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 https://archive.org/details/drawingfromnaturOObarn 
 
FUONTISHECE, PLATE 1. 
 
 •j' w ie is © m d 'jj n D 3> 1 ii n §<, 
 
DRAWING FROM NATUKE 
 
 A SERIES OF 
 
 PROGRESSIVE INSTRUCTIONS IN SKETCHING, 
 
 TO WHICH ARE APPENDED 
 
 lectures oit %xt beliberffr at JUijjbij School. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY EIGHTEEN COLOURED PLATES, AND NUMEROUS WOODCUTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE BARNARD, 
 
 PROFESSOR OF E HAWING AT RUGBY SCHOOL; AUTHOR OF "THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF LANDSCAPE PAINTING IN 
 WATER-COLOURS," "FOLIAGE AND FOREGROUND DRAWING," "SWITZERLAND," ETC. 
 
 NEW EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE. 
 
 NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET. 
 
 MDCCCLXXYII 
 
LONDON : 
 SONS, AND TAYLOR, I'RINTEl 
 BREAD STREET HILL, 
 VEEN VICTORIA STREET. 
 
 WtfiEnYCFJSER 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION 1 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ELEMENTARY PRACTICE 8 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TREES 18 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FOREGROUND STUDIES 89 
 
 SECT. 
 
 I. COTTAGE HOMES. 
 
 II. SHRUBS AND GARDEN HEDGES. 
 
 III. LANE AND HEDGE PLANTS. 
 
 IV. THE ROADSIDE. 
 
 V. THE HEATH OR COMMON. 
 VI. MEADOW GRASSES AND FIELD FLOWERS. 
 
 VII. CORN FIELDS. 
 
 VIII. THE STREAM AND ITS BORDERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LECTURES AND MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS 167 
 
 I. DRAWING FROM NATURE IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 II. HINTS ON GENERAL STUDY. 
 
 III. USE OF WATER COLOURS. 
 
 IV. FIVE MINUTES' SOLITUDE WITH A GLASS OF WATER. 
 
 V. THE ART OF LITHOGRAPHY. 
 
 VI. THE STUDY OF ROCKS. 
 
 VII. MODERN PAINTERS AS TEACHERS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SYLVA EVELYN'S COUNTEY 223 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FOREST OF FONTAINEBLEAU 241 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF THE VACATION 248 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AN EXPLANATION OF ALPINE TEEMS 263 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AN ALPINE SKETCHING TOUE 284 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ARTISTIC EFFECTS AND INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL .... 295 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN OUTLINE OF A TOUR IN THE PYRENEES .'307 
 
 CONCLUSION '.' 340 
 
LIST OF PLATES. 
 
 PLATE 
 
 I. Foreground Plants (coloured plate) . Frontispiece 
 
 II. Examples of Touch for Oak and Ash to face page 18 
 
 III. ' Ditto ditto Elm and Beech 30 
 
 IV. Ditto ditto Birch, Poplar, Willow, and Thorn 56 
 
 V. Ditto ditto Scotch Fir, Spanish Chestnut, Larch, and Plane . - 68 
 
 VI. Brush Practice in Sepia 141 
 
 VII. Ditto ditto Trees 166 
 
 VIII. Group of Game 576 
 
 IX. Spanish Chestnut, Valley of Aoste 182 
 
 X. Ash, "Warkworth Castle 192 
 
 XI. Scotch Fir, Pont d'Espagne, Pyrenees .198 
 
 XII. E'er de Cheval 202 
 
 XIII. The Eagle Rock, Glen Sligachan, Skye 206 
 
 XIV. Les Ottleys, Havre de Gosselyn, Serk 210 
 
 XV. Chene de Sully, Fontainehleau (coloured plate) 241 
 
 XVI. The Matterhom S!50 
 
 XVII. The Jungfrau from above the Staubbach 292 
 
 XVIII. The Aiguilles Verte and Dm from the base of the Mer de Glace 298 
 
LIST OF WOODCUTS. 
 
 Inscription Plate. Lilies of the. Valley. 
 
 yo. r 
 
 
 NO. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1. Heading, Title (Potentilla and Ground 
 
 
 60. 
 
 
 104 
 
 Ivy) 
 
 1 
 
 61. 
 
 Lane and Hedge Plants 
 
 106 
 
 2. First Sketch, Post and Water Dock . 
 
 4 
 
 62. 
 
 
 110 
 
 3. Roadside Sketching (Pyrenees) . . 
 
 7 
 
 63. 
 
 Red-berried Bryony .... 
 
 11? 
 
 4. Heading (Bryony) 
 
 8 
 
 
 \V oouy ..n lglitsliaue 
 
 114 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 White Bindweed 
 
 116 
 
 »;tc>12. Touches of Foliage .... 
 
 14 
 
 66. 
 
 White Garden-Lily 
 
 11 7 
 
 1 3 to 16. ,, ,, .... 
 
 15 
 
 67. 
 
 
 . 119 
 
 J 7 to 20. . , , . .... 
 
 16 
 
 68. 
 
 The Roadside 
 
 123 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 126 
 
 
 23 
 
 70. 
 
 
 
 23. Elm .. . 
 
 26 
 
 71 . 
 
 The Heath or < 'omi i 
 
 . 131 
 
 24. Wych Elm Foliage 
 
 28 
 
 r 2 ' 
 
 The Marten 
 
 , 133 
 
 25. Beech ,, ...... 
 
 30 
 
 73. 
 
 Hare- Bell 
 
 . 136 
 
 
 
 74. 
 
 Geese on ( ommon • ■ ■ ■ • 
 
 . 139 
 
 
 37 
 
 
 Rabbit and Ferret with herns . 
 
 . 140 
 
 
 
 it' 
 
 r^e Hay Field 
 
 . 1 43 
 
 29. Birchen Implements 
 
 40 
 
 "' 
 
 Corn Fields . 
 
 . 149 
 
 
 41 
 
 78. 
 
 
 
 31. Plane ,, 
 
 44 
 
 
 
 
 32. Plane and Sycamore Leaves 
 
 45 
 
 80. 
 
 E lowering Rush, &c 
 
 . 156 
 
 33. Spanish Chestnut Foliage .... 
 
 46 
 
 81. 
 
 Salmon Traps, Conway . . . 
 
 . 158 
 
 34. Horse Chestnut ,, .... 
 
 48 
 
 82. 
 
 
 
 35. Horse Chestnut Blossom .... 
 
 49 
 
 83. 
 
 Water Lily 
 
 . 160 
 
 
 oO 
 
 84. 
 
 Reeds and Starlings .... 
 
 . 166 
 
 
 51 
 
 BO. 
 
 Rugby School 
 
 . 167 
 
 38. Weeping Willow ,, .... 
 
 56 
 
 86. 
 
 Rugby Boys (Football) . 
 
 . 179 
 
 
 
 8/. 
 
 
 
 
 61 
 
 88. 
 
 l.Wass 01 \\ atei , <xe 
 
 . 193 
 
 41. Maple „ .... 
 
 63 
 
 89. 
 
 The Evelyn Woods 
 
 222 
 
 42. Hawthorn „ .... 
 
 
 90. 
 
 
 
 43. Stone Pine, Coast of Genoa . . . 
 
 67 
 
 91. 
 
 Squirrels and Oak (Fontainebleau) 
 
 . 241 
 
 
 69 
 
 92. 
 
 Route de Chailly ,, 
 
 . 243 
 
 45. Scotch Fir, Leith Hill 
 
 71 
 
 93. 
 
 Figures by the Wayside . 
 
 . 262 
 
 46. Larch Foliage 
 
 73 
 
 94. 
 
 Bergschrund 
 
 . 263 
 
 47. Cypress, Cedar, and Yew Foliage 
 
 76 
 
 95. 
 
 Wengern Alp 
 
 . 265 
 
 48. Date Palm, Coast of Genoa . . . 
 
 80 
 
 96. 
 
 Marjelen See 
 
 . 284 
 
 
 81 
 
 97. 
 
 Aiguille de Charmoz .... 
 
 . 295 
 
 50, Elder 
 
 83 
 
 98. 
 
 Monte Rosa, from the Val Anzasea 
 
 . 304 
 
 51. Broom and Furze 
 
 84 
 
 
 Pic du Midi " 
 
 . 306 
 
 52. Leaves of Cherry 
 
 
 1 00. 
 
 Peasants of Les Landes . . . 
 
 . 310 
 
 53. Vine Foliage 
 
 
 101. 
 
 Bathing at Biarritz 
 
 . 314 
 
 54. Cottage Homes 
 
 
 102. 
 
 Les Eanx Chaudes 
 
 . 319 
 
 55. The Garden Hedge 
 
 
 
 Stable of a Spanish Posada . 
 
 . 321 
 
 56. Holly (Winter) ' 
 
 
 
 Man and Donkey 
 
 . 324 
 
 
 
 105. 
 
 Bagneres de Bigorre .... 
 
 . 329 
 
 
 
 106. 
 107. 
 
 Pyrenean Peasant 
 
 Moonlight, on the Luke of Lucern 
 
 . 339 
 e 340 
 
RAWING taught upon sound principles, contributes in no 
 mean proportion to the development ol' the intellectual powers. 
 \ The habit of close observation, with the exactness and dexterity 
 required in the practice of this art, educates not only the eye and hand, but 
 materially assists in strengthening the mind. To accomplish this, however, 
 it is essential that drawing be pursued with the same devotion, and with the 
 same opportunities as other branches of education. It must not be treated 
 as a mere pastime, to be followed or not, according to the whim of the 
 moment, and for the neglect of which a deficiency of talent or the urgency 
 of other studies, is considered a more than sufficient excuse. What youth 
 is allowed to plead "a want of taste" for Latin or Greek? The answer 
 would be, they are indispensable ; these studies of men's thoughts and actions 
 elevate and refine his own mind and language, enabling him to speak and act 
 like a true gentleman. 
 
 Dr. Temple says " neither mathematics nor physical science touch the 
 strictly human part of our nature ; the fact being that all education really 
 comes from intercourse with other minds. . . . That which supplies the 
 perpetual spur to the whole human race to continue incessantly adding to our 
 store of knowledge, that which refines, elevates, and does not merely educate 
 the moral, nor merely the intellectual faculties, but the whole man, is our 
 communion with each other, and the highest study is that which most 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 promotes this communion. . . . That study will do the most, which most 
 familiarizes a boy's mind with noble thoughts, with beautiful images, with 
 the deeds and the words which great men have done and said, and all others 
 have admired and loved." 
 
 Drawing also does much of this, and adds that which mere abstract study 
 wants, — the power of accurate observation, and the ability to express the result 
 in a language intelligible to all. To effect this, Drawing must be to the pupil 
 a bona tide study, the fruit of his own observation, and of his own thoughts, 
 as well as of the training of his hand, and the dexterity and grace of his 
 manipulation. It must not be a parrot-like imitation of the ideas or language 
 of another— a mere repetition without sense or reflection: this is not drawing, 
 but co] lying, the preliminary practice before we arrive at the Art of Draiving 
 from Nature. 
 
 Nothing lias such a tendency to weaken not only the dexterity of the hand 
 but the power of accurate observation, as the habit of copying hastily and 
 carelessly the ideas of others, without referring continually to the reality. To 
 prevent this indiscriminate and ape-like repetition and misdirection of energy, 
 copying should be used only as a means of acquiring the power of handling 
 the instrument. That once attained, the pupil should begin to draw the 
 simplest forms from real objects. In fact, as soon as lie can draw straight 
 lines, let a perspective drawing of a cube be shown him, together with the 
 object itself. After he has closely examined the solid form on all sides, let 
 him take a position in which the real cube will appear the same as in the 
 drawing ; let him look at it through a transparent plane, such as a sheet 
 of glass in a frame, and let him trace upon it with a crayon of hard soap the 
 edges of the cube as they appear to him from that point. Then substitute a 
 piece of wood or paper for the glass, let him hide the cube with it by holding 
 it at arm's length, and then, having lowered and raised it several times, let him 
 place the paper on the table, and by an effort of memory draw the form he has 
 previously traced on the glass ; with a moderate amount of care and attention 
 he will succeed in producing it, almost as accurately as it appears on the 
 transparent medium. A cube and circle thus truly and carefully studied, 
 drawn in every position and reasoned upon, will produce clear and determinate 
 ideas with which to lay a foundation of exactitude in drawing, and will also 
 remove one of the causes of obscurity in simple ideas, which Locke tells us 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 3 
 
 "seem to be either dull organs, slight impressions, or weakness of memory." 
 Memory, the storehouse of ideas, is greatly developed and strengthened by the 
 young draughtsman's endeavouring, after an attentive study of any object, to 
 draw it from recollection ; in this manner ideas of the connexion of lines and 
 solid forms will become inseparable in his mind, and he will afterwards greatly 
 benefit by having clearly understood the subject from the outset. 
 
 A rapid communication between the eye, memory, and hand is also esta- 
 blished, and the great gulf which so often exists between copying and drawing 
 from real objects at once bridged over ; wdiile the true artist will find that, 
 after a little practice, the power of communicating his thoughts by drawing- 
 will, in many instances, be more agreeable and complete than that of writing. 
 
 Locke again confirms us in this opinion, when he says that " drawing helps 
 a man often to express in a few lines well put together what a whole sheet of 
 paper in writing would not be able to represent or make intelligible." 
 
 " Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute, " say the French, and I think it is 
 worth a little trouble to render this formidable "premier pas" as short and 
 easy as possible, and I have sometimes found my pupils assisted and encou- 
 raged by a description of some of the difficulties which attended my first 
 attempts to draw from nature — difficulties which I doubt not were increased 
 by my having for too long a time directed my attention to mere copying. 
 
 As the reader will perceive, my first attempt was a very simple affair ; yet, 
 though I have since sketched many complicated subjects, both at home and 
 abroad, I do not believe any one cost me so much real labour, elicited so many 
 sighs and despairing exclamations, or produced in my eyes so poor a result 
 for a long afternoon's work. I should mention, that at the time of making it 
 I could copy the most elaborate lithographs with such success, that partial 
 judges pronounced my imitations, not only equal, but even superior to the 
 original. A shrewd master and sincere friend, however, declared sufficient 
 time had been spent in what has been denominated " laborious idleness," and 
 one fine summer's afternoon he desired me to take my sketching materials 
 and go up the banks of the Thames to Putney, with injunctions not to return 
 without a sketch from Nature, even if it were merely a post with a rope tied 
 round it. 
 
 I sallied out, feeling very much as a boy who cannot swim must do upon 
 being thrown into deep water, without corks, or even any one to hold up his 
 
 B 2 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 chin, foi I had never drawn from real objects before. The disconsolate way 
 in which I wandered up and down the banks, abounding with rich and 
 picturesque subjects, such as old boats, ships breaking up, mills, bridges, trees, 
 
 and water-plants, is still deeply im- 
 pressed on my memory. Some of 
 these objects I doubtless saw, but 
 thought too difficult, others not suffi- 
 ciently picturesque ; so that at last, 
 in sheer desperation, I sat down be- 
 fore the very object my master had 
 suggested. This first sketch would 
 have been accomplished with less 
 difficulty had my friend made it 
 with me, explained a little of the 
 practical use of perspective; but the 
 mental discipline I underwent was 
 valuable, for it lowered my pride in 
 my neat copies, and taught me to 
 see Nature for the future with humi- 
 lity, if not with love. 
 
 I just now alluded to the dif- 
 ficulty I experienced in my choice 
 of a subject. The eloquent author 
 of "'Modern Painters" teds us we are "to reject nothing-, select nothing, 
 and scorn nothing." Now, presumptuous as it is to scorn the least portion 
 of a creation which has been declared perfect, we are surely quite at liberty, 
 as regards Art, both to reject and select those objects, and those effects 
 only, which in our opinion are most fitted for representation. In reality, we 
 begin to select from our earliest childhood ; the eye discriminates without 
 our being conscious of any effort. The great object of Art is to choose and 
 combine such forms, colours, and effects, as shall best convey to the spectator 
 the inspiration of the moment, or the scene which has impressed the aitist's 
 mind with beauty, sublimity, or repose. A figure moved by passion, and 
 presenting for the instant a striking and powerful idea of the emotion, passes 
 through innumerable variety of positions, one of which only can be seized and 
 
INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 portrayed. That most suited to convey the truth we select, the others are 
 rejected. As an instance of this selection, a racehorse at full speed doubles 
 his legs under him, and they remain in that position as long as in the opposite, 
 outstretched ; but we find that this doubled-up position does not give the idea 
 of motion or speed, therefore we reject it, and choose the other. In a group 
 of figures moved by a similar emotion, selection of position and action is still 
 more necessary, even to the colour of the draperies, and the most apparently 
 trifling accessories. The same rule holds good in landscape painting ; one 
 single point must be selected from which to sketch the entire scene, and once 
 chosen it must be adhered to. 
 
 The power of judicious selection must fie the result of study, and study, 
 to be successful, must, as Sir Joshua Reynolds says, " be well directed." The 
 most useful guide in this education is the experience of others. How many 
 pencil or coloured sketches equivalent to notes with the pen, but far more 
 graphic than any words, lie hidden in the artist's folio, evidently ideas 
 rejected, for the time at least, while others, more suited to his present need, 
 are dwelt upon and nurtured till the mere sketch becomes a finished work, 
 and thus the germ of many a future picture may lie encased like the young 
 bud of a fruitful tree awaiting its due season to unfold. Unless, however, 
 this power of selection has been cultivated, it may not unfrequently occur 
 that subjects more interesting, pictures more striking, grouped figures more 
 naturally disposed than those ultimately chosen, have been passed by, or 
 even if sketched, condemned for ever to the obscurity of the artist's folio. 
 Though it is only natural that he should give the preference to the brush 
 rather than the pen, yet, in addition to the hasty strokes of his favourite 
 instrument, a certain portion of word-painting is a valuable auxiliary, and 
 should not be neglected, as it not only enables the artist to recal, by means 
 of a few notes, circumstances and traits of character that must otherwise 
 escape him in the lapse of years, but is highly interesting to those who are 
 associated with him in the same ardent worship of Nature. 
 
 How earnestly have many of us longed for a truthful diary of the passing 
 thoughts and feelings of great men, and how carefully have we cherished such 
 as have been left us when certain that they are faithful transcripts of the 
 man, and not made up portraits for exhibition ! What lessons to the Art- 
 student are the sketches and studies for a single great picture, and how much 
 
r; DE AWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 he learns from the artist's corrections, elaborations, and selections, as he 
 follows the one idea through each succeeding stage. These are as valuable 
 in Art as the seared and corrected manuscripts of Pope and Gray can be to 
 the young poet. It is indeed a common remark among students sufficiently 
 advanced in their profession to feel the difficulties of acquiring skill without 
 experience, that one visit to the studio of an eminent painter — one fair 
 examination of his studies, of his rejected and adopted ideas, with a few 
 kindly explanations from himself, is far more instructive than a whole 
 exhibition of his finished productions. Let it be understood that I by no 
 means advise a habit of indiscriminately sketching every scene, or combination 
 of light and shade, or colours, that may present itself to the student. These 
 sketches and notes, to be valuable, must be well defined and carefully made, 
 or they will prove as useless to himself as unintelligible to others. Even 
 some of Turner's folios of loose studies are so utterly unconnected, that not 
 even his most ardent worshippers are able to find any clue to his idea 
 I remember, when young, once travelling in the diligence from Paris to 
 Geneva in company with an amateur, who greatly astonished me by inces- 
 santly filling his note-book with rough sketches, in coloured crayons, of every 
 object, no matter of what nature, that we passed upon the road. By the time 
 we reached Geneva the book was about as valuable as so much waste paper, 
 no real meaning being attached to any single scrawl ; the only thing acquired 
 was a habit of indiscriminate sketching — as bad as a person talking inces- 
 santly without communicating a single idea. 
 
 The general desire for a glance behind the scenes — the anxiety to trace 
 the course of a great artist's idea from the moment when it first flashed before 
 his mental vision to the time when, finally embodied, it stood before him 
 a completed work, have induced many artists to exhibit their sketches year 
 by year. In the case of a living painter of historical or poetical subjects this 
 can scarcely be expected ; but it is most instructive to examine the sketches 
 and studies of Raphael, Michael Angelo, and other old masters that have been 
 preserved. Could the most successful works be traced in this manner to their 
 first conception, they would often be found to result from an idea, an incident, 
 an effect of only a moment's duration, but which, falling on a well-prepared 
 mind, and wrought out by a hand trained to convey an impression, however 
 transient, have laid the foundation of a true work of art. Many artists are 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 7 
 
 incapable of explaining the process through which their picture arrived at 
 maturity. Wrought up and carried on by the excitement of genius, the steps 
 which led to the result are forgotten ; nor could we expect or desire that 
 a Turner or a Landseer should stop in his glorious career, even to assist 
 the neophyte in Art by the history of his progress. It belongs to those who 
 are but a few steps up the ladder of fame to aid the novice in placing his foot 
 safely on the first round. Such, however genuine their devotion to Art, are 
 not so likely to have forgotten the difficulties they encountered in their search 
 after truth, nor the points at which they most felt the need of a friendly 
 helping hand. 
 
study of parts, before attempting whole subject; fkecision and firmness thus 
 acquired — foliage difficult to render truly — the hani) exercised before 
 Drawing from nature — plants selected according to prominence in a picture — 
 general character dependant on outline, in trees on disposition of trunk and 
 branches— study of detail merged in general f,f fect— -turner an elaborate 
 copyist— characteristics of each tree to be strictly rendered; these varied by 
 climate and soil — lithographic examples suited for copying — resemblance of art 
 and poetry — freedom and delicacy of drawing valued by painters uf antiquity 
 — apelles — giotto— examples of foliage, figs. 1 to 10 - shading, figs. 11 to 14 — 
 brush sometimes superior to pencil ; flat and gradated tints, plate vi. — highest 
 lights left in correct forms — studies with full and moderately dry brush — 
 examples of foliage in sepia, plate vii. 
 
 HE design of this work being to assist all who have a desire to draw 
 immediately from Nature, I have endeavoured to explain the system 
 
 found most successful at Rugby and elsewhere. To teach the young student 
 of Nature to observe and execute, is an object worth much care and ex- 
 planation. I have therefore taken the practice step by step, beginning with 
 the simplest lines and touches, imitating as far as the somewhat perverse 
 nature of wood-cutting will permit, the freedom and dexterity of a trained 
 hand. I have already found by the large amount of success of former works, 
 that the pupil may be much assisted by previous careful study of the different 
 
ELEMENTARY PRACTICE. 
 
 9 
 
 pans before the entire object is attempted. As the road that is patiently trod 
 step by step is likely to be better known than that over which one is whirled 
 in an express train, so the examination of Nature in detail in this effort tends 
 greatly to increase the knowledge of the whole ; observation, mind, and hand 
 all working in unison. 
 
 In careful studies of this kind, there will be so much life and reality that 
 every observer, whether educated or not, will at once perceive that the artist 
 is well acquainted with the subject he has been treating. Such a result is 
 worth a good deal of patient labour. In addition to this, the study of objects 
 in detail gives precision and firmness to the hand, and a habit of faithful 
 copying is acquired, which is afterwards of the greatest use in rendering the 
 more elaborate tones of the middle and distant portions of a picture. 
 
 There are, however, some objects so multitudinous in their parts and so 
 changeable in their position and form, that something more than a strict 
 adherence to the rules of copying is required. Foremost among these stands 
 foliage, whether of trees, shrubs, or the more humble plants of the field and 
 common. At this point in the young artist's study, my experience has taught 
 me that great assistance can be rendered him by a well-considered method, 
 proved by repeated trials to be an effectual means of arriving at the desired 
 end. Do not let me be misunderstood. In no way would I substitute this 
 method or any theory for drawing from Nature. What I advocate is, that 
 before the student begins that course of study, he should so educate and train 
 his hand that strokes, touches, and tints in every direction and of every 
 quality and strength can be executed by the hand alone, leaving the 
 higher powers of the mind free to embrace more important points. Not 
 pretending to a knowledge of botany, I have simply viewed trees and plants 
 with a painter's eye ; treating them as parts of a picture, and as they affect 
 the unscientific observer. Artists have little to do with many plants which 
 interest the botanist, their attention being directed to the general appearance ; 
 in the following pages I have therefore selected only such objects as are at 
 once the most common and distinct in character, or those which afford good 
 practice in their graceful forms. A certain knowledge, however, of the prin- 
 cipal rules of botany, or perhaps I should rather say accurate observation and 
 acquaintance with Nature, is necessary, that the student may readily recognise 
 each tree and plant, not merely by the leaf and blossom, but by the structure 
 
10 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 and arrangement of its parts. He cannot be a faithful or effective delineator 
 of Nature without some acquaintance with geology, that its laws be not 
 transgressed when representing the stratification of rocks or fractures in 
 portions of them near the foreground. The general character of an object 
 is first obtained from the outline, or outside form ; in trees and plants, this 
 depends first, on the trunk or stem, then on the size or disposition of the 
 branches, and the way in which the smaller shoots or twigs grow and the 
 leaves expand. This careful study of character, upon which the truth of 
 drawing depends, must not degenerate into a timid and servile imitation of 
 details ; and when once the important parts are introduced, those not required 
 for effect must be observed by a few broad strokes or glazings. Our celebrated 
 Turner may be quoted as an encouraging example to the young in this close 
 and minute study ; from his early days he was an elaborate copyist of Nature, 
 though later all this knowledge was melted into a blaze of coloured light or 
 the obscurity of deep shade, and he often sacrificed much of the truth of detail 
 to experiments in colour frequently intelligible only to himself. Undoubtedly 
 the most important and ornamental objects in landscape are trees and plants, 
 but the great difficulty of representing foliage too often deters students from 
 attempting scenes of which they form the chief attraction. I am, therefore, 
 desirous of lessening this obstacle, by supplying my pupils with a few 
 directions for practice, which may lead, when followed by subsequent inter- 
 course with Nature, to a true and vigorous style in drawing foliage. Each tree 
 having a character of its own, must be represented characteristically, and its 
 individuality preserved, however much it may be modified by climate, soil, or 
 season. A tree in full leaf in the height of summer presents a very different 
 appearance from its autumn or winter aspect, yet as the trunk and ramification 
 of the branches remain unaltered, the species is still discernible. 
 
