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FIVE ESSAYS, 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE SUBJECTS; 
 
 WITH A 
 
 POEM ON LANDSCAPE PAINTING. 
 
Stiahan and Preft< n, 
 i'iiuters Street, L.ond6n. 
 
THREE ESSAYS: 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE BEAUTY; 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE TRAVEL; 
 
 AND ON 
 
 SKETCHING LANDSCAPE: 
 
 WITH A POEM, ON 
 
 LANDSCAPE PAINTING. 
 
 TO THESE ARE NOW ADDED 
 
 TWO ESSAYS, 
 
 CIVING AN ACCOUNT OF THE PRINCIPLES AND MODE IN WHICH THE 
 AUTHOR EXECUTED HIS OWN DRAWINGS. 
 
 By WILLIAM GILPIN, A.M. 
 
 PREBENDARY OF SALISBURY; AND VICAR OF BOLDRE IN 
 NEW-FOREST, NEAR LYMINGTON, 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 • LONDON; 
 
 PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND. 
 
 l8o8. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 Research Library, The Getty Research Institute 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/essaysonpicturesOOgilp 
 
A N Apology may be neceffary for pre- 
 fenting a new Edition of a Work, in a 
 more enlarged form than the one in which it 
 was publifhed by its author. But the two 
 EfTays which are added to the prefent re-pub- 
 lication, tho written by him for a particular 
 purpofe, contain fo much general precept on 
 the art of drawing, and are in themfelves fo 
 natural an appendage to the three EfTays on 
 PiBurefque Beauty, &c. that the Editors con- 
 ceive they are only forwarding the wifhes of 
 the author, and prefenting a more connected 
 view of his valuable inftruclion, already before 
 the public, by bringing them forward in their 
 prefent fhape. 
 
 In the year 1802, and in a fubfequent one, 
 Mr. Gilpin prepared a number of drawings 
 for fale, the produce of his own pencil, for the 
 endowment of a fchool for the benefit of the day- 
 labouring part of the parifhioners of Boldre, and 
 affixed the two EfTays to the fale catalogues, for 
 which they were particularly written. It is to 
 thefe fales that remarks in the EfTays fo fre- 
 quently refer. It was at firft intended to omit, 
 
 A3 in 
 
( w ) 
 
 in the prefent edition, thefe feveral references, 
 and to publifh only the general perceptive part. 
 But the alteration was found, on trial, too ex- 
 tenfive and hazardous ; and therefore, as a bet- 
 ter mode, both of elucidating and exemplifying 
 the fenfe and precepts of the author, the Edi- 
 tors have added imprefiions of a fet of fketches, 
 afTorted by him, and referred to, as illuftra- 
 tive of the principles of his drawings, and the 
 mode of their execution. 
 
TO 
 
 WILLIAM LOCK, Esq.; 
 
 OF 
 
 NORBURT-PARK, in SURRET, 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 he following eiTays, and poem, 
 I beg leave to infcribe to you. Indeed I do 
 little more, than return your own : for the 
 beft remarks, and obfervations in them, are 
 yours. Such as may be cavilled at, I am 
 perfuaded, muft be mine. 
 
 A publifhed work is certainly a fair object 
 of criticifm : but I think, my dear fir, we ad- 
 mirers of the picturefque are a little mifunder- 
 ftood with regard to our general intention. I 
 
 a 4 have 
 
( viii ) 
 
 have feveral times been furprized at finding us 
 represented, as fuppofing, all beauty to confift 
 in piffurefque beauty — and the face of nature 
 to be examined only by the rules of painting. 
 Whereas, in fact, we always fpeak a different 
 language. We fpeak of the grand fcenes of 
 nature, tho uninterefting in a piffurefque light, 
 as having a ftrong effect on the imagination — 
 often a ftronger, than when they are pro- 
 perly difpofed for the pencil. We every where 
 make a diftinction between fcenes, that are 
 beautiful, amujing, or otherwife pleafing; and 
 fcenes that arc piBurefque. We examine, and 
 admire both. Even artificial objects we admire, 
 whether in a grand, or in a humble ftile, tho 
 unconnected with pidturefque beauty — the pa- 
 lace, and the cottage — the improved garden- 
 fcene, and the neat homeftall. Works of til- 
 lage alfo afford us equal delight — the plough, 
 the mower, the reaper, the hay-field, and the 
 harveft-wane. In a word, we reverence, and 
 admire the works of God j and look with bene- 
 volence, and pleafure, on the works of men. 
 
 In 
 
( i* ) 
 
 In what then do we offend ? At the expence 
 of no other fpecies of beauty, we merely en- 
 deavour to illuftrate, and recommend one 
 fpecies more j which, tho among the moft 
 interefting, hath never yet, fo far as I know, 
 been made the fet object of inveftigation. 
 From fcenes indeed of the pi&urefque kind 
 we exclude the appendages of tillage, and 
 in general the works of men ; which too often 
 introduce precifenefs, and formality. But ex- 
 cluding artificial objects from one fpecies of 
 beauty, is not degrading them from all. We 
 leave then the general admirer of the beauties 
 of nature to his own purfuits ; nay we admire 
 them with him : all we defire, is, that he 
 would leave us as quietly in the poffeffion of 
 one fource of amufement more. 
 
 Under this apology, my dear fir, I have 
 ventured, in the following effays, to inlarge 
 a little both on our theory, and practice. In 
 the firft efTay (that we may be fairly under- 
 ftood) the dijiinguijhing charaBerifiic is marked, 
 
 of 
 
( X ) 
 
 of fuch beautiful objects, as are fuited to the 
 pencil. In the fecond, the mode of amufe- 
 ment is pointed out, that may arife from 
 viewing the fcenes of nature in a piclurefque 
 light : and in the third, a few rules are given 
 for Sketching landfcape after nature. I have 
 praclifed drawing as an amufement, and re- 
 laxation, for many years j and here offer the 
 refult of my experience. Some readinefs in 
 executiofi indeed, it is fuppofed, is necefTary, 
 before thefe rules .can be of much fervice. 
 They mean to take the young artift up, where 
 the drawing-mafter leaves him. — I have only 
 to add farther, that as feveral of the rules, and 
 principles here laid down, have been touched 
 in different piclurefque works, which I have 
 given the public, I have endeavoured not to 
 repeat myfelf: and where I could not throw 
 new light on a fubjecl, I have haftened over 
 it: — only in a work of this kind, it was ne- 
 cefTary to bring them together in one view. 
 
 With 
 
( xi ) 
 With regard to the poem, annexed to thefe 
 effays, fomething more mould be faid. As 
 that fmall part of the public, who personally 
 know me; and that ftill fmaller part, whom 
 I have the honour to call my friends, may 
 think me guilty of prefumption in attempting 
 a work of this kind, I beg leave to give the 
 following hiftory of it. 
 
 Several years ago, I amufed myfelf with 
 writing a few lines in verfe on landfcape- 
 painting ; and afterwards fent them, as a frag- 
 ment (for they were not finifhed) to amufe 
 a friend *. I had no other purpofe. My 
 friend told me, he could not fay much for 
 my poetry ; but as my rules, he thought, 
 were good, he wiihed me to finifli my frag- 
 ment ; and if I mould not like it as a poem, I 
 might turn it into an ejfay in profe. -— As this 
 was only what I expected, I was not difap- 
 pointed ; tho not encouraged to proceed. So 
 
 * Edward Forfter, Efq. ; of Walthamftow. 
 
 I trou- 
 
( *" ) 
 
 I troubled my head no farther with my 
 verfes. 
 
 Some time after, another friend*, finding 
 fault with my mode of defcribing the lakes 
 and mountains of Cumberland, and Weftmore- 
 land, as too poetical, I told him the fate of 
 my fragment 5 lamenting the hardfhip of my 
 
 cafe when I wrote verfe, one friend called 
 
 it profe; and when I wrote profe, another 
 friend called it verfe. In his next letter he 
 denied to fee my verfes ; and being pleafed 
 with the fubjec~t, he offered, if I would flnifh 
 my poem (however carelefsly as to metrical 
 exactnefs) he would adjuft the verfification. 
 But he found, he had engaged in a more 
 arduous tafk, than he expected, My rules, 
 and technical terms were fhibborn, and would 
 not eafily glide into verfe j and I was as ftub- 
 born, as they, and would not relinquifh the 
 fcientific part for the poetry. My friend's' 
 
 * Rev. Mr. Mafon. 
 
 good- 
 
( xiii ) 
 
 good-nature therefore generally gave way, and 
 fuffered many lines to ftand, and many altera- 
 tions to be made, which his own good tafte 
 could not approve *. I am afraid therefore I 
 muft appear to the world, as having fpoiled 
 a good poem : and muft fhelter myfelf, and 
 it, under thofe learned reafons, which have 
 been given for puttiiig Propria quce maribus, 
 and As in prcefe7iti^ into verfe. If the rules 
 have injured the poetry j as rules at leaft, I 
 
 * Extraft of a letter from Mr. Mafon. 
 
 " I have inferted confcientioufly every 
 
 " word, and phrafe, you have altered ; except the awkward 
 *' word clump, which I have uniformly difcarded, whenever it 
 " offered itfelf to me in my Englifh garden, which you may 
 *< imagine it did frequently : in it's ftead I have always 
 " ufed tuft. I have ventured therefore to infert it adje&ively ; 
 " and I hope, I fhall be forgiven. Except in this fingle 
 " inftance, I know not that I have deviated in the lead from 
 
 " the alterations, you fent. I now quit all that relates to 
 
 " the poem, not without fome felf-fatisfa&ion in thinking it is 
 " over : for, to own the truth, had I thought you would have 
 " expefted fuch almoft mathematical exaclitude of terms, as I 
 " find you do ; and in confequence turned lines tolerably 
 " poetical, into profaic, for the fake of precifion, I mould 
 *' never have ventured to give you my afliftance." 
 
 hope, 
 
( xi v ) 
 hope, they will meet your approbation. I am, 
 dear fir, with the greater!: efteem, and regard, 
 
 Your fmce,re, 
 
 and mod obedient, 
 
 humble fervant, 
 
 WILLIAM GILPIN. 
 
 Vuar's-hilly 
 OSlobcr 12, 1 79 1. 
 
EXPLANATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PRINTS. 
 
 I wo facing page 19. It is the intention of thefe 
 two prints to illuflrate how very adverfe the idea 
 of fmooihnefs is to the composition of landfcape. 
 In the fecond of them the great lines of the land- 
 fcape are exactly the fame as in the nrft ; only 
 they are more broken. 
 Two facing p. 75. The firft of thefe prints is meant 
 to illuflrate the idea of fimple illumination. The 
 light falls flrongly on various parts ; as indeed it 
 often does in nature. But, as it is the painter's 
 bufmefs to take nature in her moil beautiful form, 
 he chufes to throw his light more into a mafs, as 
 reprefented in the fecond print, which exhibits the 
 fame landfcape, only better heightened. When 
 we merely take the lines of a landfcape from na- 
 ture ; and inlighten it (as we mud often do) 
 from our own tafte, and judgment, the mailing 
 of the light muft be well attended to, as one of 
 the great fources of beauty. It muft not be 
 
 fcattered 
 
( xvi ) 
 
 fcattered in fpots ; but mufl be brought more 
 together, as on the rocky fide of the hill in the 
 fecond print : and yet it mufl graduate alfo in 
 different parts ; fo as not to appear affected. 
 
 One print facing p. 77. The idea of gradation is here 
 farther illuftrated ; according to the explanation 
 
 in p. j6. The infcription is that admired 
 
 one of Ccecilia Metella, the daughter of Metel- 
 lus, and the wife of Craffus ; in which, with fo 
 much elegant, and tender fimplicity, her name 
 is divided between her father, and her hufband. 
 
 One facing p. 79. This print exemplifies a Jimple 
 mode of tinting a drawing, as explained in the 
 text. The colouring of this print (which is 
 done by hand) has added a little to the expence 
 of the book : but it was thought neceffary to 
 compleat the fcheme. — It was coloured by a 
 relation of mine ; Mr. Gilpin, drawing-mafter at 
 Paddington-green ; who in all the copies I have 
 feen, has illuftrated my ideas very fatisfaclorily ; 
 and who, as far as the recommendation of a 
 partial kinfman may go, deferves mine. 
 
 One facing p. 85. This print is an explanation of a 
 few rules in perfpeclive ; juft fufficient for the 
 ufe of common landfcape. 
 
 %* Four Prints belonging to the Two Additional 
 Essays are fufficient ly explained in the pages facing 
 'which they are refpecliveh placed. 
 
 ES- 
 
ESSAY I. 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE BEAUTY. 
 
ESSAY I. 
 
 .Disputes about beauty might perhaps be 
 involved in lefs confufion, if a diftinction 
 were eftablifhed, which certainly exifts, be- 
 tween fuch objects as are beautiful, and fuch 
 as are piffurefque — between thofe, which pleafe 
 the eye in their natural fiat e ; and thofe, which 
 pleafe from fome quality, capable of being 
 illuflratcd by painting. 
 
 Ideas of beauty vary with objects, and with 
 the eye of the fpectator. The ftone-mafon 
 fees beauties in a well-jointed wall, which efcape 
 the architect, who furveys the building under a 
 different idea. And thus the painter, who 
 compares his object with the rules of his 
 art, fees it in a different light from the man 
 of general taite, who furveys it only as fimply 
 beautiful. „ 
 
 b 2 As 
 
( 4 1 
 
 As this difference therefore between the beau- 
 tiful, and the piBurefque appears really to exift, 
 and muft depend on fome peculiar conflruclion 
 of the object ; it may be worth while to ex- 
 amine, what that peculiar conftruction is* 
 We inquire not into the general fources of 
 beauty, either in nature, or in reprefentatiom 
 This would lead into a nice, and fcientific 
 difcumon, in which it is not our purpofe to 
 engage. The queftion fimply is, What is that 
 quality in objeBs, whicio particularly marks them 
 as piBurefque ? 
 
 In examining the real objeB, we mall find, 
 one fource of beauty arifes from that fpecies 
 of elegance, which we call fmoothnefs, or 
 ncatnefs ; for the terms are nearly fynonymous. 
 The higher the marble is polifhed, the brighter 
 the filver is rubbed, and the more the ma- 
 hogany mines, the more each is confidered as 
 an object of beauty : as if the eye delighted in 
 gliding fmoothly over a furface. 
 
 In the clafs of larger objects the fame idea 
 prevails. In a pile of building we wifh to 
 fee neatnefs in every part added to the elegance 
 of the architecture. And if we examine a 
 piece of improved pieafure-ground, every thing 
 rough, and flovenly offends. 
 
 Mr. 
 
( 5 ) 
 
 Mr. Burke, enumerating the properties of 
 beauty, confiders fmoothnefs as one of the 
 moft efTential. " A very confiderable part 
 of the effect of beauty, fays he, is owing to 
 this quality : indeed the moft confiderable : 
 for take any beautiful object, and give it a 
 broken, and rugged furface, and however 
 well-formed it may be in other refpects, it 
 pleafes no longer. Whereas, let it want ever 
 fo many of the other conftituents, if it want 
 not this, it becomes more pleafmg, than 
 
 almoft all the others without it."* 
 
 How far Mr. Burke may be right in making 
 fmoothnefs the mojl confiderable fource of beauty, 
 I rather doubt -f~. A confiderable one it cer- 
 tainly is. 
 
 Thus 
 
 * Upon the fublime and beautiful, page 213. 
 
 -j- Mr. Burke is probably not very accurate in what he 
 farther fays on the connection between beauty, and diminutives. 
 
 Beauty excites love ; and a loved obje£t is generally 
 
 charafterifed by diminutives. But it does not follow, that 
 all objects characterized by diminutives, tho they may be fo 
 becaufe they are loved, are therefore beautiful. We often 
 love them for their moral qualities ; their affeftions ; their 
 gentlenefs ; or their docility. Beauty, no doubt, awakens 
 love ; but alfo excites admiration, and refpe£t. This com- 
 bination forms the fentiment, which prevails, when we look 
 
 b 3 at 
 
( 6 )- 
 
 Thus then, we fuppofe, the matter ftands 
 with regard to beautiful objects in general. But 
 in piBurefque representation it feems fomewhat 
 odd, yet perhaps we iha.ll find it equally 
 true, that the reverfe of this is the cafe*-, 
 and that the ideas of neat and fmooth, inftead 
 of being piclurefque, in reality ftrip the 
 object, in which they refide, of all preten- 
 tions to pi Slur ef que beauts. Nay, farther, 
 
 we do not fcruple to afTert, that roughnefs 
 forms the moft eiTential point of difference 
 between the beautiful, and the piclurefque; 
 as it feems to be that particular quality, 
 which makes objects chiefly pleahng in paint- 
 ing. — I ufe the general term roughnefs; but 
 properly fpeaking roughnefs relates only to 
 the furfaces of bodies : when we fpeak of 
 their delineation, we ufe the word ruggednefs. 
 Both ideas however equally enter into the 
 piclurefque j and both are ohfervable in the 
 
 at the Apollo of Belvidere, and the Niobe. No man of 
 nice difcernment would characterize thefe ftatues by diminu- 
 tives. There is then a beauty, between which and dimi- 
 nutives there is no relation ; but which, on the contrary, 
 excludes them : and in the description of figures, pofTefTed 
 of that fpecies of beauty, we feek for terms, which recommend 
 them more to our admiration than our love. 
 
 fmaller, 
 
( 7 ) 
 
 fmaller, as well as in the larger parts of 
 nature — in the outline, and bark of a tree, 
 as in the rude fummit, and craggy fides of 
 a mountain. 
 
 Let us then examine our theory by an ap- 
 peal to experience; and try how far thefe 
 qualities enter into the idea of piBurefque 
 beauty ; and how far they mark that dif- 
 ference among objects, which is the ground 
 of our inquiry. 
 
 A piece of Palladian architecture may be 
 elegant in the laft degree. The proportion of 
 it's parts — the propriety of it's ornaments — 
 and the fymmetry of the whole may be highly 
 pleafmg. But if we introduce it in a picture, it 
 immediately becomes a formal object, and 
 ceafes to pleafe. Should we wifh to give it 
 picturefque beauty, we nuift ufe the mallet 
 inftead of the chiflel : we muft beat down one 
 half of it, deface the other, and throw the 
 mutilated members around in heaps. In fhort, 
 from a fmooth building we muft turn it into a 
 rough ruin. No painter, who had the choice of 
 the two objects, would hefitate which to chufe. 
 Again, why does an elegant piece of garden- 
 ground make no figure on canvas ? The fhape 
 
 b 4 is 
 
( 8 ) 
 
 is pleafing; the combination of the objects, 
 
 harmonious ; and the winding of the walk in 
 
 the very line of beauty. All this is true ; but 
 
 the fmoothnefs of the whole, tho right, and as 
 
 it fliould be in nature, offends in picture. 
 
 Turn the lawn into a piece of broken ground : 
 
 plant rugged oaks inftead of flowering fhrubs : 
 
 break the edges of the walk : give it the rude- 
 
 nefs of a road ; mark it with wheel- tracks ; 
 
 and fcatter around a few ftones, and brufh- 
 
 wood ; in a word, inftead of making the 
 
 whole fmootb, make it rough ; and you make 
 
 it alfo piBurefque. All the other ingredients 
 
 of beauty it already pofTelied. 
 
 You fit for your picture. The mafter, at 
 your defire, paints your head combed fmooth, 
 and powdered from the barber's hand. This 
 may give it a more ftriking likenefs, as it is 
 more the refemblance of the real object. But 
 is it therefore a more pleafing picture ? I fear 
 not. Leave Reynolds to himfelf, and he will 
 make it piclurefque by throwing the hair 
 difhevelled about your ihoulders. Virgil would 
 have done the fame. It was his ufual practice 
 in all his portraits. In his figure of Afcanius, 
 we have the fufos crines; and in his portrait 
 
 of 
 
( 9 ) 
 
 of Venus, which is highly finifhed in every 
 part, the artift has given her hair, 
 
 dijfundere ventis *. 
 
 Modern poets alfo, who have any ideas of na- 
 tural beauty, do the fame. I introduce Milton 
 to reprefent them all. In his picture of Eve, 
 he tells us, that 
 
 to her flender wafte 
 
 Her unadorned golden treffes were 
 Difhevelled, and in wanton ringlets waved. 
 
 That lovely face of youth fmiling with all 
 it's fweet, dimpling charms, how attractive is 
 
 * The roughnefs, which Virgil gives the hair of Venus, and 
 Afcanius, we may fuppofe to be of a different kind from the 
 fqualid roughnefs, which he attributes to Charon : 
 
 Portitor has horrendus aquas, et flumina fervat 
 Terribili fqualore Charon, cui plurima mento 
 Canities inculta jacet. 
 
 Charon's roughnefs is, in it's kind, pi&urefque alfo ; but the 
 roughnefs here intended, and which can only be introduced in 
 elegant figures, is of that kind, which is merely oppofed to 
 hair in nice order. In defcribing Venus, Virgil probably 
 thought hair, when Jlreaming in the wind, both beautiful, and 
 pidlurefque, from it's undulating form, and varied tints ; and 
 from a kind of life, which it affumes in motion ; tho perhaps 
 it's chief recommendation to him, at the moment, was, that it 
 was a feature of the character, which Venus was then affuming. 
 
 it 
 
( 1° ) 
 
 it in life ! how beautiful in reprefentation ! 
 It is one of thofe objects, that pleafe, as manv 
 do, both in nature, and on canvas. But 
 would you fee the human face in it's higheft 
 form of piBurefque beauty\ examine that pa- 
 triarchal head. What is it, which gives that 
 dignity of character ; that force of expreffion j 
 thofe lines of wifdom and experience > that 
 energetic meaning, fo far beyond the rofy hue, 
 or even the bewitching fmile of youth ? What 
 is it, but the forehead furrowed with wrinkles ? 
 the prominent cheek-bone, catching the light ? 
 the mufcles of the cheek flrongly marked, and 
 lofing themfelves in the ihaggy beard? and, 
 above all, the auftere brow, projecting over 
 the eye — the feature which particularly ftruck 
 Homer in his idea of Jupiter*, and which 
 
 he 
 
 * It is much more probable, that the poet copied forms from 
 the fculptor, who muft be feppofed to underftand them better, 
 from having ftudied them more ; than that the fculptor mould 
 copy them from the poet. Artifts however have taken advan- 
 tage of the pre-poflefiion of the world for Homer to fecure 
 approbation to their works by acknowledging them to be re- 
 flected images of his conception. So Phidias aflured his 
 countrymen, that he had taken his Jupiter from the defcription 
 of that god in the firft book of Homer. The faft is, none of 
 the features contained in that image, except the brow, can be 
 
 rendered 
 
( I* ) 
 
 he had probably feen finely reprefented in fome 
 ftatue; in a word, what is it, but the rough 
 touches of age? 
 
 As an objecl: of the mixed kind, partaking 
 both of the beautiful, and .the pi Bur ef que, we 
 admire the human figure alfo. The lines, and 
 furface of a beautiful human form are fo in- 
 finitely varied; the lights and iliades, which it 
 receives, are fo exquifitely tender in fome 
 parts, and yet fo round, and bold in others ; 
 it's proportions are fo juilj and it's limbs fo 
 fitted to receive all the beauties of grace, and 
 
 rendered by fculpture. But he knew what advantage luch 
 ideas, as his art could exprefs, would receive from being con- 
 nected in the mind of the fpe&ator with thofe furnifhed by 
 poetry ; and from the juft partiality of men for fuch a 
 poet. He feems therefore to have been as well acquainted with, 
 the mind of man, as with his fhape, and face. — If by x.va,vir,<nv 
 ETro^gucrt, we underftand, as I think we may, a presetting brow, 
 which cajls a broad, and deep Jhadow over the eye, Clarke has 
 rendered it ill by nigris fuperciliis, which mod people would 
 conftrue into black eye-brozus. Nor has Pope, tho he affe&ed 
 a knowledge of painting, tranflated it more happily by fable 
 eye-brows. — But if Phidias had had nothing to recommend him, 
 except his having availed himfelf of the only feature in the poet, 
 which was accommodated to his art, we mould not have heard 
 of inquirers wondering from whence he had drawn his ideas ; 
 nor of the compliment, which it gave him an opportunity of 
 paying to Homer. 
 
 contraft ■■> 
 
( '2 ) 
 
 contraftj that even the face, in which the 
 charms of intelligence, and fenfibility refide, 
 is almoft loft in the comparifon. But altho 
 the human form in a quiefcent ftate, is thus 
 beautiful; yet the more it's fmooth furface is 
 ruffled^ if I ma y f° fpeak, the more pictu- 
 refque it appears. When it is agitated by 
 pafiion, and it's mufcles fwoln by ftrong ex- 
 ertion, the whole frame is (hewn to the moll 
 
 advantage. But when we fpeak of mufcles 
 
 fwoln by exertion, we mean only natural exer- 
 tions, not an affected difplay of anatomy, in 
 which the mufcles, tho juftly placed, may frill 
 be overcharged. 
 
 It is true, we are better pleafed with the 
 ufual reprefentations we meet with of the 
 human form in a quiefcent ftate, than in an 
 agitated one j but this is merely owing to our 
 feldom feeing it naturally reprefented in ftrong 
 action. Even among the beft mafters we fee 
 little knowledge of anatomy. One will inflate 
 the mufcles violently to produce fome trifling 
 effect : another will fcarce fwell t-hem in the 
 production of a laboured one. The eye foon 
 learns to fee a defect, tho unable to amend it. 
 But when the anatomy is perfectly juft, the 
 human body will always be more picturefque 
 
 in 
 
( "3 ) 
 
 in action, than at reft. The great difficulty 
 indeed of reprefenting ftrong mufcular motion, 
 feems to have ftruck the ancient mafters of 
 fculpture: for it is certainly much harder to 
 model from a figure in ftrong, momentary 
 action, which mull, as it were, be fhot flying; 
 than from one fitting, or ftanding, which the 
 artift may copy at leifure. Amidft the variety 
 of ftatues tranfmitted from their hands, we 
 have only three, or four in very fpirited ac- 
 tion*. Yet when we fee an effect: of this kind 
 well executed, our admiration is greatly in- 
 creafed. Who does not admire the Laocoon 
 more than the Antinous ? 
 
 * Tho there are only perhaps two or three of the firft an- 
 tique ftatues in very fpirited action — the Laocoon, the fighting 
 gladiator, and the boxers — yet there are feveral others, which 
 are in aftion — the Apollo Belvidere — Michael Angelo's Torfo — 
 Arria and Pastus — the Pietas militaris, fometimes called the 
 Ajax, of which the Pafquin at Rome is a part, and of which 
 there is a repetition more entire, tho still much mutilated, at 
 Florence < — the Alexander and Bucephalus ; and perhaps fome 
 others, which occur not to my memory. The paucity however 
 of them, even if a longer catalogue could be produced, I think, 
 mews that the ancient fculptors confidered the reprefentation of 
 fpirited aSion as an achievement. The moderns have been lefs 
 daring in attempting it. But I believe connoifleurs univerfally 
 give the preference to thofe ftatues, in which the great mafters 
 have fo fuccefsfnlly exhibited animated action. 
 
