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ESSAYS, 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE BEAUTY; 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
THREE ESSAYS: 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE BEAUTY; 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE TRAVEL; 
 
 AND ON 
 
 SKETCHING LANDSCAPE: 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED A POEM, ON 
 
 LANDSCAPE PAINTING. 
 
 Second tuition. 
 
 By WILLIAM GILPIN, A.M. 
 
 PREBENDARY OF SALISBURY; 
 AND VICAR OF BOLDRE IN NEW-FOREST, NEAR LYMINGTON. 
 
 PRINTED 
 
 Pontoon ; 
 
 FOR R. BLAMIRE, IN 
 
 1794. 
 
 THE 
 
 STRAND. 
 
T O 
 
 WILLIAM LOCK, Esq; 
 
 F 
 
 NORBURY-PARK, in SURREY. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 T h e following eflays, 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 objedt 
 of criticifm : but I think, my dear fir, we ad- 
 mirers of the pi&urefque are a little mifunder- 
 ftood with regard to our general intention. I 
 
 A have 
 
( s ) 
 
 have feveral times been furprized at finding u? 
 reprefented, 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 fail, we always fpeak a different 
 language. We fpeak of the grand fcenes of 
 nature, tho uninterefting in a pitturefque light y 
 as having a ftrong effedt on the imagination — 
 often a flronger, than when they are pro- 
 perly difpofed for the pencil. We every where 
 make a diftin&ion between fcenes, that are 
 beautiful, amujing, or otherwife pleafing , and 
 fcenes that are piBurefque. We examine, and 
 admire both. Even artificial objedts we admire, 
 whether in a grand, or in a humble ftile, tho 
 unconnected with pidlurefque 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 , and look with bene- 
 volence, and pleafure, on the works of men. 
 
 In 
 
( » ) 
 
 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 ; 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 piBurefque kind 
 we exclude the appendages of tillage, and 
 in general the works of men - 9 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 - y nay we admire 
 them with him : all we defire, is, that he 
 would leave us as quietly in the pofleffion of 
 one fource of amufement more. 
 
 Under this apology, my dear fir, I have 
 ventured, in the following efiays, to inlarge 
 a little both on our theory, and practice. In 
 the firft eflay (that we may be fairly under- 
 ftood) the diftinguijhing charaSteriJlic is marked, 
 
 A a of 
 
( iv y 
 
 of fuch beautiful objetts, 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 pidturefque 
 light : and in the third, a few rules are given 
 for Iketching landfcape after nature. I have 
 pradlifed drawing as an amufement, and re- 
 laxation, for many years ; and here offer the 
 refult of my experience. Some readinefs in 
 execution indeed, it is fuppofed, is neceflary, 
 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 pidturefque works, which I have 
 given the public, I have endeavoured not to 
 repeat myfelf : and where I could not throw 
 new light on a fubjedt, I have haftened over 
 it : — only in a work of this kind, it was ne- 
 celfary to bring them together in one view* 
 
 With 
 
( v ) 
 
 With regard to the poem, annexed to thefe 
 effays, fomething more (hould be faid. As 
 that fmall part of the public, who perfonally 
 know me - y 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 ru/es, he thought, 
 were good, he wiflied me to finifh my frag- 
 ment ; and if I foould not like it as a poem, I 
 might turn it into an ejfay in profe. — As this 
 was only what I expe&ed, I was not difap- 
 pointedj tho not encouraged to proceed. So 
 
 * Edward Forfter, efq; of Walthamftow. 
 
 I trou- 
 
( vi ) 
 
 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 Westmore- 
 land, as too poetical, I told him the fate of 
 my fragment ; lamenting the hardlhip 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 
 defired to fee my verfes -> and being pleafed 
 with the fubjeft, he offered, if I would finilh 
 my poem (however carelefsly as to metrical 
 exaftnefs) he would adjuft the verification. 
 But he found, he had engaged in a more 
 arduous tafk, than he expelled. My rules, 
 and tecnical terms were ftubborn, and would 
 not eafily glide into verfe ; and I was as ftub- 
 born, as they, and would not relinquifli the 
 fcientific part for the poetry. My friend's 
 
 * Rev. Mr. Mafon. 
 
 good- 
 
( vii ) 
 
 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 putting Propria qua maribus, 
 and As in prafenti, into verfe. If the rules 
 have injured the poetry ; as rules at leaft, I 
 
 * Extract of a letter from Mr. Mafon. 
 
 ■ _— « I have inferted confcientioufty 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 ltead I have always 
 *' ufed tuft. I have ventured therefore to infert it adjeclively ; 
 *' and I hope, I fhall be forgiven. Except in this fingle 
 " inftance, I know not that I have deviated in the leaft from 
 
 " the alterations, you fent. 1 now quit all that relates to 
 
 " the poem, not without fome felf-fatisfaclion in thinking it is 
 " over : for, to own the truth, had I thought you would have 
 *' expected fuch almoft mathematical exactitude of terms, as I 
 " find you do ; and in confequence turned lines tolerably 
 44 poetical, into profaic, for the fake of precifion, I Ihould 
 " never have ventured to give ypu my amftance." 
 
 hope, 
 
( viii ) 
 
 hope, they will meet your approbation. I am, 
 dear lir, with the greateft efteem, and regard, 
 
 Your fincere, 
 
 and moft obedient, 
 
 humble fervant, 
 
 WILLIAM GILPIN. 
 
 ricar>s-hill y 
 
 Oft. 12, I79I* 
 
ESSAY I. 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE BEAUTY. 
 
ESSAY I. 
 
 D 
 
 ISPUTES about beauty might perhaps 
 be involved in lefs confufion, if a 
 diftin&ion were eftablifhed, which 
 certainly exifts, between fuch objedts as are 
 beautiful, and fuch as are piffiurefque — between 
 thofe, which pleafe the eye in their natural 
 ft ate ; and thofe, which pleafe from fome 
 quality, capable of being illuftrated by painting. 
 
 Ideas of beauty vary with the objedts, and 
 with the eye of the fpeftator. 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 obje£t with the rules of his 
 art, fees it in a different light from the man 
 of general tafte, who furveys it only as limply 
 beautiful. 
 
 B 2 As 
 
( 4 ) 
 
 As this difference therefore between the beau- 
 tiful, and the pidlurefque appears really to exift, 
 and muft depend on fome peculiar conftruction 
 of the object ; it may be worth while to ex- 
 amine, what that peculiar conftrudtion is. 
 We inquire not into the general fources of 
 beauty, either in nature, or in reprefentation. 
 This would lead into a nice, and fcientific 
 difcuffion, in which it is not our purpofe to 
 engage. The queftion limply is, What is that 
 quality in objeBs, which 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 
 neatnejs - y for the terms are nearly fynonymous. 
 The higher the marble is polifhed, the brighter 
 the filver is rubbed, and the more the maho- 
 gany mines, the more each is confidered as 
 an objecl 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 pleafure-ground, every thing 
 rough, and flovenly offends. 
 
 Mr. 
 
( 5 ) 
 
 Mr. Burke, enumerating the properties of 
 beauty, conliders fmoothnefs as one of the 
 moft eflential. " A very confiderable part 
 of the effeit of beauty, fays he, is owing to 
 this quality : indeed the moft confiderable : 
 for take any beautiful objed:, and give it a 
 broken, and rugged furface, and however 
 well-formed it may be in other refpedts, it 
 pleafes no longer. Whereas, let it want ever 
 fo many of the other conftituents, if it want 
 not this, it becomes more plealing, than 
 
 almoft all the others without it."* 
 
 How far Mr. Burke may be right in making 
 fmoothnefs the moji confiderable fource of beauty, 
 I rather doubt-f*. A confiderable one it cer- 
 tainly is. 
 
 Thus 
 
 * Upon the fublime and beautiful, page 213. 
 
 f 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 object is generally 
 
 characterized 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 qualites ; their affections ; their 
 gentlenefs ; or their docility. Beauty, no doubt, awakens 
 love ; but alfo excites admiration, and refpect. 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 reprefentation it r feems fomewhat 
 odd, yet perhaps we fhall find it equally 
 true, that the reverfe of this is the cafe ; 
 and that the ideas of neat and fmooth, inftead 
 of being pidturefque, in reality ftrip the 
 objedt, in which they relide, of all preten- 
 
 fions to piffurefque beauty. Nay, farther, 
 
 we do not fcruple to affert, that roughnefs 
 forms the moft effential point of difference 
 between the beautiful, and the pidlurefque ; 
 as it feems to be that particular quality, 
 which makes objedts chiefly plealing 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 
 pidturefque - y and both are obfervable 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 defcription of figures, poflefled 
 of that fpecies of beauty, we feek for terms, which recommend 
 them more to cur 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 pitlurefque 
 beauty ; and how far they mark that dif- 
 ference among objedts, 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 plea- 
 fing. But if we introduce it in a pidture, it 
 immediately becomes a formal objedt, and 
 ceafes to pleafe. Should we wifh to give it 
 pidturefque beauty, we raufc 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 objedls, 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 objedts, 
 harmonious and the wM^^i^g: of the walk in 
 the very line of beauty. All this is true ; but 
 the fmoothnefs of the whole, tho right, and as 
 it mould be in nature, offends in pifture. 
 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 fmootby make it rough ; and you make 
 it alfo piffiurefque. All the other ingredients 
 of beauty it already poftelTed. 
 
 You fit for your pidture. The mailer, 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 objedt. But 
 is it therefore a more pleafing pidture ? I fear 
 not. Leave Reynolds to himfelf, and he will 
 make it pifturefque : he will throw the hair 
 diftievelled about your moulders. Virgil would 
 have done the fame. It was his ufual pradtice 
 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, 
 
 • diffundere ventis*. 
 
 Modern poets alfo, who have any ideas of na- 
 tural beauty, do the fame. I introdue M ilton 
 to reprefent them all. In his pidture of Eve, 
 he tells us, that 
 
 to her (lender wafte 
 
 Her unadorned golden trelfes were 
 Dimevelled, 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 horreiidus 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 
 pi&urefque, from it's undulating form, and varied tints; and 
 from a kind of life, which it afTumes 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 afliiming. 
 
 it 
 
( io ) 
 
 it in life ! how beautiful in reprefentation ! 
 It is one of thofe objedts, that pleafe, as many 
 do, both in nature, and on canvas. But 
 would you fee the human face in it's brightest 
 form of piBurefque beauty, examine that pa- 
 triarchal head. What is it, which gives that 
 dignity of chara&er ; that force of expreffion : 
 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 ftrongly marked, and 
 loling themfelves in the fhaggy 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 fuppofed 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-poffeffion of the world for Homer to fecure 
 approbation to their works by acknowledging them to be re- 
 flected images of his conceptions. So Phidias aflured his 
 countrymen, that he had taken his Jupiter from the defcription 
 of that god in the firft book of Homer. The fact: is, none of 
 the features contained in that image, except the brow, can be 
 
 rendered 
 
( n ) 
 
 he had probably feen finely reprefented in fome 
 ftatue ; in a word, what is it, but the rough 
 touches of age ? 
 
 As an objedt of the mixed kind, partaking 
 both of the beautiful, and the piBurefque, we 
 admire the human figure alfo. The lines, and 
 furface of a beautiful human form are fo in- 
 finitely varied ; the lights and fliades, which it 
 receives, are fo exquifitely tender in fome 
 parts, and yet fo round, and bold in others ; 
 it's proportions are fo juft: ; and it's limbs fo 
 fitted to receive all the beauties of grace, and 
 
 rendered by fculpture. But he knew what advantage fiich 
 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 lhape, and face. — If by xvavewnp 
 tirofyvcn, we underftand, as I think we may, a projecting brow, 
 which cajls a broad, and deep Jhadow over the eye, Clarke has 
 rendered it ill by nigris fuperciliis, which moft people would 
 conftrue into black eye-brows. Nor ,has Pope, tho he affected 
 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. 
 
 contrail ; 
 
( 12 ) 
 
 contraft ; 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 may fo fpeak, the more pidtu- 
 refque it appears. When it is agitated by 
 pafiion, and it's mufcles fwoln by ftrong ex- 
 ertion, the whole frame is fhewn to the moft 
 
 advantage. But when we fpeak of mufcles 
 
 fwoln by exertion, we mean only natural exer- 
 tions, not an afte£ted difplay of anatomy, in 
 which the mufcles, tho juftly placed, may ftill 
 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 : but this is merely owing to our 
 feldom feeing it naturally reprefented in ftrong 
 a£tion. Even among the beft mafters we fee 
 little knowledge of anatomy. One will inflate 
 the mufcles violently to produce fome trifling 
 effedt : another will fcarce fwell them in the 
 production of a laboured one. The eye foon 
 learns to fee a defe&, tho unable to amend it. 
 But when the anatomy is perfectly juft, the 
 human body will always be more pi&urefque 
 
 in 
 
( i3 ) 
 
 in a&ion, 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 muft, as it were, be mot 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 atthn — the Apollo Belvidere — Michael Angelo's Torfo — 
 Arria and Paetus — 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 {till 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, 
 fliews that the ancient fculptors confidered the reprefentation of 
 fpirited attion as an achievement. The moderns have been lefs 
 daring in attempting it. But I believe connoifteurs univerfally 
 give the preference to thofe ftatues, in which the great mafters 
 have fo fuccefsfully exhibited animated action. 
 