 Much variety occurs in the same kind of tree growing under different 
 circumstances ; a forest oak, for instance, differs greatly from the same species 
 growing in a group of two or three, for when planted in close vicinity to other 
 trees, its lateral branches are smaller and weaker, while its height is greater. 
 The influence of soil and climate is more observable in some trees than in 
 others ; the oak in favourable situations spreads its broad limbs on every side, 
 and grows to an immense size, increasing in spread more than in height, 
 whilst on craggy rocks and exposed to blighting winds, it becomes diminutive 
 
ELEMENTARY PRACTICE. 
 
 11 
 
 and shrubby, scarcely overtopping the underwood. The elm, ash, and lime 
 shoot up more rapidly and attain to a far greater height, but do not adapt 
 themselves with equal readiness to unfavourable situations. The way in 
 which each tree grows from the ground must be particularly noticed ; whether 
 the roots be prominent or not, the trunk, if much divided near the base ; the 
 bark, if rough, smooth, twisted or straight ; the distance of the branches from 
 the ground, the manner and place where they separate from the trunk; their 
 size in proportion to the stem or to the mass of leaves ; the angles which they 
 make with the trunk or ground ; the general growth and direction of the 
 twigs and leaves, whether the latter divide into small clusters and admit 
 much light, like those of the ash, or mass together in greater numbers like the 
 elm. Leaves which group closely together, as the beech, elm, lime, &c. are 
 capable of receiving greater breadth of light and shade than those of the birch, 
 weeping-willow and others; these the student should first attempt. Memo- 
 randa of the time of year when the autumnal tints appear on each tree, and 
 of the various changes which take place in the course of the seasons will be 
 found very useful. When the student has thus made himself acquainted 
 with the general character of each tree, as well as the kind of touch which 
 will hest represent the shape and growth of the leaf, he should proceed to 
 draw the whole tree from Nature, commencing with a light outline, not only 
 of the chief masses of light and shade of the foliage, but also a correcl 
 sketch of the trunk, and the direction of the principal branches, whether seen 
 or not, when finished. In drawing foliage, he should remember that it is not 
 possible to copy minutely each small spray, but let him aim at the general 
 resemblance, and his previous copying of twigs and small branches will give 
 great facility to his execution ; accurate and rapid execution being indis- 
 pensable to good tree drawing, as without it, or with too laboured a touch, 
 the necessary idea of capability of motion is lost. When the tree is finished 
 the position and direction of the larger branches should be discernible amongst 
 the thickest foliage ; these may be ascertained in Nature by a slight alteration 
 of place, and in Art, to produce the same effect, some of the foliage should be 
 made a little thinner or semi-transparent, and the colour of the branch be 
 indicated. The branches thus seen give lightness to the tree ; the student 
 must, however, beware of showing the stem and branches too completely, as 
 this would make them appear all on the side nearest tin 1 spectator, whereas 
 
12 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 they .should be placed in the midst of the foliage, sometimes even hidden by 
 the lower masses of leaves, but near the outside, and top more distinctly shown. 
 
 The just perspective of branches, though difficult to preserve, should 
 always be considered essential ; some should project forward, others retire, 
 and others, again, be placed nearly parallel to the plane of the picture. In 
 colour they are generally darker than the foliage, with the exception of the 
 birch, beech, and aspen, and when in the shadow of green leaves, partake 
 considerably of their tone. The difference of local colour in foliage may in 
 some degree be indicated, even in pencil and chalk, by a broad or general 
 tint put on with long strokes, and the shadow afterwards added in the same 
 manner as in colours. In the extreme distance the character of trees is only 
 distinguishable by their general form, which may be given with a flat tint. 
 In the examples or headings to trees, the leaves of eacb, and the way in 
 which they grow on the sprays, are given, hut the general appearance of a 
 bough of many of the most important trees at a greater distance has been 
 shown in plates. The woodcuts are not placed before the student to be copied, 
 as it is utterly impossible to copy a tree leaf by leaf, but to explain to him 
 the manner in which the character of each touch is derived. The litho- 
 graphic examples, Plates II. III. IV. and V. showing the touch of the principal 
 trees, and having more freedom, are better suited for practice ; also it is the 
 intention of the author to publish a series of larger examples drawn by him- 
 self on stone for the more complete training of the student in Drawing. 
 When this is perfectly understood, facility in its application will be gained 
 by drawing foliage in every direction on a large scale. To all those of my 
 readers who possess real artistic feeling, no apology need be offered for the 
 quotations from our poets that will be found in this volume, for the true 
 artist and the true poet are one in sentiment, differing from each other only 
 according to their gifts and in their mode of expression. These charming 
 fragments of poetry will also bring to remembrance many a lovely form or 
 beautiful effect, rendering the descriptions and illustrations with the pen and 
 pencil of double use, for verse, as Sir Philip Sydney says, " far exceedeth 
 prose in knitting up the memory." To the painter who may be unable for 
 a time to seek Nature herself, the exquisite word-painting of his brother 
 artist, the poet, comes as a pure and life-giving refreshment, whilst in their 
 turn the artist's faithful delineations of Nature convey like enjoyment to 
 the true poet. 
 
ELEMENTARY PRACTICE. 
 
 ERFECT mastery over the hand, and 
 great delicacy of touch, were as much 
 or more valued hy the painters of 
 I antiquity as by those of modern times ; and, if we may 
 
 credit the following anecdote, were possessed hy the great 
 Apelles to an extraordinary degree. It is said that he 
 made a journey from the island of Cos to Rhodes, ex- 
 pressly to visit another celebrated painter, Protogenes. 
 On his arrival he found the latter absent from home, 
 but was ushered by a domestic into the artist's studio, 
 that he might write his name. Apelles approached a 
 piece of canvass that stood on the easel, and with one 
 stroke of his hand produced a line of such excprisite 
 delicacy and finish, that Protogenes, on his return, imme- 
 diately declared Apelles had been there, as none other 
 could have left so characteristic a tuken of his visit. The well-known of 
 the Italian painter, Giotti, is another instance, if one were wanting, of the 
 importance attached by artists of all ages to this portion of study. This" 
 perfect control of the hand, this facility of execution, is equally necessary 
 to the skilful delineation of trees, and can only be the result of repeated 
 efforts and practice in the elementary exercises. 
 
 Let the student begin with the simplest lines, and practise well each 
 exercise, until the difficulties are entirely overcome. The hand can generally 
 make lines and curves in some directions with more ease than in others; 
 but as foliage grows in all positions, a corresponding freedom should be 
 obtained with the pencil, before elaborate drawings are attempted. Taking, 
 therefore, Fig. 1 to begin with, the student should first sketch a light boundary 
 line of an oval form, and then make strokes all round it, radiating from the 
 centre, and increasing in strength to the outer termination. In Fig. 2, the 
 lines are slightly curved, and more difference made in the strength of the 
 touch. In Fig. 3 the application of these curved lines with their corre- 
 sponding parts may be traced ; together they give a form which io like the 
 point of a leaf, the other part being hidden in the general mass ; the 
 
14 BBAWING FEOM NATUKE. 
 
 extremities of leaves, which show against the sky, or are relieved by shadow, 
 are always more easily seen than the other portions. The space enclosed 
 
 Fig. 1. Fig. 2. Fig. 3. 
 
 by this series of touches, is supposed to he a mass of leaves, on which the 
 light falls undivided by shadow. No particular foliage is attempted in these 
 exercises, but with some variation they form the touch of many trees, such 
 as the elm, ash, walnut, chestnut, &c. The oak, sycamore, thorn, and trees 
 with concave or jagged leaves, recpiire a different touch, such as Fig. 4, which 
 is a boundary line made with concave touches, and these and Fig. 5, being 
 
 in a contrary direction to those hitherto practised, should be copied until 
 the pupil has acquired a power of drawing the foliage of such trees. Care 
 should be taken that the whole mass of leaves represented should project 
 rather than recede ; and to effect this the outline must have more strength 
 on the side opposite the light, thus indicating the direction in which it 
 conies. In Fig. G, the touches commence as before, from the inner part, and 
 are carried outwards to the right or left, thus showing the direction taken 
 
ELEMENTARY PRACTICE. 
 
 15 
 
 by the foliage of the beech, lime, &c; if the touch is made short and thick, 
 it will give the leaves a corresponding character. Fig. 7. The foliage of bushes 
 
 Fig. 7. Fig. S. 
 
 and shrubs being more upright than that of trees, the touches should generally 
 be drawn in the same direction, or slightly varying on all sides from the 
 perpendicular. Fig. 8. .Strokes placed nearly parallel, and pointing upwards, 
 give the usual appearance of the leaves of firs, which grow on the upper 
 side of the branches; these are not difficult to execute, but they should be 
 drawn in masses and about the same length, for the edges of these tints 
 
 Fig. W. Fig. 10. 
 
 give the form of light and shade. If the touches are too much separated, 
 they will appear rather like individual leaves than clusters of foliage. The 
 short wavy and zig-zag touch in Fig. 9 imitates the angular and upright leaf 
 of the poplar ; or in the reverse direction the hanging foliage of the weeping 
 birch. Fig. 10. These strokes give the general direction of the weeping 
 willow, the long leaves of which hang nearly perpendicular to the earth ; 
 
16 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 they are slightly curved, but enclose no large mass of light, as the foliage 
 is thin and scattered. 
 
 Figs. 11, 12, 13, and 14, show the practice which is necessary to give 
 clearness and transparency in shading. By using the power of increasing or 
 
 diminishing the depth of tone, and varying the direction of the strokes, to 
 correspond in some degree with the character of the foliage in the last figure, 
 the shade may be drawn in such a manner that the light shall be left of the 
 right shape, and very little outline is required to finish it. It is unnecessary 
 to give the shape of leaves in the mass of shadow ; but the extremities should 
 
 Fig. 13. Fig. 14. 
 
 be drawn with attention, the character there appearing distinctly marked. As 
 these studies have to be repeated when the student takes up the brush, I have 
 thought it advisable to explain its use by a few observations and examples, in 
 sepia, as given in Plates VI. and VII. 
 
 To become aware of the power possessed by the instrument he is handling 
 is a great step. In many respects the brush is superior to the pencil, and 
 
EL E M E NTAKY PR ACT ICE. 
 
 17 
 
 when certain difficulties in the management, which meet him in the outset 
 are overcome, he will find himself amply repaid. The facility with which 
 an outline in pencil can be produced compared with the difficulty of com- 
 bining form with light, shade, and colour with the brush, tempts the pupil 
 to study too entirely with the former, and trust far too much to his memory 
 for the colour he sees in Nature. He should early take the brush in hand, 
 and with it study to maintain a correct outline, and he will find that after a 
 certain course of patient practice, success will follow. 
 
 Flat tints, such as Plate VI. Figs. 1 to 6, can be laid in a tenth part of the 
 time it would take to> produce the same effect with pencil or chalk ; and 
 might show the real colour of the object, instead of a neutral gray, when 
 more skilfully graduated or varied, as Figs. 7, 8, and 9. The hand can, more- 
 over, be trained to give a definite and yet varied edge to the tints ; the forms 
 when thus carefully produced at the commencement, or with the first tints, 
 will be found infinitely superior to an unsupported outline, which is utterly 
 opposed to Nature. 
 
 One important point to bear in mind is the form of those portions of the 
 paper which are left white to represent the highest lights, and also the form of 
 the first tints put on ; because if the first tint represent the natural colour of 
 the object, such as a mass of foliage, the light should in most instances fall on 
 the convex outline, or outside, but if it is the second tint or shadow that is 
 being put on, then the attention must be drawn to the convex forms left of the 
 first flat tint, Now, it is well known that very delightful qualities of tone are 
 obtained by floating on abundance of colour, but this is frequently at the 
 expense of a great loss of correct drawing, and much time is afterwards spent 
 in trying to recover it. I should rather recommend that such studies as those 
 in Plate VI. be made early in the pupil's progress, and a perfect command 
 of the brush, either in a full or moderately dry state, obtained. With this 
 amount of skill in the manipulation of his instruments, he will find in 
 Plate VII. and the following pages of this work abundant opportunities for 
 practising his art, and acquiring the touch necessary to indicate the character 
 of all parts of the foreground, whether it be foliage, plants, or rocks ; and 
 having thus studied Nature close at hand and in detail, he will have gained 
 facility, and have more enjoyment when he takes pencil in hand to make 
 a sketching tour. 
 
 C 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON TREES. 
 
 " Much ran they praise the trees so straight and high 
 
 The sailing pine, the cedar proud and bill, . 
 
 The vino prop elm, the poplar never dry, 
 
 The builder oak, sole king of forest all ; 
 
 The aspen, good for staves ; the cypress, funeral. 
 
 The laurel, meed of mighty conquerors 
 
 And poets sage ; the fir that weepeth still, 
 
 The willow, worn uf forlorn paramours, 
 
 The yew, obedient to the bender's will, 
 
 The birch for shafts, the sallow for the mill, 
 
 The myrrh sweet bleeding of the bitter wound, 
 
 The warlike beech, the ash for nothing ill. 
 
 The fruitful olive, and the plantain round, 
 The carver holm, the maple seldom inward sound." 
 
 SPEKSEIt. 
 
 THE A K — Quercus Robur. 
 
 " Those green robed senatprs of mighty woods, 
 Tall Oaks." Keats. 
 
 PRECEDENCE OF THE OAK— OPINIONS OF EVELYN AND GILPIN AS TO PICTURESQUE CHARACTER - 
 ROOTS, DIFFICULTIES OF, AFFECTING GROWTH OF BRANCHES— SIR T. DICK LAUDER — CHEN E DE 
 SULLY — OAKS WITHOUT LOWER BRANCHES DESTITUTE OF TRUE CHARACTER — FOLIAGE, COLOUR 
 OF — MOSS US ON OAK —POLLARDS REMAINING GREEN — USES OF OAK-BARK, GALLS, ETC.— MISS 
 MITFORD - OAK-FELLING. 
 
 T)REOEI)ENCE in the 
 
 (able of trees is gene- 
 rally given by artists to 
 the Oak, our national tree, 
 and I think it deserves 
 that mark of distinction, 
 on account of its great 
 e trunk, spreading, sinuous 
 dant foliage, as well as for 
 its extreme longevity. Vigour is expressed in every portion of a healthy 
 Oak; it has a vigorous youth, vigorous prime, and vigorous old age. It 
 
ISIGHTON BHDS 
 
i !!. OAK. 
 
 19 
 
 is in the last of these three stages that the Oak becomes the most attractive 
 to artists, for with age the picturesqueness of its appearance greatly increases. 
 Writers on forest trees, and on the picturesque, differ from artists as to 
 the suitability of the Oak to form, whether singly or in groups, the principal 
 object in a picture. Two of the most celebrated of the former, Evelyn and 
 Gilpin, advocate it strongly, and Evelyn almost creates a picture with his 
 pen when lie says: — "Thus let his Majesty's Eorests and Chases be stored 
 with this spreading Tree, at handsome intervals, by which grazing may be 
 improved for the feeding of deer and cattle under them ; benignly visited 
 by the gleams of the sun and adorned with the distant landskips appearing 
 through the frequent glades and vallies." 
 
 Gilpin also expresses his opinion very decidedly: — "The Oak is the noblest 
 ornament of a foreground, spreading from side to side its tortuous branches 
 and foliage, rich with some autumnal tint. In a distance, also, it appears with 
 equal advantage, forming itself into beautiful clumps, varied more in shape, 
 and perhaps in colour, than the clumps of any other tree. The pine of Italy 
 has its beauty, hanging over the broken pediment of some ruined temple. 
 The chestnut of Calabria is consecrated by adorning the foregrounds of Sal- 
 vator. The elm, the ash, and the beech, have all their respective beauties, 
 but no tree in the forest is adapted to all the purposes of landscapes liko 
 the English Oak." 
 
 Yet in spite of these opinions, and Gilpin's oft quoted sentence, of the. 
 Oak being " confessedly the most picturesque tree in itself, and most accom- 
 modating in composition," artists in general think that the elm, ash, or 
 Spanish chestnut, stand far before it in the facility with which they form 
 parts of a picture. Poets, again, have not been backward in offering their 
 tribute to the beauty of this tree in its venerable old age, and Spenser 
 gives a beautiful description of 
 
 " A huge Oak dry and dead. 
 Still clad with reliques of its trophies old, 
 Lifting to heaven its aged, hoary head, 
 Whose foot on earth hath got but feeble hold. 
 And half disbowelled stands above the ground, 
 "With wreathed roots and naked arms, 
 And trunk all rotten and unsound." 
 
 The roots, as mentioned by the poet, often show above the ground, and, to 
 quote Gilpin again: — "Whether it be a malady or not, the heaving of the 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 roots above the ground is very picturesque." The trunk is huge in proportion 
 to its height, which, according to Loudon, does not exceed on an average fifty 
 feet ; the branches, which mostly grow in a horizontal direction, are spreading, 
 knotty, tortuous, and often of great extent. "Shire Oak," for example, so 
 called because the rain drops from its branches into three shires, measures 
 ninety feet from bough-end to bough-end, and is calculated by Mr. Hatton 
 to be capable of shading two hundred and thirty-five horses. 
 
 Sir Thomas Dick Lauder is of opinion that the difficulties encountered 
 by the roots in their efforts to spread affect the branches, thus accounting 
 for the knotty, gnarled, and twisted appearance of Oaks growing on rocky 
 ground. The smaller branches and twigs are twisted like the larger limbs, 
 the foliage being principally at their extremities, and the leaves, growing 
 in every direction, require a starlike or radiating character in the touch. 
 The last-mentioned writer describes it thus : — " Large horizontal arms, thickly 
 set with crooked branches, terminating in clubbed, abrupt twigs, and closely 
 covered with smooth, glossy leaves forming the richest foliage, irregularly 
 swelling into the boldest outline we know of in vegetable Nature." This 
 character of the Oak, though always sufficiently evident, admits of some 
 diversity, and departs more or less from its normal state when growing singly, 
 or in groups of two or three ; for then the branches project boldly in an 
 almost horizontal direction, but if from a sapling it is surrounded by other 
 trees, its branches have a decided tendency upwards towards the light and 
 air. As an example of this growth, and at the same time an object of great 
 interest, the author has introduced in the paper on Fontainbleau, a study of 
 a celebrated Oak called the " Chene de Sully'' in the Yallon d'Egremont. 
 The lowest branch of this fine tree, although much mutilated by time, still 
 stretches out to, a considerable distance, having in all probability found an 
 opening in a horizontal direction ; but several great limbs higher up are, 
 immediately on separating from the trunk, contorted upwards, thus modify- 
 ing' to a certain degree the general character. There are many other Oaks 
 in this noble forest growing entirely devoid of branches for the greater part 
 of their height ; amongst the most conspicuous is Le Pharainond, which, 
 though it may reach the height of one hundred feet, has no more of the 
 Oak character than a massive column of stone. 
 
 The foliage is grouped in star-like and spreading tufts. Gilpin describes 
 
THE OAK. 
 
 21 
 
 the genuine bark of an Oak to be of an ash colour, though it is difficult 
 to distinguish any part of it from the mosses that overgrow it, for no Oak, 
 T suppose, was ever without a greater or less proportion of these picturesque 
 appendages* 
 
 When in full leaf, the masses of light and shade are well defined, and 
 not difficult to imitate with a concave or angular touch ; the roundness 
 of the whole 1 mass must, however, be preserved. "In spring the budding 
 Oak displays great variety. Among neighbouring Oaks the bud of one is 
 a tender green> of another almost yellow, of a third an ochre brown, per- 
 haps nearly inclining to red ; yet each of these, as it opens, will probably 
 accord harmoniously with the tint of its neighbour. The colour of the 
 leaves is in summer a cool green, sometimes enlivened by the yellower 
 shade of young shoots which occasionally make their appearance late in 
 the season, thus mingling the early spring tints with the more matured 
 and uniform garb of summer. In autumn the tones become rich and deep, 
 varying from yellow ochre to the richest madder ; the leaves cling to the 
 tree until the approach of winter : indeed, Evelyn mentions pollards that 
 retain their leaves green all winter, but he qualifies it by stating that they 
 are generally "such as are sheltered in warm corners and hedgerows." With 
 the exception of evergreens, the foliage of Oaks alone can with propriety 
 be introduced into sporting subjects. 
 
 The great extent to which Oaks are cultivated, and the numerous uses to 
 which every part of the tree is applied, give rise to various incidents highly 
 interesting to the landscape painter. Collecting acorns and gall-nuts, and 
 < >ak-barking, are among the most prominent of these, though perhaps the most 
 striking, because "last scene of all," is the felling of the giant monarch 
 himself. Of this Miss Mitford gives so pleasing, and even artistic a de- 
 scription that with it I am tempted to conclude these, remarks upon the Oak. 
 
 " We had nearly threaded the wood, and were approaching an open grove 
 of magnificent Oaks on the other side, when sounds, other than of the nightin- 
 gales burst on our ears, the deep and frequent strokes of the woodman's axe, 
 and, emerging, we discovered the havoc which that axe had committed. Above 
 twenty of the finest trees lay stretched on the velvet turf. There they lay in 
 every shape and form of devastation ; some, bare trunks stripped ready for the 
 timber carriage, with the bark built up in long piles at the side; some, with 
 
22 DRAWING FKOM NATUKE. 
 
 the -spoilers busy about them, stripping, hewing, hacking ; others, with their 
 noble branches, their brown and fragrant shoots all fresh as if they were alive 
 — majestic corpses, the slain of to-day ; the grove was like a field of battle. 
 The young lads who were stripping the bark, the very children who were 
 picking up the chips, seemed awed and silent, as if conscious that death was 
 around them, the nightingales sang faintly and interruptedly a few low, 
 frightened notes like a requiem. Ah ! here we are at the very scene of 
 murder; the very tree that they are felling; they have just hewn round the 
 trunk with those slaughtering axes, and are about to saw it asunder. After 
 ail it is a fine and thrilling operation. Into how grand an attitude was that 
 young man thrown, as he gave the final strokes round the root ; and how 
 wonderful is the effect of that supple and apparently powerless saw, bending 
 like a riband, and yet overmastering the giarrt of the woods, conquering and 
 overthrowing that thing of life ! Now it has passed half through the trunk, 
 and the woodman has begun to calculate which way the tree will fall ; he 
 drives a wedge to direct its course ; now a few more movements of the 
 noiseless saw ; and then a larger wedge. See how the branches tremble ! 
 Hark how the trunk begins to crack. Another stroke of the huge hammer on 
 the wedge, and the tree quivers, as with a mortal agony — shakes, reels, and 
 falls. How slow, and solemn, and awful it is ' How like to human death in 
 its commonly esteemed heroic form ! Caesar in the Capitol, Seneca in the 
 bath, could not fall more sublimely than that Oak." 
 
THK ASH, 
 
 23 
 
 THE ASK— F: 
 
 •■us Excelsior. 
 
 " Amid the ' 
 Grey as the stone to which it rim 
 Half trunk, the young Ash rises f 
 And there the parent lifts its loft; 
 And spreads its graceful boughs ; 
 With twinkling motion lifts the s 
 And sllLlkrs its rattling tufts " 
 
 talf root, 
 tlic rock 
 
 ASH, FAVOURITE HAUNTS OF — FARME 
 BOLTON ABBEYS— NOT PICTURESQUE 
 FALLING BEFORK AUTUMNAI 
 
 :ints— fixe colou: 
 
 i-GAINST — FIXE Sl'ECIMEXS AT NETLEY AND 
 JGHT FOLIAGE USEFUL IN A PICTURE, BUT 
 OF STEM. 
 
 As the oak is the 
 Hercules of our Woods, 
 so the Ash is called the 
 Venus, for it is inferior 
 to none in height, grace- 
 fulness of form, or ele- 
 gance of foliage. Though seen every- 
 where, its favourite haunt is the mountain stream, 
 where its branches hang gracefully over the water, 
 ^ adding much beauty to the scene. It is to Vie met 
 with in every romafttic glen and glade, now clinging with half-covered roots 
 to a steep overhanging cliff, and breaking) with its light elegant foliage, 
 the otherwise too abrupt line, or with its soft warm green relieving the 
 monotonous colouring of rocks or the sober gray of some old ruin. 
 
 The Ash is oftener seen to perfection in such scenes as these than in 
 cultivated land, owing to the prejudice which exists, whether with or without 
 cause, against the droppings from its leaves, in consequence of which it is 
 A r ery often lopped of all its lower branches, presenting to the eye a distorted, 
 mangled stem, with a bushy head of foliage. An object of this kind may be 
 useful in a picture to indicate with truthfulness the presence of cultivation, 
 but for tire Ash in its beauty, artists must seek sputs either as yet untouched 
 
24 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 by man, or already forsaken by him, as Xetley and Bolton Abbeys, where the 
 Ash Conns a marked addition to the beauty of the ruins. 
 
 In mountain scenery too, " it appears to peculiar advantage, waving its 
 slender branches over some precipice, which just affords it soil sufficient for its 
 footing, or springing up between crevices of rocks : a happy emblem of the 
 hardy spirit which will not be subdued by fortune's scantiness." 
 