 Animal 
 
( H ) 
 
 Animal life, as well as human, is, in gene- 
 ral, beautiful both in nature, and on canvas. 
 We admire the pampered horfe, as a real 
 objecl •, the elegance of his form ; the flateli- 
 nefs of his tread; the fpirit of all his mo- 
 tions ; and the gloflinefs of his coat. We 
 admire him alfo in reprefentation. But as an 
 objecl: of picturefque beauty, we admire more 
 the worn-out cart-horfe, the cow, the goat, 
 or the afs ; whofe harder lines, and rougher 
 coats, exhibit more the graces of the pencil. 
 For the truth of this we may examine Berg- 
 hem's pictures : we may examine the fmart 
 touch of Rofa of Tivoli. The lion with his 
 rough mane ; the briftly boar ; and the ruffled 
 plumage of the eagle*, are all objects of this 
 
 kind. 
 
 * The idea of the ruffled plumage of the eagle is taken from 
 the celebrated eagle of Pindar, in his firft Pythian ode ; which 
 has exercifed the pens of feveral poets ; and is equally poetical, 
 and pi£turefque. He is introduced as an inftance of the power 
 of mufic. In Gray's ode on the progrefs of poefy we have 
 the following pidlure of him. 
 
 Perching on the fceptered hand 
 
 Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feathered king 
 
 With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : 
 
 Quenched in dark clouds of flumber lie 
 
 The terror of his beak, and lightening of his eye. 
 
 Akenfide's 
 
( >5 ) 
 
 kind. Smooth-coated animals could not pro 
 duce (o piclurefque an effect:. 
 
 But when the painter thus prefers the cart- 
 horfe, the cow, or the afs to other objects 
 more beautiful in themfefoes, he does not cer- 
 tainly recommend his art to thofe, whofe love 
 of beauty makes them anxioufly feek, by what 
 means it's fleeting forms may be fixed. 
 
 Akenfide's picture of him, in his hymn to the Naiads, is rather 
 a little ftiffly painted. 
 
 With flackened wings, 
 
 While now the folemn concert breathes around, 
 Incumbent on the fceptre of his lord 
 Sleeps the Hern eagle ; by the numbered notes 
 Poflefied ; and fatiate with the melting tone ; 
 Sovereign of birds. 
 
 Weft's picture, efpecially the two laft lines, is a very good 
 one. 
 
 The bird's fierce monarch drops his vengeful ire. 
 Perched on the fceptre of th' Olympian king, 
 
 The thrilling power of harmony he feels 
 And indolently hangs his flagging wing ; 
 
 While gentle deep his clofing eyelid feals, 
 And o'er his heaving limbs, in loofe array, 
 
 To every balmy gale the ruffling feathers play. 
 
 Suggeftions 
 
( 16 ) 
 
 Suggeftions of this kind are ungrateful. 
 The art of painting allows you all you wifh. 
 You defire to have a beautiful object painted — 
 your horfe, for inflance, led out of the liable 
 in all his pampered beauty. The art of paint- 
 ing is ready to accommodate you. You have 
 the beautiful form you admired in nature ex- 
 actly transferred to canvas. Be then fatisfied. 
 The art of painting has given you what you 
 wanted. It is no injury to the beauty of your 
 Arabian, if the painter think he could have 
 given the graces of his art more forcibly to 
 your cart-horfe. 
 
 Bat does it not depreciate his art, if he give 
 up a beautiful form, for one lefs beautiful, 
 merely becaufe he can give it the graces of 
 his art ?nore forcibly — becaufe it's fharp lines 
 afford him a greater facility of execution r 
 Is the {mart touch of a pencil the grand de- 
 fideratum of painting? Does he difcover nothing 
 in piclitrefque objects, but qualities, which admit 
 of being rende?*ed with Jpirit ? 
 
 I mould not vindicate him, if he did. At 
 the fame time, a free execution is fo very 
 fafcinating a part of painting, that we need 
 
 4 not 
 
( '7 ) 
 
 not wonder, if the artift lay a great ftrefs 
 upon it. — It is not however intirely owing, 
 as fome imagine, to the difficulty of matter- 
 ing an elegant line, that he prefers a rough 
 one. In part indeed this may be the cafe j 
 for if an elegant line be not delicately hit 
 off, it is the moil infipid of all lines : whereas 
 in the defcription of a rough object, an error 
 in delineation is not eafily feen. However 
 this is not the whole of the matter. A 
 free, bold touch is in itfelf plealing*. In 
 elegant figures indeed there muft be a delicate 
 outline — at leaft a line tr«e to nature : yet 
 the furfaces even of fuch figures may be 
 touched with freedom ; and in the appen- 
 dages of the compofition there mutt be a 
 mixture of rougher objects, or there will be 
 a want of contraft. In landfcape univerfally 
 the rougher objects are admired j which give 
 the freeft fcope to execution. If the pencil 
 
 * A ftroke may be called free, when there is no appearance 
 <tf conftraint. It is bold, when a part is given for the whole, 
 which it cannot fail of fuggefting. This is the laconifm of 
 genius. But fometimes it may be free, and yet fuggeft only 
 how eaiily a line, which means Tnothing, may be executed. 
 Such a Aroke is not bold, but impudent. 
 
 i 
 
 c he 
 
( '8 ) 
 
 be timid, or hefitating, little beauty remits. 
 The execution then only is pleating, when the 
 hand firm, and yet decifive, freely touches the 
 characlerirlic parts of each object. 
 
 If indeed, either in literary, or in pic- 
 turefque compofition you endeavour to draw 
 the reader, or the fpeclator from the fubjecl to 
 the mode of executing it, your affectation * dif- 
 gufts. At the fame time, if fome care, and 
 pains be not bellowed on the execution^ your 
 flovenlinefs difgufts as much. Tho perhaps 
 the artift has more to fay, than the man of let- 
 ters, for paying attention to his execution. A 
 truth is a truth, whether delivered in the lan- 
 guage of a philofopher, or of a peafant : and the 
 intellect receives it as fuch. But the artift, who 
 
 * Language, like light, is a medium ; and the true phi- 
 lofophic ftile, like light from a north-window, exhibits objects 
 clearly, and diftinctly, without foliciting attention to itfelf. In 
 fr.bie&s of amufement indeed, language may gild fomewhat 
 more, and colour with the dies of fancy : but where informa- 
 tion is of more importance than entertainment, tho you cannot 
 throw too Jlrong a light, you fhould carefully avoid a coloured one. 
 The ftile of fome writers refembles a bright light placed be- 
 tween the eye, and the thing to be looked at. The light 
 mews itfelf ; and hides the object : and, it muft be allowed, the 
 execution of fome painters is as impertinent, as the ftile of fuch 
 writers. 
 
 deals 
 
ra 
 
( '9 ) 
 
 deals in lines, furfaces, and colours, which 
 are an immediate addrefs to the eye, con- 
 ceives the very truth itfelf concerned in his 
 mode of reprefenting it. Guido's angel, and 
 the angel on a fign-poft, are very different 
 beings ; but the whole of the difference con- 
 firms in an artful application of lines, furfaces, 
 and colours. 
 
 It is not however merely for the fake of 
 his execution, that the artift values a rough 
 object. He finds it in many other refpects 
 accommodated to his art. In the firft place, 
 his compofition requires it. If the hiftory- 
 painter threw all his draperies fmooth over 
 his figures ; his groups, and combinations 
 would be very awkward. And in landfcape- 
 painting fmooth objects would produce no 
 compofition at all. In a mountain-fcene what 
 compofition could arife from the corner of 
 a fmooth knoll coming forward on one fide, 
 interfered by a fmooth knoll on the other ; 
 with a fmooth plain perhaps in the middle, 
 and a fmooth mountain in the diftance ? The 
 very idea is difgufting. Picturefque compo- 
 fition confifts in uniting in one whole a variety 
 of parts ; and thefe parts can only be obtained 
 from rough objects. If the fmpoth moun- 
 
 c 2 tains, 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 tains, and plains were broken by different 
 objects, the conipofition would be good, if 
 we iuppofe the great lines of it were fo be- 
 fore. 
 
 Variety too is equally necefTary in his coni- 
 pofition : fo is contraft. Both thefe he finds 
 in rough objects; and neither of them in 
 fmooth. Variety indeed, in fome degree, he 
 may find in the outline of a fmooth object : 
 but by no means enough to fatisfy the eye< 
 without including the furface alfo. 
 
 From rough objects alfo he feeks the effeSl 
 of light and Jhade, which they are as well 
 difpofed to produce, as they are the beauty 
 of compofition. One uniform light, or one 
 uniform made produces no effect. It is the 
 various furfaces of objects, fometimes turn- 
 ing to the light in one way, and fometimes 
 in another, that give the painter his choice 
 of opportunities in marling, and graduating 
 both his lights, and fhades. — The riclmefs 
 alfo of the light depends on the breaks, and 
 little receffes, which it finds on the furfaces 
 of bodies. What the painter calls richnefs 
 on a furface, is only a variety of little parts ; 
 on which the light mining fhews all it's 
 fmall inequalities, and roughneffesj or in 
 
 the 
 
( » ) 
 
 the painter s language, inricbes it. — * — The 
 beauty alfo of catching lights arifes from the 
 roughnefs of objects. What the painter calls 
 a catching light is a ftrong touch of light on 
 fome prominent part of a furface, while the 
 reft is in fhadow. A fmooth furface hath no 
 fuch prominences. 
 
 In colouring alfo, rough objects give the 
 painter another advantage. Smooth bodies 
 are commonly as uniform in their colour, as 
 they are in their furface. In glofTy objects, 
 tho fmooth, the colouring may fometimes 
 vary. In general however it is otherwife ; 
 in the objects of landfcape, particularly. The 
 fmooth fide of a hill is generally of one 
 uniform colour -, while the fractured rock 
 prefents it's grey furface, adorned with patches 
 of greenfward running down it's guttered fides ; 
 and the broken ground is every where varied 
 with an okery tint, a grey gravel, or a leaden- 
 coloured clay : fo that in fact the rich colours 
 of the ground arife generally from it's broken 
 furface. 
 
 From fuch reafoning then we infer, that 
 it is not merely for the fake of his execution 
 that the painter prefers rough objects to 
 fmooth. The very effence of his art requires it. 
 
 c 3 As 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 As picturefque beauty therefore fo greatly 
 depends on rough objects, are we to exclude 
 every idea of fmoothnefs from mixing with it ? 
 Are we ftruck with no pleafing image, when 
 the lake is fpread upon the canvas ; the mar- 
 moreum cequor^ pure, limpid, fmooth, as the 
 polifhed mirror ? 
 
 We acknowledge it to be picturefque : but 
 we muft at the fame time recollect, that, in 
 fact, the fmoothnefs of the lake is more in 
 reality^ than in appearance. Were it fpread 
 upon the canvas in one fimple hue, it would 
 certainly be a dull, fatiguing object. But to 
 the eye it appears broken by fhades of various 
 kinds ; or by reflections from all the rough ob- 
 jects in it's neighbourhood. 
 
 It is thus too in other glofly bodies. Tho 
 the horfe, in a rough ftate as we have jufr. 
 obferved, or worn down with labour, is more 
 adapted to the pencil, than when his fides 
 fhine with brufhing, and high-feeding ; yet 
 in this latter ftate alfo he is certainly a pictu- 
 refque object. But it is not his fmooth, and 
 fhining coat, that makes him fo. It is the 
 apparent interruption of that fmoothnefs by a 
 variety of (hades, and colours, which produces 
 the effect. Such a play of mulcles appears 
 
 every 
 
( 2 3 ) 
 
 every where, through the finenefs of his fkin, 
 gently fwelling, and finking into each other — 
 he is all over fo lubricus ajpia\ the reflections 
 of light are fo continually fhifting upon him, 
 and playing into each other, that the eye never 
 confiders the fmoothnefs of the furface; but 
 is amufed with gliding up, and down, among 
 thofe endlefs tranfitions, which in fome degree, 
 fupply the room of roughnefs. 
 
 It is thus too in the plumage of birds. 
 Nothing can be fofter, nothing fmoother to 
 the touch ; and yet it is certainly picturefque. 
 But it is not the fmoothnefs of the furface, 
 which produces the effecl — it is not this we 
 admire : it is the breaking of the colours : 
 it is the bright green, or purple, changing 
 perhaps into a rich azure, or velvet black ; 
 from thence taking a femi-tint ; and fo on 
 through all the varieties of colour. Or if the 
 colours be not changeable, it is the harmony of 
 them, which we admire in thefe elegant little 
 touches of nature's pencil. The fmoothnefs of 
 the furface is only the ground of the colours. 
 In itfelf we admire it no more, than we do the 
 fmoothnefs of the canvas, which receives the 
 colours of the picture. Even the plumage of 
 the fvvan, which to the inaccurate obferver ap- 
 
 c 4 pears 
 
( 24 ) 
 
 pears only of one fimple hue, is in fact varied 
 with a thoufand foft fhadows, and brilliant 
 touches, at once difcoverable to the picturefque 
 eye. 
 
 Thus too a piece of polifhed marble may 
 be picturefque ; but it is only, when the poliiri 
 brings out beautiful veins, which in appearance 
 break the fur face by a variety of lines, and 
 colours. Let the marble be perfectly white, 
 and the effect vanifhes. Thus alfo a mirror 
 may have picturefque beauty j .but it is only 
 from it's reflections. In an unreflecting ftate, 
 it is infipid. 
 
 In flatuary we fometimes fee an inferior 
 artift give his marble a glofs, thinking to atone 
 for his bad workmanihip by his excellent 
 polifh. The effect fhews in how fmall a 
 derree fmoothnefs enters into the idea of the 
 picturefque. When the light plays on the 
 fhining coat of a pampered horfe, it plays 
 among the lines, and mufcles of nature j and 
 is therefore founded in truth. But the poliiri 
 of marble-nefh is unnatural*. The lights 
 
 therefore 
 
 * On all human flefh held between the eye and the light, 
 there is a degree of polifh. I fpeak not here of fuch a polifh 
 
( 25 ) 
 
 therefore are falfe ; and fmoothnefs being here 
 one of the chief qualities to admire, we are 
 difgufted ; and fay, it makes bad, worfe. 
 
 After all, we mean not to affert, that even 
 a fimple fmooth furface is in no fituation pic- 
 turefque. . In contraji it certainly may be : 
 nay in contraft it is often neceffary. The 
 beauty of an old head is greatly improved by 
 the fmoothnefs of the bald pate ; and the 
 rougher parts of the rock muft necefTarily be 
 fet off with the fmoother. But the point lies 
 here : to make an objecl: in a peculiar man- 
 ner picturefque, there muft be a proportion of 
 roughnefs ; fo much at leaft, as to make an 
 oppofition ; which, in an objecl: limply beauti- 
 ful, is unneceffary. 
 
 Some quibbling opponent may throw out, 
 that wherever there is fmoothnefs, there muft 
 alfo be roughnefs. The fmootheft plain con- 
 fifts of many rougher parts j and the roughen: 
 rock of many fmoother - y and there is fuch a 
 variety of degrees in both, that it is hard to 
 
 as this, which wrought-marble always, in a degree, poffeffes, 
 as well as human flefh ; but of the higheft polifli, which can be 
 given to marble ; and which has always a very bad effe&. If 
 I wanted an example, the buft of arch-bifhop Boulter in Weft- 
 minfter-abbey would afford a very glaring one* 
 
 fay, 
 
( 26 ) 
 
 fay, where you have the precife ideas of rough 
 and fmooth. 
 
 To this it is enough, that the province of 
 the pi£lurefque eye is to furvey nature j not to 
 anatomize matter. It throws it's glances around 
 in the broad-call ftile. It comprehends an 
 extenfive tract at each fweep. It examines 
 parts , but never defcends to particles. 
 
 Having thus from a variety of examples en- 
 deavoured to fhew, that roughnefs either real, 
 or apparent, forms an effential difference be- 
 tween the beautiful, and the picJurefque; it 
 may be expected, that we mould point out 
 the reafon of this difference. It is obvious 
 enough, why the painter prefers rough objects 
 to fmooth* : but it is not fo obvious, why the 
 quality of roughnefs mould make an effential 
 difference between objects of beauty, and objects 
 fuited to artificial reprefentation. 
 
 To this queftion, we might anfwer, that 
 the picturefque eye abhors art ; and delights 
 folely in nature : and that as art abounds 
 with regularity, which is only another name 
 
 * See page 19, &c. 
 
 for 
 
( *7 ) 
 
 for fmoothnefs -, and the images of nature with 
 irregularity ^ which is only another name for 
 rougbnefs, we have here a folution of our 
 queflion. 
 
 But is this folution fatisfaclory ? I fear not. 
 Tho art often abounds with regularity, it does 
 not follow, that all art mufl necefTarily do 
 fo. The piclurefque eye, it is true, finds 
 it's chief object in nature ; but it delights 
 alfo in the images of art, if they are marked 
 with the characleriftics, which it requires. 
 A painter s nature is whatever he imitates ; 
 whether the object be what is commonly 
 called natural, or artificial. Is there a greater 
 ornament of landfcape, than the ruins of a 
 caflle ? What painter rejects it, becaufe it 
 
 is artificial ? What beautiful effects does 
 
 Vandervelt produce from fhipping? In the 
 hands of fuch a mailer it furnifhes almoft 
 as beautiful forms, as any in the whole circle 
 
 of piclurefque objects ? And what could 
 
 the hiflory-painter do, without his draperies 
 to combine, contrail, and harmonize his 
 figures ? Uncloathed, they could never be 
 grouped. How could he tell his flory, with- 
 out arms ; religious utenfils ; and the rich 
 furniture of banquets ? Many of thefe con- 
 tribute 
 
( 28 ) 
 
 tribute greatly to embellifh his pictures with 
 pleafing fhapes. 
 
 Shall we then feek the folution of our 
 queftion in the great foundation of picturefque 
 beauty ? in the happy union of Jimplicity and 
 variety ; to which the rough ideas effentially 
 contribute ? An extended plain is a fimple 
 object. It is the continuation of only one 
 uniform idea. But the mere Jimplicity of a 
 plain produces no beauty. Break the fur- 
 face of it, as you did your pleafure-ground ; 
 add trees, rocks, and declivities ; that is, 
 give it roughnefs, and you give it alfo variety. 
 Thus by inriching the parts of a united whole 
 with roughnefs, you obtain the combined idea 
 of Jimplicity, and variety ; from whence remits 
 
 the pidturefque. Is this a fatisfactory an- 
 
 fwer to our queftion ? 
 
 By no means. Simplicity and variety are 
 fources of the beautiful, as well as of the 
 piBurefque. Why does the architect break 
 the front of his pile with ornaments ? Is 
 it not to add variety to fimplicity ? Even 
 the very black-fmith acknowledges this prin- 
 ciple by forming ringlets and bulbous circles 
 on his tongs, and pokers. In nature it is 
 the fame ; and your plain will juft as much 
 
 be 
 
( 29 ) 
 
 be improved in reality by breaking it, as upon 
 canvas-. — in a garden-fcene the idea is dif- 
 ferent. There every object is of the neat, 
 and elegant kind. What is otherwife, is in- 
 harmonious ; and roughnefs would be diforder. 
 
 Shall we then change our ground ; and feek 
 an anfwer to our queftion in the nature of 
 the art of painting ? As it is an zxtftriBly imi- 
 tative^ thofe objects will of courfe appear 
 moft advantageoufly to the picturefque eye, 
 which are the moft eafily imitated. The 
 ftronger the features are, the ftronger will be 
 the effect of imitation \ and as rough objects 
 have the ftrongeft features, they will confe- 
 quently, when reprefented, appear to moft 
 advantage. Is this anfwer more fatisfa£tory ? 
 
 Very little, in truth. Every painter, knows 
 that a fmooth objecl may be as eafily, and as 
 well imitated, as a rough one. 
 
 Shall we then take an oppofite ground, and 
 fay juft the reverfe (as men prefTed with dif- 
 ficulties will fay any thing) that painting is 
 not an art Jiricl/y imitative, but rather deceptive 
 — that by an afTemblage of colours, and a 
 peculiar art in fpreading them, the painter 
 gives a femblance of nature at a proper dif- 
 tance ; which at hand, is quite another thing 
 
 — that 
 
( 3° ) 
 
 — that thofe objects, which we call picturefque, 
 are only fuch as are more adapted to this art 
 
 — and that as this art is moft concealed in 
 rough touches, rough objects are of courfe 
 the moft pi6hirefque. Have we now at- 
 tained a fatisfactory account of the matter ? 
 
 Juft as much fo, as before. Many painters 
 of note did not ufe the rough flile of painting j 
 and yet their pictures are as admirable, as the 
 pictures of thofe, who did : nor are rough 
 objects lefs piclurefque on their canvas, than 
 on the canvas of others : that is, they paint 
 rough objects fmoothly. 
 
 Thus foiled, mould we in the true fpirit of 
 inquiry, perfift ; or honeftly give up the caufe, 
 and own we cannot fearch out the fource of 
 this difference ? I am afraid this is the truth, 
 whatever airs of dogmatizing we may affume, 
 inquiries into principles rarely end in fatisfac- 
 tion. Could we even gain fatisfaclion in our 
 prefent queftion, new doubts would arife. The 
 very firft principles of our art would be quef- 
 tioned. Difficulties would ftart up "cefiibulum 
 ante ipfum. We fhould be afked, What is 
 
 beauty ? What is tafte ? Let us ftep afide 
 
 a moment, and liften to the debates of the 
 learned on thefe heads. They will at leafl 
 
 mew 
 
( 3i ) 
 
 fliew us, that however we may wifh to fix 
 principles^ our inquiries are feldom fatisfac- 
 tory. 
 
 One philofopher will tell us, that tafte is 
 only the improvement of our own ideas. Every 
 man has naturally his proportion of tafte. The 
 feeds of it are innate. All depends on culti- 
 vation. 
 
 Another philofopher following the analogy 
 of nature, obferves, that as all men's faces 
 are different, we may well fuppofe their minds 
 to be fo likewife. He rejects the idea there- 
 fore of innate tafte ; and in the room of this 
 makes utility the ftandard both of tafte, and 
 beauty. 
 
 A third philofopher thinks the idea of utility 
 as abfurd, as the laft did that of innate tafte. 
 What, cries he, can I not admire the beauty 
 of a refplendent fun-fet, till I have inveftigated 
 the utility of that peculiar radiance in the at- 
 mofphere ? He then wifhes we had a little 
 lefs philofophy among us, and a little more 
 common fenfe. Common fenfe is defpifed like 
 Other common things : but, in his opinion, 
 if we made common fenfe the criterion in matters 
 of art, as well as fcience, we fliould be nearer 
 the truth. 
 
 A fourth 
 
( 3* ) 
 
 A fourth philofopher apprehends common fenfe 
 to be our ftandard only in the ordinary affairs 
 of life. The bounty of nature has furnifhed us 
 with various other fenfes fuited to the objects, 
 among which we converfe : and with regard 
 to matters of tafte, it has fupplied us with 
 what, he doubts not, we all feel within our~ 
 felves, a fenfe of beauty. 
 
 Pooh ! fays another learned inquirer, what 
 is a fenfe of beauty ? Senfe is a vague idea, and 
 fo is beauty ; and it is impoflible that any thing 
 determined can refult from terms fo inaccurate. 
 But if we lay afide a fenfe of beauty, and adopt 
 proportion, we fhall all be right. Proportion is 
 the great principle of tafte, and beauty. We 
 admit it both in lines, and colours ; and indeed 
 refer all our ideas of the elegant kind to it's 
 ftandard* 
 
 True, fays an admirer of the antique ; but 
 this proportion muft have a rule, or we gain 
 nothing : and a rule of proportion there cer- 
 tainly is : but we may inquire after it in vain. 
 The fecret is loft. The ancients had it. They 
 well knew the principles of beauty ; and had 
 that unerring rule, which in all things adjufted 
 their tafte. We fee it even in their flighteft 
 vafes. In their works, proportion, tho varied 
 4 through 
 
( 33 ) 
 
 through a thoufand lines, is ftill the fame; 
 and if we could only difcover their principles 
 of proportion, we mould have the arcanum of 
 this fcience ; and might fettle all our difputes 
 about tafte with great eafe. 
 
 Thus, in our inquiries into firfi principles 
 we go on, without end, and without fatis- 
 faction. The human underftanding is unequal 
 to the fearch. In philofophy we inquire for 
 them in vain — in phyfics — in metaphyfics — in 
 morals. Even in the polite arts, where the 
 fubjecl:, one mould imagine, is lefs recondite, 
 the inquiry, we find, is equally vague. We 
 are puzzled, and bewildered, but not informed : 
 all is uncertainty ; a ftrife of words ; the old 
 conteft, 
 
 Empedocles, an Stertinii deliret acumen ? 
 
 In a word, if a caufe be fujficietitly underftood i 
 it may fuggeft ufeful difcoveries. But if it 
 be not Jo (and where is our certainty in thele 
 difquifitions) it will unqueftionably mijlead. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST ESSAY. 
 
 D 
 
( 34 ) 
 
 As the fubjecl: of the foregoing effay is 
 rather new, and I doubted, whether fuf- 
 ficiently founded in truth, I was defirous, 
 before I printed it, that it fhould receive the 
 imprimatur of fir Jofhua Reynolds. I begged 
 him therefore to look it over, and received the 
 following anfwer. 
 
 London, 
 April 19, 1791- 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Tho I read now but little, yet 
 I have read with great attention the effay, 
 which you was fo good to put into my hands, 
 on the difference between the beautiful, and the 
 piSlurefque ; and I may truly fay, I have re- 
 ceived from it much pleafure, and improve- 
 ment. 
 
 Without oppofmg any of your fentiments, 
 it has fuggefted an idea, that may be worth 
 confideration — whether the epithet piSiurefque 
 is not applicable to the excellences of the 
 inferior fchools, rather than to the higher. 
 
 The 
 
( 35 ) 
 The works of Michael Angelo, Raphael, &c. 
 appear to me to have nothing of it; whereas 
 Reubens, and the Venetian painters may 
 almoft be faid to have nothing elfe. 
 
 Perhaps piBurefque is fomewhat fynonymous 
 to the word tafie ; which we mould think im- 
 properly applied to Homer, or Milton, but 
 very well to Pope, or Prior. I fufpecl: that the 
 application of thefe words are to excellences of 
 an inferior order; and which are incompatible 
 with the grand frile. 
 
 You are certainly right in faying, that va- 
 riety of tints and forms is piclurefque ; but it 
 muft be remembered, on the other hand that 
 the reverfe of this - (uniformity of colour, and 
 a long continuation of lines,) produces gran- 
 deur. 
 
 I had an intention of pointing out the 
 pafiages, that particularly frruck me; but I 
 was afraid to ufe my eyes fo much. 
 