 Animal 
 
( U ) 
 
 Animal life, as well as human, is, in gene- 
 ral, beautiful both in nature, and on canvas. 
 We admire the horfe, as a real objeff ; the 
 elegance of his form ; the ftatelinefs of his 
 tread the fpirit of all his motions ; and the 
 gloffinefs of his coat. We admire him alfo 
 in reprefentation. But as an objedt of pi£tu- 
 refque 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 Berghem's pidtures : 
 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. Smooth- 
 coated 
 
 * The idea of the ruffled plumage of the eagle is taken from 
 the celebrated eagle of Pindar, in his firfb Pythian ode; which 
 has exercifed the pens of feveral poets; and is equally poetical, 
 and picturefque. He is introduced as an inftance of the power 
 of mufic. In Gray's ode on the progref* of poefy we have 
 the following picture of him. 
 
 Perching on the fceptered hand 
 
 Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feathered king 
 
 With ruffled plumes, and nagging wing: 
 
 Quenched in dark clouds of {lumber lie 
 
 The terror of his beak, and lightening of his eye. 
 
 Akenfide's 
 
( H ) 
 
 coated animals could not produce fo pi&u- 
 refque an effed:. 
 
 But when the painter thus prefers the cart- 
 horfe, the cow, or the afs to other objedts 
 more beautiful in tbemfelves, 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 ftern eagle; by the numbered notes 
 Poffefled; and fatiate with the melting tone; 
 Sovereign of birds. q t> . . i 
 
 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 doling eyelid feals, 
 And o'er his heaving limbs, in loofe array, 
 
 To every balmy gale the ruffling feathers play. 
 
 Suggeftions 
 
( i6 ) 
 
 Suggeftions of this kind are ungrateful. 
 The art of painting allows you all you wifh. 
 You defire to have a beautiful objeft painted — 
 your horfe, for inftance, led out of the ftable 
 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. 
 
 But 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 more forcibly — -becaufe it's fharp lines 
 afford him a greater facility of execution ? 
 Is the fmart touch of a pencil the grand de- 
 fideratum of painting ? Does he difcover nothing 
 in piffiurefque objeBs, but qualities, which admit 
 of being rendered with fpirit ? 
 
 I fhould not vindicate him, if he did. At 
 the fame time, a free execution is fo very 
 fafcinating a part of painting, that we need 
 
 not 
 
( i7 ) 
 
 not wonder, if the artift lay a great ftrefs 
 upon it. — It is not however intirely owing, 
 as fbme imagine, to the difficulty of matter- 
 ing an elegant line, that he prefers a rough 
 one. In part indeed this may be the cafe 
 for if an elegant line be not delicately hit 
 off, it is the moft infipid of all lines : whereas 
 in the defcription of a rough objedt, an error 
 in delineation is not eafily feen. However 
 this is not the whole of the matter. A 
 free, bold touch is in itfelf pleafing*. In 
 elegant figures indeed there muit be a delicate 
 outline — at leaft a line true to nature : yet 
 the furfaces even of fuch figures may be 
 touched with freedom ; and in the appen- 
 dages of the compofition there muft be a 
 mixture of rougher objefts, or there will be 
 a want of contraft. In landfcape univerfally 
 the rougher objedls are admired which give 
 the freeft fcope to execution. If the pencil 
 
 * A ftroke may be called free, when there is no appearance 
 of 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 fugged" only 
 how eafily a line, which means nothing, may be executed. 
 Such a ftroke is not bold, but impudent. 
 
 c 
 
 be 
 
( i8 ) 
 
 be timid, or hefitating, little beauty refults. 
 The execution then only is pleating, when the 
 hand firm, and yet decifive, freely touches the 
 chara&eriftic parts of each objedt. 
 
 If indeed, either in literary, or in pic- 
 turefque compofition you endeavour to draw 
 the reader, or the fpedtator from the fubjeB to 
 the mode of executing it, your affeftation * dif- 
 gufts. At the fame time, if fome care, and 
 pains be not beftowed on the execution y your 
 llovenlinefs 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 a peafant : and the 
 intellect receives it as fuch. But the artift, who 
 
 * Language, like light, is a medium ; and the true phi- 
 lofophic {tile, like light from a north-window, exhibits objects 
 clearly, and diftinctly, without foliciting attention to itfelf. 
 In painting fubjecls of amufement indeed, language may 
 gild fomewhat more, and colour with the dies of fancy : but 
 where information is of more importance, than entertainment, 
 tho you cannot throw too Jirong a light, you mould carefully 
 avoid a coloured one. The {tile of fome writers refembles a 
 bright light placed between 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 {tile of fuch writers. 
 
 deals 
 
( 19 ) 
 
 deals in lines, furfaces, and colours, which 
 are an immediate addrefs to the eye, con- 
 ceives the very truth it/elf 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- 
 fifts 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 
 objedt. He finds it in many other refpedts 
 accommodated to his art. In the firft place, 
 his composition 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 objedts 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. Pidturefque compo- 
 fition confifts in uniting in one whole a variety 
 of parts ; and thefe parts can only be obtained 
 from rough objedts. If the fmooth moun- 
 
 C 2 tains, 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 tains, and plains were broken by different 
 objects, the compofition might be good, on 
 a fuppolition the great lines of it were fo 
 before. 
 
 Variety too is equally neceffary in his com- 
 pofition : fo is contraji. Both thefe he finds 
 in rough objedls ; and neither of them in 
 fmooth. Variety indeed, in fome degree, he 
 may find in the outline of a fmooth objedt : 
 but by no means enough to fatisfy the eye, 
 without including the furface alfo. 
 
 From rough objedts alfo he feeks the effeft 
 of light and Jhade 9 which they are as well 
 difpofed to produce, as they are the beauty 
 of compofition. One uniform light, or one 
 uniform fhade produces no effedl. It is the 
 various furfaces of objedts, fometimes turn- 
 ing to the light in one way, and fometimes 
 in another, that give the painter his choice 
 of opportunities in mafling, and graduating 
 both his lights, and fhades. — The richnefs 
 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 lining fhews all it's 
 fmall inequalities, and roughneffes ; or in 
 
 the 
 
( 21 ) 
 
 the painter's language, inriches it. The 
 
 beauty alfo of catching lights arifes from the 
 roughnefs of objedts. 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 madow. A fmooth furface hath 
 no fuch prominences. 
 
 In colouring alfo, rough objedts give the 
 painter another advantage. Smooth bodies 
 are commonly as uniform in their colour, as 
 they are in their furface. In gloffy objedts, 
 tho fmooth, the colouring may fometimes 
 vary. In general however it is otherwife ; 
 in the objedts of landfcape, particularly. The 
 fmooth fide of a hill is generally of one 
 uniform colour ; while the fradtured 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 fadt 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 objedts to 
 fmooth. The very eflence of his art requires it. 
 
 C 3 As 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 As pidturefque beauty therefore fo greatly 
 depends on rough objedts, are we to exclude 
 every idea of fmoothnefs from mixing with it ? 
 Are we ftruck with no plealing 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 pidturefque : but 
 we muft at the fame time recoiled:, that, in 
 fadt, the fmoothnefs of the lake is more in 
 reality, than in appearance. Were it fpread 
 upon the canvas in one limple hue, it would 
 certainly be a dull, fatiguing objedt. But to 
 the eye it appears broken by fhades of various 
 kinds ; by the undulations of the water - y or by 
 reflections from all the rough objedts in it's 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 It is thus too in other glofly bodies. Tho 
 the horfe, in a rough ftate as we have juft 
 obferved, or worn down with labour, is more 
 adapted to the pencil, than when his fides 
 mine with brufhing, and high-feeding ; yet 
 in this latter ftate alfo he is certainly a pidtu- 
 refque objedt. But it is not his fmooth, and 
 mining coat, that makes him fo. It is the 
 apparent interruption of that fmoothnefs by a 
 variety of fhades, and colours, which produces 
 
 the 
 
( 2 3 ) 
 
 the effed. Such a play of mufcles appears, 
 every where, through the finenefs of his fkin, 
 gently fwelling, and finking into each other — 
 he is all over fo lubricus afpici, the reflections 
 of light are fo continually ihifting 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 pifturefque. 
 But it is not the fmoothnefs of the furface, 
 which produces the effedt — 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 pifture. Even the plumage of 
 
 C 4 the 
 
( 2 4 ) 
 
 the fwan, which to the inaccurate obferver ap- 
 pears only of one fimple hue, is in fad: varied with 
 a thoufand foft fhadows, and brilliant touches, 
 at once difcoverable to the pi&urefque eye. 
 
 Thus too a piece of polifhed marble may 
 be pidturefque : but it is only, when the polifh 
 brings out beautiful veins, which in appearance 
 break the furface by a variety of lines, and 
 colours. Let the marble be perfectly white, 
 and the efFe£t vanifhes. Thus alfo a mirror 
 may have pidturefque beauty ; but it is only 
 from it's refledtions. In an unrefledting ftate, 
 it is inlipid. 
 
 In ftatuary we fometimes fee an inferior 
 artift give his marble a glofs, thinking to atone 
 for his bad workmanfhip by his excellent 
 polifh. The effect fhews in how fmall a 
 degree fmoothnefs enters into the idea of the 
 pidturefque. When the light plays on the 
 fhining coat of a pampered horfe, it plays 
 among the lines, and mufcles of nature ; and 
 is therefore founded in truth. But the polifh 
 of marble-flefh is unnatural*. The lights 
 
 therefore 
 
 * On all human flefli held between the eye and the light, 
 there is a degree of polifh. I fpeak not here of fuch a polifh 
 
 as 
 
( *5 ) 
 
 therefore are falfe j and fmoothnefs being here 
 one of the chief qualities to admire, we are 
 difgufted y and fay, it makes bad, worfe. 
 
 After al], we mean not to affert, that even 
 a fimple fmooth furface is in no fituation pic- 
 ture fque. In contrafi it certainly may be : 
 nay in contrail: 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 neceffarily be 
 fet off with the fmoother. But the point lies 
 here : to make an objed; in a peculiar man- 
 ner pidturefque, there miift be a proportion of 
 roughnefs ; fo much at leaft, as to make an 
 oppofition , which in an objed: limply beau- 
 tiful, is unneceffary. 
 
 Some quibbling opponent may throw out, 
 that wherever there is fmoothnefs, there muft 
 alio be roughnefs. The fmootheft plain con- 
 fifts of many rougher parts ; and the rougheft 
 rock of many fmoother ; 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 flelli ; but of the higher!: polifh, which can be 
 given to marble ; and which has always a very bad effect. If 
 I wanted an example, the buft of arch-bimop 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 pidturefque eye is to furvey nature not to 
 anatomize matter. It throws it's glances around 
 in the broad-caft ftile. It comprehends an 
 extenlive tradt 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 elfential difference be- 
 tween the beautiful, and the piffiurefque ; it 
 may be expedted, that we fhould point out 
 the reafon of this difference. It is obvious 
 enough, why the painter prefers rough objedts 
 to fmooth * : but it is not fo obvious, why the 
 quality of roughnefs fhould make an efiential 
 difference between objedts of beauty, and objedts 
 fuited to artificial reprefentation. 
 
 To this queftion, we might anfwer, that 
 the pidturefque 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 
 
( 27 ) 
 
 for fmoothnefs ; and the images of nature with 
 irregularity, which is only another name for 
 roughnefs, we have here a folution of our 
 queftion. 
 
 But is this folution fatisfactory ? I fear not. 
 Tho art often abounds with regularity, it does 
 not follow, that all art muft neceflarily do 
 fo. The picturefque 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 characteriftics, 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 
 caftle ? What painter rejects it, becaufe it 
 
 is artificial ? What beautiful effects does 
 
 Vandervelt produce from fhipping ? In the 
 hands of fuch a matter it furnifhes almoft 
 as beautiful forms, as any in the whole circle 
 
 of picturefque objects ? And what could 
 
 the hiftory-painter do, without his draperies 
 to combine, contraft, and harmonize his 
 figures ? Uncloathed, they could never be 
 grouped. How could he tell his ftory, with- 
 out arms ; religious utenfils - y and the rich 
 furniture of banquets ? Many of thefe con- 
 tribute 
 
( 28 ) 
 
 tribute greatly to embellifh his pidtures with 
 pleafing fhapes. 
 
 Shall we then feek the folution of our 
 queftion in the great foundation of pidturefque 
 beauty ? in the happy union of Jimplicity and 
 variety, to which the rough ideas eflentially 
 contribute. An extended plain is a fimple 
 objedt. It is the continuation of only one 
 unifprm 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 y and variety ; from whence refults 
 
 the pifturefque. Is this a fatisfadtory anfwer 
 
 to our queftion ? 
 