 The form and general appearance of the Ash is naturally affected by the 
 situation in which it grows. In woods, where it has to contend with other- 
 trees, it usually rises with a clean, straight stem to a great height before the 
 head begins to expand, the side branches, when thus situated, decaying and 
 being thrown off at an early period from want of room and air. On the verge, 
 of woods, or when planted singly or unencumbered by other trees, though 
 generally carrying up a leading stem, it throws out numerous side branches. 
 
 Unlike the oak, the Ash does not increase in picturesqueness with old age, 
 " the foliage becomes rare and meagre, and its branches, instead of hanging 
 loosely, often start away in disagreeable forms. In short, the Ash often loses 
 that grandeur and beauty in old age, which the generality of trees, and 
 particularly the oak, preserve to a late period of existence." 
 
 The branches at first keep close to the trunk and form acute angles with it ; 
 Out as they strengthen, they generally take an easy sweep, and the separation 
 of the leaves corresponding with the lightness of the spray, the whole forms an 
 elegant drooping foliage, and is very useful in composition, carrying off with 
 its pendant branches the. heaviness of other trees. 
 
 The foliage does not combine in such large masses as that of the elm, but is 
 separated into little clusters or bunches ; this separation gives an opportunity 
 of showing the character of the stem and branches more than in most other 
 trees. 
 
 The leaves are late in appearing, and generally fall early in the autumn, 
 seldom arrayed in that glorious garb assumed by other denizens of the wood, 
 but dying in sober russet brown. The colour of the stem is a fine gray, 
 frequently relieved by the various yellows and light greens of lichens and 
 mosses. 
 
 The leaf of the Ash is a beautiful combination of curved lines, and may 
 be considered as a long ellipse with pointed terminations. The careful practice 
 which is necessary to make these curved lines freely in every direction, 
 
THE SERVICE. 
 
 25 
 
 is of great service in drawing all other kinds of foliage ; time is well 
 employed on these elementary studies before the complete tree is attempted. 
 In this practice the pupil should notice that when the stroke is drawn back 
 towards the centre, the curve should be the same as the outward form, and the 
 touch darker at the outside. This increase of force gives relief to the tips 
 of the leaves, and by its diminution towards the centre, allows the mind to 
 imagine the other parts, where they are mingled together and are less distinct. 
 
 After the pupil has acquired facility in these practices, let him proceed to 
 indicate the outline of a bough or large cluster of leaves, first sketching in with 
 a light, free hand a boundary line, consisting of larger or smaller parts of ovals. 
 The touch may now be given with a certain degree of freedom, still using the 
 boundary line as a guide, but sometimes allowing the leaves to project 
 beyond, and again withdrawing them within, and permitting the touch to fade 
 away in the mass of leaves. Care should be taken not to loop the touch, 
 as this has a very unnatural appearance, nor yet to make the darkest part 
 towards the centre, as this causes a harsh line, and destroys the perspective 
 of the group. An entire branch may now be attempted, and should be care- 
 fully sketched with a light outline forming the general boundary line, giving 
 at the same time the direction of the light and shade; the shadow should 
 lie put in with care and attention to the form of the lights left. The outline 
 is now added with varied strength, according to the light and shade, and the 
 branches vigorously defined with a sharp clear touch ; sometimes they may 
 be nicely imitated by commencing from the thickest part, and allowing 
 the touch to die away towards the extremities. 
 
 THE SERVICE— Pyrus Domestica. 
 
 The true Service is a native of the south of Europe, but is also to be 
 found in England both as a tree and shrub. It is not of sufficient importance 
 to be much noticed by those who study drawing from Nature, but as the 
 foliage is sometimes thought like the ash. it is as well to mention the principal 
 differences. It is decidedly smaller and not so graceful in the ramification 
 of its branches; the fruit, about as large as a small plum, is also an important 
 distinction, and remains long on the tree. 
 
2f> 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 THE fflM—Ulmm Campestris. 
 
 " Enormous Elm-tree boles did stoop and lean 
 Upon Hip dusky brushwood underneath 
 Their broad curved branches, fledged with clearest giccn 
 New from it.-, silken sheath." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 MASSIVE BRANCHES — BREADTH OF LIGHT AND SHADE IN FOUAGE — TOUCH EASY— DIFFERENCE 
 IX DRAWING ACCORDING To SEASON— FINE EXAMPLES AT ETON AND KUGBY— PATBIARCH OF 
 THE VILLAGE. 
 
 striking contrast with the graceful ash. 
 
 Some writers object to the Elm holding a principal place, among picturesque 
 trees, on the plea of want of decided character, one, even going so far as to say 
 that an Kim, when rough and old, may easily be mistaken for an oak. 
 
 The object of the present work being to direct the. student's attention 
 to the principal and distinctive features of each tree, both when fully clothed 
 in summer and also when bare of leaves in winter, I hope to point out 
 characteristics in the Elm, decided enough to prevent the possibility of any 
 such error. 
 
 The limbs of the Elm divide early from the trunk, and are generally 
 massive ; the trunk does not increase in size near the ground. The foliage 
 is excellent for its breadth of light and shade, forming round masses, which 
 are more easily imitated than those of most other trees. The sniallness of the 
 
 Elm, there arise memories of the stately 
 avenues, splendid parks and manorial homes 
 of old England, forming in its associations a 
 
 to a greater height than 
 most of its companions, 
 and possesses many of 
 the attributes of beauty. 
 
 With the mention of the 
 
THE ELM. 
 
 27 
 
 leaves in proportion to the size of the tree, and their loose appearance, give 
 to the Elm, notwithstanding the large clumps of foliage, a natural lightness. 
 The leaves grow along the whole length of the twig and give somewhat of an 
 oval form to the mass, and the distance between the branches of this tree, 
 combined with their not projecting laterally so far as those of the oak, &c. 
 make its height appear greater than many others. The student will not fail 
 to remark that the fulness of foliage gradually increases till the height of the 
 season, when the second or midsummer shoots appear, and the leaves attain 
 their full size, so the mode of his study will be in some degree modified ; 
 thus, in winter the trunk and branches even down to the smallest twigs can 
 be all seen and copied, and it requires some discrimination to select only 
 those which are the most important, keeping up aerial perspective as much 
 as possible, by means of differing degrees of strength or colour. In spring 
 the breaking out of the tender green leaves materially alters the appearance 
 of the twigs and extremities, the thickening visibly increasing day by day; 
 still the trunk and branches can be nearly all completed before the buds and 
 opening leaves are added. In full slimmer, the foliage being more massed 
 and the branches and trunk in some parts entirely hidden, consequently 
 in drawing a tree at this season, they must be delicately sketched in, and 
 when the foliage is drawn the visible portions alone of the trunk and branches 
 are darkened and finished ; but before the wane of the year begins, the scales 
 are turned, and there appears to be a gradual thinning of the foliage, until 
 t he frost and first winds of autumn produce sudden havock. 
 
 The colour of the foliage is a tender green in spring, which contrasts 
 admirably with the olive tint of the early oak leaves, changing, however, 
 in summer into a dark and rather brownish glossy green, and in autumn 
 decaying into a rich, clear yellow. Tn March or April the Kim throws out 
 a beautiful bloom of a dark crimson colour, in the form of a spicated ball 
 about the size of a nutmeg. The bark in colour is a darker and colder brown 
 than that of the oak, cracking when old into irregular long pieces, and becom- 
 ing lighter with age. The Elm groups remarkably well, owing to the frequent 
 gaps between the branches, which relieve what would otherwise be too heavy 
 in the broad masses of foliage. Some line examples for study in the grouping 
 of this t ree may be seen in the playgrounds of Eton and Rugby. 
 
 It is a favourite tree for planting singly on some uncultivated patch of 
 
28 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 ground, cither at the entrance or centre of a village, and in such situations 
 generally attains to a greater size and age than usual. Planted on the. 
 triangular piece of grassy ground so frequent in our hamlets, it assumes 
 the character of patriarch of the. place, and generation after generation of 
 village children pursue their sports under the sheltering arms of "The old 
 Elm-tree." 
 
 THE WYCH, OE MOUNTAIN ELM — Ulmns Montano. 
 
 iOMMON ELM — \VI 
 SCOTLAND. 
 
 ON TKUNK- 
 
 This is a large and 
 beautiful tree, with 
 | wide-spreading pen- 
 iP* dant branches, which 
 hang much more negligently 
 an those of the common Elm ; 
 the foliage also is larger, and 
 requires a bolder touch. The. 
 bark is not very different, though perhaps a little, 
 lighter in colour. The trunk is frequently covered 
 with large excrescences, which, though not so dis- 
 mormous wens on the lime> require a skilful and judicious 
 their introduction into a sketch successful. At a distance, 
 it is sometimes difficult to distinguish this tree from the beech; but the, 
 branches, although they often droop as much, do not turn up at the. 
 extremities, like those of the beech. 
 
 The foliage is rich, neither clumpy nor heavy, owing to the wide spread of 
 its branches, while, the head is generally finely massed. 
 
 The bold, yet graceful character of the Wych Elm, combined with the 
 facility afforded by the greater separation of the branches and largeness of the 
 foliage, should cause the young student to notice this tree. The trunk ami 
 
 figuring as tin 
 hand to rende 
 
THE WYCH, OK MOUNTAIN ELM. 
 
 29 
 
 branches may be more shown than in the common Elm, for they are of much 
 importance in determining its general figure ; but care should be taken to 
 arrange the quantities truly, for if there be a want of foliage on the nearer 
 side, it will not appear round, but have the head thrown over to the other side 
 of the trunk, and the general balance of the tree will be lost ; for although the 
 firm hold that the roots take of the ground prevents the necessity of that 
 strict attention to counterpoise that would be observed in a stationary figure, 
 yet a certain degree of balance is agreeable. On wild and rocky ground a 
 tree may have a good effect when projecting from crags and hanging over a 
 mountain stream, and evidently supported by its root ; but in a park or more 
 level ground, it would not look natural to have the head so far from the 
 perpendicular. While speaking of the general appearance of trees, such as 
 the Mountain Elm, in an avenue or park, we should always bear in mind that 
 the squared, cut off appearance of all the 1 tranches about five or six feet 
 from the ground is not only exceedingly unnatural, but unpicturesque, and is 
 occasioned by the sheep and cattle, that are sure to crop off all the twigs and 
 foliage in their reach, thus producing a formal and ungraceful outline. This 
 the artist endeavours to avoid by taking advantage of accidental breaking or 
 decay of the limbs, or by the perspective causing the branches near at hand 
 to appear higher, while those farther off are lower. 
 
 This tree is a native of the Lowlands of Scotland, and though it does not 
 attain to such perfection in the Highlands, is still a very common and 
 handsome tree in those regions, adding greatly to the beauty of the rocky 
 scenery in which it is found. 
 
 It is a subject of regret to landscape artists that so beautiful a tree should 
 lie so little cultivated in England. There are, however, some fine specimens 
 at Hampton Court and Bushey Park, and one of these, hanging over the iron 
 gate, was last May covering the ground around it with its green blossoms. 
 Another fine example may be found near the Church at Kenilworth, and, 
 nearer London, in Cashioburv Park there is a magnificent avenue of Wych 
 Elms. 
 
30 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 THE BEECH — Fragus SylvcUica. 
 
 CONFLICTING OPINIONS BRIGHTNESS OF BARK, AUTUMNAL TINTS PARTICULARLY FINE — BUENHAJJ 
 BEECHES— BRANCHES LONG AND PENDANT— STRATIFIED FORM OF FOLIAGE. 
 
 There is more diversity 
 of opinion respecting the 
 beauty of the Leech than 
 that of any othei English 
 tree. Evelyn speaks of 
 it as one of the largest 
 and handsomest of our 
 ig trees and noble shades, 
 with their well furnished and glistering leaves, when planted at 
 forty feet distance, and though unpropitious to corn and grass, are of all the 
 rest 'most refreshing to the weary shepherd.'' 
 
 White of Selborne also declares it to be " the most lovely of all forest 
 trees, whether we consider its smooth rind or bark, its glossy foliage, or 
 graceful pendulous boughs ; " whilst Gilpin, who might be thought to view 
 it with an artist's eye, thinks it "rather a displeasing tree, made up of little- 
 nesses. The branches are fantastically wreathed and disproportioned, turning 
 awkwardly among each other, and running often into long unvaried lint s. 
 In full leaf it is equally unpleasing ; it has the appearance of an overgrown 
 bush. This bushiness gives a great heaviness to the tree, which is always 
 a deformity ; what lightness it has disgusts." He is rather more lenient to it 
 in composition, but to a real admirer of the beech such qualified praise as the 
 following is anything but satisfactory. "We mean not to repudiate even the 
 heavy, luxuriant Beech in picturesque composition. It has sometimes its 
 beauty and oftener its use. In distance, it preserves the depth of the forest, 
 and even on the spot, in contrast, it is frequently a choice accompaniment." 
 And he concludes by particularly recommending it "where a thick, heavy 
 tree is wanted ! " 
 
Plate 
 
THE BEECH. 
 
 31 
 
 If, however, the opinion of modern painters were consulted it would be 
 found to differ greatly from Gilpin's ; for there is certainly great picturesque 
 beauty in the trunk, roots, and dower branches, the colour of which is a 
 charming gray, (though Gilpin says, " a dingy olive,") often beautifully varied 
 with rich mulberry brown spots of lichens and mosses, which sometimes 
 encircle the trunk, giving the rotundity with great distinctness. Others are 
 remarkably free from all such picturesque blemishes, and then, through the 
 strata-Kke foliage, we catch bright glimpses of the clear, thin bark as the 
 stem ascends tapering towards the sky. This bright, thin bark is most 
 attractive to the idle or enamoured swain, whereon to try his skill in carving ; 
 and to such an extent is this carried, that Hue trees have been seriously 
 injured by these vulgar attempts at fame, and artists, who value the faintest 
 touch of Nature, whether in moss or lichen, are driven away in despair at the 
 mutilated aspect of the poor victim. 
 
 In spring, there is a transparent delicacy of tender green on its leaves, 
 ami earlier still, the rich colour of the buds visibly affects the tone of the 
 woods. The leaves are thin, and in summer of a deep, shining green. In no 
 tree are the decaying hues of autumn more beautiful than in the gulden 
 Beech, its foliage changing from green to the brightest orange, then to glowing 
 red, and eventually to a russet brown, in which state the leaves generally 
 remain on the tree through the winter. It is particularly partial to hill sides 
 and all declivities; its characteristic beauty adds much to forest and secluded 
 scenery. 
 
 Underneath its pendant branches rest the stately deer, or amongst its 
 roots burrows the wild rabbit or fox. The shade is so complete that grass 
 does not flourish beneath it ; instead, we have a short dry moss. The tone is 
 altogether solemn and quiet, ' : a dim religious light " is shed around 
 
 " Where the broad Beech its ample shade displays ; " 
 
 or, 
 
 " The grey, smooth trunks distinctly shine 
 Within the twilight of their distant shades." 
 
 Gray loved it, and makes it the favourite resort of " the youth to fortune 
 and to fame unknown.'' 
 
 " Here at the foot of yonder nodding Beech, 
 That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 
 His listless length at noontide would he stretch, 
 And pore upon the brook that babbles by." 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 In one of his letters to Horace Walpole, Gray gives an excellent descrip- 
 tion of that characteristic spot, Burnham Beeches, situated about four miles 
 from Stoke Pogis. " 1 have, at the distance of half a mile through a green 
 lane, a forest (the vulgar call it a common) all my own, at least as good as so, 
 for I spy no human thing in it but myself. It is a little chaos of mountains 
 and precipices ; mountains, it is true, that do not ascend much above the 
 clouds, nor are the declivities quite so amazing as Dover Cliff, but just such 
 hills as people who love their necks as much as I do may venture to climb, 
 and crags that give the eye as much pleasure as if they were more dangerous. 
 Both vale and hill are covered with most venerable Beeches (almost every one 
 being pollarded) and other very reverend vegetables, that, like most other 
 ancient people, are always dreaming out their old stories to the winds, 
 
 ' And as they bow their hoary tops, relate 
 In murmuring sounds, the dark decrees of Fate ; 
 While visions, as poetic eyes avow, 
 Cling to each leaf, and swarm on every bough.' 
 
 " At the foot of one of these squats me, and there grow to the trunk for 
 a whole morning. The timorous hare and sportive squirrel gambol around me 
 like Adam in Paradise before he had an Eve, but I think he did not rise to 
 read Virgil as I commonly do there." 
 
 With respect to the principal points to be noticed in the drawing of this 
 tree, the branches are slender in proportion to their length, they separate 
 nearly horizontally from the trunk, bend downwards for the greater part of their 
 length, and turn up again at the extremities. The leaves do not form large 
 groups, but continue along the twig, and should be represented in short 
 touches ; as they spread over the whole surface, the mass of foliage is not 
 much divided, the shade being complete. The waved or strata-like form of 
 the foliage should be marked. 
 
 THE HORNBEAM— Carpinus Betuhis. 
 
 CLOSELY RESKMRI.ES REECH, BUT FOLIAGE MORE PICTURESQUE— USED FOR GARDEN HEDGES— 
 El'I'j KG FOREST — ETYMOLOGY. 
 
 In England, the Hornbeam is a much smaller, but proportionately more 
 spreading tree than the beech ; its leaves, being serrated and less polished, 
 form a more picturesque foliage, though its disposition in horizontal tiers is 
 
THE LIME, OR LINDEN TREE. 
 
 33 
 
 very similar. Indeed, the distinction between the two trees is almost too 
 nice for the purposes of Art, particularly if the beech be stunted or very 
 spreading. It bears pruning so well, that it is frequently used for garden- 
 hedges, being then planted with great regularity, and interlaced; of course, 
 in this condition, the artist has but little to do with it. The Hornbeam is 
 very common both as a stunted or polled tree, and also as bushes in Epping 
 Forest. Its etymology, Mr. Twining says, is derived from the great use made 
 of its wood tor the yoke of oxen. 
 
 THE LIME, OR LINDEN TEEE — Tilia Europcea. 
 
 " When I was a boy, it was all my joy 
 To rest in its scented shade. 
 When the sun was high, and the river nigh, 
 
 When, floating along like a winged song. 
 
 The traveller bee would stop, 
 And choose for his bower the Lime-tree flower, 
 
 And drink — to the last sweet drop." 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 COLOUR AND LUXURIANCE OF LEAVES — FORMS FINE AVENUES — FRAGRANCE OF BLOSSOMS — 
 DELIGHTFUL SHADES — FORMAL IN YOUTH — GREAT SIZE WHEN ALONE— CELEBRATED LIMES — 
 SOMETIMES MISTAKEN FOR PLANE — LINN./EUS. 
 
 This is a stately and beauti- 
 ful tree, resembling the elm 
 in size and general appear- 
 ance, but of a more formal 
 and conical shape. The 
 branches are not so large, 
 nor do they divide in so marked a manner from the 
 trunk as those of the elm, and this prevents their 
 being seen so well. The leaf is linger, broader, and 
 more pendent, and the whole appearance of the foliage closer and more 
 shelving than in the above-mentioned tree. The colour of the leaves is a 
 
34 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 soft pale green with a large proportion of yellow in it, and their great 
 luxuriance is the peculiar characteristic of the Lime. This same luxuriance, 
 however, renders it less capable of grouping well, as the masses of light and 
 shade become too heavy. It may sometimes be placed, with good effect, on a 
 lawn, where its branches are allowed to sweep down to the ground uninjured 
 by cattle. The Lime forms a grand avenue, as at Cashiobury Park near 
 Watford, also at Bushey Park, the windows of Hampton Court Palace looking 
 down several fine avenues. Many of our country churches have avenues 
 of polled Limes leading to the principal porch. 
 
 The blossoms "which at dewy eve distil their odours" affect the general 
 colour and form of the foliage more than those of the elm, and may be 
 indicated by a lighter green, and a somewhat more pendent stroke. It is to 
 these fragrant blossoms and the luxuriant shade afforded by its sheltering 
 arms, that much of the partiality generally evinced to the Lime is to be 
 ascribed, and Lauder only gives expression to the feelings of many when he 
 says, " Before leaving the Lime-tree we may notice the delightful associations 
 we have with it, from the recollection of the days of our youth, when, in 
 many an hour of listless idleness, we have sheltered ourselves beneath its 
 impenetrable shade, and, stretched out on the turf below, have listened to the 
 mingled hum of the million of bees which busily collected the honey from its 
 fragrant flowers, whilst no other sound was heard in the summer air, but the 
 occasional sudden, though rare, twitter of the skimming swallow, or the distant 
 cooing of the amorous ringdove ; and when all was silent on the earth, save 
 the gentle cropping of the nibbling sheep, or the distant lowing of the kine 
 from the shallows of the river, whither the raging heat had driven them." 
 
 I have already mentioned that when young, or indeed up to an age of 
 perhaps sixty or seventy years, the Lime has a formal appearance, with little 
 variation in its masses of foliage, as is the case with many of those at 
 Cashiobury Park ; but let some accident occur, such as the breaking down of 
 a large branch, or the removal of a neighbouring tree, they then present 
 charming pictures. 
 
 When planted on some village green, and its branches protected from injury 
 by being trained young, the growth of the Lime becomes very remarkable, 
 its character in such instances seeming to undergo a complete change. The 
 branches spread out parallel with the ground to considerable distances, and 
 
THE LTME, OR LINDEN TREE. 
 
 35 
 
 supported, as they often are, by numerous props, it bears some resemblance to 
 the gigantic banyan tree of the East, the similarity of appearance being 
 sustained by the custom of the inhabitants to loiter about and even carry on 
 their various occupations beneath its welcome shade. Such trees are much 
 more common in Germany than in England, several being famous in local 
 history and in poetry, like that under which Martin Luther stood and 
 preached the doctrines of the Reformation ; or that huge tree at Fribourg, 
 which commemorates the victory of the Swiss over Charles the Bold, in 
 1476. This tree is old, but a Lime-tree, older yet, supposed to have been 
 planted a thousand years ago, stands at no great distance from it, and has a 
 trunk thirty-six feet in circumference. 
 
 The Rev. C. A. Johns mentions several remarkable Lime trees described by 
 different authors. " At Chalouse, in Switzerland," says he, " there stood one 
 in Evelyn's time, under which was a bower composed of its branches, capable 
 of containing three hundred persons sitting at ease ; it had a fountain set 
 about with many tables formed only of the boughs, to which they ascended by 
 steps, all kept so accurately and so very thick that the sun never looked into 
 it." He mentions another famous Lime at Neustadt, in Wirtemberg, which 
 gave a distinctive name to the town. Its huge, limbs were supported by 
 numerous stone columns bearing inscriptions. This tree was still in existence, 
 Loudon tells us in his Arboretum, in 1838, the trunk being eighteen feet in 
 diameter, and beneath its broad shadow the people of Neustadt were, like the 
 men of former generations, accustomed to sit and eat fruit : many gooseberry 
 trees having sprung up in the crevices and hollows of the bark, furnishing a 
 supply to those who came to sit beneath the shelter of the old tree. 
 
 This great variety of character in trees, frequently the result of local 
 circumstance, is liable to confuse persons who are otherwise keen observers. 
 An instance of this want of close observation came under my notice in one of 
 my sketching tours, and will perhaps serve to explain the difficulty which 
 exists in distinguishing the species of tree from a distance. 
 
 Travelling in Nassau, and following as nearly as I could Sir Francis Head's 
 " Footsteps of an Old Man," I was struck with his description of a remarkable 
 plane tree, growing in the village of Frauenstein. He says : "But what more 
 than its castle attracted my attention in the village of Frauenstein, was an 
 immense plane tree, the limbs of which had originally been trained almost hori- 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 zontally, until, unable to support their own weight, they were now maintained 
 by a scaffolding of stout props. Under the parental shadow of this venerable 
 tree, the children of the village were sitting in every sort of group and attitude ; 
 one or two of their mothers, in loose deshabille, were spinning, many people, 
 were leaning against the upright scaffolding, and a couple of asses were 
 enjoying the cool shade of the beautiful foliage, while their drivers were 
 getting hot and tipsy in the wine-shop, the usual sign of which is in Germany 
 the branch of a tree affixed to the door-post. As I had often heard of the 
 celebrated tree of Frauenstein, before which I now stood, I resolved not to 
 quit it until I had informed myself of its history." Sir Francis Head then 
 describes his search for the history of this beautiful tree, in a sort of dooms- 
 day book as large as a church Bible, and abstracts from it the " Legend of the 
 great Plane-tree of Frauenstein." His legend is not the sole attraction pos- 
 sessed by the village, but having sketched the castle, and being anxious 
 to see and draw any extraordinary tree, I sought it out, and it proved after all 
 to be a Lime, a fact evident enough to a careful observer from the leaves 
 alone, without an examination of the limbs and trunk. 
 
 Another circumstance of interest attached to the Lime, is that the ancestors 
 of the great Swedish botanist owed their name to a Linden-tree growing near 
 their dwelling. Grindling Gibbons, the famous carver, used the wood of the 
 Lime for almost all his beautiful works. 
 
 The touch which indicates its leaves is not unlike that for the beech, but it 
 is rather bolder, and the masses of foliage are not disposed so much in 
 strata. The trunk is subject to wens or rough swellings, which disfigure 
 its form. 
 
THE BIRCH. 
 
 37 
 
 THE BIECH — BetiUa Alba. 
 
 " Most beautiful 
 Of forest trees — the Lady of the woods." 
 
 Coleridge. 
 