 The efTay has lain upon my table; and I 
 think no day has paffed without my looking at 
 it, reading a little at a time. Whatever ob- 
 jections prefented themfelves at firft view* 
 
 were 
 
 • Sir Jomua Reynolds had feen this effay, feveral years ago, 
 through Mr. Mafon, who mewed it to him. He then made 
 
 D 2 
 
 forae 
 
( 36 ) 
 
 were done away on a clofer infpeclion : and I 
 am not quite fure, but that is the cafe in regard 
 to the obfervation, which I have ventured to 
 make on the word pi Bur ef que. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 To the rev d . Mr. Gilpin, 
 Vicar's-hiil. 
 
 The ANSWER. 
 
 May 2d, 1 791. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I am much obliged to you for 
 looking over my eflay at a time, when the 
 complaint in your eyes muft have made an 
 intruhon of this kind troublefome. But as the 
 fubjecl was rather novel, I wifhed much for 
 your fanclion ; and you have given it me in as 
 nattering a manner, as I could wifh. 
 
 With regard to the term pitfurefque, I 
 
 have always myfelf ufed it merely to denote 
 
 fuch objeBs, as are proper fubjecls for painti?ig : 
 
 fome obje&ions to it : particularly he thought, that the term 
 p'iBiirefque, mould be applied only to the works of nature. His 
 conceflion here is an inftance of that candour, which is a very 
 remarkable part of his chara&er ; and which is generally one of 
 the diftinguifhing marks of true genius. 
 
 fo 
 
( 37 ) 
 
 Co that, according to my definition, one of the 
 cartoons, and a flower piece are equally pic- 
 turefque. 
 
 I think however I underftand your idea of 
 extending the term to what may be called 
 tajle in painting — or the art of fafcinating the 
 eye by fplendid colouring, and artificial com- 
 binations ; which the inferior fchools valued ; 
 and the dignity of the higher perhaps defpifed. 
 But I have feen fo little of the higher fchools, 
 that I mould be very ill able to carry the fub- 
 ject farther by illuftrating a difquifition of this 
 kind. Except the cartoons, I never faw a 
 picture of Raphael's, that anfwered my idea; 
 and of the original works of Michael Angelo 
 I have little conception. 
 
 But tho I am unable, through ignorance, 
 to appreciate fully the grandeur of the Roman 
 fchool, I have at leaft the pleafure to find 
 I have always held as a principle your idea 
 of the production of greatnefs by uniformity 
 of colour, and a long continuation of lifie : and 
 when I fpeak of variety, I certainly do not 
 mean to confound it's effects with thofe of 
 grandeur. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 WILLIAM GILPIN. 
 
 To fir Jortiua Reynolds, 
 Leicefter-fquare. 
 
 D 3 
 
ESSAY II. 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE TRAVEL. 
 
 D 4 
 
( 4? ) 
 
 ESSAY IL 
 
 .eLnough has been faid to fliew the diffi- 
 culty of ajjigning caufes : let us then take 
 another courfe, and amufe ourfelves with 
 fearching after effeBs. This is the general 
 intention of picturefque travel. We mean not 
 to bring it into competition with any of the 
 more ufeful ends of travelling. But as many 
 travel without any end at all, amufing them- 
 felves without being able to give a reafon why 
 they are amufed, we offer one end, which may 
 poffibly engage fome vacant minds j and may 
 indeed afford a rational amufement to fuch as 
 travel for more important purpofes. 
 
 In treating of piclurefque travel, we may 
 confider firfl it's objett ; and fecondly its fources 
 of amufement. 
 
 It's 
 
( 42 ) 
 
 It's object is beauty of every kind, which 
 either art, or nature can produce : but it is 
 chiefly that fpecies of beauty y which we have 
 endeavoured to characterize in the preceding 
 eflay under the name of piBurefque. This great 
 object we purfue through the fcenery of 
 nature. We feek it among all the ingre- 
 dients of landfcape — trees — rocks — broken- 
 grounds — woods — rivers — lakes — plains — 
 vallies — mountains — and diflances. Thefe 
 objects in themselves produce infinite variety. 
 No two rocks, or trees are exactly the fame. 
 They are varied, a fecond time, by combination ; 
 and almoft as much, a third time, by different 
 lights, and fkades, and other aerial effects. 
 Sometimes we find among them the exhibition 
 of a whole y but oftener we find only beautiful 
 parts*. 
 
 That we may examine picturefque objects 
 with more eafe, it may be ufeful to clafs 
 them into the fublime, and the beautiful, tho, 
 in fact, this distinction is rather inaccurate. 
 
 * As fome of thefe topics have been occasionally men- 
 tioned in other pi£turefque works, which the author has given 
 the public, they are here touched very flightly : only the fub- 
 ject required they mould be brought together. 
 
 Sublimity 
 
( 43 ) 
 
 Sublimity alone cannot make an object pic- 
 turefque. However grand the mountain, or 
 the rock may be, it has no claim to this 
 epithet, unlefs it's form, it's colour, or it's 
 accompaniments have fome degree of beauty. 
 Nothing can be more fublime, than the ocean : 
 but wholly unaccompanied, it has little of the 
 picturefque. When we talk therefore of a 
 fublime object, we always underftand, that 
 it is alfo beautiful : and we call it fublime, 
 or beautiful, only as the ideas of fublimity, or 
 of fimple beauty prevail. 
 
 The curious, and fantajiic forms of nature 
 
 are by no means the favourite objects of the 
 
 lovers of landfcape. There may be beauty 
 
 in a curious object ; and fo far it may be 
 
 piclurefque : but we cannot admire it merely 
 
 for the fake of it's curiofity. The lufus natures 
 
 is the naturalift's province, not the painter's. 
 
 The fpiry pinnacles of the mountain, and the 
 
 caftle-like arrangement of the rock, give no 
 
 peculiar pleafure to the piclurefque eye. It 
 
 is fond of the fimplicity of nature ; and fees 
 
 moft beauty in her moft ufual forms. The 
 
 Gianfs caufeway in Ireland may ftrike it as 
 
 a novelty; but the lake of Killarney attracts 
 
 it's attention. It would range with fupreme 
 
 delight 
 
( 44 ) 
 
 delight among the fvveet vales of Switzerland j 
 but would view only with a tranfient glance, 
 the Glaciers of Savoy. Scenes of this kind, 
 as unufual, may please cnce -, but the great 
 works of nature, in her fimplefr. and purer! 
 ftile, open inexhaufted fprings of amufement. 
 
 But it is not only the form, and the com- 
 portion of the objects of landfcape, which the 
 picturefque eye examines ; it connects them 
 with the atmofphere, and feeks for all thofe 
 various effects, which are produced from that 
 vaft, and wonderful ftorehoufe of nature. Nor 
 is there in travelling a greater pleafure, than 
 when a fcene of grandeur burfts unexpectedly 
 upon the eye, accompanied with fome acci- 
 dental circumfcance of the atmofphere, which 
 harmonizes with it, and gives it double value. 
 
 Befides the inanimate face of nature, it's 
 living forms fall under the picturefque eye, 
 in the courfe of travel 3 and are often objects 
 of great attention. The anatomical fludy of 
 figures is not attended to : we regard them 
 merely as the ornament of fcenes. In the 
 human figure we contemplate neither exadinefs 
 of form, nor exprefjion, any farther than it is 
 fhewn in acJion : we merely confider general 
 fhapes, dreffes, groups, and occupations j which 
 
 we 
 
( 45 ) 
 
 we often find cafually in greater variety, and 
 beauty, than any felection can procure. 
 
 In the fame manner animals are the objecls 
 of our attention, whether we find them in the 
 park, the foreft, or the field. Here too we 
 confider little more than their general forms, 
 actions, and combinations. Nor is the pic- 
 turefque eye fo faftidious as to defpife even 
 lefs confiderable objects. A flight of birds has 
 often a pleafing effect. In fhort, every form 
 of life and being may have it's ufe as a 
 picturefque object, till it become too fmall for 
 attention. 
 
 But the picturefque eye is not merely re- 
 ftricted to nature. It ranges through the limits 
 of art. The picture, the ftatue, and the gar- 
 den are all the objects of it's attention. In 
 the embellifhed pleafure-ground particularly, 
 tho all is neat, and elegant — far too neat and 
 elegant for the ufe of the pencil — yet, if it be 
 well laid out, it exhibits the lines > and principles 
 of landfcapej and is well worth the ftudy of 
 the picturefque traveller. Nothing is wanting, 
 but what his imagination can fupply — a change 
 from fmooth to rough*. 
 
 * See page 8. 
 
 But 
 
( 46 ) 
 
 But among all the objects of art, the piclu- 
 refque eye is perhaps moft inquifitive after the 
 elegant relics of ancient architecture ; the ruined 
 tower, the Gothic arch, the remains of caftles, 
 and abbeys. Thefe are the richeft legacies of 
 art. They are confecrated by time ; and al- 
 moft deferve the veneration we pay to the 
 works of nature itfelf. 
 
 Thus univerfal are the objects of picturefque 
 travel. We purfue beauty in every fhape ; 
 through nature, through art; and all it's 
 various arrangements in form, and colour; 
 admiring it in the grandeft. objects, and not 
 rejecting it in the humbled. 
 
 After the objeBs of picturefque travel, we 
 confider it's fources of amufement — or in what 
 way the mind is gratified by thefe objects. 
 
 We might begin in moral ftile ; and confider 
 the objects of nature in a higher light, than 
 merely as amufement. We might obferve, 
 that a fearch after beauty mould naturally lead 
 the mind to the great origin of all beauty ; 
 to the 
 
 firft good, firft perfeft, and firft fair. 
 
 But 
 
( 47 ) 
 
 But tho in theory this feems a natural climax, 
 we infift the lefs upon it, as in fa<5t we have 
 fcarce ground to hope, that every admirer of 
 piclurefque beauty, is an admirer alfo of the 
 beauty of virtue ; and that every lover of nature 
 reflects, that 
 
 Nature is but a name for an effeS^ 
 Whofe caufe is God. 
 
 If however the admirer of nature can turn 
 his amufements to a higher purpofe ; if it's 
 great fcenes can infpire him with religious 
 awe ; or it's tranquil fcenes with that compla- 
 cency of mind, which is fo nearly allied to 
 benevolence, it is certainly the better. Appo- 
 ?iat lucro. It is fo much into the bargain ; 
 for we dare not promife him more from pi6tu- 
 refque travel, than a rational, and agreeable 
 amufement. Yet even this may be of fome 
 ufe in an age teeming with licentious pleafure ; 
 and may in this light at leafr. be confidered as 
 having a moral tendency. 
 
 The nrft fource of amufement to the pictu- 
 refque traveller, is the purfuit of his object — 
 the expectation of new fcenes continually open- 
 ing, and arifing to his view. We fappofe the 
 country to have been unexplored. Under this 
 ffircumftance the mind is kept conilantly in an 
 
 agreeable 
 
( 48 ) 
 
 agreeable fufpence. The love of novelty is the 
 foundation of this pleafure. Every diftant ho- 
 rizon promifes fomething new; and with this 
 pleafmg expectation we follow nature through 
 all her walks. We purfue her from hill to 
 dale; and hunt after thofe various beauties, 
 with which fhe every where abounds. 
 
 The pleafures of the chace are univerfal. A 
 hare ftarted before dogs is enough to fet a 
 whole country in an uproar. The plough, 
 and the fpade are deferted. Care is left be- 
 hind ; and every human faculty is dilated with 
 joy. — And fhall we fuppofe it a greater pleafure 
 to the fportfman to purfue a trivial animal, 
 than it is to the man of tafte to purfue the 
 beauties of nature ? to follow her through all 
 her receifes ? to obtain a fudden glance, as 
 fhe flits paft him in fome airy fhape ? to trace 
 her through the mazes of the cover ? to wind 
 after her along the vale ? or along the reaches 
 of the river. 
 
 After the purfuit we are gratified with the 
 attainment of the object. Our amufement, on 
 this head, arifes from the employment of the 
 mind in examining the beautiful fcenes we 
 have found. Somtimes we examine them 
 under the idea of a whole : we admire the com- 
 
 pofition, 
 
( 49 ) 
 
 pofition, the colouring, and the light, in one 
 comprehenfive view. When we are fortunate 
 enough to fall in with fcenes of this kind, 
 we are highly delighted. But as we have 
 lefs frequent opportunities of being thus 
 gratified, we are more commonly employed 
 in analyzing the parts of fcenes : which 
 may be exquiiitely beautiful, tho unable to 
 produce a whole. We examine what would 
 amend the compofition : how little is wanting 
 to reduce it to the rules of our art ; how 
 trifling a circumflance fometimes forms the limit 
 between beauty, and deformity. Or we com- 
 pare the objects before us with other obje£ts 
 of the fame kind : — or perhaps we compare 
 them with the imitations of art. From all 
 thefe operations of the mind remits great 
 amufement. 
 
 But it is not from this fcientifical employ- 
 ment, that we derive our chief pleafure. We 
 are moft delighted, when fome grand fcene, 
 tho perhaps of incorrect compofition, rifing 
 before the eye, ftrikes us beyond the power 
 of thought — when the vox fancibus hceret ; and 
 every mental operation is fufpended. In this 
 paufe of intellect ; this deliqiiiam of the foul, 
 an enthufiaftic fenfation of pleafure overfpreads 
 
 e it, 
 
( 5° ) 
 
 it, previous to any examination by the rules 
 of art. The general idea of the fcene makes 
 an imprefiion, before any appeal is made to the 
 judgment. We rather feel, ihanfurvey it. 
 
 This high delight is generally indeed pro- 
 duced by the fcenes of nature; yet fometimes 
 by artificial objects. Here and there a capital 
 picture will raife thefe emotions : but oftener 
 the rough fketch of a capital mafter. This 
 has fometimes an aftonilhing effect on the 
 mind ; giving the imagination an opening into 
 all thofe glowing ideas, which infpired the 
 artifl ; and which the imagination only can 
 tranflate. In general however the works of 
 art affect us coolly -, and allow the eye to cri- 
 ticize at leifure. 
 
 Having gained by a minute examination of 
 incidents a compleat idea of an object, our 
 next amufement arifes from inlarging, and 
 correcting our general flock of ideas. The 
 variety of nature is fuch, that new objecls, and 
 new combinations of them, are continually 
 adding fome thing to our fund, and inlarging 
 our collection : while the fame kind of objecl 
 occurring frequently, is feen under various 
 fhapes ; and makes us, if I may fo fpeak, more 
 learned in nature. We get it more by heart. 
 
 He 
 
( 5* ) 
 
 He who has feen only one oak-tree, has no 
 compleat idea of an oak in general : but he 
 who has examined thoufands of oak-trees, mud 
 have feen that beautiful plant in all it's va- 
 rieties 5 and obtains a full, and compleat idea 
 of it. 
 
 From this correct knowledge of objects arifes 
 another amufement j that of reprefenting, by a 
 few ftrokes in a iketch, thofe ideas, which 
 have made the moft impreffion upon us. A 
 few fcratches, like a fhort-hand fcrawl of our 
 own, legible at leaft to ourfelves, will ferve 
 to raife in our minds the remembrance of the 
 beauties they humbly reprefent; and recal to 
 our memory even the fplendid colouring, and 
 force of light, which exifted in the real fcene. 
 Some naturalifts fuppofe, the act of rumina- 
 ting, in animals, to be attended with more 
 pleafure, than the act of grofler maftication. 
 It may be fo in travelling alfo. There may 
 be more pleafure in recollecting, and record- 
 ing, from a few tranfient lines, the fcenes we 
 have admired, than in the prefent enjoyment 
 of them. If the fcenes indeed have peculiar 
 greatnefs^ this fecondary pleafure cannot be at- 
 tended with thofe enthuiiaftic feelings, which 
 accompanied the real exhibition. But, in 
 
 e 2 general, 
 
( 52 ) 
 
 general, tho it may be a calmer fpecies of plea- 
 sure, it is more uniform, and uninterrupted. 
 It flatters us too with the idea of a fort of 
 creation of our own ; and it is unallayed with 
 that fatigue, which is often a confiderable 
 abatement to the pleafures of traverfmg the 
 
 wild, and favage parts of nature. After 
 
 we have amufed ourfehes with our {ketches, 
 if we can, in any degree, contribute to the 
 amufement of others alfo, the pleafure is furely 
 {o much inhanced. 
 
 There is frill another amufement arifing 
 from the correct knowledge of objects ; and 
 that is the power of creating, and reprefenting 
 fcenes of fancy ; which is ftill more a work 
 of creation, than copying from nature. The 
 imagination becomes a camera obfcura, only 
 with this difference, that the camera reprefents 
 objects as they really are: while the imagi- 
 nation, imprefTed with the mofl beautiful 
 fcenes, and chaflened by rules of art, forms 
 it's pictures, not only from the mofl admirable, 
 parts of nature ; but in the beft tafte. 
 
 Some artifts, when they give their imagi- 
 nation play, let it loofe among uncommon 
 fcenes — fuch as perhaps never exifled : whereas 
 the nearer they approach the fimple flandard 
 
 of 
 
( 53 ) 
 
 of nature, in it's moft beautiful forms, the 
 more admirable their fictions will appear. It 
 is thus in writing romances. The correct 
 tafte cannot bear thofe unnatural fituations, 
 in which heroes, and heroines are often placed ; 
 whereas a ftory, naturally r , and of courfe af- 
 feffingly told, either with a pen, or a pencil, 
 tho known to be a fiction, is confidered as 
 a tranfcript from nature ; and takes pofTerTiou 
 of the heart. The marvellous difgufts the fober 
 imagination ; which is gratified only with the 
 pure characters of nature. 
 
 — ■ 1 — ■ Beauty belt is taught 
 
 By thofe, the favoured few, whom heaven has lent 
 The power to feize, felecl, and reunite 
 Her lovelieft features ; and of thefe to form 
 One archetype compleat, of fovereign grace. 
 Here nature fees her faireft forms more fair j 
 Owns them as hers, yet owns herfelf excelled 
 By what herfelf produced. ■ ■ ? 
 
 Bu^t if we are unable to embody our ideas 
 even in a humble fketch, yet frill a ftrong 
 imprefjion of nature will enable us to judge 
 of the works of art. Nature is the archetype. 
 The ftronger therefore the impreflion, the 
 better the judgment. 
 
 63 We 
 
( 54 ) 
 
 We are, in fome degree, alfo amufed by 
 the very vifions of fancy itfelf. Often, when 
 (lumber has half-clofed the eye, and fhut out 
 all the objects of fenfe, efpecially after the 
 enjoyment of fome fplendid fcene ; the ima- 
 gination, active, and alert, collects it's fcat- 
 tered ideas, tranfpofes, combines, and fhifts 
 them into a thoufand forms, producing fuch 
 exquifite fcenes, fuch fublime arrangements, 
 fuch glow, and harmony of colouring, fuch 
 brilliant lights, fuch depth, and clearnefs of 
 fhadow, as equally foil defcription, and every 
 attempt of artificial colouring. 
 
 It may perhaps be objected to the pleafure- 
 able circumftances, which are thus faid to 
 attend picturefque travel, that we meet as 
 many difgufting, as pleafmg objects ; and the 
 man of tafte therefore will be as often offended, 
 as amufed. 
 
 But this is not the cafe. There are few 
 parts of nature, which do not yield a picturefque 
 eye fome amufement. 
 
 Believe the mufe, 
 
 She does not know that unaufpicious fpot, 
 Where beauty is thus niggard of her ftore. 
 
 Belies 
 
( 55 ) 
 
 Believe the mufe, through this terreftrial wafte 
 The feeds of grace are fown, profufely fown, 
 Even where we leaft may hope. 
 
 It is true, when fome large tract of barren 
 country interrupts our expectation, wound up 
 in queft of any particular fcene of grandeur, 
 or beauty, we are apt to be a little peevifh ; 
 and to exprefs our difcontent in hafty ex- 
 aggerated phrafe. But when there is no 
 difappointment in the cafe, even fcenes the 
 mofc barren of beauty, will furnifh amufe- 
 ment. 
 
 Perhaps no part of England comes more 
 under this defcription, than that tract of bar- 
 ren country, through which the great military 
 road pafTes from Newcaftle to Carlifle. It is 
 a wafte, with little interruption, through a 
 fpace of forty miles. But even here, we 
 have always fomething to amufe the eye. 
 The interchangeable patches of heath, and 
 green-fward make an agreeable variety. Often 
 too on thefe vaft tracts of interfering grounds 
 we fee beautiful lights, foftening off along 
 the fides of hills : and often we fee them 
 adorned with cattle, flocks of fheep, heath- 
 cocks, groufe, plover, and nights of other 
 wild-fowl. A group of cattle, ftanding in 
 
 e 4 the 
 
( 56 ) 
 
 the fhade on the edge of a dark hill, and 
 relieved by a lighter diftance beyond them, 
 will often make a compleat picture without 
 any other accompaniment. In many other 
 fituations alfo we find them wonderfully 
 pleafing; and capable of making pictures 
 amidft all the deficiencies of landfcape. Even 
 a winding road itfelf is an object of beauty; 
 while the richnefs of the heath on each fide, 
 with the little hillocs, and crumbling earth 
 give many an excellent leflbn for a fore- 
 ground. When we have no opportunity of 
 examining the grand fcenery of nature, we 
 have every where at leaft the means of ob- 
 ferving with what a multiplicity of parts, and 
 yet with what general Jimplicity, fhe covers 
 every furface* 
 
 But if we let the imagination loofe, even 
 fcenes like thefe, adminilter great amufement. 
 The imagination can plant hills ; can form 
 rivers, and lakes in vallies ; can build caftles, 
 and abbeys ; and if it find no other amufe- 
 ment, can dilate itfelf in vaft ideas of fpace. 
 
 But altho the picturefque traveller is feldom 
 difappointed with pure nature, however rude, 
 
 yet 
 
( 57 ) 
 
 yet we cannot deny, but he is often offended 
 with the productions of art. He is difgufted 
 with the formal feparations of property — with 
 houfes, and towns, the haunts of men, which 
 have much oftener a bad effect in landfcape, 
 than a good one. He is frequently difgufted 
 alfo, when art aims more at beauty, than flie 
 pught. How flat, and infipid is often the 
 garden-fcene j how puerile, and abfurd ! the 
 banks of the river how fmooth, and par- 
 rallel? the lawn, and it's boundaries, how 
 unlike nature! Even in the capital collec- 
 tion of pictures, how feldom does he find 
 defgn, compofition, exprefjion, character, or har- 
 mony either in light, or colouring ! and how 
 often does he drag through faloons, and rooms 
 of ftate, only to hear a catalogue of the names 
 of mailers ! 
 
 The more refined our tafte grows from 
 the jludy of nature, the more infipid are the 
 works of art. Few of it's efforts pleafe. The 
 idea of the great original is fo ftrong, that 
 the copy muft be pure, if it do not dif- 
 guft. But the varieties of nature's charts are 
 fuch, that, ftudy them as we can, new va- 
 rieties will always arife : and let our tafte be 
 ever fo refined, her works, on which it is 
 
 3 ••■ formed, 
 
( 58 ) 
 
 formed, at leaft when we confider them as 
 objeBs, muft always go beyond it ; and fur- 
 nifh frefh fources both of pleafure and amufe- 
 ment. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND ESSAY. 
 
ESSAY III. 
 
 ON 
 
 THE ART OF SKETCHING 
 LANDSCAPE. 
 
ESSAY III. 
 
 A he art of Jketching is to the pi&urelque 
 traveller, what the art of writing is to the 
 fcholar. Each is equally necefiary to fix and 
 communicate it's refpeCtive ideas. 
 
 Sketches are either taken from the imagi- 
 nation, or from nature. When the imaginary 
 
 /ketch proceeds from the hands of a matter, 
 it is very valuable. It is his firft conception : 
 which is commonly the ftrongeil, and the moil 
 brilliant. The imagination of a painter, really 
 great in his profefiion, is a magazine abound- 
 ing with all the elegant forms, and flriking 
 effects, which are to be found in nature. 
 Thefe, like a magician, he calls up at pleafure 
 with a wave of his hand -, bringing before the 
 eye, fometimes a fcene from hiftory, or ro- 
 mance ; 
 
( 6 2 ) 
 
 maiice; and fometimes from the inanimate 
 parts of nature. And in thefe happy moments 
 when the enthufiafm of his art is upon him, 
 he often produces from the glow of his imagi- 
 nation, with a few bold ftrokes, fuch wonder- 
 ful efrufions of genius, as the more fober, 
 and correct productions of his pencil cannot 
 equal. 
 
 It will always however be underftood, that 
 fuch {ketches muft be examined alfo by an eye 
 learned in the art, and accufromed to pictu- 
 refque ideas — an eye, that can take up the 
 half-formed images, as the mafter leaves them ; 
 give them a new creation; and make up all 
 that is not exprefTed from it's own ftore-houfe. 
 i I fnall however dwell no longer on ima- 
 ginary Jketching, as it hath but little relation 
 to my prefent fubject. Let me only add, that 
 altho this eiTay is meant chiefly to aflifr. the 
 picturefque traveller in taking views from nature, 
 the method recommended, as «far as it relates 
 to execution , may equally be applied to imaginary 
 /ketches. 
 
 Your intention in taking views from nature, 
 may either be to fix them in your own memory 
 
 or 
 
( 6 3 ) 
 
 or to convey y in fome degree, your ideas to 
 
 others. 
 
 With regard to the former, when you meet 
 a fcene you wifli to fketch, your firft confi- 
 deration is to get it in the herb point of view. 
 A few paces to the right, or left, make a 
 great difference. The ground, which folds 
 awkwardly here, appears to fold more eafily 
 there : and that long black curtain of the 
 caflle, which is fo unpleanng a circumftance, 
 as you fland on one fide, is agreeably broken 
 by a buttrefs on another. 
 
 Having thus fixed your point of view, 
 your next confideration, is, how to reduce it 
 properly within the compafs of your paper : 
 for the fcale of nature being fo very different 
 from your fcale, it is a matter of difficulty, 
 without fome experience, to make them coin- 
 cide. If the landfcape before you is extennve, 
 take care you do not include too much : it 
 may perhaps be divided more commodioufiy 
 
 into two fketches. When you have fixed 
 
 the portion of it, you mean to take, fix next 
 on two or three principal points, which you 
 may juft mark on your paper. This will en- 
 able you the more eafily to afcertain the re- 
 lative fituation of the feveral objects. 
 
 In 
 
( 6+ ) 
 
 In fetching, black-lead is the firft inftru- 
 ment commonly ufed. Nothing glides fo 
 volubly over paper, and executes an idea fo 
 quickly. — It has befides, another advantage > 
 it's grey tint correfponds better with a wafh, 
 than black, or red chalk, or any other paftile. 
 — It admits alio of eafy correction. 
 
 The virtue of thefe hafty, black-lead 
 fketches confifts in catching readily the cha- 
 ra&erijlic features of a fcene. Light and 
 fhade are not attended to. It is enough if 
 you exprefs general fiapes-, and the relations, 
 which the feveral interfecfions of a country 
 bear to each other. A few lines drawn on 
 the fpot, will do this. " Half a word, fays 
 Mr. Gray, fixed on, or near the fpot, is worth 
 all our recollected ideas. When we truft to 
 the picture, that objects draw of themfelves 
 on the mind, we deceive ourfelves. Without 
 accurate, and particular obfervation, it is but 
 ill-drawn at firft : the outlines are foon blur- 
 red : the colours every day grow fainter ; and 
 at laft, when we would produce it to any 
 body, we are obliged to fupply it's defects 
 
 with 
 
( 65 ) 
 
 with a few flrokes of our own imagination*." — 
 What Mr. Gray fays relates chiefly to verbal 
 defcription : but in lineal defcription it is 
 equally true. The leading ideas muft be 
 fixed on the fpot : if left to the memory, 
 they foon evaporate. 
 