 By no means. Simplicity and variety arc 
 fources of the beautiful y as well as of the 
 piffurefque. Why does the architedl break 
 the front of his pile with ornaments ? Is 
 it not to add variety to limplicity ? 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 objeft 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 aft Jiricily imi- 
 tative, thofe objedts will of courfe appear 
 moft advantageoufly to the pid:urefque eye, 
 which are the moft eafily imitated. The 
 ftronger the features are, the ftronger will be 
 the effect of imitation ; and as rough objefts 
 have the ftrongeft features, they will confe- 
 quently, when reprefented, appear to moft 
 advantage. Is this anfwer more fatisfadlory ? 
 
 Very little, in truth. Every painter, knows 
 that a fmooth objedl 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 prefl'ed with dif- 
 ficulties will fay any thing) that painting is 
 not an art Jiricily imitative, but rather deceptive 
 — that by an afiemblage 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 objedts, which we call pidhirefque, 
 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 picture fque. Have we now at- 
 tained a fatisfadtory account of the matter ? 
 
 Juft as much fo, as before. Many painters 
 of note did not ufe the rough ftile of painting ; 
 and yet their pidtures are as admirable, as the 
 pictures of thofe, who did : nor are rough 
 objedts lefs pidturefque on their canvas, than 
 on the canvas of others : that is, they paint 
 rough objedts fmoothly. 
 
 Thus foiled, fhould 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 fatisfadtion in our 
 prefent queftion, new doubts would arife. The 
 very firft principles of our art would be quef- 
 tioned. Difficulties would ftart up vejiibulum 
 ante ipfum. We fhould be afked, What is 
 
 beauty ? What is tafte ? Let us ftep alide 
 
 a moment, and liften to the debates of the 
 learned on thefe heads. They will at leaft 
 
 (hew 
 
( g* ) 
 
 {hew us, that however we may wifti to fix 
 principles, our inquiries are feldom fatisfadtory. 
 
 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 mens faces 
 are different, we may well fuppofe their minds 
 to be fo like wife. He rejects the idea there- 
 fore of innate tafte ; and in the room of this 
 makes utility the ftandard both of tafte, and 
 beauty. 
 
 Another 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 ftould be nearer 
 the truth. 
 
 A fourth 
 
( 32 ) 
 
 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 obje£ts, 
 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 impofiible that any thing 
 determined can refult from terms fo inaccurate. 
 But if we lay afide a fenfe of beauty, and adopt 
 proportion, we mall 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 
 
 through 
 
( 33 ) 
 
 through a thoufand lines, is ftill the fame ; 
 and if we could only difcover their principles 
 of proportion, we fhould have the arcanum of 
 this fcience ; and might fettle all our difputes 
 about tafte, with great eafe. 
 
 Thus, in our inquiries into jirfi principles, 
 we go on, without end, and without fatis- 
 fadtion. The human underftanding is unequal 
 to the fearch. In philofophy we inquire for 
 them in vain — in phyfics — in metaphylics — in 
 morals. Even in the polite arts, where the 
 fubjedt, one fliould imagine, is lefs recondite, 
 the inquiry, we find, is equally vague. We 
 are puzzled, and bewildered - y 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 fujjiciently underjlood, 
 it may fuggeft ufeful difcoveries. But if it 
 be not fo (and where is our certainty in thefe 
 difquilitions) it will unqueftionably mijlead. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST ESSAY. 
 
 D 
 
( 34 ) 
 
 AS the fubjedt of the foregoing eflay is 
 rather new, and I doubted, whether 
 fufficiently 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 19th, 1 79 1. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Tho I read now but little, yet 
 I have read with great attention the eflay, 
 which you was fo good to put into my hands, 
 on the difference between the beautiful, and the 
 piffurefque and I may truly fay, I have re- 
 ceived from it much pleafure, and improve- 
 ment. 
 
 Without oppofing any of your fentiments, 
 it has fuggefted an idea, that may be worth 
 confideration — whether the epithet piBurefque 
 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 tajie ; which we fhould think im- 
 properly applied to Homer, or Milton, but 
 very well to Pope, or Prior. I fufpedt that the 
 application of thefe words are to excellences of 
 an inferior order ; and which are incompatible 
 with the grand ftile. 
 
 You are certainly right in faying, that va- 
 riety of tints and forms is pidturefque $ 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 
 paflages, that particularly ftruck me ; but I 
 was afraid to ufe my eyes fo much. 
 
 The effay has lain upon my table •> and I 
 think no day has palled without my looking at 
 it, reading a little at a time. Whatever ob- 
 jections prefented themfelves at firft view,* 
 
 were 
 
 * Sir Jofhua Reynolds had feen this eflay, feveral years ago, 
 through Mr. Mafon, who fhevved it to him. He then made 
 
 D 2. fpme 
 
( 36 ) 
 
 were done away on a clofer infpe£tion : and I 
 am not quite lure, but that is the cafe in regard 
 to the obfervation, which I have ventured to 
 make on the word pitfurefque. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 To the rev d . Mr. Gilpin, 
 Vicar's-hill. 
 
 The ANSWER. 
 
 May 2d, 1791. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I am much obliged to you for 
 looking over my elTay at a time, when the 
 complaint in your eyes muft have made an 
 intrufion of this kind troublefome. But as the 
 fubjedt was rather novel, I wifhed much for 
 your fandlion ; and you have given it me in as 
 flattering a manner, as I could wifh. 
 
 With regard to the term piffurefque, I 
 have always myfelf ufed it merely to denote 
 juch objects, as are proper fubje&s for painting: 
 
 fome objections to it : particularly he thought, that the term 
 ■pitturefque, mould be applied only to the works of nature. His 
 concellion here is an inftance of that candour, which is a very 
 remarkable part of his character ; and which is generally one of 
 the diftinguifliing marks of true genius. 
 
 fo 
 
( 37 ) 
 
 fo 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 
 tajie in painting — or the art of fafcinating the 
 eye by fplendid colouring, and artificial com- 
 binations ; which the inferior fchools valued j 
 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 rub- 
 ied: farther by illuftrating a difquifition of this 
 kind. Except the cartoons, I never faw a 
 pidlure of Raphael's, that anfwered my idea - 7 
 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 line : and 
 when I fpeak of variety, I certainly do not 
 mean to confound it's effedts with thofe of 
 grandeur. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 WILLIAM GILPIN. 
 
 To fir Jofhua Reynolds, 
 Leicefter-fquare. 
 
 d 3 
 
ESSAY II. 
 
 ON 
 
 PICTURESQUE TRAVEL. 
 
( 4i ) 
 
 ESSAY II. 
 
 ENOUGH has been faid to fhew the 
 difficulty of afjigning caufes: let us then 
 take another courfe, and amufe ourfelves with 
 fearcbing after ejfeffis. This is the general 
 intention of pidturefque 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 an end, which may 
 poflibly engage fome vacant minds ; and may 
 indeed afford a rational amufement to fuch as 
 travel for more important purpofes. 
 
 In treating of pidturefque travel, we may 
 confider firft it's objeSl ; and fecondly it's fources 
 of amufement. 
 
 It's 
 
( 42 ) 
 
 It's objedt is beauty of every kind, which 
 either art, or nature can produce : but it is 
 chiefly that fpecies of beauty, which we have 
 endeavoured to characterize in the preceding 
 elfay under the name of pifiurefque. This great 
 objedt 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 diftances . Thefe 
 
 objedts in themf elves produce infinite variety. 
 No two rocks, or trees are exadtiy the fame. 
 They are varied, a fecond time, by combination ; 
 and almoft as much, a third time, by different 
 lights, and jhades, and other aerial effedts. 
 Sometimes we find among them the exhibition 
 of a whole but oftener we find only beautiful 
 parts*. 
 
 That we may examine pidturefque objedts 
 with more eafe, it may be ufeful to clafs 
 them into the fublime, and the beautiful ; tho, 
 in fad, this diftindtion is rather inaccurate. 
 
 * As fome of thefe topics have been occafionally men- 
 tioned in other pi&urefque works, which the author has given 
 the public, they are here touched very flightly : only the fub- 
 je& required they fhould be brought together. 
 
 Sublimity 
 
( 43 ) 
 
 Sublimity alone cannot make an objedt 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 
 pidturefque. When we talk therefore of a 
 fublime objedt, we always underftand, that 
 it is alfo beautiful : and we call it fublime, 
 or beautiful, only as the ideasof fublimity, or 
 of limple beauty prevail. 
 
 The curious, and fantajlic forms of nature 
 are by no means the favourite objedts of the 
 lovers of landfcape. There may be beauty 
 in a curious objedt 5 and fo far it may be 
 pidturefque : but we cannot admire it merely 
 for the fake of it's curiofity. The lufus naturce 
 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 pidturefque eye. It 
 is fond of the fimplicity of nature ; and fees 
 moft beauty in her moji ufual forms. The 
 Giant's caufeway in Ireland may ftrike it as 
 a novelty ; but the lake of Killarney attradts 
 it's attention. It would range with fupreme 
 
 delight 
 
( 44 ) 
 
 delight among the fweet vales of Switzerland ; 
 but would view only with a tranfient glance, 
 the Glaciers of Savoy. Scenes of this kind, 
 as unufual, may pleafe once ; but the great 
 works of nature, in her fimpleft and pureft 
 ftile, open inexhaufted fprings of amufement. 
 
 But it is not only the form, and the co?n- 
 pojition of the objedts of landfcape, which the 
 pidturefque eye examines ; it connefts 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 circumflance 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 pidturefque eye, 
 in the courfe of travel ; and are often objedts 
 of great attention. The anatomical ftudy of 
 figures is not attended to : we regard them 
 merely as the ornament of fcenes. In the 
 human figure we contemplate neither exaBnefs 
 of form ; nor exprejion, any farther than it is 
 ftiewn in action : we merely confider general 
 (hapes, drefles, groups, and occupations ; which 
 
 we 
 
( 45 ) 
 
 we often find cafually in greater variety, and 
 beauty, than any felecftion can procure. 
 
 In the fame manner animals are the objects 
 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 obj eel, 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 landfcape ; 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 objedts of art, the pidtu- 
 refque eye is perhaps moft inquilitive 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 objedts of pidturefque 
 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 objedts, and not 
 rejecting it in the humbleft. 
 
 After the objects of pidturefque travel, we 
 confider it's fources of amufement — or in what 
 way the mind is gratified by thefe objedts. 
 
 We might begin in moral ftile ; and confider 
 the objedls of nature in a higher light, than 
 merely as amufement. We might obferve, 
 that a fearch after beauty fliould naturally lead 
 the mind to the great origin of all beauty; 
 to the 
 
 — firft good, firfl perfeft, and firft fair. 
 
 But 
 
( 47 ) 
 
 But tho in theory this feems a natural climax, 
 we infift the lefs upon it, as in fad we have 
 fcarce ground to hope, that every admirer of 
 piBurefque beauty y is an admirer alfo of the 
 beauty of virtue , and that every lover of nature 
 reflects, that 
 
 Nature is but a name for an tffeft y 
 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- 
 nat lucro. It is fo much into the bargain ; 
 for we dare not promife him more from pidtu- 
 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 leaft be confidered as 
 having a moral tendency. 
 
 The firft fource of amufement to the pi£hi~ 
 refque traveller, is the purjuit of his object — 
 the expectation of new fcenes continually open- 
 ing, and arifing to his view. We fuppofe the 
 country to have been unexplored. Under this 
 circumftance the mind is kept conftantly 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 
 pleafing expectation we follow nature through 
 all her walks. We purfue her from hill to 
 dale y 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 j 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 recefles ? 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 objedt. Our amufement, on 
 this head, arifes from the employment of the 
 mind in examining the beautiful fcenes we 
 have found. Sometimes we examine them 
 under the idea of a whole : we admire the com- 
 
 pofition, 
 
( 49 ) 
 
 pofition, the colouring, and the light, in one 
 
 comprehenjive 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 exquifitely 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 circumftance fometimes forms the limit 
 between beauty, and deformity. Or we com- 
 pare the objects before us with other objects 
 of the fame kind : — or perhaps we compare 
 them with the imitations of art. From all 
 thefe operations of the mind refults great 
 amufement. 
 
 But it is not from this Jcientijical employ- 
 ment, that we derive our chief pleafure. We 
 are moft delighted, when fome grand fcene, 
 tho perhaps of incorredl compofition, rifing 
 before the £ye, ftrikes us beyond the power 
 of thought — when the vox fancibus haret ; and 
 every mental operation is fufpended. In this 
 paufe of intellect ; this deliquiutn 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 9 than furvey it. 
 
 This high delight is generally indeed pro- 
 duced by the fcenes of nature ; yet fometimes 
 by artificial obje£ts. Here and there a capital 
 picture will raife thefe emotions : but oftener 
 the rough fketch of a capital mafter. This 
 has fometimes an aftonifhing efFeCt on the 
 mind - 9 giving the imagination an opening into 
 all thofe glowing ideas, which infpired the 
 art i ft ; and which the imagination only can 
 tranflate. In general however the works of 
 art aftedt 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 ftock of ideas. The 
 variety of nature is fuch, that new objeffis, and 
 new combinations of them, are continually 
 adding fomething to our fund, and inlarging 
 our collection : while the fame kind of objeB 
 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 
 
( S 1 ) 
 
 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, muft 
 have feen that beautiful plant in all it's va- 
 rieties ; and obtains a full, and compleat idea 
 of it. 
 