 DELICATE FOLIAGE — SILVERY BARK — SHORT ZIGZAG TOUCH — PERFECTION IN HIGHLANDS 
 VARIOUS USES — FAVOURITE WITH POETS. 
 
 A small triangular leaf, light airy 
 foliage, and a rounded, but scattered 
 head, are the most noticeable points 
 in this elegant tree, which happily is 
 common throughout Britain. It is deservedly a 
 favourite both with poets and painters, being full 
 of the most beautiful contrasts. The foliage is 
 not sufficiently large or clustered to give much 
 diversity of light and shade, the colour of the sky 
 being indeed generally perceptible through the whole of it. 
 The silvery whiteness of the bark exceeds that of any other tree, the beech 
 approaching nearest to it. It is beautifully varied by rich mulberry brown 
 spots near the division of the branches, and by rings of darker colour in many 
 parts of the trunk; these increase towards the root; the trunk becomes very 
 rough, and is frequently much varied in its direction near the ground. Gilpin 
 remarks that the delicate forms and silvery stems of the Weeping Birch " are 
 generally marked with brown, yellow, and silvery touches, which are peculiarly 
 picturesque, as they contrast agreeably with the dark green hue of the foliage. 
 But only the stem and larger branches have this varied colouring ; the spray 
 is of a deep brow n." 
 
 The sprays are long, and the leaves grow some distance from each other 
 on alternate sides ; this joined with their triangular shape causes a short zig- 
 zag touch to be the truest for their imitation. The Birch grows best and has 
 
38 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 the finest effect when mingled with varied and heavier trees, being too light 
 to group well by itself. It nourishes in the Highlands of Scotland, where 
 it mingles with the mountain ash and aspen. 
 
 With these trees, differing so much in character, it is well contrasted ; but, 
 although it does not afford much relief of light and shade in its foliage, the stem 
 and branches will always give it a striking character, the latter often hanging 
 or weeping a considerable length, and when their tips are laved in a clear 
 mountain stream, or reflected in the translucent waters of the Scottish lakes, 
 this graceful tree well deserves the poetical name of " the lady of the woods." 
 Painters from Nature travel and study now much more than formerly, fre- 
 quently locating themselves for whole months on the borders of some wild 
 lake, or in some lonely spot ; when thus deprived as it were of the wealth of 
 subjects which surrounded them in more favoured localities, it is astonishing 
 to find how other beauties arise, and seem to recompense them for those they 
 have lost. Thus the Birch in the Highlands of Scotland becomes to the in- 
 habitants, and to the artist who is studying them and their habits, a most 
 important feature. The stronger stems are the rafters of the cabin ; they are 
 also pinned down on the roof of heather, and their silvery sheen in such 
 situation contrasts well Avith the surrounding purple and brown. Sledges, 
 carts, barrows, and baskets are all made of the Birch, and are very picturesque, 
 forming many a study on a wet day, with the introduction of a rustic boy or 
 lass {vide page 40). Almost all the cordage used in the Highlands is made 
 of withies of twisted Birch; and as the Birch sows itself, if only a few 
 specimens are left standing, when other trees are cut down, it is not wonderful 
 that it should form a large proportion of the copse-wood both in England 
 and Scotland. The allusions of the poets to this tree are very numerous, each 
 endeavouring to bestow on it a more beautiful name. 
 
THE WALNUT. IV.) 
 
 THE WALNUT — Juglans Regia, 
 
 ' Her timber is for various uses good ; 
 The carver she supplies with useful wood. 
 She makes the painter's fading colours last. 
 A table she affords us, and repast. 
 E'en while we feast, her oil our lamp supplies, 
 The rankest poison by her virtue dies." 
 
 Cowlev. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS, STRENGTH AND MASSI VENESS— FEW SMALL TWIGS — TOUCH KESEMBLING ASH, 
 BI T HEAVIER — LAKGE WALNUTS AT HEIDELBERG — PICTURESQUE IN ENGLAND. 
 
 The general character of the 
 Walnut is strength and mas- 
 siveness, with thick, wide- 
 spreading limbs and lofty well 
 balanced head. The branches 
 are almost as bold as those of 
 the oak, and in some measure 
 atone for their early loss of 
 foliage by their beautiful ramification, The "Wal- 
 nut, of all trees, is the one possessing the fewest 
 small twigs and sprays to interfere in drawing 
 the larger branches. The bark is light in colour, 
 but deeply furrowed. The leaves are lighter and of a warmer hue than those 
 already described, contrasting well with the dark tints of the elm and beech, 
 somewhat resembling those of the ash, but should be imitated with a heavier 
 touch. The foliage is late in appearing, and falls with the first frost of autumn. 
 
 Gilpin and Selby both agree that the Walnut is most picturesque standing 
 alone, whilst Evelyn advocates its being planted in avenues, and mentions the 
 great extent to which the cultivation of this tree is carried between the Neckar 
 and Maine, especially in the neighbourhood of Heidelberg, where its massive 
 beauty contributes much to the landscape. Thus again he says: — "They 
 
40 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 render most graceful avenues to our country dwellings, and do excellently 
 near hedge-rows; but had need be planted at forty or fifty feet interval, for 
 they affect to spread both their roots and branches. The Bergstrasse which 
 extends from Heidelberg to Darmstadt is entirely planted with Walnuts ; for 
 so by another ancient law, the Borderers were obliged to nurse up and take 
 care of them, and that chiefly for their ornament and shade, .so as a. man may 
 ride for many miles about that country under a continued arbor, or elo.se 
 walk; the traveller both refreshed with the fruit and the shade." It is also 
 seen in great luxuriance in the walks about Interlaken, where it has attained 
 in some instances to an immense size. In England it is frequently met with 
 in farmyards, and about cottages, and its rich colour harmonises well with 
 rustic buildings. 
 
 The Walnut is less liable to be torn up by tempests than other trees, 
 as it possesses a remarkably strong tap-root which affords it a powerful 
 anchorage. It is believed that this tree has been in England since the time 
 of the Romans, who called it " Juglans," or Jupiter's nut, to distinguish it 
 from acorns and beechmast. The hickory tree of North America is another 
 of the same order ; this as well as the Walnut is greatly valued for its nuts, 
 and for the strength and tenacity of its timber. 
 
 BIRTHEN IMPLEMENTS. 
 
THE SYCAMORE. 
 
 41 
 
 THE SYCAMORE — A cer Pseudo-Platan 
 
 bright.' 
 
 IMPENETRABLE SHADE — GLOWING AUTUMNAL TINTS— RESISTS BENDING EFFECT OF SEA WINDS— 
 «I!"WS WELL IN COLD COUNTRIES— HONEYDEW — BLACK FUNGUS ON LEAVES — EXAMPLES AT 
 KENILWORTH — DIFFERENCE OF LEAF WHEN COMPARED WITH PLANE. 
 
 The great Maple or 
 Sycamore is, accord- 
 ing to Gilpin, " a 
 grander and nobler tree 
 than the smaller maple, 
 but it wants elegance ; 
 it is coarse in proportion 
 to its bulk. It forms, 
 however, an impenetra- 
 te shade, and often re- 
 ceives well contrasted 
 masses of light, Its bark has not the furrowed roughness of the oak, but 
 has a species of roughness very characteristic. In itself it is smooth, but 
 it peels off in large flakes like the plane's, to which it, in other respects, bears 
 a near resemblance, having patches of different hues, seams, and cracks, 
 which are often picturesque." Lauder also says, with the feeling of an artist, 
 that " the spring tints are rich, tender, glowing, and harmonious. In summer 
 its deep green hue well accords with its grand and massive form ; and the 
 browns and dingy reds of the autumnal tints harmonise well with the other 
 colours of the mixed grove, to which they give a fine depth of tone." 
 
 One circumstance connected with the Sycamore should not be overlooked 
 by artists : it is almost the only tree that can resist the effect of the sea 
 
42 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 breezes, and maintain its upright position and natural form near the sea. The 
 Sycamore is consequently much planted on our coasts, and should in a truthful 
 picture form an exception to the general rule of making trees slope away from 
 the ocean. 
 
 Miss Pratt remarks that "the winds of high hills also leave it unhurt, and 
 it is therefore often to be seen by the door of the cottage or farmhouse stand- 
 ing in exposed situations, while on mountains in the North of Europe it is a 
 common tree. It grows in Norway by the ssa-shore, is plentiful throughout 
 Germany and Switzerland, in the North of Poland and Lithuania, attaining 
 on a tolerable soil a very huge size, and rapidly rising from a young shoot to 
 a goodly tree." It is so common in England, that, though it is not truly wild, 
 Bishop Mailt enumerates it among the trees which adorn the vales and groves 
 of upland or lea. 
 
 Sycamores have sometimes attained to a large size in Britain ; Lauder 
 mentions one that measured above seventeen feet in girth. . The leaves of 
 the Sycamore are often rendered clammy to the touch by a sweet substance 
 called houeydew, which recent naturalists regard as an exudation of the leaves 
 themselves. Plants growing beneath the tree are frequently much injured by 
 the dropping of the sweet liquid. In autumn also, the foliage of the Sycamore 
 is often disfigured by a black fungus, which gives the leaves the appearance 
 of having had large drops of ink scattered upon them. In some seasons 
 these spots are very abundant, and in one year the author of "Flowering 
 Plants and Ferns " saw a row of Sycamores in which almost every leaf was 
 thus disfigured, so as to attract the notice of those who rarely observed 
 plants. " The Sycamore is never more attractive than in the early spring, 
 when the young tender green foliage is shooting forth, and when the small 
 pink scales, which at first envelop the handsome lobed leaf, are just being 
 scattered around the tree by every gust of wind. When autumn is on its 
 way, the more sober red of the gradually ripening winged seed vessels, 
 as well as the varied hues of the foliage, are also very ornamental among the 
 deepening tints of the wood." It is at this season of the year that the author 
 has frequently admired some fine examples growing close to the wall of the 
 Tilt-yard, Kenilworth Castle, where they harmonise extremely well with that 
 part of the ruin called the Watergate. 
 
 The decaying autumnal tones of the Sycamore Maple in England can give 
 
THE SYCAMORE. 
 
 43 
 
 us, after all, but a faint idea of the glorious array of colours presented by 
 woods in North America, in which the AVhite and Scarlet Maple abound. 
 They are represented there as showing some of the richest colours of the 
 rainbow, and as too intense and too suddenly contrasted to be pictorial. Far 
 more lovely must the Scarlet Maple appear in spring, when it has deep red 
 flowers and slender rosy leaf stalks and branches contrasted with the tenderest 
 green of the opening buds. 
 
 The pupil should pluck a leaf from a Sycamore in bloom, when no mistake 
 can arise, and compare it with a plane leaf, and he will find that though apart 
 they may have been thought alike, when side by side there is a marked 
 difference. The leaf of the Sycamore is five-lobed. and unequally serrated, 
 while that of the plane is more deeply indented, with a very remarkable 
 angularity about the sides of the final lobe. 
 
 The leaves are imitated with a free, angular, and concave touch, partaking 
 of the oak character in some respects, but differing much in the general 
 disposition of the branches and twigs. The blossoms are drooping clusters 
 of green flowers, which appear about May, and in autumn change to winged 
 seeds of a crimson colour, giving, when abundant, somewhat of that hue to 
 the whole foliage. As there is with some persons a difficulty in distinguishing 
 between the plane and the Sycamore, it is worth while to notice the blossoms 
 and seeds of both. Those of the Sycamore are very conspicuous, and affect 
 the touch and character of the foliage. The seeds which are perfected hang 
 in pairs, and have been thus described — 
 
 " The branching Sycamore that veils 
 His golden shoots in dark green scales, 
 Which still, as on the fabric goes, 
 Each pair to each succeeding shows 
 Its produce in a transverse line, 
 That step by step they all combine 
 To frame by constant interchange, 
 Of cross-like forms a gradual range." 
 
14 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 THE PLANE — Platanus Oricntalis and Occidentalism. 
 
 •oad leaved Plane-trees in Unix eoloni 
 ehed delightful walks." 
 
 South f. 
 
 FIRST INTRODUCE^ BY LORD BACON — BARK PEELS OFF- PALE FOLIAGE — LARGER AND MORE 
 ANGULAR LEAF THAN SYCAMORE — ABLE TO LIVE IN THE SMOKY ATMOSPHERE OF LONDON. 
 
 tinction between the two species consists in the leaves of the Oriental being 
 more deeply indented than those of the American Plane. 
 
 The Plane is not so regular and formal as the sycamore in its growth, and 
 its branches spring more frequently from the lower part of the stem. The 
 bark is of a light ash colour, and very apt to scale off in irregular patches, 
 leaving the light wood exposed, thus pleasantly breaking the sameness of tint 
 in the stein with brighter touches of colour. 
 
 Loudon recommends it as a " handsome tree to stand singly or in groups 
 upon a lawn, where there is room to allow its lower branches, which stretch 
 themselves horizontally to a considerable distance, to bend gracefully towards 
 the ground and turn up their extremities. Indeed, the characteristic of this 
 tree is the combination which it presents of majesty and grace, an expression 
 which is produced by the massive and yet open and varied character of its 
 head. In this respect it is superior to the lime." 
 
 ^ duced into England and 
 planted at Verulam by Lord 
 Bacon. The Occidental Plane 
 became common soon after the 
 introduction of the Oriental, 
 and is now more generally 
 planted. The artist's chief dis- 
 
 The first trees of 
 
 this species are said 
 to have been intro- 
 
THE PLANE. 
 
 45 
 
 The greater freedom of the head allows the light to flicker through, and it 
 often falls with good effect upon the lower masses of foliage, which would 
 otherwise lie in too heavy shadow. 
 
 The chief objection to the Plane is the pale colour of its foliage, which 
 neither contrasts nor harmonises with the green of other trees. Late in the 
 year, however, its mellow tints agree well with the warm hues of autumn. 
 The leaf resembles that of the sycamore, though rather more angular and 
 considerably larger (see cut). The seed-vessels are round prickly balls, which 
 become very conspicuous as the leaves fall. This tree is very common in the 
 squares and parks of London, being less injured by a smoky atmosphere than 
 most others ; indeed there is one that contrives to thrive in the dense neigh- 
 bourhood of Cheapside. 
 
 The foliage is much like that of the sycamore already described, although 
 perhaps more marked from the freer separation of the branches and from the 
 leaves being oftener seen complete, owing to their greater size. The touch 
 must therefore be broader, sharper, and the masses of foliage more scattered 
 over the tree, affording less massive light and shade. 
 
46 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 THE SWEET OR SPANISH CHESTNUT— Fagus Castanea. 
 
 HIVAL TO Till'. <i.\K IS r.l WTY \NIt MA.II>1'Y KINK MT.iTMKNS IN- 
 
 ITALIAN VALLEY? 
 
 freqc i 
 spicuo 
 
 UTT'I.K Wool) — FLOWEilS NOT CON- 
 
 '1 
 
 Tuts tine and statt ly 
 tree, which combines 
 the strength of the 
 oak with the elegance of 
 the ash, is by many con- 
 jred a formidable rival to 
 our "monarch of the woods." 
 Lander, Selby, and Bosc all 
 agree in classing them to- 
 gether as equal in picturesque 
 effect. The latter (Rose) savs : 
 
 "As an ornamental tree the Chestnut ought to he placed before the oak. 
 Its beautiful leaves, which are never attacked by insects, and which hang 
 on the trees till very late in the autumn, mass better than those of the oak, 
 and give more shade. An old Chestnut standing alone produces a superb 
 effect. A group of young "Chestnuts forms an excellent background to other 
 trees; but a Chestnut coppice is unsupportably monotonous." 
 
 .Mr. Twining has described with such strong artistic feeling the varieties 
 which are to 1> i seen of this tine tree, that I am induced to borrow the passage 
 from his work. "On crossing the passes which lead from Switzerland to 
 Italy, the transition of vegetation is abrupt and striking: forests of wild 
 Chestnuts either replace the fir on the sides of the mountains, or give interest 
 t<> the nearer scene by the tine massing of their foliage, and the variety 
 of their growth. Four distinct characters may he observed. It is in some 
 cases a low tree, with a rounded and spreading head, somewhat resembling 
 a large and full grown apple-tree. Elsewhere the bole has huge dimensions, 
 but it bears very diminutive branches, the tree having been reduced, either bv 
 
THE SWEET OR SPANISH CHESTNUT. 
 
 47 
 
 lopping or by the decay of the wood, to a mere trunk without limbs ; some- 
 times, however, grotesquely irregular in shape, and not unpicturesque. In 
 some sheltered and favoured situations of the valleys, the Spanish Chestnut 
 rises to a lofty and spreading tree, being a most handsome specimen of the 
 vegetation of those parts ; whilst on the rocky and precipitous slopes of the 
 mountains it either becomes the low and spreading tree before mentioned, 
 or assumes the character of a mere bush." 
 
 It will thus appear that in mountainous countries, and on the slopes of 
 the Alps and Pyrenees, it has much irregularity, and becomes exceedingly 
 picturesque ; it is the tree most frequently introduced in his pictures by 
 Salvator, who valued it for another reason, viz. the wild ami savage effect 
 produced by the action of storms on its brittle wood, tearing off a branch, 
 or withering a portion of the tree. The trunk and branches are large in pro- 
 portion to the quantity of foliage ; the bark is divided into deep wide furrows, 
 which sometimes take a spiral direction, and give the trunk a twisted appear- 
 ance. The leaves are large and long, collected into bunches, but do not 
 radiate so strikingly as those of the horse chestnut. Their colour is in 
 summer a pleasant moderately cool green, and in the autumn they turn 
 to a golden yellow, so that they form an agreeable and conspicuous contrast 
 to many others in that declining season. The touch is firmer, longer, and 
 more marked than that for the ash. The flowers are not so prominent 
 as those of the horse chestnut, and being green and pendent, do not so much 
 affect the general touch and colour. 
 
48 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 HORSE CHESTNUT — JEsculus Hippocastanuu. 
 
 " Horse Chestnut, foremost of the wood 
 To dare his lengthening germs protrude, 
 Dark, clammy, hard, prepared the first 
 To hear the enlivening call, and burst, 
 With foliage cleft and spiral bloom, 
 The cerements of that living tomb." 
 
 Bishop Mast 
 
 FORMAL IN SHAPE BUT HANDSOME IN AVEN t T ES— BRILLANCY OF AUTUMN COLOURING — BLOSSOM 
 DIFFICULT TO INTRODUCE IN A PICTURE. 
 
 This cannot be 
 called a picturesque 
 tree, its shape being 
 very formal, but the 
 broad masses of f'oli- 
 age,although too de- 
 fined ami unbroken 
 to be agreeable to 
 grand and majestic 
 avenue or in groups, 
 of this at Biberich 
 
 on the Rhine. But we have in Bushey Park a still finer and much more 
 accessible instance of the magnificent effect of the Horse Chestnut in an 
 avenue, and in spring when in full flower it is visited by thousands. It is 
 gratifying to see that this avenue is so well preserved, young trees being 
 planted in the gaps made by the high winds. Four years ago at Whitsuntide 
 several of the finest trees were blown down or broken short off near the roots, 
 tearing away the brandies of others in their fall, and being in full blossom 
 they formed a mass of beautiful ruin, rather melancholy to witness, but greatly 
 enjoyed by the crowd of holiday folks, who, with the deer, soon cleared away 
 all the flowers and foliage. 
 
HORSE CHESTNUT. 
 
 4!) 
 
 The trunk in general is well shaped, but is not much varied in colour 
 from the foliage, being greenish in tone. The sombre hue of the leaves 
 in summer is early changed by the frosts of autumn, when it becomes richly 
 mingled with ochre and sienna tints. 
 
 The pyramidal flowers which appear about the end of May are beautiful 
 taken singly, as in the illustration, but difficult to introduce with good effect 
 in a landscape. Indeed there is hardly a tree in full bloom, when the blossom 
 is white, that appears well in a picture ; the mass of white required to repre- 
 sent it with any degree of truth becomes too glaring to harmonise with the 
 rest of the landscape. 1 would therefore advise the young artist either to 
 avoid the introduction of those trees whose blossom is so striking, into his 
 spring subject, or to wait until they have assumed a more sober and tree-like 
 aspect. 
 
 Evelyn, however, speaks more favourably of this tree, so that I venture to 
 add his opinion. " The Horse Chestnut is a tree of singular beauty, the leaves 
 are large, tine, and palmated, and appear very early in the spring. It is 
 naturally uniform in its growth, 
 always forming its head into a 
 regular parabola. In the spring 
 it produces long spikes of rich 
 and beautiful flowers. This 
 tree is a native of the East, and 
 is said to have been brought 
 into Europe in 1610, at which 
 time also the laurel was intro- 
 duced into the English gardens, ffl 
 But we have reason to believe 
 that this tree was brought from 
 Constantinople, and made a de- 
 nizen of England, almost an 
 hundred years before the above 
 mentioned period. The Horse 
 Chestnut is very proper to be 
 planted for avenues or walks ; but it is objected to by some on account of its 
 leaves falling off early in the autumn. But it should be considered that it 
 
50 
 
 DRAWING FROM NAT V HE. 
 
 shoots out proportionably earlier in spring, which, together with its beautiful 
 flowers, makes it an ornamental and desirable tree." 
 
 The Sweet or Spanish Chestnut and the Horse Chestnut are widely- 
 separated in the eyes of the Artist and Botanist, although they are sometimes 
 confused by the public. 
 
 The former is decidedly the most picturesque tree, associated by the free- 
 dom and wildness of its growth with rocks, mountains, and all that is savage 
 and grand ; while the latter is, from its stately and pyramidal form, more 
 appropriately placed on the lawn or in the park. 
 
 The foliage is imitated with a bold touch, somewhat like that of the 
 Spanish chestnut, but radiating more directly from centres, as several leaflets 
 spring from one stalk. 
 
 THE LOMBARDY OR COMMON PO PL A R — Pop ulus Dilatata. 
 
 " The Poplar there 
 Shoots up its spire and shakes its leaves i' the sun 
 Fantastical." Barry Cornwall. 
 
 TOXICAL FORM— PLEASANT VARIETY — GREAT SUPPLENESS OF STEM — LEAVES TRIANGULAR — 
 WAVED SHORT TOUI H. 
 
 Tins species of Poplar, although not introduced 
 into this country until the last century, has so 
 marked and peculiar a character, and has been 
 so much cultivated, that it is generally under- 
 stood when the Poplar is mentioned. 
 
 Its conic form distinguishes it from all 
 other deciduous trees ; in general the direction 
 of its branches is at very acute angles from the 
 stem, and some authors consider its claims to 
 picturesque beauty as slight, on account of this 
 formal shape, but Gilpin mentions one recom- 
 mendation that it possesses, that of yielding to every breath of air and of 
 waving from top to bottom in gentle sweeps, or as Leigh Hunt expresses it, 
 
 " The Poplar's shoot, 
 Whirl, like a feather waves from head to foot," 
 
THE ASPEX Oil TREMBLING POPLAR. 
 
 51 
 
 returning to its original shape when at rest. In groups of three or more, 
 at different distances from the spectator, it is certainly picturesque, and 
 pleasantly varies the more rounded forms of other trees. The stem is very 
 rough and irregularly marked, generally in old trees having deep divisions 
 corresponding to the intervals between the roots. 
 
 The leaves are almost equilateral triangles, and placed on alternate sides of 
 the twigs, with their points upwards ; they may be imitated with a zig-zag or 
 waved short touch. In early spring the foliage is a tender yellow green. 
 It has no very decided masses of light and shade. 
 
 THE ASPEN OR TREMBLING TOPLAE — Pojtulns T re ma In. 
 
 " When Zephyrs wake, 
 The Aspen's trembling leaves must shake." 
 
 HARDY— RINGS OX STEM— LONG FOOTSTALKS TO LEAVES— ELLEN'S ISLE— IMPATIENT OF PRUNING 
 — TREMBLING LEAVES. 
 
 A CHARACTERISTIC tree and a hardy native of 
 England and Scotland, associating with the 
 mountain ash and birch, and slightly re- 
 sembling the latter. 
 
 The stem is straight, the bark smooth, and 
 generally of a light gray, though not so glossy 
 as the beech, becoming darker towards the root; 
 sometimes varied with rings of a brown shade, 
 which when well drawn give it rotundity. The 
 strike out rather stiffly at first, but become 
 pendulous towards the extremities. The leaves hang 
 perpendicularly, on long, slender, flat footstalks ; their colour is a dull but 
 rich green, the under surface being much lighter than the upper. The touch 
 for the leaves should be firmer and darker than for those of the birch. 
 
 Selby states that "it is excellent in contrast with other trees, forming 
 frequently an interesting object ofi the wooded slopes of Highland scenery. 
 
 E 2 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 adorning in Scotland the margins and hanging woods of its most beautiful 
 lochs. Upon Loch Katrine, it mingles with the birch, and clothes, almost to 
 the exclusion of the other trees, the classic islet of the Lady of the Lake." 
 
 The Aspen has been found by tree cultivators to be impatient of pruning, 
 or as Evelyn quaintly remarks, "lie takes ill to have his head cut off/' so that 
 artists generally find it in all its native beauty. 
 
 The one distinguishing characteristic of this tree yet remains to be noticed 
 — the trembling motion of its leaves, which has perhaps made it a greater 
 favourite with poets than with painters. So easily indeed do they move with 
 the slightest breeze, that they have been by some considered as an emblem of 
 perpetual motion, whilst two of our great descriptive poets have chosen the 
 rare instants of repose in the Aspen as typical of the intense calm which some- 
 times pervades all nature. Thus Thomson says, 
 
 " A perfect calm that not a breath 
 Is heard to quiver through the closing \voo<ls, 
 Or rustling turn the many trembling leaves 
 Of Aspen tall." 
 
