of its living rock, nor a tuft of its heathery herbage, that has not adorable manifestations of God's working hereupon. The harmonies of color among the native lichens

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are better than Titian's; the interwoven bells of campanula and heather are better than all the arabesques of the Vatican; they need no improvement, arrangement, nor alteration, nothing but love, and every combination of them is different from every other, so that a painter need never repeat himself if he will only be true; yet all these sources of power have been of late entirely neglected by Fielding; there is evidence through all his foregrounds of their being mere home inventions, and like all home inventions they exhibit perpetual resemblances and repetitions; the painter is evidently embarrassed without his rutted road in the middle, and his boggy pool at the side, which pool he has of late painted in hard lines of violent blue there is not a stone, even of the nearest and most important, which has its real lichens upon it, or a studied form or anything more to occupy the mind than certain variations of dark and light browns. The same faults must be found with his present painting of foliage, neither the stems nor leafage being ever studied from nature; and this is the more to be regretted, because in the earlier works of the artist there was much admirable drawing, and even yet his power is occasionally developed in his larger works, as in a Bolton Abbey on canvas, which was,-I cannot say, exhibited, but was in the rooms of the Royal Academy in 1843.* I should have made the preceding remarks

* It appears not to be sufficiently understood by those artists who complain acrimoniously of their positions on the Academy walls, that the Academicians have in their own rooms a right to the line and the best places near it; in their taking this position there is no abuse nor injustice; but the Academicians should remember that with their rights they have their duties, and their duty is to determine among the works of artists not belonging to their body those which are most likely to advance public knowledge and judgment, and to give these the best places next their own; neither would it detract from their dignity if they occasionally ceded a square even of their own territory, as they did gracefully and rightly, and, I am sorry to add, disinterestedly, to the picture of Paul de la Roche in 1844. Now the Academicians know perfectly well that the mass of portrait which encumbers their walls at half height is worse than useless, seriously harmful to the public taste, and it was highly criminal (I use the word advisedly) that the valuable and interesting work of Fielding, of which I have above spoken, should have been placed where it was, above three rows of eye-glasses and waistcoats. A very beautiful work of Harding s was treated either in the same or the following exhibition with still greater injustice. Fielding's was

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