 From this corredt knowledge of objedls arifes 
 another amufement that of reprefenting, by a 
 few ftrokes in a fketch, 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 aft of rumina- 
 ting, in animals, to be attended with more 
 pleafure, than the adt of grofier 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 
 greatnefsy this fecondary pleafure cannot be at- 
 tended with thofe enthuliaftic feelings, which 
 accompanied the real exhibition. But, in 
 
 E 2 general, 
 
( 52 ) 
 
 general, tho it may be a calmer fpecies of plea- 
 fure, 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, w T hich is often a considerable 
 abatement to the pleafures of traverfing the 
 
 wild, and favage parts of nature. After 
 
 we have amufed ourfehes with our fketches, 
 if we can, in any degree, contribute to the 
 amufement of others alfo, the pleafure is furely 
 fo much inhanced. 
 
 There is ftill another amufement arifmg 
 from the corredt knowledge of objedls ; 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 
 obje&s as they really are : while the imagi- 
 nation, impreffed with the molt beautiful 
 fcenes, and chaftened by rules of art, forms 
 it's piftures, not only from the moft 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 exifted : whereas 
 the nearer they approach the fimple ftandard 
 
 of 
 
( 53 ) 
 
 of nature, in it's mod beautiful forms, the 
 more admirable their fidlions will appear. It 
 is thus in writing romances. The corredt 
 tafte cannot bear thofe unnatural fituations, 
 in which heroes, and heroines are often placed : 
 whereas a ftory, naturally 9 and of courfe af- 
 feftingly told, either with a pen, or a pencil, 
 tho known to be a fidtion, is confidered as 
 a tranfcript from nature ; and takes poffeffion 
 of the heart. The marvellous difgufts the fober 
 imagination ; which is gratified only with the 
 pure characters of nature. 
 
 ' Beauty beft 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 ; 
 Owns them as hers, yet owns herfelf excelled 
 By what herfelf produced. ' 
 
 But if we are unable to embody our ideas 
 even in a humble fketch, yet ftill a ftrong 
 imprefjion of nature will enable us to judge 
 of the works of art. Nature is the archetype. 
 The ftronger therefore the impreffion, the 
 better the judgment. 
 
 We 
 
( 54 ) 
 
 We are, in fome degree, alfo amufed by 
 the very vifions of fancy itfelf. Often, when 
 flumber has half-clofed the eye, and fhut out 
 all the objedts of fenfe, efpecially after the 
 enjoyment of fome fplendid fcene; the ima- 
 gination, adtive, and alert, collects it's feat- 
 tered ideas, tranfpofes, combines, and fhifts 
 them into a thoufand forms, producing fuch 
 exquilite 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 objedted to the pleafure- 
 able circumftances, which are thus faid to 
 attend pidturefque travel, that we meet as 
 many difgufting, as pleafing objedts ; 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 pidturefque 
 eye fome amufement. 
 
 _« . — Believe the mufe, 
 
 She does not know that unaufpicious fpot, 
 Where beauty is thus niggard of her ftore. 
 
 Believe 
 
( 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 trade, of barren 
 country interrupts our expedition, wound up 
 in queft of any particular fcene of grandeur, 
 or beauty, we are apt to be a littldLpee villi ; 
 and to exprefs our difcontent in Jiafty ex- 
 aggerated phrafe. But when there is no 
 difappointment in the cafe, even fcenes the 
 moft 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 pafles 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, grous, plover, and flights of other 
 wild-fowl. A group of cattle, ftanding in 
 
 E 4 the 
 
( 56 ) 
 
 the (hade on the edge of a dark hill, and 
 relieved by a lighter diftance beyond them, 
 will often make a compleat pidture without 
 any other accompaniment. In many other 
 fituations alfo we find them wonderfully 
 pleafing ji and capable of making pictures 
 amidfb^lbithe deficiences 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 fimplicity, fhe covers 
 every furface. 
 
 But if we let the imagination loofe, even 
 fcenes like thefe, adminifter great amufement. 
 The imgination 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 van: ideas of fpace. 
 
 But altho the pidturefque 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 
 ought. How flat, and infipid is often the 
 garden-fcene ! 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 
 defign, compoftion, exprejjion, characler, 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 mafters ! 
 
 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 mull 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 
 
 formed 
 
( 58 ) 
 
 formed (at leaft: when we confider them as 
 objeBsy) muft always go beyond it ; and fur- 
 nifh frefli fources both of pleafure and amufe- 
 ment. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND ESSAY. 
 
ESSAY III 
 
 ON 
 
 THE ART OF SKETCHING 
 LANDSCAPE. 
 
ESSAY III 
 
 THE art of Jketching is to the pidturefque 
 traveller, what the art of writing is to 
 the fcholar. Each is equally neceffary to fix 
 and communicate it's refpedtive ideas. 
 
 Sketches are either taken from the imagi- 
 nation, or from nature. When the imaginary 
 
 Jketch proceeds from the hands of a mafter, 
 it is very valuable. It is his firft conception ; 
 which is commonly the ftrongeft, and the moft 
 brilliant. The imagination of a painter, really 
 great in his profeffion, is a magazine abound- 
 ing with all the elegant forms, and ftriking 
 effedts, 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, fome times a fcene from hiftory, or ro- 
 mance ; 
 
( 62 ) 
 
 mance ; and fbmetimes 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 efFufions of genius, as the more fober, 
 and correit productions of his pencil cannot 
 equal. 
 
 It will always however be underftood, that 
 fuch iketches muft be examined alfo by an eye 
 learned in the art, and accuftomed to piftu- 
 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 expreffed from it's own ftore-houfe. 
 1 fhall however dwell no longer on ima- 
 ginary fetching, as it hath but little relation 
 to my prefent fubje£t. Let me only add, that 
 altho this eflay is meant chiefly to affift the 
 pifturefque traveller in taking views from nature, 
 the method recommended, as far as it relates 
 to execution, may equally be applied to imaginary 
 Jketches. 
 
 Your intention in taking views from nature, 
 may either be to jix them in your own memory 
 
( 63 ) 
 
 or to convey, in fome degree, your ideas U 
 
 others. 
 
 With regard to the former, when you meet 
 a fcene you wifh to flcetch, your firft confe- 
 deration is to get it in the beft 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 
 caftle, which is fo unpleafing a circumftance, 
 as you ftand 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 extenfive, 
 take care you do not include too much : it 
 may perhaps be divided more commodioufly 
 
 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 objedts. 
 
 Ia 
 
( 64 ) 
 
 In fketching, 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 alfo of eafy corre&ion. 
 
 The virtue of thefe hafty, black-lead 
 Iketches confifts in catching readily the cha- 
 racter iftic features of a fcene. Light and 
 fhade are not attended to. It is enough if 
 you exprefs general Jhapes ; and the relations, 
 which the feveral interferons 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 recolle&ed ideas. When we truft to 
 the picture, that obje&s 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 defedts 
 
 with 
 
( 65 ) 
 
 with a few ftrokes 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 inftrument, are fubjedt to the great incon- 
 venience of confounding dijiances. If there are 
 two, or three diftances in the landfcape, as 
 each of them is exprefTed by the fame kind of 
 line, the eye forgets the diftin&ion, even in 
 half a day's travelling ; and all is confufion. 
 To remedy this, a few written references, 
 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 diftances. -At his flrft leifure 
 
 however he will review his fketch ; add a 
 few ftrokes with a pen, to mark the near 
 grounds ; and by a flight wafh of Indian ink, 
 throw in a few general lights, and (hades, 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 ajjiji our own memory. 
 
 But when a fketch is intended to convey 
 in fome degree, our ideas to others, it is necef- 
 fary, that it fhould be fomewhat more adorned. 
 To us the fcene, familiar to our recollection, 
 may be fuggefted by a few rough flrokes : 
 but if you wifh to raife the idea, where none 
 exijied before, and to do it agreeably, there fhould 
 be fome compofition in your fketch — a degree 
 of correffnefs, and exprejjion in the out-line-— 
 and fome eff'eSi of light. A little ornament 
 alfo from figures, and other circumftances 
 may be introduced. In fhort, it fhould be 
 fo far dreffed, as to give fome idea of a 
 pidlure. I call this an adorned Jketch ; and 
 fhould lketch nothing, that was not capable 
 of being thus dreffed. An unpidturefque af- 
 femblage of objefts ; and, in general, all 
 untraceable fubje&s, if it be neceffary to re- 
 prefent them, may be given as plans, rather 
 than as pidtures. 
 
 In the firft place, I fhould advife the tra- 
 veller by no means to work his adorned fketch 
 
 upon 
 
( 6/ ) 
 
 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 mafters therefore always fet 
 a high value on their fketches from nature. 
 On the fame principle the piiturefque tra- 
 veller preferves his original jfketch, tho in itfelf 
 of little value, to keep him within proper 
 bounds. 
 
 This matter being fettled, and the adorned 
 Jketch begun anew, the firft point is to fix 
 the compojition. 
 
 But the compojition^ 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 
 objedls may be affifted ; and yet the re fern - 
 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 recoi- 
 led: that nature is moft defective in com- 
 pofition ; and muft be a little aflifted. Her 
 ideas are too vaft for pidlurefque ufe, without 
 the reftraint of rules. Liberties however with 
 
 F 2 truth 
 
( 68 ) 
 
 truth mult be taken with caution : tho at the 
 fame time a diftindlion may be made between 
 an object, and a fcene. If I give the ftriking 
 features of the cajlle, or abbey, which is my 
 objeB, I may be allowed fome little liberty in 
 bringing appendages (which are not elfential 
 features) within the rules of my art. But in 
 a fcene> the whole view becomes the portrait ; 
 and if I flatter here, I rauft flatter with de- 
 licacy. 
 
 But whether I reprefent an objeB : , or a fcene, 
 I hold myfelf at perfedt liberty, in the firft 
 place, to difpofe the foreground as I pleafe ; 
 restrained 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 
 remove a piece of paling — a cottage — a wall — 
 or any removeable objedt, which I diflike. 
 In fhort, I do not fo much mean to exadt 
 a liberty of introducing what does not exift ; 
 as of making a few of thofe Ample variations, 
 of which all ground is eafily fufceptible, and 
 which time itfelf indeed is continually making. 
 All this my art exadts : 
 
 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 promifcuous gloom, 
 As belt 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 effential in giving a likenefs, it is more 
 fo than any other part in forming a compo- 
 ftion. 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 fketch 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 part ; and this will tend to 
 regulate every thing elfe. In your rough 
 fketch 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 fhall add only, on the fubjedt 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 neceffary, than to 
 produce the effect you defire. 
 
 Having fixed you foreground, you confider 
 in the fame way, tho with more caution, the 
 other parts of your compojition. In a hajly 
 tranfcript 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 
 muft contrive to hide offenfive parts with 
 wood - y to cover fuch as are too bald, with 
 bufhes ; and to remove little objects, which 
 in nature pufh themfelves too much in fight, 
 and ferve only to introduce too many parts 
 into your compojition. 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 brufh on their black-lead Iketch. 
 * This comes neareft 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 effedl - y and of courfe more the hand of 
 a mafter. The hand of a mafter indeed pro- 
 duces an effedt with the rudeft materials : but 
 thefe precepts aim only at giving a few in- 
 ftrudtions to the tyroes of the art -> and fuch 
 will perhaps make their outline the moft 
 effedtually with a pen. As the pen is more 
 determined than black-lead, it leaves lefs to 
 the brufh, which I think the more difficult 
 
 inftrument. Indian ink, (which may be 
 
 heightened, or lowered to any degree of 
 ftrength, 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. 
 
 But 
 
( 72 ) 
 
 But when we ipeak 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 roughnefles, in which 
 the richnefs of an objed; 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 
 charadteriftic is exprejjion ; or the art of giving 
 each objeft, that peculiar touch, whether 
 fmooth, or rough, which beft exprefles 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 finifhing : and indeed generally an 
 attempt at the higheft finifhing would end in 
 ftiffhefs. 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 effedt 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 neceflary, 
 where the mafter carries on the deception 
 both in form and colour ; how neceflary 
 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 artift 
 may give them by chance : but the mafter 
 
 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 ufing the pen is fuch, 
 it may perhaps be objedled, 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 fhall 
 we put into his hands, that will do better ? 
 His black-lead, his brulh, 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 
 ftill 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 conliderable progrefs in the 
 ufe of this inftrument ; and produce an effed: 
 by no means difpleafing. — If the drawing be 
 large, I fhould 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 effe£l of a wajh is much better, 
 than of lines hatched with a pen. A brufh 
 will do more in one ftroke, 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 moft mafterly (ketches 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- Ik etches, the fubjects are fo 
 happily chofen — they are fo characterise of the countries .they 
 reprefent — and executed with fo free, and expreflive 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 
 for as they go, both in compofition, and execution. 
 