 The lines of black-lead, and indeed of any 
 one inflrument, are fubjec"l to the great incon- 
 venience of confounding difiances. If there are 
 two, or three difiances in the landfcape, as 
 each of them is exprefTed by the fame kind of 
 line, the eye forgets the diflin£lion, even in 
 half a day's travelling j and all is confufion. 
 To remedy this, a few written references, y 
 made on the fpot, are neceffary, if the land- 
 fcape be at all complicated. The traveller 
 fhould be accurate in this point, as the fpirit 
 of his view depends much on the proper ob- 
 
 fervance of difiances. At his firfl leifure 
 
 however he will review his fketch : add a 
 few flrokes with a pen, to mark the near 
 grounds j and by a flight wafh of Indian ink, 
 throw in a few general lights, and fhades, to 
 keep all fixed, and in it's place. A fketch 
 
 * Letter to Mr. Palgrave, page 272, 4to. 
 
 f need 
 
( 66 ) 
 
 need not be carried farther, when it is in 
 tended merely to affft our own memory. 
 
 But when a fketch is intended to convey 
 in fome degree, our ideas to others, it is necef- 
 fary, that it mould be fomewhat more adorned. 
 To us the fcene, familiar to our recollection, 
 may be fuggefted by a few rough ftrokes : 
 but if you wifh to raife the idea, where notie 
 exified before ; and to do it agreeably, there mould 
 be fome compqfition in your fketch — a degree 
 of correfinefs, and exprefjion in the out-line — 
 and fome effect of light. A little ornament 
 alfo from figures, and other circumftances 
 may be introduced. In fhort, it fhould be 
 fo far drefTed, as to give fome idea of a 
 picture* I call this an adorned fketch ; and 
 fhould fketch nothing, that was not capable 
 of being thus drefTed. An unpicturefque af- 
 femblage of objects; and, in general, all 
 untraceable fubjecls, if it be neceflary to re- 
 prefent them, may be given as plans, rather 
 than as pictures. 
 
 In the firft place, I fhould advifc the tra- 
 veller by no means to work his adorned fketch 
 
 upon 
 
( 6 7 ) 
 
 upon his original one. His firft fketch is the 
 ftandard, to which, in the abfence of nature, 
 he muft at leaft recur for his general ideas. 
 By going over it again, the original ideas 
 may be loft, and the whole thrown into con- 
 fufion. Great mailers therefore always fet 
 a high value on their (ketches from nature. 
 On the fame principle the picturefque tra- 
 veller preferves his original fketch, tho in itfelf 
 of little valuej to keep him within proper 
 bounds. 
 
 This matter being fettled, and the adorned 
 Jketch began anew, the firft point is to fix 
 the compofition. 
 
 But the compofition, you fay, is already fixed 
 by the original Jketch. 
 
 It is true : but ftill it may admit many 
 little alterations, by which the forms of 
 objects may be aflifted; and yet the refem- 
 blance not disfigured : as the fame piece of 
 mufic, performed by different mafters, and 
 graced varioufly by each, may yet con- 
 tinue ftill the fame. We muft ever recol- 
 lect that nature is moil defective in com- 
 pofition; and mufi be a little afiifted. Her 
 ideas are too vaft for pi£turefque ufe, without 
 the reftraint of rules. y Liberties however with 
 
 f 2 truth 
 
( 68 ) 
 
 truth muft be taken with caution : tho at the 
 fame time a diftinction may be made between 
 an object, and a fcene . If I give the ftriking 
 features of the cafk, or abbey y which is my 
 objefi, I may be allowed fome little liberty in 
 bringing appendages (which are not effential 
 features) within the rules of my art. But in 
 a fcene j the whole view becomes the portrait ; 
 and if I flatter here, I muft flatter with de- 
 licacy. 
 
 But whether I reprefent an objec~t y or a fcene, 
 I hold myfelf at perfect liberty, in the flrft 
 place, to difpofe the foreground as I pleafe ; 
 reftrained only by the analogy of the country. 
 I take up a tree here, and plant it there. I 
 pare a knoll, or make an addition to it. I re- 
 move a piece" of paling — . a cottage — a wall — 
 or any removeable object, which I diflike. 
 In fhort, I do not fo much mean to exact 
 a liberty of introducing what does not exift ; 
 as of making a few of thofe fimple variations, 
 of which all ground is eafily fufceptible, and 
 which time itfelf indeed is continually making. 
 All this my art exacts: 
 
 She rules the foreground ; fhe can fwell, or fink 
 /It's furface ; here her leafy fkreen oppofe, 
 And there withdraw ; here part the varying greens, 
 
 And 
 
( 69 ) 
 
 And croud them there in one promiscuous gloom, 
 As bed befits the genius of the fcene. 
 
 The foreground indeed is a mere fpot, com- 
 pared with the extenfion of diftance: in itfelf 
 it is of trivial confequence ; and cannot well be 
 called a feature of the fcene. And yet, tho 
 fo little efTential in giving a likenefs, it is more 
 fo than any other part in forming a compo- 
 fition. It refembles thofe deep tones in mufic, 
 which give a value to all the lighter parts > 
 and harmonize the whole. 
 
 As the foreground therefore is of fo much 
 confequence, begin your adorned Jketch with 
 fixing this very material part. It is eafier 
 to afcertain the fituation of your foreground, 
 as it lies fo near the bottom of your paper, 
 than any other parts and this will tend to 
 regulate every thing elfe. In your rough 
 Iketch it has probably been inaccurately 
 thrown in. You could not fo eafily afcer- 
 tain it, till you had gotten all your landfcape 
 together. You might have carried it too 
 high on your paper; or have brought it too 
 low. As you have now the general fcheme 
 of your landfcape before you, you may adjuft 
 it properly; and give it it's due proportion. 
 
 1 mail add only, on the fubjecl: of fore- 
 
 f 3 grounds, 
 
( 7° ) 
 
 grounds, that you need not be very nice in 
 finifhing them, even when you mean to adorn 
 your {ketches. In a finifhed picture the fore- 
 ground is a matter of great nicety : but in 
 a fketch little more is necefTary, than to 
 produce the eiTecl you defire. 
 
 Having fixed your foreground, you confider 
 in the fame way, tho with more caution, the 
 other parts of your competition. In a hafty 
 tranfeript from nature, it is fufficient to take 
 the lines of the country juft as you find them : 
 but in your adorned Jketch you muft grace 
 them a little, where they run falfe. You 
 muff contrive to hide offenfive parts with 
 wood j to cover fuch as are too bald, with 
 bufhes j and to remove little objects, which 
 in nature pufh themfelves too much in fight, 
 and ferve only to introduce too many parts 
 into your compofition. In this happy adjuft- 
 ment the grand merit of your fketch confifts. 
 No beauty of light, colouring, or execution 
 can atone for the want of compofition. It is 
 the foundation of all picturefque beauty. No 
 finery of drefs can fet off a perfon, whofe 
 figure is awkward and uncouth. 
 
 Having thus digejied the compofition of your 
 adorned Jketch, which is done with black-lead, 
 
 you 
 
( 7? ) 
 
 you proceed to give a ftronger outline to the 
 foreground, and nearer parts. Some indeed 
 ufe no outline, but what they freely work 
 with a brum on their black-lead fketch. 
 This comes nearer!: the idea of painting ; and 
 as it is the moft free, it is perhaps alfo the 
 moft excellent method : but as a black-lead 
 outline is but a feeble termination, it re- 
 quires a greater force in the wafh to produce 
 an effect ; and of courfe more the hand of 
 a mailer. The hand of a mafler indeed pro- 
 duces an effect with the rudeff materials : but 
 thefe precepts aim only at giving a few in- 
 ftructions to the tyroes of the art 5 and fuch 
 will perhaps make their outline the moil 
 effectually with a pen. As the pen is more 
 determined than black-lead, it leaves less to 
 the brum, which I think the more difficult 
 
 inftrument. Indian ink, (which may be 
 
 heightened, or lowered to any degree of 
 flrength, or weaknefs, fo as to touch both 
 the nearer, and more diftant grounds,) is the 
 beft ink you can ufe. You may give a ftroke 
 with it fo light as to confine even a remote 
 diftance ; tho fuch a diftance is perhaps beft 
 left in black-lead. 
 
 f 4 m But 
 
( 72 ) 
 
 But when we fpeak of an outline, we do 
 not mean a Jimple contour ; which, (however 
 neceflary in a correct figure,) would in land- 
 fcape be formal. It is enough to mark with 
 a few free touches of the pen, here and there, 
 fome of the breaks, and roughnefTes, in which 
 the richnefs of an object confifts. But you 
 muft firft determine the fituation of your lights, 
 that you may mark thefe touches on the 
 fhadowy fide. 
 
 Of thefe free touches with a pen the chief 
 characteriftic is exprejjion ; or the art of giving 
 each object, that peculiar touch, whether 
 fmcoth, or rough, which beft exprefies it's 
 form. The art of painting, in it's higheft 
 perfection, cannot give the richnefs of nature. 
 When we examine any natural form, we 
 find the multiplicity of it's parts beyond the 
 higheft fmifhing j and indeed generally an 
 attempt at the higheft fmifhing would end in 
 ftirrhefs. The painter is obliged therefore to 
 deceive the eye by fome natural tint, or 
 expreflive touch, from which the imagination 
 takes it's cue. How often do we fee in the 
 landfcapes of Claude the full effect of diftance ; 
 which, when examined clofely, confifts of a 
 fimple dafh, tinged with the hue of nature, 
 
 intermixed/ 
 
( 73 ) 
 
 intermixed with a few expreffive touches ? — 
 If then thefe expreffive touches are necefTary 
 where the matter carries on the deception 
 both in form and colour j how necefTary 
 muft they be in mere fketches, in which 
 colour, the great vehicle of deception, is 
 removed ? — -The art however of giving thofe 
 expreffive marks with a pen, which imprefs 
 ideas, is no common one. The inferior artifl 
 may give them by chance : but the matter 
 
 only gives them with precifion. Yet a 
 
 fketch may have it's ufe, and even it's merit, 
 without thefe ftrokes of genius. 
 
 As the difficulty of ufmg the pen is fuch, 
 it may perhaps be objected, that it is an 
 improper inftrument for a tyro. It lofes it's 
 grace, if it have not a ready and off-hand 
 execution. 
 
 It is true : but what other inftrument mail 
 we put into his hands, that will do better? 
 His black-lead, his brufh, whatever he touches, 
 will be unmafterly. But my chief reafon for 
 putting a pen into his hands, is, that without 
 a pen it will be difficult for him to preferve 
 his outline, and diftances. His touches with 
 a pen may be unmafterly, we allow : but 
 ttill they will preferve keeping in his landfcape, 
 
 without 
 
( 74 ) 
 
 without which the whole will be a blot of 
 
 confufion. Nor is it perhaps fo difficult 
 
 to obtain fome little freedom with the pen. I 
 have feen affiduity, attended with but little 
 genius, make a considerable progrefs in the 
 ufe of this inftrument ; and produce an effect 
 by no means difpleafmg. — If the drawing be 
 large, I mould recommend a reed-pen, which 
 runs more freely over paper. 
 
 When the outline is thus drawn, it re- 
 mains to add light, and fhade. In this ope- 
 ration the effect of a ivafi is much better, 
 than of lines hatched with a pen. A brum 
 will do more in one flroke, and generally 
 more effectually, than a pen can do in 
 twenty*. For this purpofe, we need only 
 
 * I have feldom feen any drawings etched with a pen, that 
 pleafed me. The mofl mafterly fketches in this way I ever 
 faw, were taken in the early part of the life of a gentleman, 
 now very high in his profeffion, Mr. Mitford of Lincoln's inn. 
 They were taken in feveral parts of Italy, and England ; and 
 tho they are mere memorandum-fketches, the fubjefts are fo 
 happily chofen — they are fo chara&eriflic of the countries they 
 reprefent — and executed with fo free, and expreffive a touch, 
 that I examined them with pleafure, not only as faithful por- 
 traits, (which I believe they all are) but as mafter- pieces, as 
 far as they go, both in compofition, and execution. 
 
 Indian 
 
%&t t- 
 
 1 
 
 
vM. 
 
 
 '*.■'■■■■ 
 
( 75 ) 
 
 Indian ink ; and perhaps a little biftre, or 
 burnt umber. With the former we give that 
 greyifh tinge, which belongs to the fky, 
 and diftant objects j and with the latter (mixed 
 more, or lefs with Indian ink) thofe warm 
 touches, which belong to the foreground. 
 Indian ink however alone makes a good wafli 
 both for the foreground, and diftance. 
 
 But mere light and jhade are not fufficient : 
 fomething of effeB alfo mould be aimed at 
 in the adorned Jketch. Mere light and made 
 propofe only the fimple illumination of objecls. 
 EffeB, by balancing large majfes of each, gives 
 
 the whole a greater force. Now tho in 
 
 the exhibitions of nature, we commonly find 
 only the fimple illumination of objecls > yet 
 as we often do meet with grand effecJs alfo, 
 we have fufficient authority to ufe them : for 
 under thefe circumftances we fee nature in 
 her beft attire, in which it is our bufinefs to 
 defcribe her. 
 
 As to giving rules for the production of 
 effect, the fubject admits only the mofi gene- 
 ral. There muft be a ftrong oppofltion of 
 light and made; in which the fky, as well 
 as the landfcape, muft combine. But in what 
 way this oppofltion muft be varied - — where 
 
 the 
 
( 76 ) 
 
 the full tone of fhade muft prevail — where 
 the full efFufion of light — or where the various 
 degrees of each — depends intirely on the cir- 
 cumflances of the competition. All you can 
 do, is to examine your drawing (yet in it's 
 naked outline) with care ; and endeavour 
 to find out where the force of the light will 
 have the beft effect. But this depends more 
 on tafie^ than on rule. 
 
 One thing both in light and fhade mould 
 be obferved, efpecially in the former — and 
 that is gradation j which gives a force beyond 
 what a glaring difplay of light can give. The 
 effect of light, which falls on the ftone, 
 produced as an illuftration of this idea, would 
 not be fo great, unlefs it graduated into fhade. 
 
 In the following ftanza Mr. Gray has 
 
 with great beauty and propriety, illuftrated 
 the viciffitudes of life by the principles of 
 picturefque effect. 
 
 Still where rofy pleafure leads, 
 
 See a kindred grief purfue : 
 
 Behind the fteps, which mifery treads, 
 
 Approaching comfort view. 
 
 The hues of blifs more brightly glow, 
 
 Chaftifed by fabler tints of woe ; 
 
 And, blended, form with artful ftrife, 
 
 The flrength, and harmony of life. 
 
 I may 
 
. i- >.'.- ' ■ .-. V- : '. 
 
( 77 ) 
 
 I may farther add, that the production of 
 an effeft is particularly necefTary in drawing. 
 In paintings colour in fome degree makes up 
 the deficiency: but in fimple clair-obfcure 
 there is no fuccedaneum. It's force depends 
 on effect; the virtue of which is fuch, that 
 it will give a value even to a barren fubject . 
 Like ftriking the chords of a mufical inftru- 
 ment, it will produce harmony, without any 
 richnefs of compofition. 
 
 It is farther to be obferved, that when 
 objects are in Jhadoiv, the light, (as it is then 
 a reflected one,) falls on the oppofite fide to 
 that, on which it falls, when they are in- 
 lightened. 
 
 In adorning your Jketch^ a figure, or two 
 may be introduced with propriety. By figures 
 I mean moving objects, as waggons, and 
 boats, as well as cattle, and men. But they 
 mould be introduced fparingly. In profufion 
 they are affected. Their chief ufe is, to mark 
 a road — to break a piece of foreground - — to 
 point out the horizon in a fea-view — or to 
 carry off the diflance of retiring water by the 
 contraft of a dark fail, not quite fo diftant, 
 placed before it. But in figures thus defigned 
 for the ornament of a fketch, a few flight 
 
 touches 
 
( 7» ) 
 
 touches are fufficient. Attempts at finifhing 
 offend*. 
 
 Among trees, little diftin6lion need be made, 
 unlefs you introduce the pine, or the cyprefs, 
 or fome other fingular form. The oak, the 
 afh, and the elm, which bear a diftant refem- 
 blance to each other may all be characterized 
 alike. In a fketch, it is enough to mark a 
 tree. One diftinclion indeed is often neceffary 
 even iri fketches ; and that is, between full- 
 leaved trees, and thofe of ftraggling ramification. 
 Jn compofition we have often occafion for both, 
 and therefore the hand mould be ufed readily 
 to execute either. If we have a general idea 
 of the oak, for inftance, as a light tree j and 
 of the beech as a heavy one, it is fufficient. 
 
 It adds, I think, to the beauty of a fketch 
 to ftain the paper flightly with a reddifh, or 
 yellowifh tinge - y the ufe of which is to give 
 a more pleafmg tint to the ground of the 
 drawing by taking off the glare of the paper. 
 It adds alfo, if it be not too ft rong, a degree 
 of harmony to the rawnefs of black and white. 
 
 * See the preceding effay. 
 
 The 
 
: 
 
 
 I 
 
 A 
 
 4" 
 
 
( 79 ) 
 
 The ftrength, or faintnefs of this tinge de- 
 pends on the ftrength, or faintnefs of the 
 drawing. A flight fketch, fhould be flightly 
 tinged. But if the drawing be highly finifhed, 
 and the fhadows ftrong; the tinge alfo may 
 be flronger. Where the fhadows are very 
 dark, and the lights catching, a deep tinge 
 
 may fometimes make it a good fun-fet. 
 
 This tinge may be laid on, either before, or 
 after the drawing is made. In general, I 
 mould prefer the latter method j becaufe, 
 while the drawing is yet on white paper, you 
 may correct it with a fponge, dipt in water; 
 which will, in a good degree, efface Indian 
 ink. But if you rub out any part, after the 
 drawing is ftained, you cannot eafdy lay the 
 ftain again upon the rubbed part without the 
 appearance of a patch. 
 
 Some chufe rather to add a little colour to 
 their fketches. My inftruclions attempt not 
 the art of mixing a variety of tints ; and 
 finifhing a drawing from nature % which is 
 generally executed in colours from the begin- 
 ning, without any ufe of Indian ink; except 
 
 as 
 
( 8° ) 
 
 as a grey tint, uniting with other colours. 
 This indeed, when chaftely executed, (which 
 is not often the cafe) exceeds in beauty every 
 other fpecies of drawing. It is however be- 
 yond my fkill to give any inftruction for this 
 mode of drawing. All I mean is only to offer 
 a modeft way of tinting a fketch already finifh- 
 ed in Indian ink, by the addition of a little 
 colour; which will give fome diftinction to 
 objects ; and introduce rather a gayer ftile into 
 a landfcape. 
 
 When you have finifhed your fketch there- 
 fore with Indian ink, as far as you propofe, 
 tinge the whole over with fome light horizon 
 hue. It may be the rofy tint of morning ; 
 or the more ruddy one of evening; or it may 
 incline more to a yellowifh, or a greyifh caff. 
 The firft tint you fpread over your drawing, 
 is compofed of light red, and oaker, which 
 make an orange. It may incline to one, or 
 the other, as you chufe. By warning this 
 tint over your whole drawing, you lay a foun- 
 dation for harmony. When this warn is nearly 
 dry, repeat it in the horizon; foftening it 
 
 off into the fky, as you afcend. Take next 
 
 a purple tint, composed of lake, and blue, 
 
 4 inclining 
 
( 8i ) 
 
 inclining rather to the former • and with this, 
 when your firft wafh is dry, form your clouds ; 
 and then fpread it, as you did the firft tint, 
 over your whole drawings except where you 
 leave the horizon-tint. This flill ftrengthens 
 the idea of harmony. Your Iky, and diftance 
 are now finiihed. 
 
 You next proceed to your middle ', ?xA fore- 
 grounds ; in both which you diftinguifh between 
 the foil, and the vegetation. Wafh the middle 
 grounds with a little umber. This will be 
 fufficient for the foil. The foil of the fore- 
 ground you may go over with a little light red. 
 The vegetation of each may be warned with 
 a green, compofed of blue, and oker -, adding 
 a little more oker as you proceed nearer the 
 eye j and on the neareft grounds a little burnt 
 terra Sienna. This is fufficient for the middle 
 grounds. ■ The foreground may farther want a 
 little heightening both in the foil, and vegeta- 
 tion. In the foil it may be given in the lights 
 with burnt terra Sienna ; mixing in the fhadows 
 a little lake : and in the vegetation with gall- 
 ftone ; touched in places, and occafionally 
 varied, with burnt terra Sienna. 
 
 Trees on the foreground are confidered as 
 a part of it 3 and their foliage may be co- 
 
 g loured 
 
( 82 ) 
 
 loured like the vegetation in their neigh* 
 bourhood. Their flems may be touched 
 
 with burnt terra Sienna. Trees, in middle 
 
 diftanees are darker than the lawns, on which 
 they ftand. They muff therefore be touched 
 twice over with the tint, which is given only 
 once to the lawn. 
 
 If you reprefent clouds with bright edges, 
 the edges mufl: be left in the firft orange ; 
 while the tint over the other part of the 
 horizon is repeated, as was mentioned before. 
 
 A lowering, cloudy fky is reprefented by, 
 what is called, a grey tint, compofed of lake, 
 blue, and oker. As the fhadow deepens, the 
 tint mould incline more to blue. 
 
 The feveral tints mentioned in the above 
 procefs, may perhaps- the moft eafily be mixed 
 before you begin j efpecially if your drawing be 
 large. Dilute the raw colours in faucers : 
 keep them clean, and diftincl ; and from them, 
 mix your tints in other ve-flels. 
 
 I Hi all only add, that the firength of the 
 colouring you give your fketch, mufl: depend (as 
 in the laft cafe, where the whole drawing is 
 tinged,) on the height, to which you have car- 
 ried the Indian ink jinijhing. If it be only a 
 3 flight 
 
( «3 ) 
 
 flight fketch, it will bear only a light wafh of 
 colour. 
 
 This mode however of tinting a drawing, 
 even when you tint as high as thefe inftruc- 
 tions reach, is by no means calculated to 
 produce any effect, of colouring : but it is 
 at leafr. fufficient to preferve harmony. This 
 you may preferve : an effect of colouring you 
 cannot eafily attain. It is fornething how- 
 ever to avoid a difagreeable excefs : and there 
 is nothing furely fo difagreeable to a correct 
 eye, as a tinted drawing (fuch as we often 
 fee) in which greens, and blues, and reds, and 
 yellows are daubed without any attention to 
 harmony. It is to the pi£hirefque eye, what 
 a difcord of harfh notes is to a mufical ear. * 
 
 But the advocate for thefe glaring tints may 
 perhaps fay, he does not make his iky more 
 
 * I have been informed, that many of the purchafers of 
 the firft edition of this work, have thought the plate, which il- 
 iuftrates what hath been faid above, was not fo highly coloured, 
 as they wifhed it to have been. I apprehend this was chiefly 
 owing to the particular care I took, to have it rather under, than 
 over tinted. The great danger, I think, is on the fide of being 
 over-loaded with colour. I have however taken care that a 
 number of the prints in this edition fhall be coloured higher, that 
 feach purchafer may have an option. 
 
 g 2 blue 
 
( 8 4 ) 
 
 blue than nature j nor his grafs, and trees 
 more green. 
 
 Perhaps (o : but unlefs he could work up 
 his drawing with the jinijhing of nature alfo, he 
 will find the effect very unequal. Nature 
 mixes a variety of femi-tints with her brighter! 
 colours : and tho the eye cannot readily fepa- 
 rate them, they have a general chaftizing 
 effect ; and keep the feveral tints of landfcape 
 within proper bounds, which a glare of deep 
 colours cannot do. Befides, this chaftizing 
 hue is produced in nature by numberlefs little 
 fhadows, beyond the attention of art, which 
 ilie throws on leaves, and piles of grafs, and 
 every other minute object ; all of which, tho 
 not eafily diftinguifhed in particulars, tell 
 in the whole, and are continually chaflening 
 the hues of nature. 
 
 Before I conclude thefe remarks on fketch- 
 ing, it may b£ ufeful to add a few words, 
 and but a few, on perfpeclive. The nicer 
 parts of it contain many difficulties j and are 
 of little ufe in common landfcape. Indeed in 
 wild, irregular objects, it is hardly poflible to 
 apply it. The eye mufl regulate the winding 
 
 of 
 
/.t;jj/.'/is//.u/j,>. 
 
( 8 5 ) 
 
 of the river ; and the receding of the diftant 
 hill. Rules of perfpeetive give little afliftance. 
 But it often happens, that on the nearer 
 grounds you wifli to place a more regular 
 objecl, which requires fome little knowledge 
 of perfpeetive. The fubject therefore mould 
 not be left wholly untouched. 
 
 If a building fcand exactly in front, none 
 of it's lines can go off in perfpeclive : but if it 
 ftand with a corner towards you, (as the pic- 
 turefque eye generally wifhes a building to 
 ftand) the lines will appear to recede. In what 
 manner they may be drawn in perfpeftive, the 
 following mechanical method may explain. 
 
 Trace on your paper the near eft perpendicular 
 of the building you copy. Then hold hori- 
 zontally between it, and your eye, a fhred of 
 paper, or flat ruler ; raifmg, or lowering it, till 
 you fee only the edge. Where it cuts the 
 perpendicular in the building, make a mark on 
 your paper ; and draw a flight line through that 
 point, parallel with the bottom of your picture. 
 This is called the horizontal line. Obferve 
 next, with what accuracy you can (for it would 
 require a tedious procefs to conduct it geome- 
 trically) the angle, which the ftrft receding line 
 of the building makes with the nearejl per-* 
 
 P 3 pendicular • 
 
( 86 ) 
 
 pendicular ; and in your drawing continue a 
 fimilar line, till it meet the horizontal line, 
 The point where it meets the horizontal line, 
 is called the vanijhing point : and regulates the 
 whole perfpective. From this point you draw 
 a line to the bottom of the near eft perpendicular, 
 which gives you the perfpective of the bafe. In 
 the fame manner all the lines, which recede 
 on both fides of the building, as well above, 
 as below the horizontal li?ie ; windows, doors, 
 and projections of every .kind, if they are on 
 the fame plane, are regulated. 
 