 THE ABELE — Populus Alba. 
 
 " The green woods moved and the light Poplar shook 
 Its silver pyramid of leaves." 
 
 TALL WITH ROUNDED HEAD— LIGHT GRAY BARK— DOWNY WHITE ON UNDER SIDE UK LEAF. 
 
 This species of Poplar is a tall, spreading tree, with a rounded head. The 
 trunk is covered with a smooth light gray bark, and the downy whiteness on 
 the under side of the leaf is very conspicuous. The foliage is more dense than 
 that of the poplars already described, though not sufficiently so to catch such 
 masses of light as the elm, &c. 
 
THE COMMON" OR WHITE WILLOW. 
 
 THE BLACK PCTLAR — Populus Nigra. 
 
 LEAVES LESS NOTCHED THAN" OTHER SPECIES — FOLIAGE DIFFICULT TO RENDER IN LIGHT AND 
 SHADE— CATKINS. 
 
 Attaining a great height, the Black Poplar is also a large and handsome tree, 
 with thick and brilliant coloured foliage. The leaves are heart-shaped, less 
 notched at the edges than the other species, green and smooth on both sides, 
 producing sparkling and ever varying lights, as they flutter in the slightest 
 breeze. 
 
 These same lights are too transient for the painter, and wore he to 
 attempt to reproduce the effect which pleases the eye in nature, the result of 
 his labour would inevitably be speckled and broken lights, with no decided 
 mass of shade, on which to rest the eye. 
 
 The foliage is late in expanding, but the short thick catkins, deeply tinged 
 witli red, which appear beforehand, have a very ornamental effect on the 
 leafless branches. Some specimens of this poplar are to be seen forming a 
 handsome group near Richmond. 
 
 THE COMMON OR WHITE WILLOW — Salix A /ha. 
 
 " Willows in twigs are fruitful— and osiers have their use 
 And shade for shvr\< am] food for flocks produce " 
 
 GEOpGIl s, Book II. 
 
 FOUND N E A R WATER— OLD STUMPY WILLOWS Most PICTURESQUE — POLLARD! OPHELIA. 
 
 When untouched by the pruning knife of the planter or the bill-hook of the 
 hedger, this tree grows to a handsome size in the North of England and 
 Scotland, and, according to Selby, forms a " beautiful and interesting feature 
 in a landscape, when growing in an appropriate situation, such as on the banks 
 of a river, the margin of a purling brook, or in one of our low sheltered 
 
54 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 haughs, with its silvery plume-like foliage giving an air of grace and lightness 
 to the landscape." 
 
 "Whether Willows nourish hest near the water, or not, may be an open 
 question. It is almost always found in their neighbourhood ; and to quote 
 Mr. Twining, " their appearance is generally so much connected with that of 
 water, that Art has often adopted them as a sign wherewith to mark the course 
 of a stream, river, or canal, where these objects are concealed from view." 
 Those Willows which are allowed to run up with that rapid lightness of 
 growth peculiar to them, seem to present no other defect, as light and elegant 
 trees, than too much straightness in the branches, and a loose irregularity 
 in the arrangement of the leaves. It is the old stumpy and hollow Willow, 
 with its thin and shaggy head, which finds, notwithstanding its shattered con- 
 dition, an honoured place in the foreground, and doubtless owes its usefulness 
 in the composition to those characteristic peculiarities which, in some measure, 
 constitute its ugliness, but distinguish it in a striking manner from every 
 other tree, thus proving that character may, where variety is wanting, become 
 preferable to elegance itself. 
 
 Coinciding as artists generally do with these ideas of the necessity of 
 character to give variety, it is not surprising that the Willow, in its polled 
 state, is a favourite tree with them. When old, it has a tendency to divide in 
 the trunk, as well as to form all kinds of angles with the placid streams that 
 reflect it, and it adds greatly to their beauty. 
 
 Unlike the weeping willow, it is indigenous to our island, and poets have 
 for ages made us familiar with its image, though none have equalled in beauty 
 Shakespeare's description. Mr. Thorne, in his rambles by the Avon, says, a 
 AVillow thrusting its trunk across the stream reminds us of Ophelia's death — 
 
 " ' There is a Willow grows ascauut the brook, 
 
 That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream ;' 
 
 a gust of wind raises the under side of the leaves to view, and we. then perceive 
 the exquisite correctness of the term ' hoar ;' " and not being an artist, he adds, 
 " that deformity, the Pollard Willow, is not so frequent as in most rivers, but 
 the. unlopped trees wear their feathery branches graceful as ostrich plumes.'' 
 
 The thoughtful student will be struck not only with the correctness of the 
 term "hoar," but with the great poet's skill in seizing the only natural manner 
 in which he could attract our notice to this peculiarity of the under sides of 
 
THE COMMON" OR WHITE WILLOW". 
 
 55 
 
 the Willow leaves, namely, the reflection of their hoariness in the glassy 
 stream. 
 
 Mr. Thome gives us yet another pleasing picture of the Willow, mingled 
 with other trees, and as skilful word-painting assists in filling the mind with 
 comprehensive ideas of truth, I will quote his description of a romantic spot 
 on the Avon, called Hatton Eock. " A high and steep bank, raising its brow 
 against the fleecy sky ; its side is covered with an intricate variety of the lesser 
 trees and underwood, hazel and thorn, and the long trailing brambles. From 
 the base of the bank the tall high stem of the abele rises above its fellows, the 
 Willows and alders, that fringe the edge of the stream. The river rolls over a 
 stony bed, filling the ear with a quiet melody. As you make your way along 
 the foot of the rock, at every slightest bend a fresh and grateful change is 
 before you. Now the light feathery Willow glitters against the deep green of 
 the alder beyond, the silvery leaves of the white poplar tremble all over with 
 the slight breeze, that moves not a leaf of the oak beside it, a kingfisher darts 
 from beneath the overhanging bush, and is quickly followed by his mate." 
 
 The touch for the foliage must be longer than for that of the ash ; it has 
 less variety in its direction, which will assist in giving the light feathery or 
 plumy appearance. The colour is a pale ashy green, or warmish gray green, 
 producing a silvery effect, more especially when it is contrasted with some 
 dark full-toned foliage, as that of the alder, — the whole mass, including the 
 shadows, will in this case appear lighter than the tree behind it. The bark, 
 with the twigs, will lie rather darker, and is rough. Many of my readers will 
 doubtless have noticed the handsome group of these trees on the KSouth Inch at 
 Perth. 
 
56 
 
 DRAWING FKOM NATURE. 
 
 THE WEEPING WILLOW. — Salix Bahylonica. 
 
 So elegantly 
 
 " Shadowy trees that lean 
 itly o'er the water's brim." 
 
 FOLIAGE DIFFICULT TO RENDER -LEAVES LONGER AND AT GREATER INTERVALS THAN COM MON 
 WILLOW— TEARS ON LEAVES— ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 perfect contrast to the poplar." The head of the tree is rounded, and takes 
 a mass of light, but the branches being very long and diverging in all 
 directions, the foliage should gradually diminish as they approach the ground 
 or water. The leaves agreeing with the pensile character of the tree, arc 
 longer and placed at greater intervals on the twigs than those of the common 
 Willow. The colour is a light yellowish green. Even Gilpin owns that this 
 tree is not suited to associate "with sublime subjects, such as ruins of abbeys 
 and castles, but it adds to the beauty of humbler scenes, as some romantic 
 footpath bridge, which it half conceals, or some glassy pool, over which it 
 hangs its streams of foliage." 
 
 \ -i, vary with truth the direc- 
 
 Wi< tion of the branches and to avoid stiffness. 
 V Few real artists will agree with Gilpin, when 
 he praises it "as a very picturesque tree, a 
 
 ' > ^^^^^^ This is not an easy 
 
 —^£20^ ■ r '^fT^ = ^^^ S ^' ^ iee t° draw well, 
 ■M /^W^^ however simple and 
 
 \m\ Jugular it may appear, for 
 
 ■0Jm^\ \? nan 8' ]n g masses of close 
 
 tf w "WWiJ ' leaves are apt to look for- 
 k f- f * mal, and it is difficult to 
 
 " We pass a gulf in which the Willows dip 
 Their pendant boughs, stooping as if to drink." 
 
Plate IV. 
 
 1I1GHT0N BROS 
 
THE OSIER. 
 
 Howe mentions a circumstance, forming a fertile theme for the poet, 
 though immaterial to the painter, " that the Weeping Willow, in addition 
 to the pensive, drooping appearance of its branches, weeps little drops of 
 water, which stand like fallen tears upon the leaves." 
 
 The story of the accidental introduction of this tree into England, and 
 the subsequent rapid increase of Weeping Willows from Pope's famous tree 
 at Twickenham, is well known. Another celebrated Willow, that which 
 overshadows the tomb of Napoleon at St. Helena, has, if we may believe in 
 them all, innumerable descendants. These, with many other associations, 
 one of great antiquity, give a degree of interest to the tree which it would 
 lack if considered merely in an artistic point of view. 
 
 THE OSIEE— Salix Viminalis. 
 
 This most familiar example of the humbler class of Willows is especially 
 valuable for all purposes of basket making and other wicker work, and is 
 generally planted by the side of rivers and streams, or on small islands 
 called " osier hotts " or " aits." The Thames and the Cam are especially 
 noted for this species of Willow. The leaves are long and narrow, of a bluish 
 green, covered underneath with a white hoaiy down. They appear not unlike 
 shoots of the common Willow, planted upright in regular rows. The touch is 
 the same, but more upright. 
 
58 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 THE HAZEL — Corylus Avellana. 
 
 " And see, 
 As yet unclothed, the Hazel tree 
 
 The coppice first fruits ; ami depend 
 In russet drops, whose clustered rows 
 Still closed in part, in part disclose 
 Yet fenced beneath their scaly shed 
 The pendent anther's yellow head." 
 
 HAZEL COPPICES SOMETIMES 
 
 CCTURESQUE— RICH AUTUMN TINTS— HARBINGER OF SPRING - 
 CATKINS— CHARCOAL BURNING. 
 
 Plantations and woods, 
 where the trees are of the 
 ^ same size, do not yield good 
 subjects for the artist, unless 
 m $»-- they occur on hold projecting 
 surfaces or broken ground ; 
 but thus situated, with some 
 difference in the age and 
 distance of the trees, there will be variety in the light and shade. It is 
 therefore of importance, in depicting such scenes, to have in the foreground 
 some incidental break, either in the outline or colour. In the vast forests 
 of America this unpleasing monotony is sometimes happily broken by an 
 old decayed tree or projecting rock, contrasting in strong relief with dark 
 masses of shade. When, in addition to these objects, we find a fallen trunk, 
 or a broken bank partially covered with fern or broom, with a rushing torrent, 
 such a sppt forms an excellent foreground to a picture, whilst the distant 
 forest and rounded forms of the wood will increase the variety. In the 
 Hazel coppice there are many opportunities for the introduction of figures 
 in picturesque attitudes, while the rich autumnal tints greatly assist and add 
 to the general harmony of colouring. 
 
THE HAZEL. 
 
 59 
 
 One of our favourite poets has described such a scene : — 
 
 " Even now, mcthinks, I see the bushy del!, 
 The tangled brake, green lane, or sunny glade, 
 Where on a sunshine holiday I strayed, 
 Plucking the ripening nuts with eager glee, 
 Which from Hazel boughs hung temptingly." 
 
 The Hazel presents the appearance of a large bushy shrub rather than 
 that of a tree, owing to the number of .suckers thrown up by the root ; it 
 has, however, been known to grow to the height of thirty feet. The bark- 
 is rough and of a light colour, but on the young branches and suckers it 
 assumes a bright russet tinge, spotted with white ; the colour of the leaves 
 is a warm darkish green, slightly downy above, but paler and more downy 
 beneath ; in autumn they take a rich yellow tint, and remain late en the 
 tree ; the clusters of nuts, when seen, are lighter than the surrounding foliage. 
 This tree flourishes on hill-sides, especially if the soil be rather moist, Gilpin 
 says: "The Hazel, besides making a prominent part of many a grove in the 
 happiest manner, and tufting and fringing the sides of many a ravine, often 
 presents us with very picturesque stems and ramifications." The Hazel is 
 considered the harbinger of spring, when its pendent tassels of downy 
 powdered flowers and crimson-tipped buds adorn the leafless boughs. The 
 charcoal afforded by this tree is much used in the manufacture of crayons 
 for the artist. 
 
 The process of charcoal-burning is interesting, and carried on in picturesque 
 situations. Copse-woods are suffered to grow in some parts of the country — 
 Surrey, for instance — for fifteen or sixteen years, and even then some of the 
 larger trees are spared, so that the whole hill-side is not entirely denuded. 
 When at last the copse is sold, the man who is to convert it into charcoal 
 first builds his hut, and if he has, as is most generally the case, a family, 
 the whole assumes somewhat the appearance of an emigrant's encampment. 
 Nearly in the centre of the wood a round space is cleared, then with a number 
 of long thin poles the charcoal-burner builds- a gigantic cone supported by 
 smaller sticks, placed at intervals down the sides ; the whole is roofed in 
 with sods cut from the heathy common, turned root upwards and considerably 
 overlapping each other. Sometimes a small aperture is left on the leeward 
 side as a vent for the smoke, but most generally till cooking, &c. is performed 
 outside the tent. Within, the ground is cleared and strewn with fine dry 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 sand, the bed is reared on the side opposite the hatch-door, shelves are slung 
 or nailed in various directions ; a chest or two is then introduced, with pots, 
 pans, tubs, broken chairs, &c, and the manage is complete. Soon the man 
 is hard at work, felling away at the copse, while the good woman raises 
 a primitive triangle, lights a tire, boils a pot either for washing or cooking, 
 and busies herself in setting all things straight. A plank is hung to the 
 lowest branch of a neighbouring tree, to which the fowls soon find their 
 way; for be it known that Master Eeynard prowls about these woods every 
 night. Huge stacks of wood are presently formed, and another conical, and 
 this time solid, pile is raised, which is carefully protected on the windward 
 side by a screen of woven straw or brushwood, as, if left unsheltered from 
 the wind, the fire would draw all to one side and the wood be burned 
 unequally. When all is complete, live coals are dropped into a hole left 
 in the centre, and soon great volumes of smoke ascend from the pile. The 
 fire is encouraged or subdued by opening or stopping vents in various places, 
 and for forty-eight hours the burner or his mate is seen incessantly hovering 
 about it, or even on the top, enveloped in the wreathing smoke, and anxiously 
 watching the, operation on which the successful or unsuccessful result of his 
 labour depends. When sufficiently burned the vents are all stopped, water 
 poured over it, and the whole smoking, steaming mound left to cool. In 
 this state it is a very picturesque scene, with the last rays of the autumn 
 sun streaming through the trees, and lighting the wreaths of smoke into 
 rich salmon or crimson tints, while other parts remain of a dull cool gray, 
 scattered gleams falling on the golden fern or crimson shoots of the 
 surrounding underwood, while perchance some old scathed oak stretches his 
 ragged arms over the whole, with an angry flush on his hoary head at the 
 ravages that have been committed around him. 
 
THE ALDEK. 
 
 61 
 
 THE ALDER — A I mis Glutinosa. 
 
 ONE OF THE LARGEST OF WATER LOVING TREES — BANKS OF THE MOLL AND FI No HORN TRUNK 
 BLACK— FOLIAGE LIKE BEECH BUT BROADER — SCARLET COLOUR OF BUDS AND YOUNG SHOOTS — 
 PRODUCES GOOD CHARCOAL FOR GUNPOWDER. 
 
 vicinity of water. In such situations, — ' -v ^Sl 
 
 with a rich soil, it occasionally exceeds sixty feet in height, but the average 
 is from forty to fifty : it sometimes stands singly, but more frequently grows 
 in clumps, rising from the same root or stool. 
 
 The Alder may be considered as more closely associated with water 
 or damp .situations than even the willow or poplar. If planted in a dry 
 elevated position, it dwindles to a mere stunted shrub. It is by the standing 
 pool, and the dank cool marsh, the limpid brook, the full deep flowing stream, 
 and in the " cool green shadowy river nook," that we must seek the finest 
 specimens of the Alder. With such spots it has become identified, and its 
 dense shade and deep green foliage well harmonise with the surrounding 
 scene. Cowley says : — 
 
 Gilpin tells us that " He who would see the Alder in perfection must 
 follow the banks of the Mole, in Surrey, through the sweet vales of Dorking 
 and Mickleham. The Mole is far from being a beautiful river — it is a quiet 
 sluggish stream ; but what beauty it possesses is greatly owing to the Alder, 
 
 gi'iuT.illy known as J^^-*SS~ 
 from its frequent ^-^^t^^L^^l -%\ b 
 occurrence might " ^^^ss^^SL 
 be supposed. It is one of the ^as^ 
 largest and most picturesque of our water 
 loving trees, and is supposed to derive 
 its name front its predilection for the 
 
 The Alder is not so 
 
 " It loves the purling streams, ami often hv 
 Beneath the Hoods, ami wantons with the 
 
62 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 which everywhere fringes its banks, and in many places forms very pleasing 
 scenes." 
 
 Patriotic Lander assures us that " Xot only with tranquil river scenery, 
 but with that of a wilder and more stirring cast, such as is to be found amidst 
 the deep glens and ravines of Scotland, is this tree associated. The Mole nny 
 doubtless furnish the traveller with very beautiful specimens of the Alder, but 
 we venture to assert that nowhere will the tree be found in greater perfection 
 than on the wild banks of the river Findhorn, and its tributary streams, 
 where, scenery of the most romantic description prevails." 
 
 The trunk is almost black in colour, rough, and cracked, and this pecu- 
 liarity, added to the deep tint of the foliage, has given it the name of the 
 Black Alder. The branches, with their long shoots sweeping the surface of the 
 w ater, are something like those of the beech, and the foliage has the short wavy 
 line of that tree ; but the leaf is much broader, and the colour darker. The 
 leaf is not unlike that of the hazel in general appearance, but when they are 
 examined by comparing the woodcuts, considerable difference will be noticed. 
 The leaf of the Alder, it will be seen, has a longer foot-stalk without the 
 terminating point of the hazel ; is not so much serrated, but is more ribbed. 
 It has also catkins of two different shapes, which will not be mistaken for 
 those of the hazel, nor yet for clusters of nuts. 
 
 " A very beautiful effect is produced by the spray of the Alder, when 
 the sap begins to rise, towards the end of winter, for then the young shoots 
 and buds seen at a distance give a colour to the tree almost approaching to 
 scarlet. This is peculiarly rich when the trees happen to be blended, as we 
 have seen them, with the pine woods on some distant bank, where they 
 contrast with the dark green of the firs." 
 
 The Alder is much cultivated in copses, and cut every five or six years 
 for the charcoal burners, and is particularly prized by those who prepare the 
 charcoal for gunpowder ; for this purpose it is cut into lengths and peeled, 
 revealing a wood of the colour of a deep madder red, and the stacks of 
 wood thus prepared are sometimes quite striking objects in the depths of the 
 cool green copses. 
 
THE MAPLE. 
 
 G:3 
 
 THE MAPLE — Acer Campestre. 
 
 FOUND PRINCIPALLY IN" HEDGES ; SOMETIMES A HANDSOME TREE— GILPIN— VARIETY AND EARLY 
 APPEARANCE OF AUTUMN TI NTs — RICH COLOURING OF BRANCHES AND SHOOTS — CALENDAR OF 
 AUTUMN TINTS OF VARIOUS TREES-. 
 
 Tins humble and diminu- 
 tive tree is common in our 
 hedges and thickets, but is 
 generally reduced by the 
 hedger to the size of the 
 doming thorns and sloes, 
 vies and ornaments the hedge, 
 is one of the first to show 
 itumn mi its foliage. Hand- 
 his species may be seen on 
 the banks of the Wansbeck, near Morpeth, 
 and other parts of Northumberland. Gilpin styles it "an uncommon tree, 
 though a common bush," and goes on to say that the largest Maple lie lias 
 seen stands in the churchyard of Boldre, in the New Forest, Curiously 
 enough, he chose to be buried at the loot of this very tree, and it now over- 
 shadows his last resting-place. 
 
 The following description from the journal of a naturalist of the changes 
 that the Maple undergoes in autumn forms a good guide to the eolourist. " It 
 is the earliest sylvan beau that is weary of its summer suit; first shifting its 
 dress to ochrey shades, then trying a deeper tint, and lastly, assuming an 
 orange vest ; thus setting a fashion that ere long becomes the garb of all, 
 except the rustic oak, which looks regardlessly at the beau, and keeps its 
 verdant robe unchanged. Soon tired of this, the Maple takes a pattern from 
 his sober neighbour ash, throws its gaudy trim away, and patiently awaits 
 with all his peers the next new change. "When first the Maple begins 
 to autumnize the grove, the extremities of the boughs alone change their 
 
64 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 colour, but all the internal and more sheltered parts still retain their verdure, 
 which gives to the tree the effect of a great depth of shade, and displays 
 advantageously the light lively colouring of the sprays." The leaf is some- 
 what like that of the sycamore ; and there is a ruggeduess in the branches 
 and shoots, which, with their rich colour, gives them a marked character 
 among the foliage of our shrubs. 
 
 As the change of colour in the foliage of trees is very interesting to those 
 who study Nature for the purpose of representation, either with the pencil 
 or the brush, a kind of calendar has been added of the different tints assumed 
 by various trees towards the end of September. 
 
 The leaves of the Maple change first of all to an ochrey yellow, then 
 to a deeper tone. 
 
 Ash, tine lemon yellow, soon falling, and leaving bunches of seeds of a 
 brown hue. 
 
 Hornbeam, bright yellow. 
 
 Elm, generally orange, but with some irregular patches of bright yellow. 
 
 Hawthorn, tawny yellow, but greatly modified by tones of deep reddish 
 brown, and brilliant clusters of berries. The old thorns in Bushey Park, when 
 lit up by the evening sun, are most gorgeous in autumn. 
 
 Hazel, pale ochrey yellow, with browner shades for the clusters of nuts. 
 
 Sycamore, a dull brown. 
 
 Oak, yellowish green. 
 
 Horse-chestnut, a great variety of beautiful rich tones, from pale yellow 
 to bright crimson orange. 
 
 Beech, also finely varied in colour, but more of a maroon colour than 
 the chestnut. 
 
 Cherry, most diversified and charming in tints, yellow, red, crimson, 
 maroon, and purple. Leaves of all these colours may be picked up at the 
 same time from beneath the tree, and, when arranged on a table at home, 
 form an admirable study lor the young artist. 
 
THE HAWTHORN. 
 
 Go 
 
 THE HAWTJft >BjS t — Crataegus O^jacanthcu 
 
 " The- Whitethorn bush, 
 ; leaning stile bends low 
 
 GENEKAL FAVOUKITE — OFTEN PICTURESQUE, TRTO?K ESPECIALLY so IN OLD AGE — WHITE 
 BLOSSOMS — HEDGES— CIIAIIM IXU ASSOCIATIONS — HED HIM: 111 h>. 
 
 to allow of its occupying a prominent place in a picture, but even then, we 
 think, this detect is in some measure atoned fur by the characteristic knotting 
 and twisting of the trunk. 
 
 Sir Thomas Dick Lauder is eloquent in the praise of this, one of his 
 favourite native trees : — " We have seen it hanging over rocks, with deep 
 shadows under its foliage, or shooting from their sides, with most fantastic 
 forms, as if to gaze at its image in the deep pool below ; we have seen 
 it growing under the shelter, though not the shade, of some stately oak, 
 embodying the idea of beauty protected by strength." When covered with 
 its white blossoms, it indicates the season of the year better than most trees, 
 these generally appearing towards the end of May. In a hedge-row it is 
 sometimes useful in breaking the monotonous expanse of country ; and when 
 blended by distance gives a rich and unrivalled charm to English landscapes. 
 
 age, and its straggling roots, amongst which the 
 deer and sheep love to herd, give variety to the park 
 or hill-side. When well grown, and of middle age, it 
 takes an elegant picturesque form, with falling or 
 slightly depending branches, and makes an important 
 accessory to the beauty of English scenery. As years 
 pass over it, the head becomes too round and matted 
 
 fpi. As a tree, our general favourite may perhaps 
 not be of much importance in the landscape ; 
 but when viewed near at hand, its twisted trunk 
 and branches, with some small portion of foli- 
 
 F 
 
66. 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATUEE. 
 
 Among poets, from Shakespeare and Spenser down to the writers of the 
 present day, the Hawthorn lias ever been a favourite, and the pleasant asso- 
 ciations connected with it of coming summer, and its train of dreamy joys, 
 have perhaps influenced even artists to allow it charms and qualities, which, 
 were it strictly viewed with regard to colour and composition, ought to he 
 denied. 
 
 The touch of the foliage is more acute and angular than that of the oak, 
 not allowing such a broad mass of light and shade. The foliage is of a dark 
 cool green colour, varied in autumn by the bunches of bright red berries with 
 which it is adorned. 
 
 THE BLACKTHORN — Prunus Spinosa. 
 
 FLOWERS APPEAR BEFORE LEAVES— EARLIEST OF BLOSSOMS — REASON'S FOR NAME. 
 