 Indian 
 
( 75 ) 
 
 Indian ink - 9 and perhaps a little biftre, or 
 burnt umber. With the former we give that 
 greyifli tinge, which belongs to the fky, 
 and diftant obje&s ; 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 wafh 
 both for the foreground, and diftance. 
 
 But mere light and fhade are not fufficient : 
 fomething of effeSi alfo fhould be aimed at 
 in the adorned Jketch. Mere light and fhade 
 propofe only the Jimple illumination of objedts. 
 EffeB 9 by balancing large majjes of each, gives 
 
 the whole a greater force. Now tho in 
 
 the exhibitions of nature, we commonly find 
 only the Jimple illumination of objects ; yet 
 as we often do meet with grand ejfeffis 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 
 effedt, the fubje£t admits only the mojl gene- 
 ral. There muff: be a ftrong oppolition of 
 light and fhade ; in which the Iky, as well 
 as the landfcape, muff: combine. But in what 
 
 way 
 
( 76 ) 
 
 way this oppolition muft be varied — where 
 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- 
 cumftances of the compofition. All you can 
 do, is to examine your drawing (yet in it's 
 naked outline) with care - y and endeavour 
 to find out where the force of the light will 
 have the beft effedt. But this depends more 
 on tqfie, than on rule. 
 
 One thing both in light and fhade fhould 
 be obferv^d, efpecially in the former — and 
 that is gradation •> which gives a force beyond 
 what a glaring difplay of light can give. The 
 effed: 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 
 pi&urefque effedt. 
 
 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, 
 
 Chaltifed by fabler tints of woe; 
 
 And, blended, form with artful ftrife, 
 
 The ftrength, and harmony of life. 
 
 I may 
 
( 77 ) 
 
 I may farther add, that the production of 
 an effeffi is particularly neceflary in drawing. 
 In painting, colour in fome degree makes up 
 the deficiency : but in fimple clair-obfcure 
 there is no fuccedaneum. It's force depends 
 on effedt ; the virtue of which is fuch, that 
 it will give a value even to a barren fubjedt. 
 Like ftriking the chords of a muiical inftru- 
 ment, it will produce harmony, without any 
 richnefs of compolition. 
 
 It is farther to be obferved, that when 
 objedts are in jhadow, the light, (as it is then 
 a reflected one,) falls on the oppolite 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 objedts, as waggons, and 
 boats, as well as cattle, and men. But they 
 fhould be introduced fparingly. In profufion 
 they are affedted. 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 diftance 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 
 
( 78 ) 
 
 touches are fufficient. Attempts at finifhing 
 offend*. 
 
 Among trees, little diftinftion need be made, 
 unlefs you introduce the pine, or the cyprefs, 
 or fome other lingular 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 diftindtion indeed is often neceffary 
 even in fketches ; and that is, between full- 
 leaved trees, and thofe of ftraggling ramification. 
 In compofition we have often occafion for both, 
 and therefore the hand fhould be ufed readily 
 to execute either. If we have a general idea 
 of the oak, for inftance, as a light tree ; 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 thr reddifh, or 
 yellowifh tinge ; the ufe of which is to give 
 a more plealing tint to the ground of the 
 drawing by taking off the glare of the paper* 
 It adds alfo, if it be not too ftrong, a degree 
 of harmony to the rawnefs of black and white. 
 
 * See the preceding eflay. 
 
 The 
 
( 79 ) 
 
 The ftrength, or faintnefs of this tinge de- 
 pends on the ftrength, or faintnefs of the 
 drawing. A flight fketch, fhould be {lightly 
 tinged. But if the drawing be flightly finifhed, 
 and the fhadows ftrong ; the tinge aifo may 
 be ftronger. Where the fhadows are very 
 dark, and the lights catching, a deep tinge 
 
 may fome times make it a good fun-fet.- 
 
 This tinge may be laid on, either before,- or 
 after the drawing is made. In general, I 
 •fhould prefer the latter method ; becaufe, 
 while the drawing is yet on white paper, you 
 may corredt 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 eafily 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 inftruitions 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 a grey tint, uniting with other colours. 
 
 This 
 
( 8o ) 
 
 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 inftrudtion for this 
 mode of drawing. All I mean, is only to offer 
 a modeft way of tinting a lketch already finifh- 
 ed in Indian ink. By the addition of a little 
 colour I mean only to give fome diftindtion 
 to obje&s ; and introduce rather a g£$J$}^ ftile^f^ 
 into a landfcape. " 
 
 When you have finiflied your lketch 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 caft. 
 As a fpecimen an evening hue is given. 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. In this example it in- 
 clines rather to the former. By wafhing this 
 tint over your whole drawing, you lay a foun- 
 dation for harmony. When this waih is nearly 
 dry, repeat it in the horizon ; foftening it 
 
 off into the fky, as you afcend. Take next 
 
 a purple tint, compofed of lake, and blue, 
 
 inclining 
 
( 8i ) 
 
 inclining rather to the former ; and with this, 
 when your firft warn is dry, form you clouds ; 
 and then fpread it, as you did the firft tint, 
 over your whole drawing, except where you 
 leave the horizon-tint. This ftill ftrengthens 
 the idea of harmony. Your Iky, and diftance 
 are now finifhed. 
 
 You next proceed to your middle, and fore- 
 grounds ; in both which you diftinguifh between 
 the foil, and the vegetation. Warn 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 ; 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 ; and their foliage may be co- 
 
 G loured 
 
( 82 ) 
 
 loured like the vegetation in their neigh- 
 bourhood. Their Hems may be touched 
 
 with burnt terra Sienna. Trees, in middle 
 
 diftances are darker than the lawns, on which 
 they ftand. They muft 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 muft 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 iky is reprefented by, 
 what is called, a grey tint, compofed of lake, 
 blue, and oker. As the fhadow deepens, the 
 tint fhould incline more to blue. 
 
 The feveral tints mentioned in the above 
 procefs, may perhaps the moft eafily be mixed 
 before you begin ; efpecially if your drawing be 
 large. Dilute the raw colours in faucers : 
 keep them clean, and diftinft ; and from them, 
 mix your tints in other velTels. 
 
 I fhall only add, that the Jlrength of the 
 colouring you give your Iketch, muft 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 
 
 llight 
 
1 
 
 ( 83 ) 
 
 flight fketch, it will bear only a light wafli of 
 colour. 
 
 This mode however of tinting a drawing, 
 even when you tint as high as thefe instruc- 
 tions reach, is by no means calculated to 
 produce any effedt of colouring : but it is 
 at leaft fufficient to preferve harmony. This 
 you may preferve : an effeSt of colouring you 
 cannot eafily attain. It is fomething how- 
 ever to avoid a difagreeable excefs : and there 
 is nothing furely fo difagreeable to a correft 
 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 pidturefque eye, what 
 a difcord of harfli notes is to a mufical ear.* 
 
 But the advocate for thefe glaring tints may 
 perhaps fay, he does not make his fky more 
 
 * I have been informed, that many of the purchafers of 
 the firft edition of this work, have thought the plate, which il- 
 luftrates what hath been faid above, was not fo highly coloured, 
 as they wiflied it to have been. I apprehend this was chiefly 
 owing to the particular care I took, to have it rather under, than 
 $>ver 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 
 each purchafer may have an option. 
 
 G 2 blue 
 
( 3 4 ) 
 
 blue than nature ; nor his grafs, and trees 
 more green. 
 
 Perhaps fo : but unlefs he could work up 
 his drawing with the Jinijhing of nature alfo, he 
 will find the effedt very unequal. Nature 
 mixes a variety of femi-tints with her brighteft 
 colours : and tho the eye cannot readily Sepa- 
 rate them, they have a general chaftizing 
 effed: ; 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 
 madows, beyond the attention of art, which 
 me throws on leaves, and piles of grafs, and 
 every other minute objedt ; all of which, tho 
 not eafily diftinguifhed in particulars tell 
 in the whole, and are continually chaftening 
 the hues of nature. 
 
 Before I conclude thefe remarks on Iketch- 
 ing, it may be ufeful to add a few words, 
 and but a few, on perfpedtive. The nicer 
 parts of it contain many difficulties ; and are 
 of little ufe in common landfcape. Indeed in 
 wild, irregular objects, it is hardly poffible to 
 apply it. The eye muft regulate the winding 
 
 of 
 
( 8 5 ) 
 
 of the river; and the receding of the diftant 
 hill. Rules of perfpective give little affiftance. 
 But it often happens, that on the nearer 
 grounds you wifh to place a more regular 
 object, which requires fome little knowledge 
 of perfpective. The fubject therefore fliould 
 not be left wholly untouched. 
 
 If a building ftand exactly in front, none 
 of it's lines can go off in perfpective : 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 perfpective, the 
 following mechanical method may explain. 
 
 Trace on your paper the neareji perpendicular 
 of the building you copy. Then hold hori- 
 zontally between it, and your eye, a fhred of 
 paper, or flat ruler ; raifing, 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 Jirfi receding line 
 of the building makes with neareji per- 
 
 G 3 pendicular ; 
 
( 86 ) 
 
 pent/icular ; and in your drawing continue a 
 limilar line, till it meet the horizontal line. 
 The point where it meets the horizontal line, 
 is called the vanijhing point ; and regulates the 
 whole perfpedtive. From this point you draw 
 a line to the bottom of the nearejl perpendicular y 
 which gives you the perfpedtive 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 line ; windows, doors, 
 and projections of every kind, if they are on 
 the fame plane, are regulated. 
 
 If the building confift of projections on dif- 
 ferent planes^ it would be tedious tcr regulate 
 them all by the rules of perfpedtive : but the 
 eye being thus mafter 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 perfpedtive. One of the 
 beft rules in adjufting proportion is, to carry 
 your compajjes in your eye. The fame rule may 
 be given in perfpeBive. Accuftom your eye to 
 judge, how objedts recede from it. Too ftridt 
 an application of rules tends only to give your 
 drawing ftiffnefs, and formality. Indeed where 
 the regular works of art make the prin- 
 cipal 
 
( 8 7 ) 
 
 tipal part of your picture, the ftridteft applica- 
 tion of rule is neceffary. It is this, which 
 gives it's chief value to the pencil of Canaletti. 
 His truth in perfpeftive has made fubjedls in- 
 terefting, which are of all others the moft un- 
 promiling. 
 
 Before I conclude the fubjedt, I fhould wifh 
 to add, that the plate here given as an expla- 
 nation, is defigned merely as fuch ; for no 
 building can have a good effedt, the bafe of 
 which is far below the horizontal line. 
 
 A 
 
 After all, however, from the mode^ of 
 fketching here recommended (which is as 
 far as I fhould wifh to recommend drawing 
 landfcape to thofe, who draw only for amufe- 
 ment) no great degree of accuracy can be 
 expedted. General ideas only mull; be looked 
 for ; not the peculiarities of portrait. It 
 admits the winding river — the {hooting pro- 
 montory — the caftle — the abbey — the flat dif- 
 tance — and the mountain melting into the 
 horizon. It admits too the relation, which 
 all thefe parts bear to each other. But it 
 defcends not to the minute of objedts. The 
 
 G 4 fringed 
 
( 88 ) 
 
 fringed bank of the river — the Gothic orna- 
 ments of the abbey — the chafms, and frac- 
 tures of the rock, and caftle — and every little 
 objedt along the vale, it pretends not to 
 delineate with exai&aefs. All this is the pro- 
 vince of the finifhed drawing, and the pic- 
 ture ; in which tfre artift conveys an idea 
 of each minute feature of the country he 
 delineates, or imagines. But high Jinifhing, as 
 I have before obferved, belongs only to a 
 mafter, who can give exprejjive touches. The 
 difciple, whom I am inftrudting, and whom 
 I inftrudt only from my own experience, muft 
 have humbler views ; and can hardly expedt 
 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. Dif- 
 torted faces, and diflocated limbs, I have feen 
 in abundance : and no wonder ; for the fcience 
 of anatomy, even as it regards painting, is 
 with difficulty attained and few who have 
 
 ftudied 
 
( 8 9 ) 
 
 ftudied it their whole lives, have acquired 
 perfedtion. 
 
 Others again, who draw for amufement, go 
 fo far as to handle the pallet. But in this / 
 the fuccefs of the i^jndg^i artift feldom 
 anfwers his hopes ; unlefs utterly void of tafte, ^ 
 he happen to be fuch an artift as may be ad- 
 dreffed in the farcafm of the critic, 
 
 i 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 £xpe&ed 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 Jketching land/cape is attainable 
 by a man of bufinefs ; and it is certainly more 
 ufeful ; and, I fhould imagine, more amufing, 
 to attain fome degree of excellence in an in- 
 ferior branch, than to be a mere bungler in 
 a fuperior. Even if you fhould not excel in 
 execution (which indeed you can hardly ex- 
 ped) you may at leaft by bringing home the 
 delineation of a fine country, dignify an in- 
 different 
 
( 9° ) 
 
 different Iketch. You may pleafe yourfelf by 
 adminiftering ftrongly to recolle&ion ; and you 
 jnay pleafe others by conveying your ideas 
 iliore diftinftly in an ordinary fketch, than 
 in the beft language. 
 