 If the building confifl of projections on dif- 
 ferent planes, it would be tedious to regulate 
 them all by the rules of perfpective ; but the 
 eye being thus matter of the grand points, 
 will eafily learn to manage the fmaller pro- 
 jections. Indeed in drawing landfcape, it 
 
 may in general be enough to be acquainted 
 with the principles of perfpeclive. One of the 
 bell: rules in adjufting proportion is, • to carry 
 your compaffes in your eye, The fame rule may 
 be given in perfpec7ive. Accuftom your eye to 
 judge, how objects recede from it. Too ftrict 
 an application of rules tends only to give your 
 drawing ftifThefs, and formality. Indeed where 
 the regular works of art make the prin-r 
 
 cipal 
 
( «7 ) 
 
 cipal part of your picture, the ftrictefl applica- 
 tion of rule is neceffary. It is this, which 
 gives it's chief value to the pencil of Canaletti. 
 His truth in perfpective has made fubjects in- 
 terefting, which are of all others the moft un 
 promifing.. 
 
 Before I conclude the fubject, I mould wifh 
 to add, that the plate here given as an expla- 
 nation, is defigned merely as fuch ; for no 
 building can have a good effect, the bafe of 
 which is fo far below the horizontal line. 
 
 After all, however, from the mode of 
 Sketching here recommended (which is as 
 far as I mould wifh to recommend drawing 
 landfcape to thofe, who draw only for amufe- 
 ment) no great degree of accuracy can be 
 expected. General ideas only muff be looked 
 for: not the peculiarities of portrait. It 
 admits the winding river — the lhooting pro- 
 montory — the caftle — the abbey — the flat 
 diftance — and the mountain melting into the 
 horizon. It admits too the relation, which 
 all thefe parts bear to each other. But it 
 deftends not to the minutiae of objects. The 
 
 g 4 fringe^ 
 
( 88 ) 
 
 fringed bank of the river — the Gothic orna* 
 ments of the abbey — - the chafms, and frac- 
 tures of the rock, and caflle — and every little 
 object along the vale, it pretends not to 
 delineate with exaclnefs. All this is the pro- 
 vince of the finifhed drawing, and the pic- 
 ture ; in which the artift conveys an idea 
 of each minute feature of the country he 
 delineates, or imagines. But high Jinijl:ing y as 
 I have before obferved, belongs only to a 
 mafter, who can give expreffive touches. The 
 difciple, whom I am inftructing, and whom 
 I inftrucl: only from my own experience, muft 
 have humbler views ; and can hardly expect 
 to pleafe, if he go farther than a fketch, adorned 
 as hath been here defcribed. 
 
 Many gentlemen, who draw for amufe- 
 ment, employ their leifure on human figures, 
 animal life, portrait, perhaps hiftory. Here 
 and there a man of genius makes fome pro- 
 ficiency in thefe difficult branches of the art : 
 but I have rarely feen any, who do. Dis- 
 torted faces, and diflocated limbs, I have feen 
 in abundance : and no wonder j for the fcience 
 of anatomy, even as it regards painting, is 
 with difficulty attained ; and few who have 
 
 ftudied 
 
( «9 ) 
 
 itudied it their whole lives, have acquired 
 perfection. 
 
 Others again, who draw for amufement, go 
 fo far as to handle the pallet. But in this 
 the fuccefs of the ill-judging artift feldom 
 anfwers his hopes j unlefs utterly void of tafle, 
 he happen to be fuch an artift as may be ad- 
 drefled in the farcafm of the critic, 
 
 Sine rivali teque, et tua folus amares. 
 
 Painting is both a fcience, and an art: and 
 if fo very few attain perfection, who fpend 
 a life-time on it, what can be expected from 
 thofe, who fpend only their leifure? The 
 very few gentlemen-artifts, who excel in paint- 
 ing, fcarce afford encouragement for common 
 practice. 
 
 But the art of fketching landscape is attainable 
 by a man of bufmefs : and it is certainly more 
 ufeful ; and, I mould imagine, more amufmg, 
 to attain fome degree of excellence in an in- 
 ferior branch, than to be a mere bungler in 
 a fuperior. Even if you mould not excel in 
 execution (which indeed you can hardly ex- 
 pect) you may at leaft by bringing home the 
 delineation of a fine country, dignify an in- 
 different 
 
( 9° ) 
 
 different fketch. You may pleafe yourfelf by 
 adminiflering ftrongly to recollection ; and you 
 may pleafe others by conveying your ideas 
 more diftinctly in an ordinary fketch, than 
 in the beft language. 
 
 END OF THE THIRD ESSAY, 
 
ON 
 
 LANDSCAPE PAINTING, 
 
 A POEM. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF THE FOLLOWING 
 
 POEM. 
 
 Line 
 
 i Introduction, and addrefs. 
 
 26 A clofe attention to the various fcenes of 
 nature recommended; and to the fe- 
 veral circumftances, under which they 
 apDear. 
 
 78 A facility alfo in copying the different parts 
 of nature mould be attained, before the 
 young artifl attempts a whole. 
 
 90 This procefs will alfo be a kind of ie/i. No 
 one can make any progrefs, whofe ima- 
 gination is not fired with the fcenes of 
 nature. 
 
 107 On a fuppofition, that the artifl: is enamoured 
 with his fubject ; and is well verfed in 
 copying the parts of nature, he begins 
 
 to 
 
( 94 ) 
 
 to combine, and form thofe parts into 
 the fubjects of landfcape. He pays his 
 firft attention to defign, or to the bringing 
 together of fuch objects, as are fuited 
 to his fubject ; not mixing trivial objects 
 with grand fcenes ; but preferving the 
 character of his fubject, whatever it may 
 be. 
 150 The different parts of his landfcape mud next 
 be ftudioufly arranged, and put together 
 in a pidurefque manner. This is the 
 work of difpofition ; or, as it is fometimes 
 called, compojition. No rules can be given 
 for this arrangement, but the experience 
 of a nice eye : for tho nature feldotfi 
 prefents a compleat compofition, yet we 
 every where fee in her works beautiful 
 arrangements of parts; which we ought 
 to fludy with great attention. 
 159 * n general, a landfcape is compofed of three 
 
 parts — a foreground — a middle ground 
 
 — and a diftance. 
 163 Yet this is not a univerfal rule. A balance 
 
 of parts however there mould always be ; 
 
 tho fometimes thofe parts may be few. 
 176 It is a great error in landfcape-painters, to 
 
 lofe the fnnplicity of a whole, under the 
 
 idea of giving variety. 
 
 182 Some 
 
( 95 ) 
 
 iSz Some particular fcene, therefore, or leading 
 fubjecl mould always be chofen ; to which 
 the parts mould be fubfervient. 
 205 In balancing a landfcape, a fpacious fore- 
 ground will admit a fmall thread of dif- 
 tance : but the reverfe is a bad propor- 
 tion. In every landfeape there muft be a 
 confiderable foreground. 
 216 This theory is illuftrated by the view of a 
 
 difproport'wned diftance. 
 243 An objection anfwered, why vaft diftances, 
 tho unfupported by foregrounds, may 
 pleafe in nature, and yet offend in repre- 
 fentation. 
 266 But tho the feverat parts of landfcape may 
 be well balanced, and adjufted ; yet ftill 
 without contraji in the parts, there will 
 be a great deficiency. At the fame time 
 this contraft muft be eafy, and natural. 
 235 Such pictures, as are painted from fancy, are 
 the mofl pleafing efforts of genius. But 
 if an untoward fubjecl: be given, the artift 
 muft: endeavour to conceal, and vary the 
 unaccommodating parts. The foreground 
 he muft claim as his own. 
 308 But if nature be the fource of all beauty, it 
 may be objected, that imaginary views 
 can have little merit. — The objection has 
 weight, if the imaginary view be not 
 
 formed 
 
( 96 ) 
 
 formed from the feleft parts of nature j 
 but if it be, it is nature flill. 
 
 322 The artifl having thus adjufted his forms, and 
 difpofition ; conceives next the bed effed 
 of light; and when he has thus laid the 
 foundation of his picture, proceeds to 
 colouring. 
 
 335 The author avoids giving rules for colouring, 
 which are learned chiefly by pra&ice. 
 
 341 He juft touches on the theory of colours. 
 
 362 Artifts, with equally good effecl:, fometimes 
 blend them on their pallet ; and fome- 
 times fpread them raw on their canvas. 
 
 383 In colouring, the Iky gives the ruling tint to 
 the landfcape : and the hue of the whole, 
 whether rich, or fober, mufl be harmo- 
 nious. 
 
 426 A predominancy of fhade has the bed effecl:. 
 
 449 But light, tho it fhould not be fcattered, 
 mould not be collected, as it were, into 
 a focus. 
 
 464 The effecl: of gradation illuftrated by the co- 
 louring of cattle. 
 
 483 Of the difpofition of light. 
 
 508 Of the general harmony of the whole. 
 
 517 A method propofed of examining a picture 
 with regard to it's general harmony. 
 
 531 The fcientific part being clofed, all that can 
 be faid with regard to execution, is, that, 
 as there are various modes of it, every 
 
 artifl 
 
( 97 ) 
 
 artift ought to adopt his own, or elfe he 
 becomes a fervile imitator. On the whole, 
 the bold free method recommended ; 
 which aims at giving the character of 
 objecls, rather than the ?ninute detail. 
 
 $6$ Rules given with regard to figures. Hiftory 
 in miniature, introduced in landfcape, 
 condemned. Figures mould be fuited to 
 the fcene. 
 
 620 Rules to be obferved in the introduction of 
 birds. 
 
 645 An exhibition is the trued tefl: of excellence ; 
 where the picfure receives it's ftamp, and 
 value not from the airs of coxcombs ; but 
 from the judgment of men of tafte, and 
 fcience. 
 
 H 
 
ON 
 
 LANDSCAPE PAINTING. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 1 hat Art, which gives the pra&ifed pencil power 
 To rival Nature's graces ; to combine 
 In one harmonious whole her fcattered charms, 
 And o'er them fling appropriate force of light, 
 I fing, unfkill'd in numbers ; yet a Mufe, 5 
 
 Led by the hand of Friendfhip, deigns to lend 
 Her aid, and give that free colloquial flow, 
 Which beft befits the plain preceptive fong. 
 
 To thee, thus aided, let me dare to fing, 
 Judicious Lock ; who from great Nature's realms ic 
 Haft culled her lovelieft features, and arranged 
 In thy rich memory's ftorehoufe : Thou, whofe glance, 
 Practifed in truth and fymmetry can trace 
 In every latent touch, each Mafter's hand ; 
 Whether the marble by his art fubdued 15 
 
 Be foftened into life, or canvas fmooth 
 
 h 2 Be 
 
( ioo ) 
 
 Be fwelt'd to animation : Thou, to whom 
 
 Each mode of landfcape, beauteous or fublime, 
 
 With every various colour, tint, and light, 
 
 It's nice gradations, and it's bold effe&s, 20 
 
 Are all familiar, patient hear my fong, 
 
 That to thy tafte and fcience nothing new 
 
 Prefents ; yet humbly hopes from thee to gain 
 
 That plaudit, which, if Nature firft approve, 
 
 Then, and then only, thou wilt deign to yield. 25 
 
 Firft to the youthful artifi I addrefs 
 This leading precept : Let not inborn pride, 
 Prefuming on thy own inventive powers, 
 Miflead thine eye from Nature. She mud reign 
 Great archetype in all. Trace then with care 30 
 
 Her varied walks. Obferve how fhe upheaves 
 The mountain's towering brow ; on it's rough fides 
 How broad the fhadow falls ; what different hues 
 Invert: it's glimmering furface. Next furvey 
 The diftant lake ; fo feen, a mining fpot : 35 
 
 But when approaching nearer, how it flings 
 It's fweeping curves around the (hooting cliffs* 
 Mark every made it's Proteus-fhape afiumes 
 From motion and from reft ; and how the forms 
 Of tufted woods, and beetling rocks, and towers 40 
 Of ruined caftles, from the fmooth expanfe, 
 Shade anfwering (hade, inverted meet the eye. 
 
 From mountains hie thee to the foreft-fcene. 
 Remark the form, the foliage of each tree, 
 And what it's leading feature. View the oak, 45 
 
 It's 
 
( I01 ; 
 
 It's maffy limbs, it's majefty of fliade ; 
 The pendent birch ; the beech of many a flem j 
 The lighter afli ; and all their changeful hues 
 In fp-ing or autumn, ruffet, green, or grey. 
 
 Next wander by the river's mazy bank. 50 
 
 See where it dimpling glides j or brilkly where 
 It's whirling eddies fparkle round the rock ; 
 Or where, with headlong rage, it dafhes down 
 Some fractured chafm, till all it's fury fpent, 
 It finks to fleep, a filent (lagnant pool, 55 
 
 Dark, tho tranflucent, from the mantling fhade. 
 
 Now give thy view more ample range: explore 
 The vaft expanfe of ocean j fee, when calm, 
 What Iris-hues of purple, green, and gold, 
 Play on it's glairy furface ; and when vext 60 
 
 With ftorms, what depth of billowy fliade, with light 
 Of curling foam contrafled. View the cliffs j 
 The lonely beacon, and the diftant coaft, 
 In mifts arrayed, juft heaving into fight 
 Above the dim horizon ; where the fail 65 
 
 Appears confpicuous in the lengthened gleam. 
 
 With fludious eye examine next the vaft 
 Etherial concave : mark each floating cloud ; 
 It's form, it's colour ; and what mafs of fliade 
 It gives the fcene below, pregnant with change 7© 
 Perpetual, from the morning's purple dawn, 
 Till the lad glimmering ray of ruffet eve. 
 Mark how the fun-beam, fleeped in morning-dew, 
 Beneath each jutting promontory flings 
 A darker fhade j while brightened with the ray 75 
 
 h 3 Of 
 
( 102 ) 
 
 Of fultry noon, not yet entirely quenched, 
 The evening-fhadow lefs opaquely falls. 
 
 Thus ftored with fair ideas, call them forth 
 By practice, till thy ready pencil trace 
 Each form familiar : but attempt not thou 80 
 
 A whole, till every part be well conceived. 
 The tongue that awes a fenate with it's force, 
 Once lifped in fyllables, or e'er it poured 
 It's glowing periods, warm with patriot-fire. 
 
 At length matured, (land forth for honed Fame 85 
 A candidate. Some nobler theme felect 
 From Nature's choiceft fcenes ; and fketch that theme 
 With firm, but eafy line j then if my fong 
 Affift thy power, it afks no higher meed. 
 
 Yet if, when Nature's fovereign glories meet 90 
 Thy fudden glance, no correfponding fpark 
 Of vivid flame be kindled in thy breaft ; 
 If calmly thou canft view them ; know for thee 
 My numbers flow not : feek fome fitter guide 
 To lead thee, where the low mechanic toils 95 
 
 With patient labour for his daily hire. 
 
 But if the true genius fire thee, if thy heart 
 Glow, palpitate with tranfport, at the fight j 
 If emulation feize thee, to transfufe 
 Thefe fplendid virions on thy vivid chart ; 1 00 
 
 If the big thought feem more than Art can paint ; 
 Hafte, fnatch thy pencil, bounteous Nature yields 
 To thee her choiceft ftores ; and the glad Mufe 
 Sits by afliftant, aiming but to fan 
 
 The 
 
( io 3 ) 
 
 The Promethean flame, confcious her rules 105 
 
 Can only guide, not give, the warmth divine. 
 
 Fir ft learn with objects fuited to each fcene 
 Thy landfcape to adorn. If fome rude view 
 Thy pencil culls, of lake, or mountain-range, 
 Where Nature walks with proud majeflic ftep, 1 1 o 
 Give not her robe the formal folds of art, 
 But bid it flow with ample dignity. 
 Mix not the mean and trivial : Is the whole 
 - Sublime, let each accordant part be grand. 
 
 Yet if through dire neceflity (for that 1 1 5 
 
 Alone fhould force the deed) fome polijhed fcene 
 Employ thy pallet, drefled by human art, 
 The lawn fo level, and the bank fo trim, 
 Yet Hill preferve thy fubjecl. Let the oak 
 Be elegant of form, that mantles o'er 120 
 
 Thy fhaven fore-ground. The rough forefter 
 Whofe peeled and withered boughs, and gnarled trunk, 
 Have flood the rage of many a winter's blaft, 
 Might ill fuch cultured fcenes adorn, Not lefs 
 Would an old Briton, rough with martial fears, 125 
 And bearing ftern defiance on his brow, 
 Seem fitly flationed at a Gallic feaft. 
 Such apt felection of accordant forms 
 The mufe herfelf requires from thofe her fons 
 Epic, or Tragic, who afpire to fame 13Q 
 
 Legitimate. On them, whofe motly tafle 
 Unites the fock, and buikin — who produce 
 Kings, and buffoons in one incongruous fcene, 
 She darts a frown indignant. Nor fuppofe 
 
 h 4 Thy 
 
( 104 ) 
 
 Thy humbler fubject lefs demands the aid 135 
 
 Of jufl: Defign, than Raphael's ; tho his art 
 
 Give all but motion to fome group divine, 
 
 While thine inglorious picture woods, and ftreams. 
 
 With equal rigour Disposition claims 
 Thy clofe attention. Would'ft thou learn it's laws, 140 
 Examine Nature, when combined with art, 
 Or fimple ; mark how various are her forms, 
 Mountains enormous, rugged rocks, clear lakes, 
 Caflles, and bridges, aqueducts and fanes. 
 Of these obferve, how fome, united pleafe ; 145 
 
 While others, ill-combined, difguft the eye. 
 That principle, which rules thefe various parts, 
 And harmonizing all, produces one, 
 Is Difpofition. By it's plaftic pow'r 
 Thofe rough materials, which Defign feledts, 
 Are nicely balanced. Thus with friendly aid 150 
 Thefe principles unite : Defign prefents 
 The general fubject ; Difpofition culls, 
 And recombines, the various forms anew. 
 
 Rarely to more than three diftinguifhed parts 
 Extend thy landfcape: neareft to the eye 155 
 
 Prefent thy foreground ; then the midway fpace ; 
 E'er the blue diltance melt in liquid air. 
 
 But tho full oft thefe parts with blending tints 
 Are foftened fo, as wakes a frequent doubt 
 Where each begins, where ends ; yet ftill preferve 1 6© 
 A general balance. So when Europe's fons 
 
 Sound 
 
( io 5 ) 
 
 Sound the alarm of war ; fome potent hand 
 
 (Now thine again my Albion) poifes true 
 
 The fcale of empire ; curbs each rival power ; 
 
 And checks each lawlefs tyrant's wild career. 165 
 
 Not but there are of fewer parts who form 
 A pleafing pi&ure. Thefe a foreft-glade 
 Suffices oft ; behind which, juft removed, 
 One tuft of foliage, Waterlo, like thine, 
 Gives all we wifh of dear variety. 170 
 
 For even variety itfelf may pall, 
 If to the eye, when paufing with delight 
 On one fair object, it prefents a mafs 
 Of many, which diflurb that eye's repofe. 
 All hail Simplicity ! To thy chafte fhrine, 175 
 
 Beyond all other, let the artift bow. 
 Oft have I feen arranged, by hands that well 
 Could pencil Nature's parts, landfcapes, that knew 
 No leading fubjecl : Here a foreft rofe ; 
 A river there ran dimpling ; and beyond, 180 
 
 The portion of a lake : while rocks, and towers, 
 And caftles intermixed, fpread o'er the whole 
 In multiform confufion. Ancient dames 
 Thus oft compofe of various filken fhreds, 
 Some gaudy, patched, unmeaning, tawdry thing, 185 
 Where bucks and cherries, mips and flowers, unite 
 In one rich compound of abfurdity. 
 
 Chufe then fome principal commanding theme, 
 Be it lake, valley, winding ftream, cafcade, 
 Caftle, or lea-port, and on that exhauft 190 
 
 Thy powers, and make to that ail elfe conform. 
 
 Who 
 
( io6 ) 
 
 Who paints a landfcape, is confined by rules, 
 As fixed and rigid as the tragic bard, 
 To unity offubjecl. Is the fcene 
 A foreft, nothing there, fave woods and lawns 195 
 Muft rile confpicuous. Epifodes of hills 
 And lakes be far removed ; all that obtrudes 
 On the chief theme, how beautiful foe'er 
 Seen as a part, disgufts us in the whole. 
 
 Thus in the realms of landfcape, to preferve 200 
 Proportion juft is Difpofnion's talk. 
 And tho a glance of diftance it allow, 
 Even when the foreground fwells upon the fight j 
 Yet if the diflant fcenery wide extend, 
 The foreground muft be ample : Take free fcope: 205 
 Art muft have fpace to ftand on, like the Sage, 
 Who boafted power to fnake the folid globe. 
 This thou muft claim ; and if thy diftance fpread 
 Profufe, muft claim it amply : Uncombined 
 With foreground, diftance lofes power to pleafe. 210 
 
 Where rifing from the folid rock, appear 
 Thofe ancient battlements, their lived a knight, 
 Who oft furveying from his caftle wall 
 The wide expanfe before him ; diftance vaft ; 
 Interminable wilds ; favannahs deep ; 215 
 
 Dark woods ; and village fpires, and glittering ftreams, 
 Juft twinkling in the fun-beam, wifhed the view 
 Transferred to convafs ; and for that fage end, 
 Led to the fpot fome docile fon of art, 
 Where his own tafte unerring previous fixed 220 
 
 The point of ampleft profpedt. " Take thy ftand 
 " Juft here," he cried, " and paint me all thou feeft, 
 
 " Omit 
 
( I0 7 ) 
 
 " Omit no Tingle object." It was done ; 
 
 And foon the live-long landfcape cloaths his hall, 
 
 And fpreads from bafe to ceiling. All was there ; 225 
 
 As to his gueft, while dinner cooled, the knight 
 
 Full oft would prove j and with uplifted cane 
 
 Point to the diflant fpire, where flept entombed 
 
 His anceftry ; beyond, where lay the town, 
 
 Skirted with wood, that gave him place and voice 230 
 
 In Britain's fenate ; nor untraced the ftream 
 
 That fed the goodly trout they foon mould tafte j 
 
 Nor every fcattered feat of friend, or foe, 
 
 He calls his neighbours. Heedlefs he, meanwhile, 
 
 That what he deems the triumph of his tafte, 235 
 
 Is but a painted furvey, a mere map ; 
 
 Which light and (hade, and perfpe&ive mifplaced, 
 
 But ferve to fpoil. 
 
 Yet why (methinks I hear 
 Some Critic fay) do ample fcenes, like this, 
 In piclure fail to pleafe ; when every eye 24© 
 
 Confeffes they tranfport on Nature* s chart ? 
 
 Why, but becaufe, where She difplays the fcene, 
 The roving fight can paufe, and fwift felecl:, 
 From all fhe offers, parts, whereon to fix, 
 And form diftinct perceptions ; each of which 245 
 Prefents zfeparate piclure. Thus as bees 
 Condenfe within their hives the varying fweets j 
 So does the eye a lovely whole collect 
 From parts disjointed ; nay, perhaps, deformed. 
 Then deem not Art defective, which divides, 250 
 
 Rejects, 
 
( io8 ) 
 
 Rejects, or recombines : but rather fay, 
 
 'Tis her chief excellence. There is, we know, 
 
 A charm unfpeakable in converfe free 
 
 Of lover, or of friend, when foul with foul 
 
 Mixes in focial intercourfe j when choice 255 
 
 Of phrafe, and rules of rhetoric are difdained ; 
 
 Yet fay, adopted by the tragic bard, 
 
 If Jaffier thus with Belvidera talked, 
 
 So vague, fo rudely ; would not want of (kill, 
 
 Selection, and arrangement, damn the fcene ? 260 
 
 Thy forms, tho balanced, flill perchance may want 
 The charm of Contraji : Sing we then it's power. 
 'Tis Beauty's fureft fource ; it regulates 
 Shape, colour, light, and made 5 forms every line 
 By oppofitlon juji ; whate'er is rough 265 
 
 With fkill delufive counteracts by fmooth ; 
 Sinuous, or concave, by it's oppofite ; 
 Yet ever covertly : mould Art appear, 
 That art were Affeclation. Then alone 
 We own the power of Contraji, when the lines 270 
 Unite with Nature's freedom : then alone, 
 When from it's carelefs touch each part receives 
 A pleafing form. The lake's contracted bounds 
 By contrail varied, elegantly flow ; 
 The unweildy mountain finks ; here, to remove 275 
 Offenfive parallels, the hill depreft 
 Is lifted j there the heavy beech expunged 
 Gives place to airy pines j if two bare knolls 
 
 Rife 
 
( I0 9 ) 
 
 Rife to the right and left, a caftle here, 
 
 And there a wood, diverfify their form. 280 
 
 Thrice happy he, who always can indulge 
 This pleafing feaft of fancy ; who, replete 
 With rich ideas, can arrange their charms 
 As his own genius prompts, creating thus 
 A novel whole. But taftelefs wealth oft claims 285 
 The faithful portrait, and will fix the fcene 
 Where Nature's lines run falfely, or refufe 
 To harmonize. Artift, if thus employed, 
 I pity thy mifchance. Yet there are means 
 Even here to hide defects. The human form 290 
 Portrayed by Reynolds, oft abounds with grace 
 He faw not in his model ; which nor hurts 
 Refemblance, nor fictitious fkill betrays. 
 Why then, if o'er the limb uncouth he flings 
 The flowing veft, may not thy honeft art 295 
 
 Veil with the foliage of fome fpreading oak, 
 Unpleafing objecls, or remote, or near ? 
 An ample licence for fuch needful change, 
 The foregrounds give thee. There both mend and make. 
 Whoe'er oppofes, tell them, 'tis the fpot 300 
 
 Where fancy needs mud fport ; where, if reftrained 
 To clofe refemblance, thy bed art expires. 
 
 What if they plead, that from thy general rule, 
 That refts on Nature as the only fource 
 Of beauty, thou revolt'ft ; tell them that rule 305 
 Thou hold' ft ft ill facred : Nature is it's fource 5 
 Yet Nature's parts fail to receive alike 
 
 The 
 
( 1 10 ) 
 
 The fair impreffion. View her varied range : 
 Each form that charms is there ; yet her bed forms 
 Mufl befelecled. As the fculptured charms 310 
 
 Of the famed Venus grew, fo muft thou cull 
 From various fcenes fuch parts as bed create 
 One perfect whole. If Nature ne'er arrayed 
 Her mofl accomplished work with grace compleat, 
 Think, will fhe wafte on defert rocks, and dells, 315 
 What flie denies to Woman's charming form ? 
 
 And now, if on review thy chalked defign, 
 Brought into form by Difpofitiorfs aid, 
 Difpleafe not, trace thy lines with pencil free j 
 Add lightly too that general mafs of fhade, 320 
 
 Which fuits the form and fafhion of it's parts. 
 There are who, ftudious of the beft effects, 
 Firfl (ketch a flight cartoon. Such previous care 
 Is needful, where the Artifl's fancy fails 
 Precifely to forefee the future whole. 325 
 
 This done, prepare thy pallet, mix thy tints, 
 And call on chafte Simplicity again 
 To fave her votary from whate'er of hue, 
 Difcordant or abrupt, may flaunt, or glare. 
 