 Of much less importance to the artist than the hawthorn, the Sloe may 
 be more properly termed a thorny and crooked shrub, the flowers of which 
 appear in April before any of the leaves. It is this fact which gives it 
 a certain degree of interest, for '• all lovers of wild flowers welcome the 
 Blackthorn spray, when its black, woody, leafless boughs are whitened with 
 the snowy blossoms. We may wander forth to see them even as early as 
 March, when winds are blowing, and whirling the few dried leaves which 
 are yet left of the multitude which strewed the pathway of the country 
 wood. There is a wild music among the boughs, as they bend downwards 
 in graceful motions, while the thrush and blackbird are singing to the rich 
 accompaniment. Young flowers peep up from among dry leaves, but as yet 
 no flowering tree or shrub enlivens the wood, save the Blackthorn. Old 
 country people call the winds of March black winds, and say that the Black- 
 thorn is so called, because it flowers at that season; but there is reason 
 enough for its name in the dark wood of the boughs, contrasted too, as it is, 
 by the flowers. A cold March is, however, called in villages a Blackthorn 
 winter. It is very frequent in our woods, coppices, and hedges, gradually 
 acquiring its leaves in April and May, so that when the flowers are disappear- 
 ing it is clad in delicate verdure." The leaves are long and serrated, and do 
 not grow in clusters like those of the hawthorn. 
 
THE STONE PINE. 
 
 6;7 
 
 STONE PINE — Pinus Pima. 
 
 ' And still the Pine, Ions haired and dark and tall. 
 In lordly right predominant o'er all. 
 Much they admire that old religious tree, 
 With shaft abov« the rest, up shooting free, 
 And shaking, when its dark locks feel the wind. 
 Its wealthy fruit, with rough mosaic rind," 
 
 Leigh Hunt. 
 
 3IIARACTERISTIC TREE OF ITALY — RAVENS A — IN.' 
 
 BRANCHES— BEAUTY OF 
 
 YOUNfi — DECAY OF LATERAL 
 
 This is the most characteristic 
 tree of Italy, and nourishes in 
 great luxuriance on the deep 
 sandy hanks of rivers, or by 
 the seashore. The Stone Pines 
 of Kavenna are famous for 
 their beauty. " It is not indi- 
 genous to our soil, but, like 
 the cedar, is in some degree 
 naturalised, though in England 
 it is rarely more than a puny, 
 half formed resemblance to the 
 Italian Pine. The, soft clime 
 of Italy alone gives birth to the 
 true picturesque Pine. There 
 it always suggests ideas of 
 broken porticoes, Ionic pillars, triumphal 
 arches, fragments of old temples, and a 
 variety of classic ruins, such as in Italian 
 landscapes it commonly adorns. The Stone 
 Pine promises little in its infancy as regards 
 picturesque beauty, and does not, like most of the fir species, give early 
 indication of its future form. 
 
68 
 
 DEA.WING FROM NATURE. 
 
 " In its youth it is dwarfish and round headed, with a short stem, and has 
 rather the shape of a full grown hush than of an increasing tree, and it is not 
 until it has attained maturity that its picturesque form developes rapidly. 
 Its lengthening stem commonly assumes an easy sweep. It seldom indeed 
 deviates much from a straight line, hut that gentle deviation is very graceful, 
 and above all other lines difficult to imitate. If, accidentally, either the stem 
 or any of the larger branches take a larger sweep than common, that sweep 
 seldom fails to be graceful. Another beauty of the Stone Tine is, that as the 
 lateral branches decay they generally leave stumps, which, standing out on 
 various parts of the stem, break the continuity of its lines. The hark is 
 smoother than that of any other tree of the Pine species, except the Weymouth 
 Pine ; its hue is warm, reddish, and liable to peel off in patches, thus pro- 
 ducing a roughness of stem effective for the artist. The foliage rivals the 
 trunk in beauty ; its colour is a deep gray green, and its form, instead of 
 breaking into acute angles, like many of the Pine species, is moulded into 
 a flowing line, by an assemblage of small masses. "When we see an ash 
 or elm from which the lateral branches have been stripped, as is the practice 
 in some countries, we are apt to think that no tree with a head placed on a 
 long stem can be beautiful ; yet, in Nature's hands, which can mould so many 
 forms of beauty, it is easily effected." To the artist this circumstance 
 is particularly acceptable, as, from the absence of all lateral branches, he is 
 often enabled to introduce it into the foreground of a picture. The sheath- 
 like leaves of this, and the Scotch fir, which stand upright on the branch, 
 should lie imitated by a series of short strokes, care being taken to avoid too 
 great regularity in their arrangement, which would destroy the rounded form 
 of the masses of foliage. 
 
Scotch Fu\ Spanish Chestnut 
 
THE SCOTCH FIE 
 
 69 
 
 SCOTCH FIR— Pmmm Sylvestris. 
 
 SPREADING Willi: 
 OF FIR SPINES- 
 
 ;auty in incur.. 
 
 FIVE YEARS- 
 
 JOUR 
 LING 
 
 This, our only 
 indigenous Pino, 
 very general 
 throughout Eng- 
 land and Scotland, 
 latter country still 
 in vast forests, 
 space to spread it 
 set than the larch 
 ■ trunk being not 
 unfrequently bent or twisted near 
 and as this is a character best suited for pictures, 1 have chosen, 
 ustration of this tree, a group growing on the south side of Leith 
 Hill, Surrey, overhanging an old road where the gradual wasting away of the 
 sandy banks has caused one Fir to fall against the others. When the lower 
 portion of the stem becomes bare, and the head remains clothed with a 
 dusky green canopy, contrasting admirably with the yellowish red of the 
 bark, there is scarcely a mure picturesque tree. It loses entirely the taper 
 character of its youth and bears a great resemblance to the stone pine, but 
 with more irregularity in its growth, for frequently some straggling limb 
 remains, shooting from the lower part of the trunk, the whole according well 
 with the wild scenes in which it is most often found, towering, as it dor.-. 
 
 the t( 
 as an 
 
70 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 amid the sublimest parts of the Scottish Highlands. There are some 
 magnificent specimens growing in the vicinity of King's House, in the Pass 
 of Glencoe, that are enough in themselves to tempt an artist to pass more 
 than one day in its uncomfortable looking inn: Others, equally striking, rise 
 among the rocks and falling waters around Killin, and on the small island 
 which contains McNab's grave. One of these is particularly interesting 
 from the accidental growth of a large branch, severed from the main 
 stem, and fallen across another ; seemingly not an uncommon event, as 
 it has frequently occurred in other trees, when two branches have chafed 
 and wounded each other, and at last united. The veteran McNab, vim 
 shows the grave to strangers, is disinclined to believe this, for he ushers 
 them to the spot with this observation : " Now, sirs, step this way, and you 
 shall see a sight you shall not see again in the three kingdoms." 
 
 In forests this Pine assumes a very different though not utterly unpic- 
 turesque appearance ; the side branches are fewer ; the stems are straighter 
 and attain to a much greater height. 
 
 Sir T. Hick Lauder has drawn a charming and truthful picture of the 
 solemn grandeur of a pine forest. "At one time we found ourselves wan- 
 dering along some natural level under the deep and sublime shade of the 
 heavy pine-foliage, upheld high over head by the tall massive columnar stems, 
 which appear to form an endless colonnade ; the ground, dry as a floor beneath 
 our footsteps, the very sound of which is muffled by the thick deposition of 
 decayed spines with which the seasons of more than one century have strewed 
 it ; hardly conscious that the sun is up, save from the fragrant resinous odour 
 which its influence is exhaling, and the continued hum of the clouds of 
 insects that are dancing in its beams over the tops of the trees. Anon the 
 ground begins to swell into hillocks, and here arid there the continuity of 
 shade is broken by a broad rush of light streaming down through some vacant 
 space, and brightly illuminating a single tree of huge dimensions, and of grand 
 form, which, rising from a little knoll, stands out in bold relief from the 
 darker masses behind it, where the shadows again sink deep and fathomless 
 among the red and gray stems, whilst Nature, luxuriating in the light that 
 gladdens the little glade, pours forth her richest Highland treasures of purple 
 heath bells, and bright green bilberries, and trailing whortleberries, with tufts 
 of ferns, and tall junipers irregularly intermingled. And then, amidst the 
 
THE SCOTCH FIR. 
 
 silence that prevails, the red deer stag comes carelessly across the view, 
 leading his whole herd behind him ; and as his full eye catches a glimpse of 
 man, he halts, throws up his royal head, snuffs up the gale, indignantly beats 
 the ground with his hoof, and then proudly moves off with his troop amid the 
 glistening boles." 
 
 The hark is frequently cracked in scales of a gray colour towards the root, 
 but becomes redder and smoother higher from the ground. These varieties in 
 colour are much increased by age, When the hark is deeply furrowed and of a 
 rich brown colour. The roots, 
 unlike those of almost every 
 other tree, wander in a direc- 
 tion nearly horizontal, accom- 
 modating themselves to the 
 scanty depth of soil in which 
 they are found ; and as the 
 tree advances in age, they fre- 
 quently appear above the sur- 
 face of the ground, and are 
 therefore much more tough and 
 woody than those of other trees. 
 The foliage is composed of in- 
 numerable sharp-edged leaves, 
 which fall every fifth year; 
 they are arranged spirally on 
 the branches in pairs, within 
 a scaly sheath. When young-, 
 they are of a bright hue, hut 
 afterwards assume a bluish tint, 
 probably on account of their 
 peculiar form not allowing 
 much scope for the influence 
 of the solar rays. The leaves 
 
 approach the perpendicular, are rather curved, and grow on the upper sides 
 of the branches, the latter being frequently seen below. The colour of 
 the foliage may be given with the addition of a little lake, red, or madder 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 to a cool green. It may bo added, that the cones are generally in pairs 
 above the shoots of the current year ; their colour varies, being sometimes 
 yellowish or red, though more frequently of a purplish green. 
 
 Miss Twamley refers pleasingly to the two trees most usually met with in 
 Scotland, namely, the '■ gloomy Pine and bonnie birch" — 
 
 '■ The lofty Fir crowns Scotland's hills, 
 Nor recks the winter's Wast ; 
 His root clings firmly to the rock, 
 I .ike an anchor stout and fast. 
 
 The Pine is king of Scottish woods : 
 
 And the queen— oh ! who is she ? 
 The fairest form the forest kens— 
 
 The. bonnie birchen tree." 
 
 SPKIJCE Fl R-t-Pmiiw Albks. 
 
 " There towering Pirs in conic forms appear. 
 And with a pointed spear divide the skies." 
 
 Prior. 
 
 GRACEFUL SWEEP OF BRANCHES —REGULARITY OF FORM AND SAMENESS OF COLOUR DISTASTEFUL 
 T<> ARTIST— SALVATOR ROSA — LEAVES DEPENDING FROM BRANCHES. 
 
 TflE Spruce Fir is conical in. form, and considered by many handsomer than 
 the Scotch fir, its lower branches sweeping gracefully on the ground, and 
 gradually decreasing towards the head in tiers of regular foliage But these 
 very qualities, regularity of form and sameness of colour, render the Spruce 
 Fir, when flourishing and luxuriant, an object of lesser value to the artist. 
 In the elevated and exposed situations in which, especially among Alpine 
 scenery, it so often occurs, we find it assuming a more picturesque form. 
 "Sometimes the tree, shattered by some accident, has lost many of its 
 branches, and is scathed and ragged. A feathery branch here and there, 
 among broken stumps, has often an admirable effect." Lauder describes, with 
 true artistic feeling, the effect of the Spruce Fir in Alpine scenery, in the 
 following passage: ""What can be more truly sublime than to behold, opposed 
 to the intensely blue ether, the glazed white summits of Mont Blanc, or the 
 
THE LARCH. 73 
 
 Jungfrau, rising over the interminable forests of Spruce Firs, which clothe the 
 bases of the mountains, whilst sonic gigantic specimens, as those we have been 
 noticing, rise in groups among the rocks before us, many of them shivered, 
 broken, and maimed by tempests ; their dark forms opposed to all the 
 brilliant prismatic hues of some immense gorgeous glacier." 
 
 Salvator Rosa has introduced the Spruce Fir with excellent effect into some 
 of his most sublime compositions. 
 
 The branches spread out laterally, nearly parallel with the ground, and 
 first bending downwards, curve slightly upward towards their extremities. The 
 smaller sprays may be indicated by a succession of curves slightly deviating 
 from the branches. The leaves are short, and depend from the branch, in 
 contradistinction to the Scotch fir. 
 
 TU E LA RC K—Puius Larh 
 
 NATIVE OF ALTS AND APENNINES— DUl 
 WELL IX HIGH LATITUDES — LARCH ! 
 AND PAINTER — LONG GRAY MOSS — I' 
 
 HEIGHT EIGHTY TO ONF. IlI'Mifru n i l OROWING 
 — I N PLANTATIONS UNINTERESTING TO THE POET 
 UNDERNEATH FRESH AND GREENi 
 
 THE Larch is a 
 native of tin' Alps 
 and Apennines, and 
 >wson their steeps in characteristic 
 when uncontrolled 
 unimpeded in its growth, a 
 vigour and strength of character 
 rarely, if ever, seen in our island, 
 among the fastnesses of our Highland 
 grounds at Dunkeld. There, mi the 
 Craig-y-Barns and the lonely corries 
 ike of At hoi, planted 14,000 acres with this tree, 
 . in important service to the artist public as well as to his 
 
74 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 heirs. It is only since about 1725 that the Larch has been introduced into 
 Scotland and England, and it is interesting to notice what was thought of a 
 tree which appears likely to modify the appearance of many of our wild 
 barren hills in Scotland. When at Dunkeld some years ago, 1 was shown two 
 fine trees, about eighty or ninety feet high, which J was told were the original 
 plants, according to the popular account, that were brought from Italy with 
 orange trees and other exotics, and for some time received a hothouse 
 treatment, but being found to sicken under such a discipline, they were 
 transplanted into the open garden, where the}' soon began to thrive and grow 
 with the vigour natural to the tree. In its native Alpine regions it grows 
 from the height of eighty to upwards of one hundred feet, and is thus 
 described by Gilpin: "The Larch thrives in higher regions of the air better 
 than any other tree of its consequence is known to do, hanging over rocks 
 and precipices which have never been visited by human feet. After it is 
 felled by the Alpine peasant, and thrown athwart some yawning chasm, where 
 it affords a tremendous passage from cliff to cliff; while the cataract, roaring 
 many fathoms below, is seen only in surges of rising vapour." 
 
 I have a most vivid recollection of sketching such rough and precarious 
 bridges in the 'Via Mala, where, after the remarkably warm wind accompanied 
 by rain (called " the Fon ") that fell on the Alps, in 1839, and swelled the 
 mountain streams, these Larch trunks had taken the place of the more, solid 
 bridges, swept away by the impetuous torrents. They were far more 
 picturesque to sketch than easy to cross. 
 
 In England, the Larch may be a useful, bid is not a painter's tree, 
 though, when young, it forms a variety us regards colour in our woods and 
 plantations, especially in the spring, decorated as it then is by the pink 
 tassels of its blossoms. Afterwards, but before our deciduous trees are in 
 full leaf, the Larch is clothed in a foliage of a vivid, lively green, perhaps 
 more pleasing to the casual observer than to the painter. 
 
 Wordsworth, 1 think, must have viewed it with the artist's eye, when 
 he says, " It must he acknowledged that the Larch, till it has outgrown the 
 size of a shrub, shows, when looked at singly, some elegance in form and 
 appearance, especially in spring ; but as a tree it is less than any other 
 pleasing. Its branches (for boughs it has none) have nr. variety in tin' youth 
 of the tree, and little dignity even when it attains its full growth. 
 
THE LARCH. 75 
 
 '• Leaves it cannot be said to have, and consequently it affords neither shade 
 nor shelter. In spring, the Larch becomes green long before the native trees ; 
 and its green is so peculiar and vivid, that, rinding nothing to harmonize with 
 it, whenever it cqnies forth a disagreeable speck is produced. In summer, 
 when all other trees are in their pride, it is of a dingy lifeless hue ; in autumn, 
 of a spiritless unvaried yellow ; and in winter it is still more lamentably 
 distinguished from every other deciduous tree of the forest, for they seem 
 only to sleep, but the Larch appears absolutely dead." 
 
 This is a poet's description of the appearance Larches make in our 
 plantations ; but surely, had he studied them in their native habitat, he would 
 have been more lenient in his judgment. 
 
 The stem is straight, and rising perpendicularly from the root, is thick 
 at its commencement, but decreases more rapidly than that of the fir. The 
 branches are long, slender, rather curved and pendant, tending more towards 
 the perpendicular as they approach the summit. The spray is light and 
 drooping .suiting the delicate foliage which depends from it. 
 
 The trunk is more completely seen than in most trees, and is sometimes 
 covered with long gray moss. The Larches in the forest near (Jrindelwald 
 alluded to by Byron were covered, when the author sketched them, with long 
 festoons of gray moss, presenting a most singular appearance. 
 
 The touch for the foliage should be a succession of nearly parallel strokes 
 inclining in an oblique direction from the spray, and occasionally rather 
 curved or waved. 
 
 The Larch, though deciduous, is not entirely divested of leaves in winter. 
 
 The pasture under these trees is always fresh and green, owing to the 
 fertilizing nature of the leaves, aided perhaps by the light which permeates 
 the foliage. 
 
 Gilpin tells us that many of Raphael's pictures were painted on larch 
 boards. 
 
DRAWING FBOM NATUKK. 
 
 THE C YPKESS — Cvprcssus Sempcrvirens. 
 
 • Dark tre». still 
 The only eonsta 
 
 iers' grief is fled, 
 if the dead." 
 
 r:i (;rr,Ai; cuNie 
 
 i. win i: I, mm hum; LOMBARD!" t-orLAR— CEMETERIES— SCUTARI. 
 
 The Cypress is 
 a flame-shaped, 
 tapering, cone-like 
 tree, with upright 
 branches, growing 
 close to the stem, 
 bearing a striking 
 •esemblance to the Lom- 
 lardy poplar, — only, if pos- 
 sible, more compact, stiff, 
 and conical. When perfect, 
 it tapers with great regularity, beginning low down and terminating in a 
 sharp and delicate point. The summit is sometimes jagged and forked. 
 
 A group of Cypresses presents considerable irregularity of appearance, 
 some bearing diverging branches like the yew. whilst others, particularly the 
 old trees, have but a. scanty cluster of foliage at the top, the lower part 
 presenting a mass of hare matted branches. The hark is dark and fibrous. 
 The foliage has a very close texture, which gives firmness and precision to the 
 outline of the tree. 
 
 It occurs frequently on the coast of Genoa and in the neighbourhood of 
 Florence. It is sometimes planted in our cemeteries, and forms the constant 
 and often only ornament of Turkish burial-grounds, particularly of that at 
 Scutari, where it now waves its melancholy branches over the last resting- 
 place of many an English hero. 
 
77 
 
 THE CEDAR— Pinus Cedms. 
 
 " In the midst 
 A Cedar spread lii.s dark green layers of shade." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 majesty, strength, and longevity — beauty of foliage— movement of branches — classical 
 and scriptural associations — trunk often divided— foliage more tufted than other 
 firs — cones. 
 
 This truly majestic tree has been well described by Gilpin as the type of 
 a "lasting tree." Its whole appearance is one of strength, majesty, and 
 longevity. 
 
 Strutt remarks that there is something in the air of the Cedar remarkably 
 indicative of its comparatively immortal nature. The foliage is very beautiful. 
 Each branch is perfect in its form; the points of the leaves spread upwards 
 in little tufts, feathering the whole upper .surface of the branch, and drooping 
 in graceful curves towards the extremity; whilst the colour exhibits a dark 
 green, harmonizing with the blue tint of the pine and fir, and the gloomy, 
 dusky hue of the cypress. 
 
 It is said to possess a peculiarity in raising its boughs, which is elegantly 
 described by Mrs. Franklin : — 
 
 " The Cedar thus, when halcyon summer shines, 
 Graceful to earth its pendant bough declines ; 
 lint when mi Libanus the snows descend, 
 To meet the weight, its rising branches bend." 
 
 This last attribute, whether really possessed by the Cedar or not, is one 
 too fertile in romantic ideas to be overlooked by poets, and Southey lias a 
 fine allusion to it : — - 
 
 " It was a Cedar tree 
 That woke him from' the deadly drowsiness : 
 Its broad round spreading branches, when they felt 
 The snow, rose upward in a point to heaven, 
 And standing in their strength erect, 
 Defied the baffled storm." 
 
78 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 The grandeur and beauty of the Cedar lead us to associate it with 
 classical and Scriptural subjects, and Martin has introduced it into several 
 of his loftiest conceptions. 
 
 The trunk is sometimes divided into several large limbs, rising per- 
 pendicularly, and from these the lateral branches spring at right angles. 
 The lights and shadows lie in unequal strata or layers, and should be 
 decidedly indicated, the cast shadows also being distinctly marked. 
 
 The foliage is difficult to describe, but it may be imitated by a succession 
 of short curved lines generally pointing upwards. It is more in the form of 
 little tufts than that of other firs. 
 
 The cones are few in number, but conspicuous from their bright warm 
 colour ; they are placed perpendicularly on the upper part of the branch. 
 
 THE YEW. — Taxus Baccata. 
 
 " This solitary tree ! a living thing 
 Produced too slowly ever to decay, 
 Of form and aspect top magnificent 
 To be destroyed."— Wordsworth. 
 
 NEXT IN LONGEVITY TO CEDAR— VILLAGE CHUKCH YARDS — FAVOURITE WITH POETS — REASONS 
 FOR CULTIVATION IN' OLDEN TIMES — GARDEN HEDGES — WIDE SPREAD OF BRANCHES— FOLIAGE 
 GROWING IN PARALLEL ROWS. 
 
 Next to the cedar, the Yew is the longest lived tree, indeed, according to 
 Strutt, " it can scarcely ever be said to die, new shoots perpetually springing 
 out from the old and withered stock." In appearance also it bears resemblance 
 to the cedar, but, owing to its inferior size, and effect, it is not so often intro- 
 duced by artists into their compositions, and is therefore almost entirely 
 monopolized by their brethren the word-painters, who have presented to the 
 mind's eye many interesting pictures of village churchyards with their yews 
 of sombre hue, the slow growth and gradual decay of which harmonize so 
 well with the feelings called forth by the locality. Gray has immortalized 
 this kindred association in lines too well known to require quotation. 
 
THE YEW. 79 
 
 "When our national weapons of defence consisted of bows and lulls, the 
 Yew tree was highly esteemed, as supplying the best wood for the manu- 
 facture of the first mentioned weapon ; and it is to this circumstance that 
 Selby attributes the general frequency of Yew in our churchyards, it being 
 customary to plant it there for the convenience and use of the townsfolk 
 and villagers. 
 
 Many ot the cottage doors at Abinger arc overshadowed by aged Yews, 
 dark and funeral in their aspect and anything but beautiful in form, and there 
 is something impressive in the thought that although the cottage may be 
 crumbling to decay, the tree will outlive it. as it has in all probability out- 
 lived many a labourer's dwelling, seeing more changes than the oldest man 
 in the district. ' There it stands grandly amid the pale budding vegetation, 
 as if it were proud of having resisted the wear and tear of winter so well, 
 and in the great windy struggle retaining the green garment which the 
 Borean blast had battled for in vain, while so many other trees had lost all." 
 But notwithstanding Miller's poetical description 1 would rather not have 
 Yews at my cottage door, hut would prefer the shade of a rustic porch with 
 the rose and honeysuckle training over if. 
 
 The Yew is now principally cultivated in gardens to form evergreen 
 hedges, for which purpose it is well suited, as it grows thick, and bears 
 clipping, making a good background or screen for trees of a lighter foliage ; 
 it is, however, said to be very unwholesome to the cattle, who browse on its 
 leaves. "The trunk of the Yew is still', straight, and short in proportion to its 
 bulk, and, when left to its natural growth, numerous branches spring nearly 
 horizontally from within a very short distance of the ground ; these, if left 
 unmolested, annually elongate, and at length cover with their umbrageous 
 shade a large space of ground," and are frequently closely intertwined. The 
 trunk and branches are deeply grooved ; the bark, which is of a rich reddish 
 brown, is thin, and peels off every year. The leaves are small and narrow, 
 closely arranged in a double row on the twigs; the cup-like berries, although 
 in colour of a bright scarlet, are not sufficiently conspicuous to be represented 
 by the artist. The touch for the foliage may be rather more distinct than 
 that for the cedar, and its peculiarity of growing in parallel rows on the twigs 
 may be noticed. The general height attained by the Yew is between thirty 
 and forty feet. 
 
80 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 THE DATE PALM— Phc 
 
 Dactylifi 
 
 IMKTIMKS Flll'N'n 
 FORMING INEQUA 
 
 KUROl'J 
 I'IKS ON 
 
 'LTIVATEB FOR LA> 
 LEAVES TEN TO '1 
 
 Kit FESTIVAL — DECAY OF LOWER LEAVES 
 •ELYE FEET LONG — FORESTS IN BARBARY. 
 
 Tins tree, though a native of 
 Asia and Africa, and as such 
 inadmissible to this series, is 
 sometimes seen in Europe. It 
 lias been naturalized in Spain, 
 and is occasionally found even 
 in the south of France and in 
 Italy. 
 
 The examples in the plate 
 are sketched from some on 
 the coast of Genoa; the Palm 
 being there cultivated for the 
 sake of its leaves, which are 
 preserved with great care, and 
 sent to Rome, for the Easter 
 festivals of the Roman Catho- 
 lic Church. The leaves on 
 the stem decay so soon that 
 they are rarely seen, though 
 at the crown they form a 
 graceful tuft. Its stem is 
 straight and cylindrical, and 
 covered, particularly near its summit, with numerous prominences like thick 
 scales, formed by the leaf stalks of former years. "A grove of Date trees, 
 when full grown, has the appearance of numerous elegant columns, each 
 crowned with a verdant capital, with shafts beautifully wrought." The 
 
THE MOUNTAIN ASH, OR ROWAN TREE OF SCOTLAND. 81 
 
 leaves on the summit, which are from ten to twelve feet in length, bend 
 gracefully back, and form a kind of canopy. 
 