 ' THE END. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF THE FOLLOWING 
 
 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 
 appear. 
 
 78 A facility alfo in copying the different parts 
 of nature mould be attained, before the 
 young artift attempts a whole. 
 
 90 This procefs will alfo be a kind of teft. No 
 one can make any progrefs, whofe ima- 
 gination is not fired with the fcenes of 
 nature. 
 
 107 On a fuppofition, that the artift is enamoured 
 with his fubject and is well verfed in 
 copying the parts of nature, he begins 
 
 to 
 
( 92 ) 
 
 to combine, and form thofe parts into 
 the fubjects of landfcape. He pays his 
 firft attention to de/tgn, or to the bringing 
 together of fuch objects, as are fuited 
 to his fubjecV, not mixing trivial obje&s 
 with grand fcenes ; but preferving the 
 character of his fubjedt, whatever it may 
 be. 
 
 140 The different parts of his landfcape muft next 
 be ftudioufly arranged, and put together 
 in a picturefque manner. This is the 
 work of difpq/ition ; or, as it is fometimes 
 called, compofition. No rules can be given 
 for this arrangement, but the experience 
 of a nice eye : for tho nature feldom 
 prefents a compleat composition, yet we 
 every where fee in her works beautiful 
 arrangements of parts ; which we ought 
 to ftudy with great' attention. 
 
 159 In 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 Simplicity of a whole, under the 
 idea, of -giving variety. 
 
 182 Some 
 
( 93 ) 
 
 1 82 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 landfcape there muft be a 
 confiderable foreground. 
 
 216 This theory is illuftrated by the view of a 
 difproportioned 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 feveral parts of landfcape may 
 be well balanced, and adjuftedj yet ftill 
 without contraft in the parts, there will 
 be a great deficiency. At the fame time 
 this contraft >$J\be eafy, and natural. 
 
 285 Such pictures, as are painted from fancy, are 
 the moft 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. 
 
 £0 8 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 
 
( 94 ) 
 
 formed from the feled parts of nature; 
 but if it be, it is nature ftill. 
 322 The artift having thus adjufted his forms, and 
 difpofition ; conceives next the beft effect 
 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 practice. 
 
 341 He juft touches on the theory of colours. 
 
 362 Artifts, with equally good effect, fometimes 
 blend them on their pallet; and fome- 
 times fpread them raw on their canvas. 
 
 383 In colouring, the fky gives the ruling tint to 
 the landfcape : and the hue of the whole, 
 whether rich, or fober, muft be harmo- 
 nious. 
 
 426 A predominancy of fhade has the heft effect. 
 449 But light, tho it fhould not be fcattered, 
 
 fhould not be collected, as it were, into 
 
 a focus. 
 
 464 The effect 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 
 
 artift 
 
( 95 ) 
 
 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 charatter of 
 objects, rather than the minute detail. 
 565 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 trueft teft of excellence ; 
 
 where the picture receives it's ftamp, and 
 value not from the airs of coxcombs ; but 
 from the judgment of men of tafte, and 
 fcience. 
 
ON 
 
 LANDSCAPE PAINTING, 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 H 
 
O N 
 
 LANDSCAPE PAINTING. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 That 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 ring, 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 ring, 
 Judicious Lock; who from great Nature's realms 10 
 Haft culled her lovelieft features, and arranged 
 In thy rich memory's ftorehoufe : Thou, whofe glance, 
 Praclifed in truth and fymmetry can trace 
 In every latent touch, each Mafter's hand ; 
 Whether the marble by his art fubdued 1 5 
 
 Be foftened into life, or canvas fmooth 
 
 H 2 Be 
 
( IO ° ) 
 
 Be fwell'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 effects, 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 artift I addrefs 
 This leading precept : Let not inborn pride, 
 Prefuming on thy own inventive powers, 
 Miflead thine eye from Nature. She muft reign 
 Great archetype in all. Trace then with care 30 
 Her varied walks. Obferve how fhe upheaves 
 The mountains towering brow ; on it's rough fides 
 How broad the ftiadow falls ; what different hues 
 Inveft it's glimmering furface. Next furvey 
 The diftant lake ; fo feen, a mining fpot : 3 5 
 
 But when approaching nearer, how it flings 
 It's fweeping curves around the mooting cliffs. 
 Mark every made it's Proieus-fhape aflumes 
 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 fnade, 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 
 
( ioi ) 
 
 It's mafly limbs, it's majefty of made 
 The pendent birch ; the beech of many a ftem •,. 
 The lighter am and all their changeful hues 
 In fpring or autumn, ruflet, green, or grey. 
 
 Next wander by the river's mazy bank. 50 
 See where it dimpling glides or brifkly where 
 It's whirling eddies fparkle round the rock ; 
 Or where, with headlong rage, it dames down 
 Some fractured chafm, till all it's fury fpent, 
 It links to fleep, a filent ftagnant pool, 55 
 Dark, tho tranflucent, from the mantling Ihade. 
 
 Now give thy view more ample range : explore 
 The vaft expanfe of ocean ; fee, when calm, 
 What Iris-hues of purple, green, and gold, 
 Play on it's glafly furface ; and when vext 60 
 With (forms, what depth of billowy made, with light 
 Of curling foam contrafted. View the cliffs ; 
 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 (tudious eye examine next the vaft 
 Etherial concave : mark each floating cloud 
 It's form, it's colour and what mafs of lhade 
 It gives the fcene below, pregnant with change 70 
 Perpetual, from the morning's purple dawn, 
 Till the laft glimmering ray of ruflet eve. 
 Mark how the fun- beam, fteeped in morning-dew, 
 Beneath each jutting promontory flings 
 A darker made ; while brightened with the ray 75 
 
 H Of 
 
( IQ 2 ) 
 
 Of fultry noon, not yet entirely quenched, 
 The evening- fh ado w 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 o'er it poured 
 It's glowing periods, warm with patriot-fire. 
 
 At length matured, ftand forth for honeft Fame 8 5 
 A candidate. Some nobler theme felect 
 From Nature's choicer! fcenes ; and fketch that theme 
 With firm, but eafy line ; then if my fong 
 AfTift thy power, it afks no nobler meed. 
 
 Yet if, when Nature's fovereign glories meet 90 
 Thy fudden glance, no correrponding fpark 
 Of vivid flame be kindled in thy breaft ; 
 If calmly thou canft view them ; know for thee 
 My numbers flow not : feek feme fitter guide 
 To lead thee, where the low mechanic toils 95 
 With patient labour for his daily hire. 
 
 But if true genius fire thee, if thy heart 
 Glow, palpitate with tranfport, at the fight ; 
 If emulation feize thee, to transfufe 
 Thefe fplendid vifions on thy vivid chart ; 100 
 If the big thought feem more than Art can paint 
 Hafte, fnatch thy pencil, bounteous Nature yields 
 To thee her choicer! flores 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. 
 
 Firft learn with objecls futted to each fcene 
 Thy landfcape to adorn. If fome rude view 
 Thy pencil culls, of lake, or mountain range,, 
 Where Nature walks with proud majeftic ftep, 110 
 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 115 
 Alone mould force the deed) fome polijhed fcene 
 Employ thy pallet, drefTed by human art, 
 The lawn fo level, and the bank fo trim, 
 Yet frill 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 feleclion of accordant forms 
 The mufe herfelf requires from thofe her fons 
 Epic, or Tragic, who afpire to fame 1 30 
 
 Legitimate. On them, whofe motly tafle 
 Unites the fock, and bufkin — who produce 
 Kings, and buffoons in one incongruous fcene, 
 She darts a frown indignant. Nor fuppofe 
 
 H 4 Thy 
 
( io4 ) 
 
 Thy humbler fubjecl: lefs demands the aid 135 
 Of juft 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 thefe 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 Difpqfition. By it's plaftic pow'r 
 Thofe rough materials, which Dejign felects, 
 Are nicely balanced. Thus with friendly aid 1 50 
 Thefe principles unite : Defign prefents 
 The general fubjecl: ; Difpqfition culls, 
 And recombines, the various forms anew. 
 
 Rarely to more than three diftinguimed parts 
 Extend thy landfcape : nearer!: to the eye 155 
 Prefent thy foreground \ then the midway fpace 
 E'er the blue diftance 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 ftiil preferve 160 
 A general balance. So when Europe's Ions 
 
 Sound 
 
( ™ S ) 
 
 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 picture. Thefe a foreft-glade 
 Suffices oft ; behind which, juft removed, 
 One tuft of foliage, Waterlo, like thine, 
 Gives all we wifh of dear variety. 1 70 
 
 For even variety itfeif may pall, 
 If to the eye, when paufing with delight 
 On one fair object, it prefents a mafs 
 Of many, which difturb that eye's repofe. 
 All hail Simplicity ! To thy chafte fhrine, 175 
 Beyond all other, let the artifl bow. 
 
 Oft have I feen arranged, by hands that well 
 Could pencil Nature's parts, landfcapes, that knew 
 No leading fubjetl : Here a forefl rofe ; 
 A river there ran dimpling and beyond 5 1 80 
 
 The portion of a lake : while rocks, and towers, 
 And catties intermixed, fpread o'er the whole 
 In multiform confufion. Ancient dames 
 Thus oft compofe of various filken fhreds, 
 Some gaudy, patched, unmeaning, tawdry things, 185 
 Where bucks and cherries, fhips and flowers, unite 
 In one rich compound of abfurdity. 
 
 Chufe then fome principal commanding theme ^ 
 Be it lake, valley, winding ftream, cafcade, 
 Caitle, or fea-port, and on that exhauft 190 
 Thy powers, and make to that all elfe conform. 
 
 Who 
 
( "6 ) 
 
 Who paints a landfcape, is confined by rules, 
 As fixed and rigid as the tragic bard, 
 To unity of fuhjeft* Is the fcene 
 A foreft, nothing there, fave woods and lawns 195 
 Muft rife confpicuous. Epifodes of hills 
 And lakes be far removed ; all that obtrudes 
 On the chief theme, how beautiful foe'er 
 Seen as a part, difgufts us in the whole. 
 
 Thus in the realms of landfcape, to preferve 200 
 Proportion ju& is Difpq/ition's tafk. 
 And tho a glance of diftance it allow, 
 Even when the foreground fwells upon the fight ; 
 Yet if the diftant 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 fhake the folid globe. 
 This thou muft claim ; and, if thy diftance ipread 
 Profufe, muft claim it amply : Uncombined 
 With foreground, diftance lofes power to pleafe. 210 
 
 Where rifing from the folid rock, appear 
 Thofe ancient battlements there 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 canvafs and for that fage end, 
 Led to the fpot fome docile fon of art, 
 Where his own tafte unerring previous fixed 22<* 
 The point of ampleft profpect. " Take thy ftand 
 " Juft here," he cried, " and paint me all thou feeft, 
 
 " Omit 
 
( I0 7 ) 
 
 " Omit no Angle 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 guefts, while dinner cooled, the knight 
 
 Full oft would prove and with uplifted cane 
 
 Point to the diftant 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 
 
 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 fhade, and perfpective mifplaced, 
 
 But ferve to lpoil. 
 
 Yet why (methinks I hear 
 Some Critic fay) do ample fcenes, like this, 
 In picture fail to pleafe ; when every eye 240 
 Confeffes they tranfport on Nature's chart ? 
 
 Why, but becaufe, where She difplays the fcene, 
 The roving fight can paufe, and fwift felect, 
 From all me offers, parts, whereon to fix, 
 And form diftinct perceptions ; each of which 245 
 Prefents a feparate piclure. Thus as bees 
 - Condenfe within their hives the varying fweets 
 So does the eye a lovely whole colled 
 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 ; 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 fkill, 
 
 Selection, and arrangement, damn the fcene ? 260 
 
 Thy forms, tho balanced, ftill perchance may want 
 The charm of Contrafi : Sing we then it's power. 
 5 Tis Beauty's fureft fource ; it regulates 
 Shape, colour, light, and made ; forms every line 
 By oppofition jufi ; whate'er is rough 265 
 With fkill delufive counteracts by fmooth ; 
 Sinuous , or concave, by it's oppofite ; 
 Yet ever covertly : fhould Art appear *, 
 That art were Affectation. Then alone 
 We own the power of Contrafi, 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 contraft varied, elegantly flow ; 
 The unweildy mountain finks-, here, to remove 275 
 OrTenfive parallels, the hill depreft 
 Is lifted there the heavy beech expunged 
 Gives place to airy pines \ if two bare knolls 
 
 Rife 
 
( *°9 ) 
 
 Rife to the right and left, a caftle here, 
 
 And there a wood, diversify their form. 280 
 
 Thrice happy he, who always can indulge 
 This pleating 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. Artilt, 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 law not in his model which nor hurts 
 Refemblance, nor fictitious fkill betrays. 
 Why then, if o'er the limb uncouth he flings 
 The flowing vert, may not thy honeft art 295 
 Veil with the foliage of fome fpreading oak, 
 Unpleafing objects, 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 muft fport ; where, if reftrained 
 To clofe refemblance, thy belt 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'rt ftili facred : Nature is it's fource ; 
 Yet Nature's parts fail to receive alike 
 
 The 
 
( no ) 
 
 The fair impreflion. View her varied range : 
 Each form that charms is there ; yet her beft forms 
 Muft be feletted. As the fculptured charms 3 10 
 Of the famed Venus grew, fo muft thou cull 
 From various fcenes fuch parts as beft create 
 One perfect whole. If Nature ne'er arrayed 
 Her moft accomplished work with grace compleat, 
 Think, will fhe wafte on defert rocks, and dells, 315 
 What fhe 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 ; 
 Add lightly too that general majs of ftiade, 320 
 Which fuits the form and fafhion of it's parts. 
 There are who, ftudious of the beft effects, 
 Firft fketch a flight cartoon. Such previous care 
 Is needful, where the Artift'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 animal, or vegetable dies, 
 And flng 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. 335 
 
 One 
 
( I" ) 
 
 One truth me gives, that Nature's fimple loom 
 Weaves but with three diftinct, 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. Doft thou deem 
 The gloffy furface of yon heifer's coat 
 A perfect white ? Or yon van: 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, 
 Muft 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 fhe gives to guard, 
 Conceals their every charm : the ftole of night 
 Not more eclipfes : yet that fable ftole 
 May, by the fkilful 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 dofr, ftill cautious keep in view 
 That harmony which thefe alone can give. 
 