 Yet here to bring materials from the mine, 330 
 
 From vegetable dies, or animal, 
 And fing their various properties and powers, 
 The mufe defcends not. To mechanic rules, 
 To profe, and practice, which can only teach 
 The ufe of pigments, fhe refigns the toil. ^^ 
 
 One 
 
( III ) 
 
 One truth me gives, that Nature's fimple loom 
 Weaves but with three diftind, or mingled, hues, 
 The veft that cloaths Creation. Thefe are red, 
 Azure, and yellow. Pure and unftained white 
 (If colour juftly called) rejects her law, 340 
 
 And is by her rejected. Dolt thou deem 
 The glofly furface of yon heifer's coat 
 A perfect white ? Or yon vaft heaving cloud 
 That climbs the diftant hill ? With cerufe bright 
 Attempt to catch it's tint, and thou wilt fail. 345 
 
 Some tinge of purple, or fome yellowifh brown, 
 Mud firft be blended, e'er thy toil fucceed. 
 Pure white, great Nature wifhes to expunge 
 From all her works ; and only then admits, 
 When with her mantle broad of fleecy fnow 350 
 
 She wraps them, to fecure from chilling froft ; 
 Confcious, mean while, that what (lie gives to guard, 
 Conceals their every charm : the flole of night 
 Not more eclipfes : yet that fable flole 
 May, by the Ikilful mixture of thefe hues, 355 
 
 Be fhadowed even to dark Cimmerian gloom. 
 
 Draw then from thefe, as from three plenteous fprings, 
 Thy brown, thy purple, crimfon, orange, green, 
 Nor load thy pallet with a ufelefs tribe 
 Of pigments : when commix'd with needful white, 360 
 As fuits thy end, thefe native three fuffice. 
 But if thou dofl:, (till cautious keep in view 
 That harmony which thefe alone can give. 
 
 Yet 
 
( »»* ) 
 
 Yet ftill there are, who fcorning all the rules 
 Of dull mechanic art, with random hand 365 
 
 Fling their unblended colours, and produce 
 Bolder effetts by oppofition's aid. 
 
 The fky, whate'er it's hue, to landfcape gives 
 A correfponding tinge. The morning ray 
 Spreads it with purple light, in dew-drops fteeped; 370 
 The evening fires it with a crimfon glow. 
 Blows the bleak north ? It fheds a cold, blue tint 
 On all it touches. Do light mifts prevail ? 
 A foft grey hue o'erfpreads the general fcene, 
 And makes that fcene, like beauty viewed through gauze, 
 More delicately lovely. Chufe thy fky ; 376 
 
 But let that fky, whate'er the tint it takes, 
 O'er-rule thy pallet. Frequent have I feen, 
 In landfcapes well compofed, aerial hues 
 So ill-preferved, that whether cold or heat, 380 
 
 Tempeft or calm, prevailed, was dubious all. 
 Not fo thy pencil, Claude, the feafon marks : 
 Thou makeft us pant beneath thy fummer noon ; 
 And fhiver in thy cool autumnal eve. 
 
 Such are the powers of fky ; and therefore Art 385 
 Selects what bed is fuited to the fcene 
 It means to form : to this adapts a morn, 
 To that an evening ray. Light mifts full oft 
 Give mountain- views an added dignity ; 
 "While tame impoverifhed fcenery claims the force 390 
 Of fplendid lights and fhades 5 nor claims in vain. 
 
 Thy 
 
( "3 ) 
 
 Thy fky adjufted, all that is remote 
 Firft colour faintly : leaving to the lad 
 Thy foreground. Eafier 'tis, thou know'ft, to fpread 
 Thy floating foliage o'er the Iky ; than mix 395 
 
 That fky amid the branches. Venture ftill 
 On warmer tints, as diftances approach 
 Nearer the eye : Nor fear the richeft hues, 
 If to thofe hues thou giv'ft the meet fupport 
 Of ftrong oppofing (hade. A canvas once 400 
 
 I faw, on which the artift dared to paint 
 A fcene in Indoftan ; where gold, and pearl 
 Barbaric, flamed on many a broidered veft 
 Profufely fplendid ; yet chafte art was there, 
 Oppofing hue to hue ; each fhadow deep 405 
 
 So fpread, that all with fweet accord produced 
 A bright, yet modefl whole. Thus blend thy tints, 
 Be they of fcarlet, orange, green, or gold, 
 Harmonious, till one general glow prevail 
 Unbroken by abrupt and hoflile glare. 410 
 
 Let fliade predominate. It makes each light 
 More lucid, yet deftroys offenfive glare. 
 Mark when in fleecy fliowers of mow, the clouds 
 Seem to defcend, and whiten o'er the land, 
 What unfubftantial unity of tinge 415 
 
 Involves each profpecl: : Vifion is abforb ed ; 
 Or, wandering through the void, finds not a point 
 To reft on. All is mockery to the eye. 
 Thus light diffufed, debafes that effecl: 419 
 
 Which fliade improves. Behold what glorious fcenes 
 A rife through Nature's works from fliade. Yon lake 
 
 1 With 
 
( "4 ) 
 
 With all it's circumambient woods, far lefs 
 Would charm the eye, did not that dufky mid 
 Creeping along it's eaftern mores, afcend 
 Thofe towering cliffs, mix with the ruddy beam 425 
 Of opening day, juft damp it's fires, and fpread 
 O'er all the fcene a fweet obfcurity. 
 
 But would'ft thou fee the full effect of made 
 Well maffed, at eve mark that upheaving cloud, 
 Which charged with all th' artillery of Jove, 430 
 
 In awful darknefs, marching from the eaft, 
 Afcends ; fee how it blots the fky, and fpreads, 
 Darker, and darker flill, it's dufky veil, 
 Till from the eafl to weft, the cope of heaven 
 It curtains clofely round. Haply thou ftand'fl 435 
 Expectant of the loud convulfive burft, 
 When lo ! the fun, juft linking in the weft, 
 Pours from th' horizon's verge a fplendid ray, 
 Which tenfold grandeur to the darknefs adds. 
 Far to the eaft the radiance moots, juft tips 440 
 
 Thofe tufted groves ; but all it's fplendor pours 
 On yonder caftled cliff, which chiefly owes 
 It's glory, and fupreme effect, to fhade. 
 
 Thus light, inforced by madow, fpreads a ray 
 Still brighter, ' Yet forbid that light to fhine 445 
 A glittering fpeckj for this were to illume 
 Thy picture, as the convex glafs collects, 
 All to one dazzling point, the folar rays. 
 
 Whate'er tha force cf oppofitlon, ftill 
 In foft gradation equal beauty lies. 450 
 
 When 
 
( "5 ) 
 
 When the mild Iuftre glides from light to dark, 
 
 The eye well-pleafed purfues it. Mid the herds 
 
 Of variegated hue, that graze the lawn, 
 
 Oft may the artifl trace examples juit 
 
 Of this fedate effect, and oft remark 455 
 
 It's oppofite. Behold yon lordly bull, 
 
 His fable head, his lighter moulders tinged 
 
 With flakes of brown ; at length (till lighter tints 
 
 Prevailing, graduate o'er his flank and loins 
 
 In tawny orange* What, if on his front 460 
 
 A ftar of white appear ? The general mafs 
 
 Of colour fpreads unbroken ; and the mark 
 
 Gives his flern front peculiar character. 
 
 Ah ! how degenerate from her well-cloathed fire 
 That heifer. See her fides with white and black 465 
 So fludded, fo diftincl:, each juftling each, 
 The groundwork-colour hardly can be known. 
 
 Of lights, if more than two thy landfcape boaft, 
 It boafts too much. But if two lights be there, 
 Give one pre-sminence : with that be fure 470 
 
 Illume thy foreground ', or thy midway /pace ; 
 But rarely fpread it on the di/i ant fcene. 
 Yet there, if level plains, or fens appear. 
 And meet the Iky, a lengthened gleam of light 
 Difcreetly thrown, will vary the flat fcene. 475 
 
 But if that diftance be abruptly clofed 
 By mountains, caff them into general fhade : 
 III fuit gay robes their hoary majefty. 
 Sober be all their hues j except, perchance, 
 
 1 2 Approaching 
 
( "6 ) 
 
 -Approaching nearer in the midway fpace, 480 
 
 One of the giant-brethren tower fublime : 
 
 To him thy art may aptly give a gleam 
 
 Of radiance : 'twill befit his awful head, 
 
 Alike, when rifing through the morning-dews 
 
 In mifty dignity, the pale, wan ray, 485 
 
 Inverts him ; or when, beaming from the weft, 
 
 A fiercer fplendor opens to our view 
 
 All his terrific features, rugged cliffs, 
 
 And yawning chafms, which vapours through the day 
 
 Had veiled j dens where the lynx or pard might dwell 
 
 In noon-tide fafety, meditating there 491 
 
 His next nocturnal ravage through the land. 
 
 Are now thy lights and fhades adjufted all ? 
 Yet paufe : perhaps the perfpective is juft j 
 Perhaps each local hue is duly placed j 495 
 
 Perhaps the light offends not ; harmony 
 May flill be wanting. That which forms a whole 
 From colour, fhade, gradation, is not yet 
 Obtained. Avails it ought, in civil life, 
 If here and there a family unite 500 
 
 In bonds of peace, while difcord rends the land, 
 And pale-eyed Faction, with her garment dipped 
 In blood, excites her guilty fons to war ? 
 
 To aid thine eye, diltruftful if this end 
 Be fully gained, wait for the twilight hour. 505 
 
 When the grey owl, failing on lazy wing, 
 Her circuit takes ; when lengthened fhades diffolve j 
 Then in fome corner place thy finifhed piece, 
 Free from each garifli ray : Thine eye will there 
 
 Be 
 
( "7 ) 
 
 Be undifturbed by parts ; there will the whole 510 
 
 Be viewed collectively ; the diftance there 
 
 Will from it's foreground pleafingly retire, 
 
 As diftance ought, with true decreafing tone. 
 
 If not, if fhade or light be out of place, 
 
 Thou feeft the error, and may eft yet amend. 515 
 
 Here fcience ceafes : but to clofe the theme, 
 One labour ftill, and of Herculean caft, 
 Remains unfung, the art to execute, 
 And what it's happieft mode. In this, alas ! 
 What numbers fail ; tho- paths, as various, lead 520 
 To that fair end, as to thy ample walls, 
 Imperial London. Every artift takes 
 His own peculiar manner ; fave the hand 
 Coward, and cold, that dare not leave the track 
 It's mafter taught. Thou who wouldeft boldly feize $1$ 
 Superior excellence, obferve, with care, 
 The ftyle of every artift ; yet difdain 
 To mimic even the beft. Enough for thee 
 To gain a knowledge from what various modes 
 The fame effect remits. Artifts there are 53D 
 
 Who, with exactnefs painful to behold, 
 Labour each leaf, and each minuter mofs, 
 Till with enamelled furface all appears 
 Compleatly fmooth. Others with bolder hand, 
 By Genius guided, mark the general form, $35 
 
 The leading features, which the eye of tafte, 
 Praclifed in Nature, readily tranflates. 
 Here lies the point of excellence. A piece, 
 
 1 3 Thus 
 
( "8 ) 
 
 Thus finifhed, tho perhaps the playful toil 
 Of three fhort mornings, more enchants the eye, 540 
 Than what was laboured through as many moons. 
 Why then fuch toil mifpent ? We never mean, 
 With clofe and microfcopic eye, to pore 
 On every ftudied part. The practifed judge 
 Looks chiefly on the whole ; and if thy hand 545 
 
 Be guided by true fcience, it is fure 
 To guide thy pencil freely. Scorn thou then 
 On parts minute to dwell. The characler 
 Of 'objects aim at, not the nice detail. 
 
 Now is the fcene compleat : with Nature's eafe, 550 
 Thy woods, and lawns, and rocks, and fplendid lakes, 
 And diftant hills unite ; it but remains 
 "To people thefe fair regions. Some for this 
 Confult the facred page ; and in a nook 
 Obfcure, prefent the Patriarch's teft of faith, 55$ 
 
 The little altar, and the victim fon : 
 Or haply, to adorn fome vacant iky, 
 Load it with forms, that fabling bard fupplies 
 Who fang of bodies changed 5 the headlong fteeds, 
 The car upheaved of Phaeton, while he, 560 
 
 Rafh boy ! fpreads on the plain his pallid corfe, 
 His fillers weeping round him. Groups like thefe 
 Befit not landfcape : Say, does Abraham there 
 Ought that fome idle peafant might not do ? 
 Is there expreffion, paflion, character, $6$ 
 
 To mark the Patriarch's fortitude and faith ? 
 The fcanty fpace which perfpective allows, 
 
 Forbids. 
 
( "9 ) 
 
 Forbids. Why then degrade his dignity 
 
 By paltry miniature ? Why make it thus 
 
 A mere appendage ? Rather deck thy fcene 570 
 
 With figures fimply fuited to it's ftyle. 
 
 The land/cape is thy object ; and to that, 
 
 Be thefe the under parts. Yet ftill obferve 
 
 Propriety in all. The fpeckled pard, 
 
 Or tawny lion, ill would glare beneath $j$ 
 
 The Britifh oak ; and Britifh flocks and herds 
 
 Would graze as ill on Afric's burning fands. 
 
 If rocky, wild, and awful be thy views, 
 
 Low arts of hufbandry exclude : The fpade, 
 
 The plough, the patient angler with his rod, 580 
 
 Be banifhed thence ; far other guefts invite, 
 
 Wild as thofe fcenes themfelves, banditti fierce, 
 
 And gypfey-tribes, not merely to adorn, 
 
 But to imprefs that fentiment more flrong, 
 
 Awaked already by the favage-fcene. 585 
 
 Oft winding flowly up the foreft glade, 
 The ox-team labouring, drags the future keel 
 Of fome vafl admiral : no ornament 
 Ailifts the woodland fcene like this ; while far 
 Removed, feen by a gleam among the trees, 590 
 
 The foreft-herd in various groups repofe. 
 
 Yet, if thy lkill mould fail to people well 
 Thy landfcape, leave it defert. Think how Claude 
 Oft crowded fcenes, which Nature's felf might own, 
 With forms ill -drawn, ill-chofen, ill-arranged, 595 
 Of man and beaft, o'er loading with falfe tafte 
 
 1 4 His 
 
( 120 ) 
 
 His fylvan glories. Seize them, Peflilence, 
 And fweep them far from our difgufted fight ! 
 
 If o'er thy canvafs Ocean pours his tide, 
 The full fized veffel, with it's fwelling fail, 6co 
 
 Be cautious to admit ; unlefs thy art 
 Can give it cordage, pennants, marts, and form 
 Appropriate ; rather with a carelefs touch 
 Of light, or (hade, jufl mark the diftant fkiff. 
 
 Nor thou refufe that ornamental aid, 605 
 
 The feathered race afford. When fluttering near 
 The eye, we own abfurdity refults ; 
 They feem both fixed and moving : but beheld 
 At proper diftance, they will fill thy fky 
 With animation. Leave them there free fcope : 6io 
 Their diftant motion gives us no offence. 
 
 Far up yon river, opening to the fea, 
 Jufl: where the diftant coaft extends a curve, 
 A lengthened train of fea-fowl urge their flight. 
 Obferve their files ! In what exacl: array 6 1 5 
 
 The dark battalion floats, diftinctly feen 
 Before yon filver cliff! Now, now, they reach 
 That lonely beacon ; now are loft: again 
 In yon dark cloud. How pleafing is the fight ! 
 The foreft-glade from it's wild, timorous herd, 620 
 Receives not richer ornament, than here 
 From birds this lonely fea-view. Ruins too 
 Are graced by fuch addition : not the force 
 Of ftrong and catching lights adorn them more, 
 Than do the duiky tribes of rooks, and daws 625 
 Fluttering their broken battlements among. 
 
 Place 
 
( "I ) 
 
 Place but thefe feathered groups at diflance due, 
 The eye, by fancy aided, fees them move, 
 (Flit paft the cliff, or circle round the tower) 
 Tho each, a centinel, obferve his poft. 
 
 Thy landfcape finifhed, tho it meet thy own 630 
 Approving judgment, (till requires a tell, 
 More general, more decifive. Thine's an eye 
 Too partial to be trufted. Let it hang 
 On the rich wall, which emulation fills ; 
 Where rival matters court the world's applaufe. 6$$ 
 There travelled virtuofi, ftalking round, 
 With ftrut important, peering though the hand, 
 Hollowed in telefcopic form, furvey 
 Each lucklefs piece, and uniformly damn ; 
 Affuming for their own, the tafte they ileal, 640 
 
 " This has not Guido's air :" " That poorly apes 
 " Titian 's rich colouring:" "Rembr ant's formsare here, 
 <c But not his light and fhadow." Skilful they 
 In every hand, fave Nature's. What if thefe 
 With Gafpar or with Claude thy work compare, 645 
 And therefore fcorn it ; let the pedants prate 
 Unheeded. But if tafte, correct and pure, 
 Grounded on practice ; or, what more avails 
 Than practice, obfervation juftly formed 
 On Nature's beft examples and effects, 650 
 
 Approve thy landfcape; if judicious Lock 
 See not an error he would wifh removed, 
 Then boldly deem thyfelf the heir of Fame. 
 
NOTES 
 
 6N THE FOREGOING 
 
 POEM. 
 
 Line 
 
 34 Oome perhaps may object to the word 
 glimmering : but whoever has obferved 
 the playing lights, and colours, which 
 often invefl the fummits of mountains, 
 will not think the epithet improper. 
 
 45 What it's leading feature; that is the par- 
 ticular characler of the tree. The dif- 
 ferent fhape of the leaves, and the dif- 
 ferent mode of Spreading it's branches, 
 give every tree, a di/iincl form, or 
 characler. At a little diftance you eafily 
 diftinguifh the oak from the am ; and 
 the am from the beech. It is this 
 general form, not any particular detail, 
 which the artifl is inftructed to get by 
 heart. The fame remark holds with 
 
 regard 
 
( 124 ) 
 
 regard to ether parts of nature. Thefe 
 general forms may be called the painter's 
 alphabet. By thefe he learns to read 
 her works ; and alfo to make them in- 
 telligible to others. 
 6 1 With light of curling foam contrafled. The 
 progrefs of each wave is this. Beneath 
 the frothy curl, when it rifes between 
 the eye, and the light, the colour is 
 pale green, which brightens from the 
 bafe towards the fummit. When a wave 
 fubfides, the fummit falling into the 
 bafe, extends, and raifes it j and that 
 part of the water which meets the fuc- 
 ceeding wave, fprings upward from the 
 fhock; the top forms into foam, and 
 rolling over falls down the fide, which 
 has been mocked ; prefenting if the 
 water be much agitated, the idea of a 
 cafcade. 
 77 The cvening-fhadow Iefs opaquely falls. It is 
 not often obferved by landfcape-painters, 
 tho it certainly deferves obfervation, that 
 the morning-madows are darker than thofe 
 of the evening. 
 ioi If the big thougbt feem more than art can paint. 
 It is always a fign of genius to be dif- 
 fatisfied with our own efforts; and to 
 conceive more than we can exprefs. 
 
 151 Dejign 
 
( 125 ) 
 
 151 Dejign prefents the general fubjecl, difpofition, 
 &c. Some writers on the art of painting 
 have varied this divifion. But it feems 
 moft proper, I think, to give the fe- 
 le&ion of the elements of landfcape — 
 the affembling of rocks, mountains, ca- 
 taracts, and other objects to defign : while 
 difpofition is properly employed in the 
 local arrangement of them. 
 159 The general compofition of a landfcape con- 
 fifis of three parts — the foreground — the 
 fecond ground — and the diftance. But no 
 rule can be given for proportioning thefe 
 parts to each other. There are ten 
 thoufand beautiful proportions; from 
 which the eye of tafte mufl feled a 
 good one. The foreground mufl always, 
 be confiderable — in fome cafes, ample. 
 It is the very bafis, and foundation of 
 
 the whole. Nor is it a bad rule, I 
 
 think, that fome part of the foreground 
 mould be the higheft part of the picture. 
 In rocky, and mountainous views this 
 is eafy, and has generally a good effe£t. 
 And fometimes even when a country is 
 more level, a tree on the foreground, 
 carried higher than the reft of the land- 
 fcape, anfwers the end. At the fame 
 lime in many fpecies of landfcape this 
 
 rule 
 
( >^6 ) 
 
 rule cannot eafily be obferved : nor is it: 
 by any means effential. 
 
 169 Water lo, like thine. The fubjeds of this 
 matter feldom went beyond fome little 
 foreft-view. He has etched a great num- 
 ber of prints in this Mile of landfcape ; 
 which for the 1 beauty of the trees in par- 
 ticular, are much admired. 
 
 178 Land/capes, that knew no leading fubjecl. There 
 is not a rule in landfcape-painting more 
 neglected , or that ought more to be ob- 
 ferved, than what relates to a leading 
 fubjecl. By the leading fubject. we mean* 
 what characterizes the fcene. We often 
 fee a landfcape, which comes under no 
 denomination, Is it the fcenery about a 
 ruin ? Is it a lake-fcene ? Is it a river- 
 fcene ? No : but it is a jumble of all 
 together. Some leading fubjecl: there- 
 fore is required in every landfcape, which 
 forms it's character j and to which the 
 painter 
 
 . 1 
 
 is confined by rules, 
 
 As fixed, and rigid as the tragic bard. 
 
 "When the landfcape takes it's character from 
 a ruin, or other object on the foreground, 
 the difiance introduced, is merely an ap- 
 pendage ; and mud plainly appear to be 
 an under-part; not interfering with the 
 
 fubjecl: 
 
( I2 7 ) 
 
 fubject of the piece. But mod commonly 
 the fcene, or leading fubject of the pic- 
 ture, occupies the middle diftance. In 
 this cafe, the foreground becomes the 
 appendage ; and without any ftriking 
 object to attract the eye, mufl plainly 
 mew, that it is intended only to intro- 
 duce the leading-fubject with more ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 194 Thus, in a foreft-fcene, the woods and lawns, 
 are the leading fubject. If the piece will 
 allow it, a hill, or a lake, may be admit- 
 ted in remote diftance: but they muft be 
 introduced, only as the epifodes in a 
 poem, to fet off the main fubject. They 
 muft not interfere with it : but be far 
 removed, 
 
 202 And tho a glance. It is certain, in fact, that 
 a confiderable foreground, with a glance 
 of diftance, will make a better picture, 
 than a wide diftance, fet off only with a 
 meagre foreground : and yet I doubt 
 whether an adequate reafon can be given ; 
 unlefs it be founded on what hath already 
 been advanced, that we confider the fore- 
 ground as the bafts, and foundation of the 
 whole piclure. So that if it is not confi- 
 derable in all circumftances, and extenfive 
 in fome, there feems a defect. 
 
 285 A 
 
( 128 ) 
 
 285 A novel whole. The imaginary-view, formed 
 on a judicious felection, and arrangement 
 of the parts of nature, has a better chance 
 to make a good picture, than a view 
 taken in the whole from any natural fcene. 
 Not only the lines, and objects of the na- 
 tural fcene rarely admit a happy compofi- 
 tion ; but the character of it is feldom 
 throughout preferved. Whether it befub- 
 lime, or beautiful, there is generally fome- 
 thing mixed with it of a nature unfuitable 
 to it. All this the exhibition of fancy rec- 
 tifies, when in the hands of a matter. 
 Nor does he claim any thing, but what 
 the poet, and he are equally allowed. 
 Where is the ftory in real life, on which 
 the poet can form either an epic, or a 
 drama, unlefs heightened by his imagina- 
 tion? At the fame time he muft take 
 care, that all his imaginary additions are 
 founded in nature, or his work will dif- 
 guft. Such alfo muft be the painter's 
 care. But under this reftriction, he cer- 
 tainly may bring together a more conjijlent 
 whole, culled from the 'various parts of 
 nature, than nature herfelf exhibits in 
 any one fcene. 
 319 Trace thy lines with pencil free. The mafter is 
 difcovered even in his chalk, or black- 
 lead lines — fo free, firm, and intelligent. 
 
 We 
 
( I2 9 ) 
 
 We often admire thefe nrft, rude touches, 
 The llory of the two old matters will be 
 remembered, who left cards of compli- 
 ments to each other, on which only the 
 fimple outline of a figure was drawn by 
 one, and corrected by the other ; but 
 with fuch a fuperior elegance in each, 
 that the fignature of names could not have 
 marked them more decifively. 
 
 323 Firji Jketch a flight cartoon. It is the practice 
 indeed of the generality of painters, when 
 they have any great defign to execute, 
 to make a flight (ketch, fometimes on 
 paper, and fometimes on canvas. And 
 thefe (ketches are often greatly fuperior 
 to the principal picture, which has been 
 laboured and finifhed with the exacted 
 care. King William on horfe-back at 
 Hampton court, by fir Godfrey Kneller, 
 is a (Iriking example of this remark. 
 The picture is highly (mimed ; but is a 
 tame, and unmafterly performance. At 
 Houghton-hall I have feen the original 
 (ketch of this picture j which I mould 
 have valued, not only greatly beyond the 
 picture itfelf, but beyond any thing I ever 
 faw from the pencil of fir Godfrey. 
 
 336 One truth Jhe gives, &c. From thefe three 
 
 virgin colours, red, blue, and. yellow, all 
 
 the tints of nature are compofed. Greens 
 
 k of 
 
( i3° ) 
 
 of various hues, are compofed of blue, 
 and yellow : orange, of red, and yellow : 
 purple and violet, of red, and blue. The 
 tints of the rainbow feem to be compofed 
 alfo of thefe colours. They lie in order 
 thus : violet— red — orange — yellow — green 
 '—blue — violet — red : in which aflbrtment 
 we obferve that orange comes between 
 red, and yellow ; that is, it is compofed 
 of thofe colours melting into each other., 
 Green is in the fame way compofed of 
 yellow and blue ; and violet, or purple of 
 blue, and red. — Nay even browns of all 
 kinds may, in a degree, be effected by a 
 mixture of thefe original colours : fo may 
 grey ; and even a kind of black, tho not 
 a perfect one. As all pigments how- 
 ever are deficient, and cannot approach 
 the rainbow colours, which are the pureft 
 we know, the painter muft often, even in 
 his fplendid tints, call in different reds, 
 blues, and yellows. Thus as vermillion, 
 tho an excellent red on many occafions, 
 cannot give a rofy, crimfon hue, he muft 
 often call in lake, or carmine, Nor will 
 he find any yellow, or blue, that will an- 
 fwer every purpofe. In the tribe of browns 
 he will flill be more at a lofs ; and muft 
 have recourfe to different earths, — In oil- 
 painting one of the fined earths is known, 
 
 at 
 
( W ) 
 
 at the colour- (hops, by the name of cajlle- 
 earth, or Vandyke* s-brown ; as it is fuppofed 
 to have been ufed by that matter. 
 
 341 And is by her rejecled. Scarce any natural 
 object, but fnow, is purely white. The 
 chalk-cliff is generally in a degree difco- 
 loured. The petals of the mow-drop 
 indeed, and of fome other flowers, are 
 purely white ; but feldom any of the 
 larger parts of nature. 
 