 The spine of each leaf should first be marked, and the leaflets added 
 afterwards. 
 
 MOUNTAIN ASH, OR ROWAN TREE OF SCOTLAND — ■ 
 
 Pyrus Aucuparia. 
 
 " How clung the Rowan to the rook, 
 And through the folia-.- showed his head 
 With narrow leaves and berries red." 
 
 CLASSED WITH ASK, THOUGH DIFFERENT IN GENUS— GROWING BEST ALONE AND IN COLD CLIMATES 
 ■ — PLEASING EFFECT IN HIGHLANDS— BRILLIANT BERRIES. 
 
 This tree, botanically 
 speaking, is quite a 
 different genus from 
 the ash, but, having 
 some resemblance to 
 the latter, especially 
 in the leaf, artist 
 writers on trees not 
 unfrequently class 
 them together. The 
 Rowan, however, is not so large nor elegant as the common ash. It succeeds 
 best alone, for if screened or shaded by other higher trees, it dwindles, as 
 it were through envy, to insignificance. Gilpin gives an excellent description 
 of this tree, evidently a favourite with him. " Inured to cold and nigged 
 scenes, it is the hardy inhabitant of the northern parts of this island. Some- 
 times it is found in softer climes ; but there it generally discovers, by its 
 stunted growth, that it does not occupy the situation it loves. In the Scottish 
 Highlands it becomes a considerable tree. There, on some rocky mountain 
 covered with dark pines and waving birch, which cast a solemn gloom 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 DBA WING FROM NATURE. 
 
 over the lake below, a few Mountain Ashes, joining in a chimp and mixing 
 with them, have a fine effect ; if happily blended and not in too large a 
 proportion, they add some of the most picturesque furniture with which 
 the sides of those rugged mountains are invested." 
 
 In autumn, this tree asserts its individuality, bearing clusters of red berries 
 instead of shrivelled seed vessels. Though its most natural situation is 
 amongst mountains, it is often planted in pleasure grounds and shrubberies, 
 for the sake of its brilliant berries. 
 
 It may be introduced with truth into sketches of Highland scenes, being 
 frequently planted by superstitious inhabitants close to their dwellings, to 
 protect them from witchcraft. The leaves are smaller than those of the ash, 
 the touch must not be so marked, nor the branches so long. 
 
 The Rowan is not without its admirers among our greatest poets, for 
 Wordsworth says :— 
 
 " The Mountain Ash 
 No eye can overlook, when 'mid a grove 
 Of yet unfaded trees she lifts her head, 
 Decked with autumnal berries, that outshine 
 Spring's richest blossoms ; and ye may have marked 
 By a brook side or solitary tarn, 
 How she her station doth adorn : the pool 
 Glows at her feet, and all the gloomy rocks 
 Are brightened round her. " 
 
 THE ACACIA — Robinia pseudo Acacia. 
 
 RARELY SEEN TO PERFECTION IN" ENGLAND— FOLIAGE AND BLOSSOMS GRACEFUL— SEPARATED 
 TOUCH — BRITTLENESS OF WOOD. 
 
 Among elegant pendent trees the Acacia must not be forgotten, though it is 
 seldom or never seen to perfection in England. This tree, although partaking 
 of the character of the ash, has not its gracefulness, either in the trunk or 
 branches, which are stiff and irregular in their lines. Its claims to beauty 
 lie in its foliage, which is particularly light and elegant, of a beautiful lively 
 green, and when allowed to grow unlopped, feathers gracefully down to the 
 ground, forming a pleasant object for park or lawn, especially when covered 
 with white blossom?, though nut properly included in our British sylva. The 
 
THE ELDER. 
 
 83 
 
 foliage does not form into such large masses as that of the ash, but is rather 
 more like the birch in character. 
 
 The leaves being set along the small branches, make it desirable, in 
 imitating them, to separate the touch. The bark, too, differs greatly from 
 the ash, being rough and dark in colour. 
 
 This tree is beautiful only when in its prime, and uninjured, and as, from 
 the extreme brittleness of the wood, it is unable to stand against a storm, it 
 scarcely ever passes through one unscathed or unshorn of its beauty. Hence 
 its rare appearance anywhere but in pleasure grounds, and even there it 
 is never to be depended upon. On the Continent the tree is much planted 
 in avenues to public baths, and is then kept polled into rounded masses. 
 
 THE ELDEK — Sambucus Niger, 
 
 II ART) Y — THOROUGH LY DOMESTICATED — FOLIAGE USEFUL TO ARTIST— PROMINENCE OF BLOSSOMS- 
 EARLY IN LEAF — DEEP PURPLE BEKRIES — BRANCHES SPRINGING NEAR GROUND. 
 
 "XT 
 
 This shrubby tree 
 will grow and 
 nourish where fruit 
 v ^ trees will not, and 
 is common, almost 
 universal, in cottage 
 gardens, hedge rows, 
 
 , "',\V and ruins. It is in fact a thoroughly domesticated 
 
 ^llL^ tlee ' aiK ^ Se ^° m *' S ^ *" nin:i ^ * n England far from 
 ^ human habitation, although I have seen it in the 
 si 
 
 wildest valleys of the Pyrenees, where it appeared 
 to me to have the richest scarlet berries instead of black, and it greatly 
 added to the brilliancy and gaiety of the valleys of the Gane and other 
 streams. Its quiet but warm green is very useful to the, artist, combining 
 well with the colours of old farm-houses, or moss covered barns. In farm 
 yards again it is very common, and as the wide-spread blossoms are sufficiently 
 
 m 
 
84 
 
 DRAWING FROM X ATT RE. 
 
 large to have a place in such scenes, they are frequently introduced, as they 
 help to mark the early summer, and give an English character to the picture, 
 while in hay-making subjects their cream or lemon-coloured tones are an 
 agreeable variety to the gray green of the hay In this way they have been 
 largely used by Cox and others. "When colour is used, it must be observed 
 that the flowers are not pure white, but tinged with Naples or lemon yellow. 
 The leaves are among the earliest which appear, but the blossoms are not seen 
 till June ; the deep purple or inky-coloured berries may, if desirable, be 
 shown late in autumn, hanging among the decaying leaves. The foliage 
 resembles that of the ash in shape, but is deeper in colour. The branches, 
 however, are very different, frequently springing from near the ground in 
 vigorous shoots. 
 
 FURZE AN* L 1 BROOM. 
 
FRUIT TREES. 
 
 85 
 
 FRUIT TEEES. 
 
 FRUIT TREKS UNINTERESTING TO ARTIST — SIZE OF WILD CHERRY — BRILLIANT AUTUMN TINT OF 
 LEAVES — PEAR TREE RESEMBLING ELM IN GROWTH — MULBERRY ROUNDED IN FORM — APPLE 
 TREE RESEMBLING STUNTED OAK— FIG TREE COMMON IN SOUTHERN EUROPE— OLIVE SIMILAR 
 IN FORM TO WILLOW, FOLIAGE GRAY GREEN, NOT PICTURESQUE. 
 
 Fruit-trees are so often found near rustic dwellings and are so intimately 
 connected with rural scenery, that it is necessary to notice their most striking 
 and characteristic points. In general their growth is tortuous and irregular, 
 uninteresting to the artist, but peculiarly adapted to the purpose of supporting 
 their luscious burdens, the only exception being, perhaps, the wild Cherry- 
 tree, which in Switzerland, Germany, and Scotland frequently presents a 
 handsome and graceful appearance. In Switzerland it grows to a great 
 height, and having a well-formed and pleasant coloured Lark, it associates 
 very agreeably with the chalets and surrounding objects, giving rise to 
 many incidents of figures with ladders, baskets, poles, &c. In autumn the 
 foliage turns to a rich crimson, and a few of the fallen leaves afford an 
 excellent study (see vignette). 
 
 LEAVES OF CHERRY. 
 
 Next in size comes the Pear, which is not easily distinguished from a 
 badly grown elm, and but for the singular curves assumed by its branches, 
 
86 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 it would scarcely bear the character of a fruit-tree. The sprigs are very 
 numerous, and consequently not easily drawn. 
 
 The Mulberry, though described by Evelyn as " beautiful as any elm, 
 and very proper for walks and avenues," is lower and heavier than that 
 tree, with many more branches, all bearing foliage, and giving the tree 
 a rounded, clumsy appearance. It is often to be met with in the gardens 
 and pleasure-grounds of England, and in the north of Italy and the southern 
 Tyrol it is very common. There it is polled, to cause it to throw out vigorous 
 shoots and green leaves within reach of those who keep silkworms ; it is 
 needless to add that in this condition it is extremely unpicturesque, as 
 the leaves are stripped off as fast as they grow. The leaf is as large and 
 broad as that of the lime, but more resembles a healthy elm leaf. 
 
 The Apple-tree in trunk and branches is more like a gnarled and stunted 
 oak than any other, seldom rising above the buildings near which it is planted, 
 but spreading its branches to a considerable distance over the ground. In 
 August and September, many an artistic group may be seen beneath its boughs, 
 
 collectin o (< fragrant stores, the wide projected heaps 
 
 Of Apples, which the lusty handed year 
 Innumerous o'er the blushing orchard shakes." 
 
 The bark of most fruit trees is rougher and darker than that of forest 
 trees, with the exception of the cherry, which has a lighter and smoother 
 skin, something like the birch. 
 
 It would scarcely be necessary to mention the Fig-tree, if the artist merely 
 depicted English scenes, though even here its deeply lobed leaves have an 
 excellent effect when trained against a cottage wall, and mingling with the 
 lighter creepers. In the south of Europe it is very common, and there 
 attains to the size of an ordinary fruit-tree, the stem sometimes exceeding 
 a foot in diameter, and its interwoven branches frequently hanging to the 
 ground. The leaves are large and angular in shape, slightly resembling those 
 of the plane ; the colour of the green is dingy. 
 
 The Olive bears some resemblance to the willow ; the trunk is often much 
 divided in the old tree, the branches are irregular and tortuous, and the foliage 
 is a silvery gray green. It is not a picturesque tree, there being no great 
 masses of light and shade in its scattered foliage ; the bark is fibrous and 
 of a warm gray colour. In the south of Europe, the Olive-tree is cultivated 
 
THE VINE. 
 
 87 
 
 in large plantations, and gives a very peculiar appearance to the landscape 
 where it abounds. 
 
 Its leaves have that dark and sombre tint which we generally call olive- 
 green, and when the wind stirs the foliage, and raises their white under 
 surfaces to view, they look like a stream of light, floating amid the gloom 
 of their dark boughs. Often, too, the bright skies of a southern summer are 
 spread over the scene, where groups of Olive gatherers, with skins embrowned, 
 and eyes of dark and soft radiance, are scattered around the trees. The leaf 
 is not unlike the willow, although shorter ; the fruit green, and about one- 
 third the length of the leaf. 
 
 VINE, CHIEF OF BEAUTIFUL CLIMBERS — PERFECTION IN ITALY — CONTRASTED WELL WITH GOURD — 
 TRELLISES. 
 
 graceful and natural frames to figures in the fore- 
 ground. The bright-eyed, olive-skinned daughter of Italy leaning over her 
 Vine clad balcony, or the pretty blushing English maiden peeping forth from 
 
 VINE — Vitis. 
 
 " Depending Vines the shelving caverns screen 
 With purple clusters blushing through the green." 
 
88 
 
 DE AWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 her bower of honeysuckle, are familiar subjects in every artist's folio. The 
 main point of interest never suffers, but is rather enhanced by a certain 
 degree of care and truthfulness being bestowed upon the accessories. Fore- 
 most amongst these stands the Vine, with its fine leaves, rich clusters of fruit, 
 and twining tendrils. Though so useful in embellishing English scenes, 
 ornamenting the cottage windows or porch by varying the lines and colour, 
 it is seen in Italy to the greatest advantage. There, where nature and art 
 favour its luxuriant growth, it hangs its graceful festoons from tree to tree, 
 or is trailed on rustic trellis Work, or even over the surfaces of rocks. 
 
 The gourd is frequently trained with the Vine, and with its large yellow 
 blossoms and fruits contributes much to the variety of colour. 
 
 In Germany and France, the Vine, being cultivated with great formality, 
 and trained to short stakes, is no more picturesque than a raspberry bush. 
 
 The stem is twisted and irregular in the way in which it twines round 
 an object ; the branches are long and flexible like those of a bramble, or 
 supporting themselves when near trees, by means of tendrils like a pea. 
 
 The leaves are large-lobed, sometimes nearly entire but generally much 
 serrated : they also present much variety in colour, being often pale and downy, 
 at other times rich in tone, more especially in autumn ; when the luscious 
 purple clusters are ripe, they form with their deep maroon and golden tones 
 and broken surfaces fine connecting links of colour between objects such as 
 Lance painted so beautifully. To imitate the foliage, the touch should be 
 rather angular and star-like, partaking of the oak character, but fuller in form 
 and warmer in colour. 
 
90 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Section I. — COTTAGE HOMES. 
 
 INFINITE VARIETY OF SUBJECTS— COTTAGE HOME DESCRIBED— RUSKIN ON ROOFS — THE PORCH — 
 CREEPERS — GAINSBOROUGH AND RUSTIC LIFE — BEES — KITCHEN GARDEN — ORCHARD. 
 
 all near views or foreground subjects., none deserve more careful 
 
 * * study than tlie rustic dwellings of our peasantry, and their accessories. 
 Very often, indeed, they are not mere foregrounds, but constitute in themselves 
 complete pictures. 
 
 The eye is so content with the infinite variety and interest connected with 
 them, that it needs no distance, or if it does, the smallest peep of blue 
 mountain or horizon suffices, and the eye returns again to dwell on the cottar's 
 home, and to study all its details. 
 
 Our English cottage is perhaps the most interesting of any, for it presents 
 in general a scene of humble comfort, which too many of the Scotch and 
 Irish huts lack entirely ; being indicative only of wild, picturesque discomfort, 
 acceptable to the artist certainly, as affording excellent subjects for his brush 
 and pencil, but awakening in the spectator none of the pleasurable and 
 essentially English home feeling. I am sensible of an embarras de richesses, 
 as I turn over my folios of cottage scenes, for I find so many sketches all 
 suited to illustrate the present subject, that I am uncertain which to choose. 
 The accompanying heading, however, represents a favourite cottage, with the 
 inmates of which I became acquainted in one of my sojourns in the country. 
 
 And here I may mention that their occupation gives to artists a great 
 facility in mixing freely with the peasantry. I have even thought when 
 I have heard people really anxious, from charitable motives, to make the 
 acquaintance of their poor, complain of the difficulty they found in winning 
 their confidence, that they might succeed better were they to carry and 
 occasionally use a sketch-book, and through its friendly introduction receive 
 an invitation to enter the cottage, that they would otherwise visit unasked. 
 
 At present, however, there is nothing to call us over the threshold; our 
 business is with the outside, where there is abundance to occupy us. 
 
 The walls are built of various coloured bricks, patched with plaster and 
 
COTTAGE HOMES. 
 
 91 
 
 seamed with wood noggins. The old weather-beaten roof is composed bartly 
 pf tiles, partly of thatch mossy with age, and crowned with an overhanging 
 chimney or two, in themselves a perfect study ; the blackened tops, often 
 innocent of chimney-pots, are contrasted with the brighter coloured bricks 
 below, unless, as is frequently the case, they are hidden by the embracing 
 arms of the climbing rose and jasmine. These chimneys have often a shape- 
 less mass near their base, formed by the oven so essential to cottage economy ; 
 but even this is in some measure atoned for by luxuriant clumps of stone- 
 crop and houseleek, which do their best to clothe with beauty of colour the 
 unsightly form. Then there are, the little old garret windows nestled in 
 among the creepers, there is the projecting window below, with its small 
 diamond panes and flower-pots, and lastly, though not the least important 
 item, the porch. Though not entirely agreeing with a celebrated author in his 
 unlimited admiration of porches in town as well as country, every one must 
 love the cottage porch, nestling in between the out-jutting chimney and house, 
 and sheltering the door from sun, wind, and rain. What a pleasant bond of 
 union is this porch between the open air and snug interior, enabling the 
 inmates to sit and work, read, and rest, or enjoy the sunshine and air with the 
 repose of home. 
 
 This particular porch seems in itself a little home, with its solid roof 
 and bright red tiles covered with hillocks of houseleek and gay stonecrop. 
 Mr. Euskin, in one of his lectures, delivered at Edinburgh, dwells, and with 
 reason, on the important part the roof plays in all cottage architecture, and 
 most artists will agree with the following remarks. 
 
 " I am sure that all of you must readily acknowledge the charm which 
 is imparted to any landscape by the presence of cottages ; and you must over 
 and over again have paused at the wicket-gate of some cottage garden, 
 delighted by the simple beauty of the honeysuckle porch and latticed window. 
 Has it ever occurred to you to ask the question, what effect the cottage would 
 have upon your feelings if it had no roof? no visible roof, I mean; if instead 
 of the thatched slope, in which the little upper windows are buried deep, as 
 in a nest of straw— or the rough shelter of its mountain slates — or warm 
 colouring of russet tiles — there were nothing but a flat leaden top to it, 
 making it look like a large packing-case with windows in it ? I don't think 
 the rarity of such a sight would make you feel it to be beautiful ; on the 
 
92 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 contrary, if you think over the matter, you will find, that you actually do 
 owe, and ought to owe, a great part of your pleasure in all cottage scenery, 
 and in all the inexhaustible imagery of literature which is founded upon 
 it, to the conspicuousness of the cottage-roof, to the subordination of the 
 cottage itself to its covering, which leaves, in nine cases out of ten, really 
 more roof than anything else. It is indeed not so much the whitewashed 
 walls— nor the flowery garden — nor the rude fragments of stone set for steps 
 at the door — nor any other picturescpieness of the building which interest 
 you, so much as the gray bank of its heavy eaves, deep cushioned with green 
 moss and golden stonecrop. And there is a profound, yet evident reason for 
 this feeling. The very soul of the cottage — the essence and meaning of it- 
 are in its roof; it is that mainly wherein consists its shelter ; that wherein 
 it differs most completely from a cleft in the rocks, or bower in woods. It is 
 in its thick impenetrable coverlid of close thatch that its whole heart and 
 hospitality are concentrated." 
 
 Besides the principal roof there are always sure to be little outhouses, 
 with roofs as varied as their uses ; the shed for the cow, another for tools, and, 
 lowest of all, the roughly-thatched pigsty. 
 
 To return to the porch, from which we have strayed considerably. In the 
 one I am describing there are two benches, one used as a seat, the other as 
 a rest for a couple of tubs, at which the blind mistress of the cottage busies 
 herself, being thus able to perforin her household duties, and yet feel and 
 enjoy the warm sunshine and soft air, as well as the society of old Mag, who 
 always makes a point of hopping down to talk to her. The floor is tiled with 
 red and yellow bricks, and round the walls hang hunches of radish and 
 cabbage-seed to dry, while on an old bench at the outside stand several tubs 
 with choice plants growing in them. This part of the cottage alone, with the 
 garden path composed now of steps, and then of level ground, with a figure 
 or two and a peep of the lane beyond, makes a good foreground study. Then 
 there is the little girl who assists the blind dame, feeds the pigs, &c. — a capital 
 subject for the sketch-book, her blue gown neatly rolled up and passed 
 through the pocket-hole, displaying a reddish brown petticoat, an orange silk 
 handkerchief crossed over her bosom. 
 
 So much for the cottage itself. Its ornaments are extremely varied and 
 beautiful, only some of which can be mentioned here. The vine clings 
 
COTTAGE HOMES. 
 
 93 
 
 lovingly to the rough cottage wall, hiding with its handsome leaves, lithe 
 tendrils, and clusters of purple grapes, aught that is misshapen or ugly, and 
 twining round the window-frames with a grace that belongs to nature only. 
 In drawing a vine trained over a cottage, care must be taken to show the 
 contorted and irregular stem ; a branch seen occasionally through the foliage 
 has a good effect. These branches extend to a considerable distance, without 
 much apparent diminution in size. The touch for the foliage should be 
 angular, and the colour a warm green. 
 
 The honeysuckle is a creeper that seems to be peculiarly the " tree of the 
 cottage and the poor," with its elegantly formed blossoms and quiet tinted 
 foliage. 
 
 Then there is the jasmine, a much more flexible plant than the honey- 
 suckle ; when trained it weaves itself around any support, and is a graceful 
 ornament wherever it grows : — 
 
 " The deep green of whose unvarnished leaf 
 Makes more conspicuous and illumines more 
 The bright profusion of her scatter' d stars. " 
 
 More important in colour, although unattractive in its blossom, is the 
 Virginian Creeper, the autumnal tints of which range from the brightest 
 yellow to the deepest crimson and maroon ; and as it frequently climbs 
 around the gable ends of the cottage, it affords the artist many opportunities 
 of varying the tones of his study. 
 
 Very often, mingled with these creepers, grow the deep crimson rose and 
 its pale sister; these in favourable situations overtop the roof, and so encircle 
 the chimney that the smoke seems to issue from a bower of roses. Their 
 blossoms then meet with a further contrast in the plants of the roof and wall, 
 the bright-leaved houseleek and red-eyed stonecrop. The latter, the yellow 
 biting stonecrop, as it is called, from its acrid taste when bitten, flowers in 
 June, and enlivens with its masses of golden flowers the most barren roof and 
 wall. The leaves, which grow alternately up the stem, are small and thick, 
 of a pale sea-green hue, often tinged with red, and the stems, wmich are at 
 first prostrate, afterwards rise a foot or more in height. It is useful to the 
 artist in breaking the monotony of a large roof, both in form and colour, and 
 
 " spreads a mantle bright 
 
 Like cloth of gold, or silver white 
 Powdered with spots of garnet red." 
 
94 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 There is a white species, which is more common on the rocks of Scotland 
 than about English dwellings. Gainsborough was the first English painter 
 who showed that he felt the beauty and fitness for representation of our own 
 Landscape, and thought it no disgrace to people our homes and our lanes with 
 simple artless poverty, for he was able to unite grace and harmony with the 
 everyday life of our rustic peasantry. We had indeed before his time a 
 painter of wonderful power, one who could point a moral with his brush — 
 Hogarth, but his genius led him to delineate the darker side of human nature, 
 as displayed in the bye-streets and dens of a great city, a wonderful contrast 
 to the beauty and pure atmosphere of a country life. Of Morland we can 
 say but little, for his facile style, vulgar taste, and constant repetition make 
 him an unfit example for the student, but Gainsborough's pictures are full 
 of refinement and conscientious work. His " Girl at the Cottage-door," " Boys 
 Fighting, with Dogs," and " Market Cart," without dwelling on such as his 
 " Blue Boy," or " Mrs. Grahame," are well worth the earnest study of those 
 who wish to draw faithfully from nature, and no one has surpassed the airy 
 grace and ingenious delicacy which Gainsborough threw into his designs. 
 It is said of him, that he had a sweet humility towards all Nature (a most 
 excellent gift for a student) : also generosity and gentleness towards fellow- 
 workers. With all this he possessed patient industry, a quality so inseparable 
 from real genius, that no wonder he thought them identical. 
 
 The cottager often endeavours to combine beauty with utility in his 
 garden, thus in the front, near the windows, there is generally a plot of sweet 
 old-fashioned flowers, such as make a pleasant posy, and are at the same time 
 favourites with the bees, whose hives are sure to be found in some sheltered 
 nook ; behind grow peas, beans, cabbages, &c, while the cottage itself stands 
 embosomed in a clump of fine fruit trees, which, with incidents connected 
 with them, yield many a subject to the painter. The cherry-tree for instance, 
 with here and there a rustic urchin perched among the boughs and the more 
 sedate on ladders gathering its crimson fruit. 
 
Section II.— SHEUBS AND GARDEN HEDGES. 
 
 LA HUIIXUM LILAC HOLLV BOX PRIVET GOURD ACANTHI'S IVY. 
 
 There are some shrubs that are so intimately associated with the flowering 
 and perfumed hedge-rows peculiar to our island, that they demand a place 
 in an artist's collection of foreground plants: of these the Laburnum, Lilac, 
 Holly, Box, and Privet are the principal. The Laburnum does not grow 
 spontaneously in England as it does in the mountain forests of Germany, 
 Austria, Hungary, Switzerland, and Italy, but is common in plantations 
 and shrubberies, where shine 
 
 " Laburnum's drops of pendent gold, 
 Sweet Lilac's many colour'd bloom." 
 
 In some parts of Scotland the Laburnum flowers more freely and the colour 
 of its blossoms is richer than when cultivated with greater care in our 
 English gardens. The shape of the head is spreading, irregular, and pic- 
 turesque, and the colour of its foliage a smooth, shining, pleasant green. 
 
96 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 In Italy it bears tire name of Maggio, from the month in which it flowers, 
 
 in the same way as our hawthorn receives the popular name of May. 
 
 The Lilac is naturally far less of a tree than the laburnum, as, from the 
 
 numerous suckers it throws up from its root, it presents the appearance of a 
 
 large flowering shrub. With care, however, it can be trained into a tree of 
 
 twenty feet high. It is very hardy, bears the smoke and dust of cities better 
 
 than many shrubs, and some of the smaller kinds will also bear clipping into 
 
 hedges. Besides the white and purple Lilac there are many varieties of the 
 
 latter colour, for it is as Cowper says : — 
 
 " Various, in array, — now white, 
 Now sanguine, ami her beauteous head now set 
 With purple spikes pyramidal— as if 
 Studious of ornament, yet unresolved 
 Which hue she most approved, she chose them all." 
 