 Yet 
 
( "2 ) 
 
 Yet {till there are, who fcorning all the rules 
 Of dull mechanic art, with random hand 
 Fling their unblended colours, and produce 
 Bolder effects 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 ; 
 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 
 Temped 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 beft is fuited to the fcene 
 
 it 
 
 It means to form : to this adapts a morn, 
 
 To that 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 ; nor claims in vain. 
 
 Thy 
 
( "3 ) 
 
 Thy fky adjufted, all that is remote 
 Firft colour faintly : leaving to the laft 
 Thy foreground. Eafier 'tis, thou know'ft, to fpread 
 Thy floating foliage o'er the fky 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'ffc the meet fupport 
 Of ftrong oppofing made. 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 modeft whole. Thus blend thy tints, 
 Be they of fcarlet, orange, green, or gold, 
 Harmonious, till one general glow prevail 
 Unbroken by abrupt and hoftile glare. 410 
 
 Let fhade predominate. It makes each light 
 More lucid, yet deftroys offenfive glare. 
 Mark when in fleecy fhowers of fnow, the clouds 
 Seem to defcend, and whiten o'er the land, 
 What unfubftantial unity of tinge 4 1 5 
 
 Involves each profpect : Virion is abforbed 
 Or, wandering through the void, finds not a point 
 To reft on. All is mockery to the eye. 
 Thus light difFufed, debafes that effect 
 Which fhade improves. Behold what glorious fcenes42Q 
 Arife through Nature's works from fhade. Yon lake 
 
 I With 
 
( "4 ) 
 
 With all it's circumambient woods, far lefs 
 Would charm the eye, did not that dufky mift 
 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 effecl: 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 ftill, it's dufky veil, 
 Till from the eaft to weft, the cope of heaven 
 It curtains clofely round. Haply thou ftand'ft 435 
 Expectant of the loud convulfive burft, 
 When lo ! the fun, juft finking in the weft, 
 Pours from th' horizon's verge a fplendid ray, 
 /^/^/^ppfe tenfold grandeur to the darknefs adds. 
 
 Far to the eaft the radiance (hoots, 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 fhadow, fpreads a ray 
 Still brighter. Yet forbid that light to fhine 445 
 A glittering fpeck for this were to illume 
 Thy picture, as the convex glafs collects, 
 All to one dazzling point, the folar rays. 
 
 Whate'er the force of oppofition y ftill 
 In foft gradation equal beauty lies. 450 
 
 When 
 
( "5 ) 
 
 When the mild luftre glides from light to dark, 
 
 The eye well-pleafed purfues it. Mid the herds 
 
 Of variegated hue, that graze the lawn, 
 
 Oft may the artift trace examples juft 
 
 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 ftill 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 ftern 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 boafr, 
 It boafls too much. But if two lights be there, 
 Give one pre-eminence : with that be fure 470 
 Illume thy foreground, or thy midway fpace 
 But rarely fpread it on the diftant fcene. 
 Yet there, if level plains, or fens appear, 
 And meet the fky, a lengthened gleam of light 
 Difcreetly thrown, will vary the flat fcene. 475 
 
 But if that diftance be abruptly clofed 
 By mountains, caft them into general fhade : 
 111 fuit gay robes their hoary majefty. 
 Sober be all their hues except, perchance, 
 
 I 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, 48^ 
 
 Invefts 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 dens where the lynx or pard might dwell 
 
 In noon- tide fafety, meditating there 49b 
 
 His next nocturnal ravage through the land. 
 
 Are now thy lights and fhades adjufted all ? 
 Yet paufe : perhaps the perfpective is juft *, 
 Perhaps each local hue is duly placed 495 
 Perhaps the light offends not - 9 harmony 
 May ftill be wanting. That which forms a whole 
 From colour, made, 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, diftruftful 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 diflblve ; 
 Then in fome corner place thy finifhed piece, 
 Free from each garifh 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 mayeft yet amend. 515 
 
 Here fcience ceafes : but to clofe the theme, 
 One labour ftill, and of Herculean call, 
 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 matter taught. Thou who wouldeft boldly feize 525 
 Superior excellence, obferve, with care, 
 The ftyle of every artift - s 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, 530 
 Who, with exaclnefs 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, 535 
 The leading features, which the eye of tafte, 
 Pra&ifed in Nature, readily tranflates. 
 Here lies the point of excellence. A piece, 
 
 I 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 fludied 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 character 
 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 
 5f<? people thefe fair regions. Some for this 
 Confult the facred page ; and in a nook 
 Obfcure, prefent the Patriarch's teft of faith, • 555 
 The little altar, and the victim fon : 
 Or haply, to adorn fome vacant fky, 
 Load it with forms, that fabling bard fupplies 
 Who fang of bodies changed \ the headlong fteeds, 
 The car upheaved of Phaeton, while he, 560 
 Ram boy ! fpreads on the plain his pallid corfe, 
 His fitters weeping round him. Groups like thefe 
 Befit not landfcape : Say, does Abraham there 
 Ought that fome idle peafant might not do ? 
 Is there expreflion, paflion, character, 565 
 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 575 
 
 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 ftrong, 
 
 Awaited already by the favage-fcene. 585 
 
 Oft winding flowly up the foreft glade, 
 The ox-team labouring, drags the future keel 
 Of fome vaft admiral : no ornament 
 Aflifts 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 flcill mould fail to people well 
 Thy landfcape, leave it defert. Think how Claude 
 Oft crowded fcenes, which Nature felf might own, 
 With forms ill-drawn, ill-chofen, ill- arranged, 595 
 Of man and beaft, o'er loading with falfe tafte 
 
 I 4 Hb 
 
( «0 ) 
 
 His fylvan glories. Seize them, Peftilence, 
 And fweep them far from our difgufted fight ! 
 
 If o'er thy canvas Ocean pours his tide, 
 The full fized vefTel, with it's fwelling fail, 600 
 Be cautious to admit ; unlefs thy art 
 Can give it cordage, pennants, mafts, and form 
 Appropriate rather with a carelefs touch 
 Of light, or made, juft 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 : 610 
 Their diftant motion gives us no offence. 
 
 Far up yon river, opening to the fea, 
 Juft where the diftant coaft extends a curve, 
 A lengthened train of fea-fowl urge their flight. 
 Obferve their files ! In what exact array 615 
 The dark battalion floats, diftinclly 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 additions : not the force 
 Of ftrong and catching lights adorn them more, 
 Then do the dufky tribes of rooks, and daws 625 
 Fluttering their broken battlements among. 
 
 Place 
 
( *** ) 
 
 Place but thefe feathered groups at diftance due, 
 The eye, by fancy aided, fees them move, 
 (Flit part the cliff, or circle round the tower) 
 Tho each, a centinel, obferve his poft. 
 
 Thy landfcape finimed, tho it meet thy own 630 
 Approving judgment, ftill requires a teft, 
 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. 63 5 
 There travelled virtuofi, ftalking round, 
 With ftrut important, peering though the hand, 
 Hollowed in telefcopic form, furvey 
 Each lucklefs piece, and uniformly damn ; 
 AfTuming for their own, the tafte they fteal. 640 
 " This has not Guido's air :" " This poorly apes 
 " Titian's rich colouring:" " Rembranfs forms are here, 
 " 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. 
 
N 
 
 O 
 
 T 
 
 E 
 
 S 
 
 ON THE FOLLOWING 
 
 P 
 
 o 
 
 E 
 
 M. 
 
 Line 
 
 34 QOME perhaps may object to the word 
 glimmering: but whoever has obferved 
 the playing lights, and colours, which 
 often invert 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 lhape of the leaves, and the dif- 
 ferent mode of fpreading it's branches, 
 give every tree, a dijlincl form, or 
 characler. At a little diftance you eafily 
 diftinguifh the oak from the afh ; and 
 the afh from the beech. It is this 
 general form, not any particular detail, 
 which the artift is inftructed to get by 
 heart. The fame remark holds with 
 
 regard 
 
( ) 
 
 regard to other parts of nature. Thefc 
 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 cont rafted. 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 
 fublides, the fummit falling into the 
 bafe, extends, and raifes it ; and that 
 part of the water which meets the fuc- 
 ceeding wave, fprings upward from the 
 ihock; 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 evening-Jbadow lefs opaquely falls. It is 
 not often obferved by landfcape-painters, 
 tho it certainly deferves obfervation, that 
 the morning-fhadows are darker than thofc 
 of the evening. 
 101 If the big thought feem more than art can paint. 
 
 It is always a lign of genius to be dif- 
 fatisfied with our own efforts; and to 
 conceive more than we exprefs. 
 
 156 Defign 
 
( 125 ) 
 
 51 De/ign prefents the general Juhjefi, difpofiiion, 
 &c. Some writers on the art of painting 
 have varied this divifion. But it feems 
 moft proper, I think, to give the fe- 
 lection of the elements of landfcape — 
 the alTembling of rocks, mountains, ca- 
 taracts, and other objects to defign: while 
 difpofition is properly employed in the 
 local arrangement of them. 
 
 59 The general compofltion of a landfcape con- 
 lifts 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 muft felect a 
 good one. The foreground nuft always 
 be confiderable — in fome cafes, ample. 
 It is the very bails, and foundation of 
 
 the whole. Nor is it a bad rule, I 
 
 think, that fome part of the foreground 
 fliould be the higheft part of the picture. 
 In rocky, and mountainous views this 
 is eafy, and has generally a good effect. 
 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 
 time in many fpecies of landfcape this 
 
 rule 
 
( 126 ) 
 
 rule cannot eafily be obferved : nor is it 
 by any means effential. 
 
 69 Waterlo> like thine. The fubjects of this 
 matter feldom went beyond fome little 
 foreft-view. He has etched a great num- 
 ber of prints in thtsftile of landfcape ; 
 which for the beauty of the trees in par- 
 ticular, are much admired. 
 
 78 Landfcape s> that knew no leading fubj eel. There 
 is not a rule in landfcape-painting more 
 neglected ; or that ought more to be ob- 
 ferved, than what relates to a leading- 
 fubj eel. By the leading fubj eel: we mean, 
 what characterizes the Jcene. 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 fubject there- 
 fore is required in every landfcape, which 
 forms' it's character; 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 diftance introduced, is merely an ap- 
 pendage ; and muft plainly appear to be 
 an under-part ; not interfering with the 
 
 fubject 
 
( "7 ) 
 
 fubject of the piece. But mofl 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 finking 
 object to attract the eye, muft plainly 
 ftiew, that it is intended only to intro- 
 duce the leading-fubject with more ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 1 94 Thus, in a foreft-fcene, the woods and lawns, 
 are the leading fubjecl. If the piece will 
 admit 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 fubjecl:. They 
 mull not interfere with it : but be far 
 removed. 
 
 202 And tho a glance. It is certain, in fact, that 
 a conliderable 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 conflder the fore- 
 ground as the bafiSy 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 feleclion, and arrangement 
 of the parts of nature, has a better chance 
 to make a good pidlure, 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 be fuh- 
 lime, or heautiful y 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 mafter. 
 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 reftriclion, he cer- 
 tainly may bring together a more confiftent 
 whole y culled from the various 'parts of 
 nature, than nature herfelf exhibits in 
 any one Jcene. 
 
 3 1 9 Trace thy lines with pencil free. The mafter is 
 difcovered even in his chalk, or black- 
 lead lines — fo free, firm, and intelligent. 
 
 Wc 
 
( "9 ) 
 
 We often admire thefe firft, rude touches. 
 The ftory of the two old matters will be 
 remembered, who left cards of compli- 
 ments to each other, on which only the 
 flmple outline of a figure was drawn by 
 one, and corrected by the other; but 
 with fuch a fuperior elegance in each, 
 that the (ignature of names could not have 
 marked them more deciflvely. 
 