 $62 Keep in view that harmony, &c. Tho it will be 
 neceftary to ufe other colours, befides 
 yellow, red, and blue, this union fhould 
 however ftill be kept in view, as the 
 leading principle of harmony. A mix- 
 ture indeed of thefe three will produce 
 nearly the colour you want : but the more 
 you mix your colours, the muddier you 
 make them. It will give more clearnefs 
 therefore, and brightnefs to your colouring, 
 to ufe fimple pigments, of which there are 
 great abundance in the painter's difpen- 
 fatory. 
 
 364 This mode of colouring is the mod difficult 
 to attain, as it is the mod fcientinc. It 
 includes a perfect knowledge of the effects 
 of colours in all their various agreements, 
 and oppofitions. When attained, it is 
 the moft eafy in practice. The artifl, 
 who blends his colours on his pallet, 
 K 2 depends 
 
( *3 2 ) 
 
 depends more on his eye, than on his 
 knowledge. He works out his effect by 
 a more laboured procefs ; and yet he may 
 produce a good picture in the end. 
 
 392 Nobody was better acquainted with the effects 
 of fky, nor fludied them with more at- 
 tention, than the younger Vanderveldt. 
 Not many years ago, an old Thames-wa- 
 terman was alive, who remembered him 
 well ; and had often carried him out in 
 his boat, both up and down the river, 
 to ftudy the appearances of the Iky. The 
 old man ufed to fay, they went out in all 
 kinds of weather, fair, and foul ; and Mr. 
 Vanderveldt took with him large fheets 
 of blue paper, which he would mark all 
 over with black, and white. The artift 
 eafily fees the intention of this procefs. 
 Thefe expeditions Vanderveldt called, in his 
 Dutch manner of fpeaking, going a Jkoying. 
 
 407 The mod remarkable inflance of ingenious 
 colouring I ever heard of, is in Guido's 
 St. Michael. The whole picture is com- 
 pofed of blue, red, and black ; by means 
 of which colours the ideas of heaven and 
 hell are blended together in a very extra- 
 ordinary manner ; and the effect exceed- 
 ingly fublime ; while both harmony, and 
 chaflenefs are perferved in the highefl 
 degree. 
 
 411 Let 
 
( J 33 ) 
 
 411 Let Jhade predominate. As a general ride, the 
 half-tints fhould have more extent than 
 the lights ; and the fhadows fhould equal 
 both together. ■ Yet why a predo- 
 
 minancy of fhade mould pleafe the eye 
 more than a predominancy of light, would 
 perhaps be difficult to explain. I can 
 eafily conceive, that a balance of light and 
 made may be founded in fome kind of 
 reafon ; but am at a lofs to give a reafon 
 for a predominancy of either. The fact 
 however is undoubted ; and we muft fkreen 
 our ignorance of the principle, as well 
 as we can. 
 
 446 This rule refpects an affecled difplay of light. 
 If it be introduced as a focus, fo as not 
 to fall naturally on the feveral objects it 
 touches, it difgufts. Rembrandt, I doubt, 
 is fometimes chargeable with this fault. 
 He is commonly fuppofed to be a mafter 
 of this part of painting ; and we often 
 fee very beautiful lights in his pictures, 
 and prints : but as in many of them we 
 fee the reverfe, he appears to have had 
 no fixed principle. Indeed, few parts of 
 painting are fo much neglected, fo eafily 
 tranfgrefled, and fo little underftood, as 
 the diflribution of light. 
 
 449 Oppofition, and gradation are the two grand 
 
 means of producing effect by light. In 
 
 k 3 the 
 
( i34 ) 
 
 the picture juft given (1. 429. &c.) of the 
 evening-ray, the effect is produced by 
 oppofition. Beautiful effe&s too of the 
 fame kind arife often from catching lights. 
 • The power of producing effect by 
 gradation, is not lefs forcible. Indeed, 
 without a degree of gradation oppofition 
 itfelf would be mute. In the picture juft 
 given of the evening-ray, the grand part 
 of the effect, no doubt, arifes from the 
 oppofition between the gloom, and the 
 light : but in part it arifes alfo from the 
 gradation of the light, till it reach it's 
 point. It juft tips 
 
 The tufted groves ; but all it's fplendor pours 
 On yonder caftled cliff. — > 
 
 452 The colours of animals often ftrongly illuftrate 
 
 the idea of gradation. When they foften 
 
 into each other, from light or dark, or 
 
 from one colour into another, the mixture 
 
 is very pi&urefque. It is as much the 
 
 reverfe, when white and black, or white, 
 
 and red, are patched over the animal in 
 
 blotches, without any intermediate tints. 
 
 Domeftic cattle, cows, dogs, fwine, goats, 
 
 and cats, are often disagreeably patched . 
 
 tho we fometimes fee them pleafingly 
 
 coloured with a graduating tint. Wild 
 
 animals, in general, are more uniformly 
 
 coloured y 
 
( *35 ) 
 
 coloured, than tame. Except the zebra, 
 and two or three of the fpotted race, I 
 recoiled: none which are not, more or 
 lefs, tinted in this graduating manner. 
 The tiger, the panther, and other varie- 
 gated animals have their beauty: but the 
 zebra, I think, is rather a curious, than 
 a pidturefque animal. It's flreaked fides 
 injure it both in point of colour, and in 
 the delineation of it's form. 
 472 But rarely fpread it on the dijiant fcene. In 
 general perhaps a landfcape is bell in- 
 lightened, when the light falls on the 
 middle parts of the picture ; and the 
 foreground is in fhadow. This throws a 
 kind of natural retiring hue throughout 
 the landfcape : and tho the diflance be in 
 fhadow, yet that fhadow is fo faint, that 
 the retiring hue is ftill preferved. This 
 however is only a general rule. In hiflo- 
 ry-painting the light is properly thrown 
 upon the figures on the foreground ; which 
 are the capital part of the picture. In 
 landfcape the middle grounds commonly 
 form the fcene, or the capital part ; and 
 the foreground is little more, than an 
 appendage. Sometimes however it hap- 
 pens, that a ruin, or fome other capital 
 object on the foreground, makes the prin- 
 cipal part of the fcene. When that is the 
 k 4 cafe, 
 
( 136 ) 
 
 cafe, it fiiould be diftinguifhed by light; 
 unlefs it be fo fituated as to receive more 
 diftin&ion from Ihade. 
 
 487 A fiercer fplendor opens to our view all his 
 terrific features. It is very amufing, in 
 mountainous countries, to obferve the 
 appearance, which the fame mountain 
 often makes under different circumftan- 
 ces. When it is inverted with light 
 mifls ; or even when it is not illuminated, 
 we fee it's whole fummit perhaps under 
 one grey tint. But as it receives the fun, 
 efpecially an evening-fun, we fee a va- 
 riety of fractures, and chafms gradually 
 opening, of which we difcovered not the 
 lead appearance before. 
 
 493 Tho the objects may leifen in due proportion, 
 which is^ called keeping ; tho the gra- 
 duating hue of retiring objects, or the 
 aerial perfpeclive, may be juft ; and tho 
 the light may be diftributed according 
 to the rules of art; yet flill there may 
 not be that general refult of harmony, 
 which denotes the picture one objecl : and 
 as the eye may be milled, when it has 
 the federal parts before it, the befl way 
 of examining it as a per/eel whole, is to 
 examine it in fuch a light, as will not 
 admit the invefligation of parts. 
 
 534 Others, 
 
( m ) 
 
 534 Others, &c. Some painters copy exactly what 
 they fee. In this there is more mechani- 
 cal preciiion, than genius. Others take 
 a general, esmprehenjive view of their ob- 
 ject ; and marking juft the characleri/iic 
 points, lead the fpectator, if he be a man 
 of tafte, and genius likewife, into a truer 
 knowledge of it, than the copier can do, 
 with all his painful exaclnefs. 
 
 568 Why then degrade, &c. If by bringing the 
 figures forward on the foreground, you 
 give room for characler, and exprejfton, 
 you put them out of place as appendages, 
 for which they were intended. 
 
 586 Oft Jlowly winding, &c. The machine itfelf 
 here defcribed is picturefque : and when 
 it is feen in winding motion, or (in other 
 words) when half of it is foreshortened, it 
 receives additional beauty from contraft. In 
 the fame manner a cavalcade, or an army 
 on it's march, may be confidered as one 
 objecl ; and derive beauty from the fame 
 fource. Mr. Gray has given us a very 
 piclurefque view of this kind, in defcrib- 
 ing the march of Edward I. ; 
 
 As down the fteep of Snowdon's ftiaggy fide 
 He wound with toilfome march his long array. 
 Stout Gloucefter ftood aghaft in fpeechlefs trance: 
 To arms ! cried Mortimer ; and couched his quivering lance. 
 
 Through 
 
( ^ ) 
 
 Through a pafiage in the mountain we fee 
 the troops winding round at a great 
 diftance. Among thofe nearer the eye, 
 we diftinguifh the horfe and foot ; and 
 on the foreground, the a&ion, and ex- 
 preffion of the principal commanders. 
 The ancients feem to have known very little 
 of that fource of the piclurefque, which 
 arifes from prefpedtive : every thing is in- 
 troduced in front before the eye : and 
 among the early painters we hardly fee 
 more attention paid to it. Raphael is 
 far from making a full ufe of the know- 
 ledge of it : and I believe Julio Romano 
 makes (till lefs. 
 
 I do not remember meeting any where 
 with a more pi&urefque defcription of a 
 line of march, than in Vaillant's travels into 
 the interior parts of Africa. He was 
 paffing with a numerous caravan, along 
 the borders of Cam-aria. I firft, fays he, 
 made the people of the hord, which 
 accompanied me, fet out with their cat- 
 tle. Soon after my cattle followed 
 cows, fheep, and goats : with all the 
 women of the hord, mounted on oxen 
 with their children. My waggons, with 
 the reft of my people, clofed the rear. 
 I myfelf, mounted on horfeback, rode 
 backwards, and forevvards. This caravan 
 
 on 
 
( *39 ) 
 
 on it's march, exhibited often a Angu- 
 lar, and amufmg fpe&acle. The turns 
 it was obliged to make in following the 
 windings of the woods, and rocks, con- 
 tinually gave it new forms. Sometimes 
 it intirely difappeared : then fuddenly, at 
 a diftance, from the fummit of a hill, I 
 again difcovered my vanguard flowly ad- 
 vancing perhaps towards a diftant moun- 
 tain : while the main body, following the 
 track, were juft below me. 
 600 This rule indeed applies to all other objects : 
 but as the fhip is fo large a machine, 
 and at the fame time fo complicated a 
 one, it's characler is lefs obvious, than 
 that of moil other objects. It is much 
 better therefore, where a veffel is necef- 
 fary, to put in a few touches for a fkiff ; 
 than to infert fome difagreeable form for 
 a fhip, to which it has no refemblance. 
 At the fame time, it is not at ail necef- 
 fary to make your fhip fo accurate, that 
 a feaman could find no fault with it. It 
 is the same in figures : as appendages of 
 landfcape there is no neceffity to have 
 them exactly accurate ; but if they have 
 not the general fornix and characler of 
 what they reprefent, the landfcape is 
 better without them. 
 
 608 They 
 
( Ho ) 
 
 608 They feem, &c. Rapid motion alone, and that 
 near the eye, is here cenfured. We fhould 
 be careful however not to narrow too much 
 the circumfcribed fphere of art.- There 
 is an art of feeing, as well as of painting. 
 The eye muft in part enter into the 
 deception. The art of painting muft, in 
 fome degree, be confidered as an act of 
 convention. General forms only are ins- 
 tated, and much is to be fupplied by the 
 
 imagination of the fpe&ator. It is 
 
 thus in the drama. How abfurdly would 
 the fpectator aft, if inftead of affifting the 
 illufion of the ftage, he fhould infift on 
 being deceived, without being a party in 
 the deception ? — if he refufed to believe, 
 that the light he faw, was the fun; or 
 the fcene before him, the Roman ca- 
 pital, becaufe he knew the one was a 
 candle-light, and the other, a painted 
 cloth ? The painter therefore muft in 
 many things fuppofe deception ; and only 
 avoid it, where it is too palpably grofs for 
 the eye to fuffer. 
 641 Guido's air, no doubt, is often very pleafing^ 
 He is thought to have excelled in ima- 
 gining the angelic character ; and, as 
 if aware of this fuperiority, was fond of 
 painting angels. After all, however, they, 
 whofe tafte is formed on the (implicit^ 
 
 of 
 
( Hi ) 
 
 of the antique, think Guide? s air, in ge- 
 neral fomewhat theatrical. 
 643 Skilful they, he. The greateft obftruftion to 
 the progrefs of art arifes from the pre- 
 judices of conceited judges ; who, in fact, 
 know lefs about the matter, than they 
 who know nothing : inafmuch as truth 
 is lefs obvious to error, than it is to 
 ignorance. Till they can be prevailed 
 on to return upon their fteps, and look 
 for that criterion in nature, which they 
 feek in the half-perifhed works of great 
 names, the painter will be difcouraged 
 from purfuing knowledge in thofe paths, 
 where Raphael, and Titian found it. — We 
 have the fame idea well inforced in Ho- 
 garth's analyfis of beauty. (Introduc. p. 4.) 
 " The reafon why gentlemen, inquifitive 
 " after knowledge in pictures, have their 
 " eyes lefs qualified to judge, than others, 
 " is becaufe their thoughts have been con- 
 " tinually employed in confidering, and 
 " retaining the various manners, in which 
 " pictures are painted— the hiftories, names, 
 " and characters of the mafters, together 
 " with many other little circumftances be- 
 " longing to the mechanical part of the 
 " art ; and little or no time has been given 
 " to perfect the ideas they ought to have 
 
 "in 
 
( H2 ) 
 
 <c in their minds, of the objects themfelves 
 *' in nature. For having adopted their 
 " firft notions merely from imitations ; and 
 " becoming too often as bigotted to their 
 " faults, as to their beauties, they totally 
 " difregard the works of nature, merely 
 " becaufe they do not tally with what their 
 " minds are fo ftrongly prepouefied with. 
 " Were it not for this, many a reputed 
 " capital picture, which now adorns the 
 " cabinet of the curious, would long ago 
 " have been committed to the flames.'* 
 644 What if thefe compare^ &c. Bruyere obferves, 
 that the inferior critic judges only by 
 comparifon. In one fenfe all judgment 
 muft be formed by comparifon. But 
 Bruyere, who is fpeaking of poetry, 
 means, that the inferior critic has no 
 fcale of judgment of a work of art, but 
 by comparing it with fome other work 
 of the fame kind. He judges of Virgil 
 by a comparifon with Homer ; and of 
 Spencer by comparing him with TaiTo. 
 By fuch criticifm he may indeed arrive 
 at certain truths ; but he will never form 
 that mafterly judgment, which he might 
 do by comparing the work before him 
 with the great archetypes of nature, and 
 the folid rules of his art.— — What 
 Bruyere fays of the critic in poetry, is 
 
 very 
 
( H3 ) 
 
 very applicable to the critic in painting. 
 The inferior critic, who has travelled, 
 and feen the works of many great mailers, 
 fuppofes he has treafured up from them 
 the ideas of perfection j and inftead of 
 judging of a picture by the rules of 
 painting, and it's agreement with nature, 
 he judges of it by the arbitrary ideas he 
 has conceived ; and thefe too very pro- 
 bably much injured in the conception. 
 From this comparative mode of criti- 
 cizing, the art receives no advancement. 
 All we gain, is, that one artifl paints 
 better than another. 
 
 END OF THE NOTES. 
 

TWO ESSAYS- 
 
 PRINCIPLES ON WHICH THE AUTHOR MADE 
 HIS DRAWINGS; 
 
 THE MODE OF EXECUTING THEM. 
 
ESSAY I. 
 
 ON THE MODE IN WHICH THE AUTHOR EXECUTES 
 THESE ROUGH SKETCHES. 
 
 L 2 
 
( 149 ) 
 
 1 hese {ketches are in the fame ftyle as 
 moft of thofe which were offered before. 
 They are roughly jinified, pretending only to 
 exhibit a little compofition and effect. They 
 are taken, indeed, from the fame rough fcenes 
 of nature j and confift chiefly of mountains, 
 rocks, rivers, and lakes. Thefe ingredients, 
 however, though few, afford fuch variety, and 
 may be fo infinitely combined, that the fame 
 objects may recur in various fcenes, and yet 
 none of thofe fcenes may refemble each other : 
 as in the human face there are only four 
 features, yet they are capable of receiving fo 
 many variations, that no two faces are exactly 
 alike. 
 
 The pen I ufe is made of a reed, which 
 gives a much freer and eafier ftroke than a 
 pen made of a quill, which never runs fluently 
 on paper, but fcratches it, and often fputters 
 the ink. The reed pen may be cut to a fine 
 point, where a flight touch is required, as 
 fometimes in diflant foliage j and when it 
 grows blunt with a little ufe, it becomes 
 fomething between a brufh and a pen, and 
 
 l 3 gives 
 
( 15° ) 
 
 gives a bold ftroke, which has a good effect 
 on the boles of trees, or on a foreground. 
 But care fliould be taken to leave the ftrougeft 
 marks of the pen on the fide oppofite to that 
 on which you mean the light to enter. 
 
 In highly finijloed drawings the pen is not 
 generally ufed. The black lead lines are 
 commonly wrought up into effect by the 
 brufh; but, in a rough fketch, the pen I 
 think, is the beft inftrument, it gives a termi- 
 nation to an object at once, and marks it with 
 freedom and fpirit, which are the grand cha- 
 racteristics of a fketch. 
 
 The ink which is ufed with the pen in 
 thefe drawings is what the callico-printers, I 
 believe, call iron-water, and ufe in fixing 
 their colours. It has a brownifh tint, which 
 is more plealing to the eye, and unites better 
 with the fhade of Indian ink than common 
 ink. Both Indian ink and common ink, 
 lowered by water, want ftrength, and the 
 latter retains always an unpleafant hue. I 
 could never find any ink that was indelible 
 but this iron-water. You may eafily make 
 an ink of the colour you wifh, but when you 
 wafh a fhade over it, it blurs, and runs. Some- 
 timeSj indeed, you find in old ink-ftands a 
 
 yellowiiii 
 
( «S> ) 
 
 yellowiih ink, which is very good. But this 
 is a precarious fupplv. I remember once 
 being much disappointed in an attempt to 
 procure fome of this piclurefque ink. I had 
 money to pay to an old lady, who gave me 
 a receipt, written out of a leaden ftand full of 
 it. It was before I had heard of the iron- 
 water, and thinking I had met with a great 
 treafure, I call about how to get pofTeflion 
 of it. I told the old lady, therefore, that I 
 thought her ink was bad, and if fhe would 
 truft her leaden pot with me, I would fill it 
 with better. She courteoufly told me, if I 
 did not like her receipt, me would draw me 
 out another. It would have been in vain to 
 have told her, as fhe was half deaf, and of 
 confufed intellect, that her bad ink was to 
 me better than any other, and for what ufe I 
 wanted it. 
 
 No inftrument is more ufeful in drawing 
 than a piece of moiftened fpunge. When the 
 fhade is too jftrong, it eafily rubs it down, 
 and the paper, when dry, as eafily admits it 
 again. 
 
 The tint, which is thrown over thefe draw- 
 ings, after they are fmifhed, is compofed of 
 gamboge and any brownifh colour. It gives 
 
 l 4 harmony 
 
( '52 ) 
 
 harmony to the whole, and takes off the raw- 
 nefs of white paper. It fhouid be ftronger or 
 {lighter, according to the depth of fhadow in 
 the drawings. The harmonizing effect of it 
 is fuch, that I well remember, (if I may be 
 allowed to mention fo trifling a circumftance,) 
 when a boy I ufed to make little drawings, I 
 was never pleafed with them till I had given 
 them a brownifh tint. And, as I knew no 
 other method, I ufed to hold them over fmoke 
 till they had affumed fuch a tint as fatisfied 
 my eye. 
 
 For the ufe of thofe who may perhaps like 
 my mode of drawing, I have feparated a few 
 parcels, each parcel confirming of three draw- 
 ings, two of which may be called fkeletons. 
 They will eafily iliew my procefs. The firft 
 drawing is only in its black-lead ftate, and 
 points out merely the compofition. — The 
 next drawing goes a ftep farther. The diftance 
 is ftill left in black lead ; but the objects on 
 the foreground are roughly touched with a 
 pen. This introduces fome idea of keeping. 
 — The third drawing adds light and made, 
 and carries the idea as far as my drawings 
 commonly go. — The compofition of thefe 
 three drawings fhews the great advantage of 
 
 light 
 

' it 
 
 { 
 
 '0 
 4* 
 
 
 . 
 
 >y 
 
 
 -• 
 
 6 
 
 : 
 
 i' 
 
 2?* g 
 
 SS-^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 Kz 
 
 mwi 
 
 %3uT r 
 
 
 r 
 
 5. 
 
 
 % » 
 
%* . 
 
 
 :i 
 
 V 
 
 F- 
 
 « 
 
 : 
 
 ^W 
 
( -53 ) 
 
 light and fliade, and gives fome idea of the 
 difpofition of light, and of its great utility in 
 combining the feveral parts of a landfcape into 
 one whole. 
 
 I am very far from calling this mode of 
 drawing the beft, or even a good one, if finifh- 
 ing is required : but it is a very quick method 
 of conveying picturefque ideas, and very 
 capable of producing an effect. — Nor let the 
 profeffional man laugh at thefe little inftruc- 
 tions ; I mean them not for him j but only 
 for the ufe of thofe who wifh for an eafy mode 
 of expreffing their ideas j who draw only for 
 amufement, and are fatisfied, without colour- 
 ing and high finifhing, with an endeavour, 
 by a rough Iketch, to produce a little compoji- 
 tion and effecl. 
 
 Under this idea I have fometimes prefumed 
 to recommend my own drawings to thofe 
 who are fond of neater work than mine, and 
 even to young ladies. I offer them, however, 
 only as ufeful in pointing out the form and 
 coynponent parts of a landfcape, marking where 
 the light may fall to mofl advantage. In all 
 thefe points the drawings of young artifts are 
 mofl: deficient. They chiefly depend on the 
 beauty and neatnefs of the feveral objects. 
 
 But 
 
( '54 ) 
 
 But if thefe objedts are not well united, and 
 formed into fome compofition, the moft 
 valuable part of the drawing is (till wanting ; 
 and, what mould be a landfcape, becomes only 
 a beautiful piece of patch- work. 
 
 Under many of thefe drawings, alfo, are 
 defcriptions, as if they were real fcenes. In- 
 deed, if artificial landfcape cannot be thus 
 analized as a whole, it muft confift of uncon- 
 nected parts ; and can be only indifferently 
 compofed. 
 
 The Jkeleton drawings relate more to the 
 firfr EfTay; thefe defcriptive drawings rather 
 to the fecond. The former relate to the mode 
 of executing the parts - y the latter to the manage- 
 ment of a whole. 
 
 When I fold my laft drawings, I advertized 
 a catalogue \ and added to it an EfTay upon the 
 Principles on which the Drawings were ex~ 
 ecuted. But, as the catalogue feemed the prin- 
 cipal thing intended, it took the eye, and the 
 Ejjay, which had not been advertized, was 
 overlooked : thus three or four hundred copies 
 of this effay were left upon my hands. I 
 thought it a pity, therefore, that fo much of 
 my time had been taken up in vain, in writing 
 the EfTay j and fo much lofs mould accrue to 
 
 my 
 
( 155 ) 
 
 my endowment for want of its fale. In the 
 following little work, therefore, I have en- 
 deavoured to make the inftruction of the 
 EfTay more complete. I have taken away 
 the catalogue-part as now ufelefs, and have 
 added another little efTay, which feems to be 
 a proper appendage to the firft. In the firft. 
 EfTay, printed with the catalogue, an account 
 is given of the principles on which the draw- 
 ings offered in fale were made. In this addi- 
 tional efTay, the mode of executing them is 
 explained. 
 
 ESSAY 
 
ESSAY II. 
 
 ON THE PRINCIPLES ON WHICH THE AUTHOR'S SKETCHES 
 ARE COMPOSED. 
 
 Contented with a humble theme, 
 
 He pours the ftream of imitation down 
 
 The vale of nature, where it creeps and winds 
 
 Among her wild and lovely works. 
 
( 159 ) 
 
 ost of the (ketches here offered to the 
 public, are imaginary views. But as many 
 people take offence at imaginary views ; and 
 will admit fuch landfcape only as is immedi- 
 ately taken from nature, I mull explain what 
 we mean by an imaginary view. 
 
 We acknowledge nature to be the grand 
 ftorehoufe of all pidlurefque beauty. The 
 nearer we copy her, the nearer we approach 
 perfection. But this does not affect the 
 imaginary view. When we fpeak of copying 
 nature^ we fpeak only of particular objetls, and 
 particular pajfages — not of putting the whole 
 together in a piclurefque manner ; which we 
 feldom feek in nature, becaufe it is feldom 
 found. Nature gives us the materials of land- 
 fcape ; woods, rivers, lakes, trees, ground, and 
 mountains : but leaves us to work them up 
 into pictures, as our fancy leads. It is thus 
 (he fheds her bounty on other occafions. 
 She gives us grafs ; but leaves us to make 
 hay. She gives us corn -, but leaves us to make 
 bread. 
 
 Yet 
 
( 160 ) . 
 
 Yet frill in copying the feveral objects, ana 
 pafages of nature, we fhould not copy with 
 that painful exactnefs, with which Quintin 
 Matiis, for inftance, painted a face. This is 
 a fort of plagiarifm below the dignity of 
 painting. Nature fhould be copied, as an 
 author fhould be tranilated. If, like Horace's 
 tranflator, you give word for word*, your 
 work will neceffarily be infipid. But if you 
 catch the meaning of your author, and give 
 it freely, in the idiom of the language into 
 which you tranflate, your tranflation may have 
 both the fpirit, and truth of the original. 
 tranflate nature in the fame way. Nature has 
 its idiom, as well as language j and fo has 
 painting. 
 
 Every part of nature exhibits itfelf in, 
 what may be called, prominent features. At 
 the firfl glance, without a minute examination, 
 the difference is apparent between the bole of 
 a beech, for inftance, and that of an oak ; 
 between the foliage of an afh, and the foliage 
 of a fir. Thefe dif criminating features the 
 painter feizes j and the more faithfully he 
 transfufes them into his work, the more ex- 
 
 * Verbum verbo curabis reddere, fidus 
 
 Interpres — — — 
 
 eel lent 
 
( 161 ) 
 
 cellent will be his reprefentation. And when 
 thefe prominent features are naturally exprefT- 
 ed, and judicioufly combined in a fftitious 
 view, that view may not only be a natural 
 one, but a ?nore beautiful exhibition of nature, 
 than can eafily be found in real landfcape. 
 It may even be called more natural, than na- 
 ture itfelf: inafmuch as it feizes, and makes 
 ufe, not only of nature's own materials, but 
 of the beft of each kind. 
 
 The painter of fidlitious views goes ftill far- 
 ther. There are few forms, either in animate, 
 or inanimate nature, which are completely 
 perfect. We feldom fee a man, or a horfe, 
 without fome perfonal blemifh : and as feldom 
 a mountain, or tree, in its moft beautiful form. 
 The painter of fictitious fcenes therefore not 
 only takes his forms from the moft compleat 
 individuals, but from the moft beautiful parts 
 of each individual ; as the fculptor gave a 
 purer figure by felefting beautiful parts, than 
 he could have done by taking his model from 
 the moft beautiful fmgle form. 
 