 323 Firft Jketch a Jlight cartoon. It is the practice 
 indeed of the generality of painters, when 
 they have any great defign to execute, 
 to make a flight (ketch, fome times on 
 paper, and fometimes on canvas. And 
 thefe fketches are often greatly fuperior 
 to the principal picture, which has been 
 laboured, and finifhed with the exacteft 
 care. King William on horfe-back at 
 Hampton court, by fir Godfrey Kneller, 
 is a ftriking example of this remark. 
 The picture is highly finifhed ; but is a 
 tame, and unmafterly performance. At 
 Houghton-hall I have feen the original 
 fketch of this picture ; which I fhould 
 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 
 
( m ) 
 
 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 y 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 y 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 ftili be more at a lofs ; and muft 
 have recourfe to different earths. — In oil- 
 painting one of the fineft earths is known, 
 
 at 
 
( H* ) 
 
 at the colour-fhops, by the name of caftle- 
 earthy or Vandyke s-brown ; as it is fuppofed 
 to have been ufed by that matter. 
 
 341 And is by her rejefted. Scarce any natural 
 object, but fnow, is purely white. The 
 chalk-cliff is generally in a degree difco- 
 loured. The petals of the fnow-drop 
 indeed, and of fome other flowers, are 
 purely white : but feldom any of the 
 larger parts of nature. 
 
 362 Keep in view that harmony , &c. Tho it will be 
 neceffary 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 Ample pigments, of which there are 
 great abundance in the painter's difpen- 
 fatory. 
 
 364 This mode of colouring is the moft difficult 
 to attain, as it is the moft fcientific. 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 artift, 
 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 Iky, nor ftudied 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 Iheets 
 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 moft remarkable inftance of ingenious 
 colouring I ever heard of, is in Guidos 
 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 
 chaftenefs are preferved in the higheft 
 degree. 
 
 426 Let 
 
( *33 ) 
 
 4H Let Jhade predominate. As a general rule, the 
 half-tints fhould have more extent than 
 the lights ; and the fhadows mould equal 
 both put together. Yet why a predo- 
 minancy of made 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 mailer 
 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 eaiily 
 tranfgreffed, and fo little underftood, as 
 the diftribution of light. 
 
 449 Oppq/itwn, and gradation are the two grand 
 means of producing effect by light. In 
 K 3 the 
 
( 134 ) 
 
 the pi&ure juft given (1. 429. &c.) of the 
 evening-ray, the effeel: is produced by 
 oppqfition. Beautiful effects too of the 
 fame kind arife often from catching lights* 
 
 The power of producing effeel: 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 effeel, no doubt, arifes from the 
 oppojition 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. — 
 
 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 picturefque. 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 difagreeably patched ; 
 tho we fometimes fee them pleafingly 
 coloured with a graduating tint. Wild 
 animals, in general, are more uniformly 
 
 coloured, 
 
( *35 ) 
 
 coloured, than tame. Except the zebra, 
 and two or three of the fpotted race, I 
 recollect 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 picturefque animal. It's ftreaked fides 
 injure it both in point of colour, and in 
 the delineation of it's form. 
 But rarely fpread it on the dijlant fcene. In 
 general perhaps a landfcape is beft 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 diftance be in 
 Jhadow, yet that fhadow is fo faint, that 
 the retiring hue is frill preferved. This 
 however is only a general rule. In hifto- 
 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, 
 
( '36 ) 
 
 cafe, it mould be diftinguiflied by light ; 
 unlefs it be fo fituated as to receive more 
 diftinction from (hade. 
 
 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 
 mifts ; 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 
 leaft appearance before. 
 
 493 Tho the objects may leffen in due proportion, 
 which is called keeping; tho the gra- 
 duating hue of retiring objects, or the 
 aerial perfpeclive, may be juft s and tho 
 the light may be diftributed according 
 to the rules of art; yet ftill 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 Jeveral parts before it, the beft way 
 of examining it as a perf e ft whole, is to 
 examine it in fuch a light, as will not 
 admit the investigation of parts. 
 
 549 Others, 
 
( w ) 
 
 534 Others^ &c. Some painters copy exactly what 
 they fee. In this there is more mechani- 
 cal precifion, than genius. Others take 
 a general^ comprehenfive viezv of their ob- 
 ject ; and H>dki$g juft the charafteriftic 
 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, 
 wdth all his painful exactnefs. 
 
 568 Why then degrade > &c. If by bringing the 
 figures forward on the foreground, you 
 give room for character, and exprejjion, 
 you put them out of place as appendages > 
 for which they were intended. 
 
 586 Oft flowly zvinding, &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 forelhortened, it 
 receives additional beauty from contraft. In 
 the fame manner a cavalcade, or an army 
 on it's march, may be confidered as one 
 objett ; and derive beauty from the fame 
 fource. Mr. Gray has given us a very 
 picturefque view of this kind, in defcrib- 
 ing the march of Edward I ; 
 
 As down the fteep of Snowdon's fhaggy "fide 
 He with toilfome march his long array. Asrr7 
 
 Stout Gloucefter ftood aghall in fpeechlefs trance: 
 To arms! cried Mortimer; and couched his quivering lance. 
 
 Through 
 
( 138 ) 
 
 Through a paflage in the mountain we fee 
 the troops winding round at a great 
 diftance. Among thofe nearer the eye, 
 we diftinguilh the horfe and foot; and 
 on the foreground, the action, and ex- 
 preflion of the principal commanders. 
 The ancients feem to have known very little 
 of that fource of the picturefque, which 
 arifes from perfpective : 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 ftill lefs. 
 
 I do not remember meeting any where 
 with a more pidhirefque defcription of a 
 line of march, than in Vaillant's travels into 
 the interior parts of Africa. He was 
 palling with a numerous caravan, along 
 the borders of$ Caffraria. 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 borfeback, rode 
 backwards, and forewards. This caravan 
 
 on 
 
( 139 ) 
 
 on it's march, exhibited often a lingu- 
 lar, and amuiing fpectacle. 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 character is lefs obvious, than 
 that of mod: other objects. It is much 
 better therefore, where a vefTel 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 all necef- 
 fary to make your fhip fo accurate, that 
 a feaman could find no fault with it. It 
 is the fame in figures: as appendages of 
 landfcape there is no neceflity to have 
 them exactly accurate ; but if they have 
 the general form, and the character of 
 what they reprefent, the landfcape is 
 better without them. 
 
 623 Tbey 
 
( Ho ) 
 
 608 They feem> &c. Rapid motion alone, and that 
 near the eye, is here cenfured. We 
 Ihould be careful 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 imi- 
 tated, and much is to be fupplied by the 
 
 imagination of the fpectator. It is 
 
 thus in the drama. How abfurdly would 
 the fpectator act, if inftead of aflifting the 
 illufion of the ftage, he Ihould infill 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 fimplicity 
 
 of 
 
( Hi ) 
 
 of the antique, think Guido's air, in ge- 
 neral fomewhat theatrical* 
 Skilful they, &c. The greater!: obftruction 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 W 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. ) 
 tf The reafon why ^gentlemen, inquifitive 
 " after knowledge in pictures, have their 
 cc eyes lefs qualified to judge, than others, 
 " is becaufe their thoughts have been con- 
 " tinually employed in conlidering, and 
 u retaining the various manners, in which 
 " pictures are painted — the hiftories, names, 
 " and characters of the mailers, together 
 <c with many other little circumflances 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 
 
( m ) 
 
 u in their minds, of the objects themfelves 
 * f 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 
 Cf difregard the works of nature, merely 
 fC becaufe they do not tally with what their 
 " minds are fo fTrongly prepofleffed with. 
 if Were it not for this, many a reputed 
 <f capital picture, which now adorns the 
 <r 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 Taflb. 
 By fuch criticifm he may indeed arrive 
 at certain truths ; but he will never form 
 that malterly 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 
 
( 143 ) 
 
 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; 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 artift paints 
 better than another. 
 
 END OF THE NOTES. 
 
EXPLANATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PRINTS. 
 
 JL WO facing page 19, It is the intention of thefe 
 two prints to illuftrate how very adverfe the 
 idea of fmoothnefs is to the compofition of 
 landfcape. In the fecond of them the great 
 lines of the landfcape are exactly the fame 
 as in the firft only they are more broken. 
 Two facing p. 75. The firft of thefe prints is 
 meant to illuftrate the idea of Jimple illumi- 
 nation. The light falls ftrongly on various 
 parts; as indeed it often does in nature. 
 But as it is the painter's bufinefs to take 
 nature in her moft beautiful form, he chufes 
 to throw his light more into a mafs, as re- 
 prefented in the fecond print, which exhi- 
 bits the fame landfcape, only better inlight- 
 ened. When we merely take the lines of 
 a landfcape from nature ; and inlighten it 
 
 (as 
 
( ii ) 
 
 (as we muft 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 in fpots ; but muft be brought 
 more together, as on the rocky iide of the 
 hill in the fecond print : and yet it muft 
 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. 76. The infcription 
 
 is that admired" one of Caecilia Metella, 
 the daughter of Metellus, and the wife of 
 Craflus ; in which, with fo much elegant, 
 and tender iimplicity, 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 necefTary 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 fatisfadtorily ; 
 and who, as far as the recommendation of a 
 partial kinfman may go, deferves mine. 
 
 One 
 
( "i ) 
 
 One facing p. 85. This print is an explanation of 
 a few rules in perfpe&ive juft fufficient 
 for the ufe of common landfcape. 
 
A CATALOGUE of Mr. Gilpin's Works, pub- 
 lifted by R. Blamire, in the Strand. 
 
 An Expofition of the New Teftament, intended as an intro- 
 duction to the ftudy of the holy fcriptures, by pointing out the 
 leading fenfe, and connexion of the facred writers, in 4to. 
 price £ i. is, 2d. edit, in 8vo. 12J. in boards 
 
 Lectures on the Church-catechifm for the ufe of fchools. 3d. edit, 
 price y. 
 
 Lives of feveral Reformers, of different editions, and prices ; the 
 
 whole together 12s. 6d. in boards. 
 Two Sermons, On comparing fpiritual things nvith fpiritual and On 
 
 the Simplicity of the go/pel. price is. 6d. 
 An EfTay on Prints. 8vo. 4th edit, price 4/. 
 Picturefque Remarks on the River Wye. 3d. edit, price ijs. 
 on the Lakes of Cumberland and Weft- 
 
 moreland. 2 vol. 3d. edit, price £1. ns.6d. 
 - on the Highlands of Scotland. 2 v. 2d. edit. 
 
 price £ 1. i6j. 
 
 ■ on Forefl Scenery. 2 vol. 2d. edit, price 
 
 £1. 16s. 
 
 Life of John Trueman, &c. for the ufe of fervants-halls, cottages, 
 and farm-houfes. 3d. edit, price lod. or 108 for ^4. 
 
 An Account of William Baker. 2d. edit, price 3 d, may be bound 
 up with J. Trueman, is. 
 
The Author is forry to find fo many Words mifprinted. But as 
 the corrector of the prefs acknowledges he can make no fatis- 
 fadory apology, the author accepts his candid acknowledge- 
 ment, as an excufe. He hopes the reader will accept it like- 
 wife, and mark with his pen the following 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 
 
 8. for widening read 'winding* 
 10. for brigbteji read higheft. 
 33. after not informed, place a colon. 
 43. for idea off ublimity read ideas of fublimity. 
 
 78. for with the reddijh read with a reddijh* 
 
 79. for Jligbtly finifhed, read highly finifhed. 
 
 80. for greyifh file, read gayer file. 
 
 85. for if s near efi perpendicular read the near efl perpendicular, 
 
 86. for tend only read tends only. 
 
 87. for is far below read is fo far below* 
 
 87. for modes of Jketching , read mode of Jkctchlng. 
 
 89. 
 
 for i! 
 
 l-judged artift read ill-judging artijl. 
 
 93- 
 
 line 
 
 266. for -will be eafy read muji be eafy. 
 
 103. 
 
 
 109. place a comma, inftead of a period, after mountain-range. 
 
 105. 
 
 
 180. a comma after beyond. 
 
 105. 
 
 
 185. for things read thing. 
 
 no. 
 
 
 326. for pellet read pallet. 
 
 in. 
 
 
 353. for conceal read conceals. 
 
 112. 
 
 
 387. for adopts read adapts : and for the evening ray read an evening ray. 
 
 114. 
 
 
 439. for ivith tenfold, read which tenfold. 
 
 119. 
 
 
 586. for awakened read awaked. 
 
 126. 
 
 
 169. for /'« _/?i/e 0/* landfcape read i« 7&z*j 0^ landfcape. 
 
 137- 
 
 
 534. for making juji read and marking juji. 
 
 137. 
 
 
 586. for £e would read &e wound. , 
 
 138. 
 
 
 586. for a Caffraria read Caffraria. 
 
 '39» 
 
 
 600. for general form read £<rc/<? wcf f general form. 
 
 141. 
 
 
 643. Place a cowwa after gmz? «*aws }' and inftead of w£_y gentlemen. 
 
 read w^y gentlemen- 
 
Hon