 Befides, pleafmg circumftances in nature 
 will not always pleafe in painting. We often 
 fee effedts of light, and deceptions in compo- 
 fition, which delight us, when we can ex- 
 
 m amine 
 
( 162 ) 
 
 amine, and develope them in nature. But 
 when they are reprefented, like a text without 
 its context, they may miflead ; and the painter 
 had better reject fuch fcenery, though flriclly 
 natural. Obfcurky in painting fhould be as 
 much avoided, as in writing ; unlefs in dif- 
 tances, or in fome particular incidents, where 
 obfcurity is intended. 
 
 The painter of a fictitious view claims no 
 greater liberty, than is willingly allowed to 
 the hiftory-painter ; who in all fubjecls, taken 
 from remote times, is necefTarily obliged to 
 his imagination, formed as it ought to be, 
 upon nature. If he give fuch a character to 
 the hero he exhibits, as does not belye the 
 truth of hiftory j and make fuch a reprefenta- 
 tion of the ftory, as agrees with the times he 
 reprefents, and with the rules of his art, his 
 hiftory-piece is admired, though widely differ- 
 ent, in many circumflances, from the real 
 fact. Le Bran's picture of Alexander enter- 
 ing the tent of Darius,- is undoubtedly very 
 different from any thing, that really happened : 
 but it conveys fo much the appearance of na- 
 ture, and of truth, that it gives us full fatis- 
 faclion. 
 
 The 
 
( 163 ) 
 
 The painter of imaginary landfcape defires 
 no other indulgence. If from an accurate 
 obfervation of the moft beautiful objects of 
 nature, he can by the force of his imagination 
 characterize, and difpofe them naturally, he 
 thinks he may be faid to paint from nature. 
 
 " The poet's art," fays the abbe Du Bos, 
 " confifts in making a good reprefentation of 
 " things, that might have happened, and in 
 " embellifhing it with proper images." 
 
 Du Bos fpeaks after Ariftotle, whofe prin- 
 ciple it is, that the poet is not required to 
 relate what has really happened^ but what 
 probably might happen j which Horace trans- 
 lates, when he tells us, the poet, 
 
 ita mentitur, fie veris falfa remifcet, 
 
 Primo ne medium, medio ne difcrepet imum. 
 
 All this as exactly regulates the art of 
 managing JicJion in landfcape, as it does in 
 poetry. And indeed the general rules of the 
 beft critics for the direction of the drama, 
 direct us with great propriety in picturefque 
 
 compofition. It is true indeed we may, 
 
 for the fake of curiofity, wifh to have a parti- 
 cular fcene exactly reprefented : but, the indul- 
 gence of curiofity does not make the picture 
 better. 
 
 m 2 Befides 
 
( 164 ) 
 
 Befides the advantage in point of compofition, 
 the imaginary fcene preferves more the character 
 of landfcape, than the real one. A landfcape 
 may be rural, or fublime — inhabited, or de- 
 folate — cultivated, or wild. Its character, of 
 whatever kind, mould be obferved through- 
 out. Circumftances, which fuit one fpecies, 
 contradict another. Now in nature we rarely 
 fee this attention. Seldom does fhe produce 
 a fcene perfect in character. In her beft works 
 fhe often throws in fome feature at variance 
 with the reft — fome trivial circumftance mixed 
 often with fublime fcenery : and injudicious 
 painters have been fond of affecting fuch in- 
 confiftencies. I have feen a view of the 
 ColofTeum, for inftance, adorned with a wo- 
 man hanging linen to dry under its walls. 
 Contrafts of this kind may fuit the moralift, 
 the hiftorian, or the poet, who may take oc- 
 cafion to defcant on the inftability of human 
 affairs. But the eye, which has nothing to 
 do with nioral fentiments, and is converfant 
 only with vijible forms, is difgufted by fuch 
 unnatural union. 
 
 There is ftill a higher character in land- 
 fcape, than what arifes from the uniformity 
 of objects — and that is the power of furnifhing 
 
 images 
 
( i6 5 ) 
 
 images analagons to the various feelings and 
 fenfations of the mind. If the landfcape- 
 painter can call up fuch reprefentations, 
 (which feems not beyond his art) where 
 would be the harm of faying, that landfcape, 
 like hiftory-pain tings, hath its ethics ! 
 
 Such thy pencil, Claude ! 
 
 It makes us pant beneath thy fummer-fun, 
 And fhiver in thy cool autumnal eve. 
 
 To convey however ideas of this kind is 
 the perfection of the art : it requires the 
 fplendour, and variety of colours ; and is not 
 to be attempted in fuch trivial fketches as 
 thefe. In the mean time, the painter of ima- 
 ginary fcenes purfues the befl mode of forming 
 thefe ethical compofitions, as all nature lies 
 before him, and he has her whole ftorehoufe 
 at command. 
 
 To what hath been faid in favour of ima- 
 ginary views, nothing more pertinent, can be 
 added than a few remarks from a gentleman * 
 well known for his fuperior tafte in painting. 
 
 " You afk me, whether I have ever feen a 
 " correcl view of any natural fcene y which quite 
 " fatisfied me? and you confefs you rarely 
 " have. I am perfectly of your opinion. There is 
 " a ferviie individuality in the mere portrait of 
 
 * Sir George Beaumont, Bart. 
 
 m 3 " a view 
 
( 166 ) 
 
 " a view which always difpleafes me ; and is 
 " even lefs interefting than a map. It muftbefull 
 " of awkward lines ; and the artift, cramped 
 " by given fhapes, gives his work always the 
 " air of a copy. The old mailers rarely 
 " painted views from nature. I believe never, 
 " but when commiffioned. Like poets they 
 " did not confine themfelves to matter of fa 61 ; 
 " they chofe rather to exhibit what a country 
 " fuggefled, than what it really comprized j 
 " and took, as it were, the efTence of things. 
 u The fervile imitator feems to me to miftake 
 " the body for the foul; and will never touch 
 " the heart. Befides, every thing looks well 
 " in nature. Lumpifh forms, and counter- 
 " acling lines, touched by her exquifite hand, 
 " are hardly noticed. But in art they are 
 " truly difgufting; and the artift muft avail 
 " himfelf of every advantage, if he wifhes to 
 " cope with her. If he attack her on equal 
 " terms, he is fure of being difgracefully van- 
 " quifhed." 
 
 Having faid thus much in favour of imagi- 
 nary compofition^ we are compelled however by 
 truth to add, on the other fide, that a conftant 
 application to his own refources is apt to lead 
 the artift without great care, into the difagree- 
 
 able 
 
( i6 7 ) 
 
 able biifmefs of repeating himfelf. If he 
 would avoid this, he mud frequently refrefh 
 his memory with nature ; which, however 
 flovenly in her compofition, is the only 
 fchool where he mull fludy forms : or, if he 
 cannot always have recourfe to nature for the 
 objecl he wants, he mufl turn over his com- 
 mon-place-book. This, it may be hoped, 
 abounds with forms and pafTages, which may 
 furnifh a fufficient variety for his choice. 
 
 The hints, from which moil of thefe 
 {ketches offered to the public are taken, were 
 collected from mountainous, and lake 
 fcenery, where the author chiefly fought his 
 piclurefque ideas. 
 
 Such fcenery affords two great fources of 
 picturefque compofition — fublimity, or fimple 
 grandeur ; and grandeur united with beauty. 
 The former arifes from a uniformity of large 
 parts, without ornament, without contraft, and 
 without variety. The latter arifes from 'the 
 introduction of thefe appendages, which forms 
 fcenery of a mixed kind. 
 
 Some of thefe fketches are attempts atfub- 
 limity or fimple grandeur. But as this is an 
 idea, which is neither eafdy caught, nor ge- 
 
 m 4 nerally 
 
( i68 ) 
 
 ncrally admired, moil: of them aim at mixing 
 grandeur and beauty together. 
 
 But whether .the artift paint from nature or 
 from his imagination, certain general rules, 
 which belong to his art, mould never be 
 tranfgreffed. 
 
 In the firft place, he mould always re- 
 member, that the excellence of landfcape- 
 painting confifts in bringing before the 
 fpecfators eye, or rather in raifmg to his im- 
 agination fuch fcenes as are mofl pleafmg, or 
 moft Jiriking. Every painter therefore mould 
 have this idea always in view j and fliould 
 paint fuch fcenes only. In the choice of 
 thefe interefting fubjecls he chiefly difcovers 
 his tafie. The full effect indeed of fuch 
 fcenes can only be given by the pallet - } yet 
 it mould be aimed at, as far as poilible, even 
 in th&Jketch. 
 
 Again, a landfcape, as well as a hiflory- 
 pieee, mould have fome mafter-fubjeSl. We 
 often indeed fee landfcape compofed without 
 much idea of this kind. One piece of ground 
 is tacked to another, with little meaning or 
 connection. We mould attend more to the 
 fimplicity of a whole. Some uniform, dif- 
 
 tincl 
 
w 
 
 i 
 
 
( 1*9 ) 
 
 tincr. plan fhould always be prefented ; and 
 the feveral parts fhould have relation to each 
 other. The fcenery about a caftle, a ruin, a 
 bridge, a lake, a winding river, or fome re- 
 markable difpofition of ground, may make the 
 leading part of a landfcape ; and if it be fet off 
 with a fuitable diftance, if neceffary, and a pro- 
 per fore-ground, we have fubjecl: enough for 
 a picture. In fhort, there fhould be fome idea 
 of unity in the defign^ as well as in the compofi- 
 tion ; and every part mould concur in fhewing 
 it to advantage. The parts being thus few and 
 fimple, the eye at once conceives the general 
 idea. If the landfcape be a fmifhed pie<:c, all 
 thefe parts mould be enriched with a variety 
 of detail^ which, at the fame time, muff unite 
 in embellifhing the ge?ieral effett. 
 
 Still farther, the probability of every part 
 ihould appear. A caftle mould never be 
 placed where a caftle cannot be fuppofed to 
 ftand. A lake fliould generally have the ap- 
 pendage of a mountainous country ; and the 
 courfe of a winding river fhould be made 
 intelligible by the folding of the hills. In 
 fome of the drawings now offered to the 
 public, it is endeavoured to explain this idea 
 by a few remarks on the back of each. Thefe 
 
 explanatory 
 
( i7° ) 
 
 explanatory drawings are particularly men- 
 tioned in the catalogue. Indeed, a landfcape, 
 which cannot bear to be analized in this way, 
 muft be faulty. Sometimes, it is true, we 
 find in nature itfelf improbable circumftances. 
 The artift for that reafon rejects them. But 
 he is inexcufable, if he purpofely introduce 
 them. 
 
 The general effett of a picture is produced 
 by a unity of lights as well as of compofition. 
 When we have gotten the feveral parts of a 
 landfcape together, — that is, when we are 
 fatisfied with the compojition, ftill we cannot 
 judge of the effetf ■> nor appreciate the picture, 
 till we have introduced the lights which makes 
 a complete change in a landfcape, either for the 
 better or the worfe. It is thus in nature. The 
 appearance of the fame country, under differ- 
 ent effects of light, is totally different. Thefe 
 effects therefore cannot be too much ftudied ; 
 and mould be ftudied when the artift Jinijhes 
 a piSiure^ by making different fketches of the 
 fame fubject, fo as to afcertain the beft. This 
 is not always perhaps enough attended to. 
 In painting indeed, a bad diftribution of light 
 is lefs difcernable. The variety of colour- 
 ing 
 
( «7.i ) 
 
 ing impofes on the fight ; but in a collection 
 of prints or drawings, the defects in light are 
 obvious. 
 
 Gradation is another principle with regard 
 to light, which is very effential in point of 
 beauty. Neither lights, nor (hades, fhould 
 uniformly fpread over one furface ; but fhould 
 graduate from more to lefs. Gradation in 
 light and (hade, though not always feen in 
 nature, is however frequently enough feen to 
 be acknowledged among its heft fources of 
 beauty. It removes that difgufting effect:, 
 which in found is called monotcny ; and pro- 
 duces, in its room, a pleafmg variety on the 
 furfaces of objects. 
 
 The illuftration of thefe few principles (as 
 far as a fketch, or rough drawing can illuftrate 
 them) is all that is aimed at in the drawings 
 now offered to fale. Few of them will afford 
 more than the rude conception of a landfcape. 
 They pretend to fome degree of compofition 
 and effecl ; but to little farther. Hard lines 
 muft be excufed, and an inaccurate detail. 
 They may perhaps have fomewhat more of 
 fcience in them, than of art. What merit they 
 have, is readily allowed without affectation. 
 
 Though 
 
( !? 2 ) 
 
 Though they cannot well claim the title of 
 landfcapes, they may furnifh a few general 
 hints; and fome of them might be made 
 pictures perhaps in the hands of a good 
 matter, who could furnifh the detail. At the 
 fame time, thus much may be faid, that 
 we always conceive the detail to be the in- 
 ferior part of a picture. We look with 
 more pleafure at a landfcape well defigned, 
 compofed, and enlightened, though the parts 
 are inaccurately, or roughly executed, than 
 at one, in which the parts are well made out, 
 but the whole ill-conceived. Thefe ideas 
 were once paradoxically, but well explained 
 by a gentleman, who thought himfelf a better 
 artift, after his hand began to fhake, and his 
 eyes to fail. By the fhaking of my hand, he 
 would fay, my ftroke, which was before for- 
 mal, becomes more free: and when my eyes 
 were good, I entered more into the detail of 
 objects : now I am more imprefTed with the 
 whole. 
 
 In teaching to draw, the ftrefs is laid at firft, 
 as it ought to be, on the parts. If a fcholar 
 can touch a tree, or a building with accuracy, 
 he has fo far attained perfection. But it is the 
 perfection only of a fcholar. The great prin- 
 ciples 
 
( i73 ) 
 
 ciples of his art are ftill behind. Often, how- 
 ever, our riper judgment is fwayed by the ex- 
 cellence of the parts, in preference to a whole. 
 The merit of a picture is fixed perhaps by the 
 mafiers touch ; or by the beauty of his colour- 
 ing; or forne other inferior excellence. But 
 a great critic in arts, formed a different 
 opinion ; 
 
 iEmilium circa ludum faber imus, & ungues 
 Exprimet, & molles imitabitur aere capillos, 
 Infelix opens fummd, quia ponere totum 
 Nefciet. 
 
 A few of the drawings here exhibited, may- 
 be called Jludies ; that is, the fame fubjecl hath 
 been attempted in different ways, both with 
 regard to compofition, and effecl. 
 
 In a few of them, the more redundant 
 defigns of Claude are Amplified. A very 
 numerous collection of prints were taken 
 from the drawings of that mailer. Claude's 
 originals are in the hands of the Duke of 
 Devonfhire. They exhibit many beautiful 
 parts, but rarely a Jimple whole; though the 
 collection, for what reafon is not obvious, 
 is ftyied the book of truth. 
 
 A few of the drawings here offered to fale, 
 are flightly tinted ; not as finifhed drawings ; 
 
 but 
 
( '74 ) 
 
 but juft enough to give a diftinclion among 
 objects. Yet even in thefe flight fketches, 
 unlefs there is fome appearance of harmony^ a 
 very little degree of colouring glares. When 
 therefore you have put in your light and 
 fhade, with Indian ink, fpread over the whole 
 a flight wafh of red and yellow mixed, which 
 make an orange. It may incline either to one 
 or the other, as may beft. fuit your compo- 
 fition. A cold biuifh tint may fometimes 
 have effect. This general wafh will produce 
 a degree of harmony. While the fky is yet 
 moift, tint the upper part of it, if it be orange, 
 with blue, blending them together. Or if a 
 little part only of the fky appear, it may be all 
 blue, or all orange, as may have the beft. 
 effect. When the fky is dry, throw a little 
 blue, or what Reeves calls a neutral tint*^ 
 into the diffances ; and over any water, that 
 may be in the landfcape. Then introduce 
 your browns, which are of various kinds, into 
 the foreground; but let them be introduced 
 {lightly ; and when all is dry, you may touch 
 fome of the brighteft parts with dead green, 
 or a little gall-flone. Burnt terra-de- Sienna, 
 mixed with a little gall-ftone, make a good tint 
 
 for foliage. 
 
 * See his box of colours. 
 
 Some 
 
( >7S ) 
 
 Some apology may perhaps be necefTary for 
 the uniformity of one principle, which runs 
 through moll of the defigns here exhibited ; 
 and that is the practice of throwing the fore- 
 ground into fiade. Many artifts throw their 
 lights on the foreground -, and often, no doubt, 
 with good effect. But, in general, we are 
 perhaps better pleafed with a dark foreground. 
 It makes a kind of graduating fhade, from the 
 eye through the removed parts of the picture ; 
 and carries off the diftance better than any 
 other contrivance. By throwing the light on 
 the foreground \ this gradation is inverted. In 
 many of thefe fketches the lights were at 
 firft left on the foreground ; but on examining 
 them with' a freih eye, they glared fo difagree- 
 ably, that they were afterwards put out. — . Be- 
 fides, the foreground is commonly but an ap- 
 pendage. The middle diftance generally 
 makes the fcene, and requires the moil, diftinc- 
 tion. In hiftory-painting it is the reverfe. 
 The principal part of the fubject occupies the 
 foreground; and the removed parts of the picture 
 form the appendages. In a landfcape too, when 
 a building, or other object: of confequence, ap- 
 pears on the foreground, and the diftance is 
 of little value, the light, on the fame principle, 
 
 may 
 
( 176 ) 
 
 may then fall on the foreground: though a 
 building is fometimes thrown, even in that 
 cafe, with more effect into (hadow. — In moft 
 of thefe (ketches it may be added, that the 
 foreground is only juft wafted in. If the 
 drawings had been finifhed, the foregrounds 
 mould have been broken into parts. But 
 the author fues for candour on the head of 
 finifiing. 
 
 An apology may perhaps be due, on the 
 other fide alfo, for preferving too ftrong a 
 light on fome of the removed parts of the 
 compofition. In general, no part of the fur- 
 face of a country (except, here and there, the 
 reflected parts of water) mould be fo light, 
 as the lighter!: parts of the fky. But this rule 
 is not always obferved in thefe (ketches ; 
 partly becaufe in work fo flight, it might 
 induce heavinefs j and partly, becaufe a little 
 colour might eafily fupply the want of fhade, 
 if thefe (ketches (hould ever be honoured with 
 painting from them. 
 
 With regard to figures introduced in land- 
 fcape, there is often great deformity. Bad ap- 
 pendages of this fort are very difgufting : and 
 yet we often fee views enlivened, (if it can be 
 
 - called 
 
( J 77 ) 
 
 called enlivening) with ill-drawn figures of 
 men, horfes, cows, fheep, waggons, and other 
 objects, which have not even the air of 
 the things they represent. Or perhaps if the 
 figures of a landfcape are tolerably touched, 
 too great a number of them are intro- 
 duced ; or they are /// put together ; or per- 
 haps ill-fuited to the fcene. Some of thefe 
 circumftances are too often found in the bed 
 landfcapes — as often in thofe of Claude, as of 
 any other mafter. And yet I have heard, 
 that Claude had a higher opinion of his own 
 excellence in figures, ' than in any other part 
 of his profeffion. Sir Peter Lely, we are told, 
 wifhed for one of Claude's belt, landfcapes ; 
 but delicately hinted to him, that he mould 
 rather chufe it without figures. Claude felt 
 himfelf hurt at Sir Peter's depreciating that 
 excellence, which he himfelf valued. He 
 filled his landfcape therefore with more 
 figures, than he commonly introduced j and 
 defired Sir Peter, if he did not like it, to leave 
 it for thofe who underflood the compofition 
 
 of landfcape better, This picture, is at 
 
 prefent, I am told, in the hands of Mr. Agar 
 in London ; and the hiftory of it affords good 
 inftruclion to fuch conceited artifts as value 
 
 n them- 
 
( '7« ) 
 
 themfelves on what nobody clfe values. 
 Many landfcape painters however might be 
 named, who knew how to touch a fmall 
 figure, and could people their landfcapes with 
 great beauty. Among thefe the late Mr. 
 Wilfon, one of the belt landfcape-painters, that 
 hath appeared in our days, might be men- 
 tioned. Other painters, who could not paint 
 figures themfelves, have borrowed affiftance 
 from thofe who could. The late ingenious 
 Mr. Barret, who painted every part of inani- 
 mate nature with lingular beauty, had the 
 difcretion to get his landfcapes generally 
 peopled by a better hand than his own. 
 
 It cannot be fuppofed, the figures in thefe 
 fketches are fet up as models. So far from it, 
 that they do not even pretend to the name of 
 figures. They are meant only as fubftitutes 
 to fhew, where two or three figures might be 
 placed to advantage. And yet even fuch 
 figures are better than thofe, in which finifiing 
 is attempted and legs and arms fet on with- 
 out either life, air, or proportion. Indeed 
 the figures here introduced, are commonly 
 drefTed in cloaks, which conceal their de- 
 formities. If legs and arms be not well fet on, 
 they are certainly better concealed. 
 
 As 
 
( *79 ) 
 
 As I can fay nothing myfelf therefore on 
 the fubject of figures, I have gotten a few- 
 hints, and examples from my brother, Mr. 
 Sawrey Gilpin j who, if my prejudices do not 
 miflead me, is well {killed in this part of his 
 art. 
 
 Thefe hints refpecl the Jize s the relative 
 proportion of the parts, the balance of figures 
 at rejl, or in motion ; and what appears to him 
 the eafiefr. mode of fketching figures * : to 
 which are added a few of fuch groups as 
 may be introduced in landfcape. 
 
 In the firfr. place, with regard to the jize of 
 figures, as the known dimenfions of the 
 human body give a fcale to the objects around, 
 exactnefs in this point is a matter of no little 
 confequence. If the figure be too large, it 
 diminifhes the landfcape — if too fmall, it 
 makes it enormous : and yet it feems no very 
 
 * Mr. S. G. had once thoughts of giving the public a few 
 remarks on landfcape-figures, both human and animal ; and 
 illuftrating his remarks by a variety of etched examples. It 
 would be a work (in my opinion at leaft) highly ufeful to all, 
 who draw or paint landfcape. But I fear his engagements 
 will prevent his ever- bringing this work to fuch perfection, as 
 would fatisfy himfelf; and this little extract from it is pro- 
 bably the only part of it that will ever appear. 
 
 n 2 difficult 
 
( 180 ) 
 
 difficult matter to adjuft the proportion, by 
 comparing the figure with fome objecl on the 
 fame ground. 
 
 Though in figures, meant only to adorn 
 landfcape, the exaclnefs of anatomy is not 
 required, yet a fmall degree of difproportion 
 ftrikes the eye with difguft, even in a fketch 
 — in the head and limbs efpecially. The body 
 naturally forms itfelf into two parts of equal 
 length. From the crown of the head to 
 the point where the limbs divide, is one half. 
 This may be fubdivided into four parts. The 
 head and neck to the top of the moulder 
 make one of thefe fub-divifions : from the 
 top of the moulder to the lower line of the 
 mufcie of the breaft we meafure another : 
 from thence to the hips a third ; and from 
 the hips to the point where the limbs divide, 
 a fourth. The legs and ar?ns admit each of 
 a divifion into two parts. In the former, the 
 upper part of the knee is the point of di- 
 vifion ; as the elbow is in the latter, when 
 the hand is clofed. When the arm hangs 
 down, and the fingers are extended, their 
 points will reach the middle of the thigh. 
 But though we have no occafion to obferve 
 this divifion accurately in ornamental figures, 
 
 it 
 
( i8i ) 
 
 it may be ufeful to have a general idea 
 of it. 
 
 The balance i however, of a figure, even in 
 landfcape, is matter of great confequence. 
 If every thing elfe were right but this, the 
 effecl: of the figure would be deftroyed. A 
 figure intended to be in motion, from an un- 
 happy poife of its limbs, would appear to 
 /land full. And from the fame caufe, a Jland- 
 ing figure would appear to be a falling one. 
 The balance of fianding figures may be regu- 
 lated by a fuppofed perpendicular divid- 
 ing the body, from the crown of tne head, 
 into two parts. If the legs bear equal 
 weight, this line will fall exaclly between 
 them. If the weight is borne unequally, the 
 line will fall nearer that leg which bears the 
 greateft proportion : and if the whole burden 
 be thrown on one leg, the line will pafs 
 through the centre of its heel. When the 
 weight is thus unequally diftributed, the 
 moulder on one fide forms a counterpoife to 
 the hip on the other : and when the moulder 
 is not a fufficient counterpoife, as in the cafe 
 of bearing a weight in one hand, the contrary 
 arm is thrown out to reflore the balance. — 
 Stooping figures come under the fame rule> 
 
 only 
 
( 182 ) 
 
 only the perpendicular will arife from the 
 centre of gravity, at the feet of the figure, and 
 divide it into equal parts. The progrejive 
 motion of figures may alfo be adjufted by a 
 perpendicular, drawn from the foot, that 
 bears the weight; the figure being projected 
 beyond it in proportion to the velocity, with 
 which it is reprefented to move*. 
 
 A few words may be added with regard to 
 the eafiefk manner of -fetching flight figures in 
 landfcape. To attempt finifhing the limbs at 
 firft, would lead to ftiffnefs. If the figures 
 are placed near the eye, a little attention to 
 drawing is requifite : and the fimpleft, and 
 perhaps the ben: method will be, to fketch 
 them in lines nearly flraight, under the regu- 
 lations above given. A little fwelling of the 
 mufcles, and a few touches to mark the ex- 
 tremities, the articulation of the joints, and 
 the lharp folds of the drapery, may afterwards 
 be given, and will be fufncient -j-. 
 
 After gaining a knowledge in the form of 
 figures, the next point is to group them. The 
 form depends on rule ; the group more on 
 
 * To illuflrate thefe remarks, fee plate i. 
 f To illuflrate thefe remarks, fee plate 2. 
 
 ta/le. 
 
— J-s***^ 
 
 
( i8 3 ) 
 
 tajle. A few landfcape-groups are here fpeci- 
 fied, which may aflift the young artift in 
 combining his figures*. 
 
 With regard to his own drawings^ the 
 author hath only to obferve farther, that they 
 will appear to moft advantage, if they are 
 examined by candle-light ; or, if in day-light, 
 by intercepting a ftrong light. This mode 
 of viewing them will befl fhew the effect, in 
 which chiefly confifts the little merit they 
 have ; and will likewife conceal the faultinefs 
 of the execution in the feveral details. Such 
 of thefe drawings however as are tinted, can- 
 not be examined by candle-light. 
 
 * See plate 3. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Strahan and Pterton, 
 
 Printeis-Stieet, London. 
 
A Catalogue of 
 
 Mr. Gilpin's Picturesque Works, fold by 
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 OBSERVATIONS on the River Wye, and feveral Parts of 
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 OBSERVATIONS on feveral Parts of England, particu- 
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 OBSERVATIONS on feveral Parts of Great Britain, par- 
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