 The Holly {Ilex Ayuifolia), a beautiful evergreen, with angular thorned 
 leaves and bright scarlet berries, is a great ornament to lawns and shrubberies 
 in winter, when without the pleasant evergreens all would look baie an 
 leafless. Evelyn describes a beautiful effect produced by it in Wottou Lark, 
 which is still remarkable for fine Hollies. " Under the beeches spring up 
 innumerable Hollies, which growing thick and close together in one oi the 
 woods next the meadow is a viretium all the year round, and a very beautifu 
 
SHRUBS AND GARDEN HEDGES. 
 
 97 
 
 sight when the leaves of the taller trees are fallen. Among all the natural 
 greens which enrich our home-horn store, there is none certainly to be com- 
 pared to our Holly, so spontaneously growing here in this part of Surrey. 
 I have often wondered at our curiosity after foreign plants and expensive 
 difficulties, to the neglect of the culture of this vulgar hut incomparable tree, 
 whether we will propagate it for use and defence or for sight : — 
 
 " ' A hedge of Holly, thieves that would invade, 
 Repulses like a growing palisade, 
 Whose numerous leaves such orient greens invest 
 As in deep Winter do the Spring arrest.' " 
 
 And then he bursts forth with the following oft ??u.squoted enthusiastic eulogy. 
 " Is there, under heaven a more glorious and refreshing object of the kind than 
 an impregnable hedge of about four hundred feet in length, nine feet high, 
 and five in diameter, which I can show in my now ruined gardens at Says 
 Court (thanks to the Czar of Muscovy) at any time of the year, glittering with 
 its armed and varnished leaves, the taller standards at orderly distance, 
 blushing with their natural eoral?" 
 Although 
 
 " From every hedge is plueked by eager hands 
 The Holly branch, with prickly leaves replete, 
 And fraught witli berries of a crimson hue," 
 
 it is a mistake to imagine the Holly invariably as a shrub ; in a congenial 
 soil and climate it has been known to attain the height of forty or fifty feet, 
 and there is a group of that height in a lane at Wotton. 
 
 Selby tells us that " in natural woods, and especially in the deep glens and 
 rocky denes of our northern districts, however beautiful and diversified the 
 scenery may he, it never fails to receive an additional life and charm wher- 
 ever the Holly is present to intermingle its glossy foliage with the various 
 tints around it. Oft have we stood and lingered in our walks to watch and 
 admire the bright and fleeting lights produced by our favourite evergreen, 
 as moved by the gentle zephyr its polished leaves have reflected in diamond- 
 like coruscations the rays of light, as they penetrated the recesses in which 
 it grew, at the same time that its rich dark green foliage, by force of contrast, 
 gave an additonal value to the paler tints of the mountain ash, hazel, and 
 various shrubs that grew around it." 
 
 The dark and glossy foliage reflects the lights and the blue colour of the 
 H 
 
98 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 sky. The branches are bolder and more waved than the thorn, and the stem 
 smoother and lighter coloured. 
 
 The Box 'Burns sempervirens) rarely attains in England to a greater 
 height than twelve or fifteen feet. The trunk is thick, compared with the 
 
 size of the tree, 
 the bark is yellow- 
 ish on the young- 
 shrubs, but be- 
 comes rough and 
 
 ! Vf ^^^^KSf^i v "* ' Ssu glay as aso ad ~ 
 
 \j) Wi 1 * /s^l*-^ s^fllllt^ vances. The leaves 
 
 are persistent, and 
 of a yellowish 
 green when fully 
 exposed to the light, and of a fine deep glossy 
 green when shaded by other trees. 
 The Box seems to have been formerly much more abundant than it is now, 
 if we may judge by the various places that have derived their names from it, 
 where few trees of the species now exist. Such are Boxlev in Kent and Box 
 Hill in Surrey. It ranks next to the holly among our valuable evergreens, 
 and in Evelyn's time seems to have equalled it in importance, as in his 
 " Sylva" he says, " He that in winter should behold some of our highest hills 
 in Surrey, clad with whole woods of these two last sorts of trees" (yew and 
 box) " for divers miles in circuit, might without the least violence to imagina- 
 tion easily fancy himself transported into some new or enchanted country, 
 tor if in any spot of England 
 
 " ' Tis here 
 Eternal spring and summer all the year.' " 
 
 The foliage being very close, admits of marked divisions of light and 
 shade. Its most diminutive form is that which it assumes as a border to our 
 flower-beds, in which capacity it is much esteemed, though requiring frequent 
 renewal. It is connected with art and artists through the great use made 
 of its wood by engravers. 
 
 The Common Privet is a much branched twiggy shrub, with a bark of a 
 greenish ash colour, dotted with numerous points. It thrives better even than 
 
SHRUBS AND GARDEN HEDGES. 
 
 S9 
 
 the lilac in towns, and forms nearly all the hedges of our squares and 
 gardens. 
 
 It abounds in the country, and adorns the garden of many an humble 
 cottager in summer with its sweet-scented spikes of small white flowers, and 
 in winter with its grape-like clusters of black, glossy, round berries ; and when 
 not closely trimmed it forms one of the prettiest of hedge rows. 
 
 The heading of this section represents a Privet hedge with many luxuriant 
 shoots and unpruned twigs, which separates a very favourite cottage garden 
 from a wild and beautiful common. 
 
 Here, on one of the Avarmest exposures a handsome gourd climbs rampant, 
 making golden with its brilliant blossoms the bank and neighbouring hedge, 
 and reminding every one who has travelled in Italy of the sunny Val d'Aoste, 
 the trellises of the coast of Genoa, or the markets of glorious Venice, where 
 its gorgeous fruit meets the eye on every side. It is ever a subject of regret 
 to the artist that its magnificent blossom, expanding with the rising sun but 
 dying before he sets, bids defiance to the purest cadmium and most skilful 
 handling. 
 
 The Acanthus also has won its title to share the artist's admiration and 
 attention from the hint Callimachus the Corinthian architect received from 
 its fine foliage ; and although only found indigenous in southern climes may, 
 under favourable circumstances, adorn an English garden. 
 
100 
 
 DRAWING FHOM NATURE. 
 
 COMMON lYX.—Hahra Helix. 
 
 Hit 
 
 cell 
 
 An oak-tree's shadow, cloud-like 
 Upon the spot where stood the a 
 The chambers all are open to the 
 A goat is feeding where the pray 
 
 ltar high ; 
 ing knell 
 
 The daisy r 
 Where the 
 
 in his grandeur dwelt, 
 uhanga the hard ist h -art 
 
 RuBKRr NlCHOLLS 
 
 The Ivy, with 
 poets a fruitful 
 
 subject of pleasurable association, and for artists of 
 picturesque ornament, is most abundant and luxuriant 
 in England — often too luxuriant indeed for tbe painter, 
 as it is apt to bide tbe outline of whatever it clings 
 to, whether building or tree, and then presents nothing 
 but an undefined mass of dark green. In such cases 
 the student must introduce only so much of the creeper as will serve to vary 
 the colour and interest of his sketch without interfering materially with the 
 outline. Ivy that has not attained to the full height of its support is besl 
 suited for artistic purposes, for this reason, that as soon as it ceases to cling 
 it completely changes in character, and begins to flower and grow busby. Tbe 
 leaves become less lobed, and often bear more resemblance to elm leaves than 
 to what is generally considered as the regular form of the Ivy leaf. 
 
 Who that has travelled at all in his native land has not seen in his 
 excursion on foot or on horseback ivied ruins, churches, and old halls glowing 
 in the rays of the departing sun, which, if he be an artist or possessed of 
 artistic feeling, have made him long to carry away a sketch, and failing that, 
 have remained imprinted on his memory for years ? A retentive memory 
 for effects is of the greatest importance to a landscape artist, and he should 
 
SH11UBS AND GARDEN HEDGES. 
 
 10L 
 
 endeavour to strengthen this faculty by practice, as well as cultivate a steady 
 determination to abide by the effect (if it be a good one) which first struck 
 him, or he will weaken the results by endeavours to introduce into his picture, 
 beauties incompatible with, because differing from, his first intention. 
 
 The effect to be represented once decided on, the whole subject should be 
 stored away in the mind, remaining there like a fine photograph complete and 
 unchangeable, ever ready for inspection whenever the mental eye is turned 
 upon it. Of course the sooner the artist can reproduce the scene with the 
 like completeness the sooner he is delivered from all temptation to endanger 
 the unity of his subject ; when the sketch is left in a half finished state such 
 danger is imminent, the picture gradually fades in the mind's eye and cannot 
 be renewed, as chances are greatly against the same effect being met with 
 a second time. As illustrative of this, and in the hope that some young artist 
 may profit by my experience, I will mention some circumstances attending 
 one of my early sketches from nature. 
 
 A brilliant sunshine greeted my first look out on the day which I had 
 determined to devote to this sketch, and I rose early, anxious to secure a side 
 light, as being easier to represent and more picturesque when drawn. The 
 spot destined to be the scene of my morning's labours had been pointed out 
 to me, as the coach passed rapidly along the road, in the gloaming, a few 
 evenings before ; the daylight effect was therefore new to me, and enchanting, 
 indeed, I thought it. An old ruined hall was the principal object ; it had 
 evidently once been of considerable importance, as the remains of architectural 
 embellishment bore witness. The highly ornamented window-frames, broad 
 stone mullions, the fanciful, yet massive, brick chimneys surmounting the tall 
 gable ends and now covered with Ivy, flourishing and thick, together with the 
 ancient moat, more than half filled up with rubbish and overgrown with rank 
 coarse grass and weeds, all told of days of prosperity and comfort now long- 
 past. 
 
 The surrounding wall was broken down, and the attempts at repairing 
 with old stumps of trees, furze bushes, indeed anything that would serve to 
 keep the cattle out, were more picturesque than efficient. A luxuriant growth 
 of Ivy covered a multitude of unsightly apertures and festooned the windows, 
 most of which were boarded up. < hie only still contained a few panes of glass, 
 and near this particular window the Ivy was all withered, and the dead leaves 
 
102 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 and stems clinging round made a complete contrast to the vivid green of the 
 rest. There were no signs of habitation, unless the fact of the rusty gate 
 being locked and the lock appearing comparatively new could suggest such 
 an idea. 
 
 After some consideration of the light and shade, the direction in which 
 the sun was moving, or rather the alteration that would take place in the 
 course of the day, I examined with care the details of the architectural 
 embellishments which remained ; as it is always easier to draw these parts 
 at the requisite distance when they have been first studied close at hand. 
 I then withdrew to a situation from which my eye could embrace the whole 
 subject easily, and sat down, choosing a spot where a group of cattle under 
 an old ash formed a good foreground. Soon my study grew beneath my hand, 
 conveying, although as yet but in broad washes, with more success than usual 
 the bright and cheerful features of the scene, the rich and varied grays of the 
 old weatherbeaten stones ; now almost approaching pure tones of brown, 
 madder, and indigo, then verging into russets by the addition of yellows, the 
 whole continually enlivened by patches of lichens of every shade, from cool 
 green to the richest citrine — all these contrasted well with the cheerful green 
 of the foliage, the brilliant blue of the sky ; each bore a part, and together 
 formed a most harmonious whole — at least, so it seemed to me ; the sunny 
 character of my feelings, combined with the actual sunshine of day, had 
 an effect not only upon my work, but on the satisfaction with which I 
 regarded it. 
 
 My fancy, as I wrought, made many excursions into dream land. 1 
 peopled the ruined hall with wealthy squire and buxom dame, with maiden 
 fair and gallant wooer, with troops of archers and bold huntsmen ; and in my 
 mind's eye I saw at one moment the revival of dances round the May-pole, 
 with jelly shouts and out-door sports in the true style of merry old England, 
 and at the next witnessed the Christmas games — kissing beneath the mistletoe, 
 hunt the slipper, and fifty joyous sports — which might have had their day in 
 the capacious kitchen of the old building. 
 
 Then I thought to myself, what a capital thing it would be to have ample 
 means 1 How one might restore and embellish the old hall, and call back 
 the hearty days of yore, keeping open house for troops of retainers, while 
 hospitality without limit should be the rule of the house, and cousins, even 
 
SHRUBS AND GARDEN HEDGES 
 
 103 
 
 to thp fortieth degree, should always find a scat at my board, a flagon of old 
 October, and a cut at the round of beef at their service. 
 
 In fact I suppose some of the charming interiors of Cattermole or Haghe 
 assisted in restoring the old hall, while Washington Irving and Frederick 
 Taylor contributed the figures that enlivened the exterior. 
 
 Happy in the enjoyment of these bright fancies my day sped away, and 
 the decline of light, with some lowering clouds, betokening an approaching 
 change of weather, gave me the first hint to break up my camp, and seek in 
 the adjoining village, for the house of an acquaintance who had invited 
 me to call and refresh myself beneath Ins roof whenever it might suit me 
 to do so. 
 
 I easily found his pretty cottage, and received a kindly welcome from my 
 old friend, a complete original in his way. antiquarian, poet, and enthusiast. 
 He soon engaged me in a lively conversation, in the course of which we 
 happened to speak of wealth, and I, full of my visions of all the power it 
 gave, discoursed eloquently on its enjoyments, while he took for his theme 
 that money is the root of all evil, and seemed scarcely inclined to allow that 
 those who possessed much of the " filthy lucre," as he called it, could possibly 
 retain any good or great qualities ; they must all, according to his theory, 
 be ere long poisoned under the shade of the dread upas-tree, Gold. 
 
 AVhen at length I rose to depart he observed he would accompany me. 
 a short distance, adding, " I may find examples to illustrate my theory on 
 our way." 
 
 The night was dark — a drizzling rain and a chilly feeling had succeeded 
 to the splendid sunshiny day. Presently I found we were approaching the 
 ruined hall, the scene of my morning's studies; but how dreary il looked in 
 
 the surrounding gloom! As Mr. G , walked on in silence I seized the 
 
 opportunity of inquiring, what he. could tell me of the former history of the 
 building; he did not answer, but strode rapidly forward for about a hundred 
 yards, when, he suddenly stopped. 
 
 " History ' " he said, " nothing particular, much like that of other places. I 
 suppose; an honest man lived there first, then a miser, and next a spendthrift, 
 that's the course they take; but do you want to know who lives there now? 
 who owns all the fair acres stretching away down further than the eye can 
 reach ? " 
 
104 
 
 DRAWING FliOM NATUBE, 
 
 " You don't mean to tell me," I exclaimed, " that the present owner lives 
 there ? " 
 
 " Come back," was his reply, and again we passed the house, though I 
 confess my desire to reach home and get out of the disagreeable rain was 
 almost too strong for my curiosity. The wind howled, and the old boards and 
 shutters creaked and groaned as they flapped to and fro, telling of desolation 
 
 and ruin. The moon at this moment struggling through the clouds, cast a 
 faint glimmering light on the building, and to my surprise, at the window I 
 have mentioned as containing a few panes of glass the head of an old man 
 in a white nightcap appeared gazing into the darkness. 
 
 My friend drew me on, and our footsteps sounded on the pathway; we 
 turned after a few paces, and again the head, which had for a minute dis- 
 appeared, showed itself at the casement. This happened repeatedly. 1 did not 
 venture to speak again till we were once more on our way, when I demanded 
 an explanation. 
 
SHRUBS AND GARDEN HEDGES. 
 
 105 
 
 " There, my young friend," said Mr. G , " is a man who owns more 
 
 wealth than you could count in a day ; he is master of all this fair country 
 round, and what do you think of his share of happiness ? He is both prisoner 
 and jailer ; he cannot leave his prison except by stealth, and he has to keep 
 anxious watch and ward over hoards of gold ready at any moment to make 
 themselves wings and fly away. And we, you may be sure, have robbed him 
 of his sleep for many nights to come : he will watch and dread the robbers 
 our footsteps have conjured up in his imagination. Farewell, and let this 
 be a lesson to you." 
 
 I was at an impressionable age, and it did indeed dwell on my mind. I 
 could not bear to revisit the spot for many days ; and when at last the time 
 for my return home drew so near as to force me either to go again immediately 
 or relinquish altogether the completion of my picture, the day proved gloomy. 
 However, I went, but found it utterly impossible to resume my colour-box, 
 The tints of nature were all so different and my feelings so imbued with the 
 sombre hues of memory, combined with the present effect before me, that 
 I felt an actual disgust at the warm and glowing colours I had before 
 delighted in. So I laid aside the coloured sketch and made one in chalks, 
 merely black and white, which to this day recalls the dreary desolate character 
 of the house and its dismal occupant the old miser to my mind ; while the 
 first one, the coloured sketch, I now again love to dwell on, but the fairy 
 scenes connected with it seem to belong to the realms of fancy, while the 
 other ranks as a representation of the sad truth of life. 
 
LANE AND HElHiE PLANTS. 
 
 107 
 
 there are times when exhilaration suits neither the frame nor the mind of an 
 artist — times when repose is absolutely necessary. At such a period, a lane 
 that shuts out all extended views is often the most acceptable scene that could 
 present itself to the eve, ottering only foreground studies, — studies which, 
 being near at hand and clearly defined, require no effort to receive into the 
 mind yet leave there a pleasant impression of form and colour. 
 
 A country lane, with hedges left untrimmed, with high ground on the one 
 side, and a broken or sloping bank with a sunny aspect on the other, offers a 
 most tempting wilderness of climbing and creeping plants, among which the 
 smaller and more delicate denizens of the wood and lane may nestle. A 
 peep at the blue distance between the high banks only gives additional value 
 to the loveliness of the framework that encloses it. A pathway, too, less 
 formal than the road is often found ; now it rises half way up the bank, and 
 the feet of the unwary one are entangled amid the straggling branches of 
 the bramble, dog-rose, bryony, &c. while his eye is resting in pleasing 
 meditation on the distant village spire of which he has caught a glimpse 
 from his temporary elevation. Anon the path dips so abruptly, that stepping- 
 stones or planks, as the very rustic wooden bridges are sometimes termed, 
 become necessary for the foot-passenger to cross dryshod over the little 
 stream that flows across the lane, while waggons, horses, cattle, &c. ford 
 through. Such a circumstance affords innumerable incidents for the figure 
 and landscape painter, and many a lovely scene of this description may be 
 obtained from Borrow Lane, Kenil worth, where a distant view of the 
 picturesque ruins enhances the interest. There is a favourite common of 
 ours, too, from which diverge some of the most charming lanes that England 
 can boast. Rocky Lane, near Dorking, for instance, where the strata of green 
 sandstone jut out and are overhung with choicest specimens of creeping and 
 climbing plants, the warm colour of the rock forming exquisite contrasts with 
 theii deep fresh green. For studies of roots and all kinds of fern, there 
 is the long and shady lane leading to Sutton, a lovely walk to one of the 
 most picturesque villages in Surrey. Then there is Rooty Bank, which dives 
 into the depths of the earth under overhanging -hazel bushes, and where there 
 has been a landslip from the higher ground above, now overhung and fringed 
 with rich garlands of woodbine, ivy, potentilla, hart's tongue, and ferns. 
 
 Indeed, so abundant are the plants that -row in hedges, that it is difficult 
 
108 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 to confine the attention to a single one long enough to notice its particular 
 beauties, and yet more so to study them with the minute care they would well 
 repay, and every painter will agree with Miss Pratt when she says, " of all the 
 llowers with which summer with a lavish hand graces our pastoral scenery, 
 filling the air with fragrance and covering the earth with beauty, none are 
 more generally attractive than the wild climbing plants of the hedges. They 
 are most numerous towards the latter part of the summer or the beginning of 
 autumn. By interweaving their slender boughs covered with foliage and 
 flowers, or with berries no less beautiful, or, as in the wild clematis, crowned 
 with their light and feathery seeds, they hang about the trees and bushes, and 
 contribute very materially to that aspect of richness and beauty which the 
 landscape presents at this part of the year. As the stems of these plants are 
 so slender and yielding that they would sink under the weight of their 
 flowery clusters or their numerous leaves, or be shattered to pieces by the 
 winds, if they did not And support from other plants, we see them hanging 
 by their tendrils, or bending their stems into the most graceful twinings, and 
 clothing the trunks of aged trees with an abundant verdure, the dark glossy 
 green of which contrasts with their gray lichen covered trunks, or with the 
 brighter tints of that mossy canopy which overhangs them." 
 
 The Hop (Humulus lupulus) is au important article of cultivation in 
 England, though it is in its wild state that it is most valuable to the artist, 
 forming to many of our hedges " a most beautiful appendage, twisting care- 
 lessly round the branches of trees," covering them in summer with its foliage 
 and flowers, and in autumn with its curious scaly clusters of seeds ; the 
 flowers appear in July and the seeds ripen about six weeks after. The stem 
 is rough, very long, and twists round any support near it. Having little 
 fibre it does not cling too closely, but hangs in graceful festoons. The leaves 
 are stalked, rough, three or five lobed, and serrated. It would appear a matter 
 of doubt whether this plant was originally indigenous to England or in- 
 troduced from Flanders. By those who support the latter supposition, the 
 following curious old distich is sometimes quoted — 
 
 " Turkeys, Carp, Hops, Pickerel, ami Beer 
 Came into England all in one year." 
 
 According to Pliny, the term " Lupulus " was given to the Hop 
 because when it grew among young willows it proved, by twining round 
 
LANE AND HEDGE PLANTS. 
 
 109 
 
 them and checking their growth, as destructive as a wolf in a flock of 
 sheep. 
 
 In its cultivated state it has a decided advantage in picturesque appearance 
 
 over the vines of France and Germany, the poles being higher and more 
 
 freedom allowed in the growth of the plant, which frequently overtops the 
 
 poles, and hanging down, spreads into large clusters of russet coloured 
 
 seeds. During the hop harvest, the grounds furnish many picturesque groups 
 
 and incidents, when the vines, being severed from the root, are borne two 
 
 and three at a time to the spot where busy women and children are employed 
 
 picking the clusters into bins and baskets. 
 
 " Of old and young a mingled train, 
 The village maid, the village swain. 
 The hop ground seek ; unfix ami lay 
 In prostrate rmvs the frequent stay 
 Round whieh, aspiring like the vine's 
 lathe tendrils, creeps and climbs and twines, 
 With many a scaly pendent drop, 
 Our British vine, the twisted Hop, 
 Picked from the lithe and spiral bind, 
 Which round the lofty hop-pole twin'd, 
 The scaly fruit is stor'd within 
 The chamber of the ample ' bin.' 
 
 To an artist the hop garden is indeed rich in subjects of grace and beauty, 
 
 whether the bines wave in festoons high over head or curve low almost to the 
 
 ground, while the blossom, somewhat resembling the grape but more beautiful 
 
 and varied in its clusters, is more exposed to the sight, hanging, in fact, freer 
 
 and lighter in the air. It is true that its pale green or russet colour, so little 
 
 varied from that of the leaves, does not afford the same rich contrast of colour, 
 
 but the eye dwells with pleasure on the more delicate harmonies of grays and 
 
 greens so suitable to the cooler sides of England. Then in picking time the 
 
 formality of the alleys is abundantly broken by troops of men, women, and 
 
 children with their huge bins and baskets, and if we miss the uncouth wains 
 
 and oxen of Italy witli half-clothed peasants trampling the grapes till they 
 
 are covered with the rich juice, yet we have now and then a merry group 
 
 of picking women nearly smothering some luckless stranger in the hop-bins 
 
 until he pays his footing. When a figure artist has thus acquired the privi- 
 
 ledge of studying the scene he will soon till his note-book, studies of the 
 
 younger children abounding, here and there it may be in gaily coloured cloaks 
 
 or richer tinted garments sitting amongst the baskets in the shade ; perhaps 
 
110 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 with a gipsy tent, fire and cooking going on, -while the sloping gardens with 
 the vistas down the busy alleys make a characteristic background. Perhaps 
 some elder beguiling the time, and all unconscious of her taste, has woven a 
 garland of the fragrant clusters round the head of some rosy urchin or twined 
 a shelter above the sleeping babe in its rustic basket cradle; thus supplying 
 a subject for a Collins or a Frith. But we must pass on to another of our 
 climbing plants, the 
 
 Perhaps among all the creeping plants that grace 
 our lanes and hedges there is no more universal 
 favourite than the Common Honeysuckle or Wood- 
 bine. Its beauty and fragrance associate it in our 
 minds with the wild rose, and it has so far the 
 
 advantage of its rival in our affection that we transplant it to our gardens, 
 where its twining shoots enable it to surround the rustic porch and seat or 
 garden bower, and much does it ornament them with its rich coloured and 
 elegantly formed blossoms, which, without presenting to the painter any very 
 
LANE AND HEDGE PLANTS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 conspicuous outline or connected mass of colour, add considerably to the 
 general warmth of the hue. Artists find these rich tones very useful in 
 preventing the colours of their figures from appearing as single spots. There 
 is much grace of form in many of the climbing wild plants, but we doubt 
 whether any have been made so much use of in ornamenting our architecture 
 as this, the Greeks having set us the example in introducing it as an ornament 
 in their friezes by copying the form of the flower in its early and more 
 sculpturesque stage. A few of the flowers have on this account been selected 
 for our heading as seen climbing about the rustic porch, for in this position 
 they are more easily studied than when scattered in beautiful but wild pro- 
 fusion over our lanes and hedges. 
 
 The Woodbine is one of the earliest leafing plants we have. By the end 
 of February reddish green leaves an inch long appear on the stems, finding 
 no companions save the light green elder shoots. Its pale but elegantly 
 formed blossoms appear in June, filling the air with a delicious perfume ; it 
 climbs to a considerable height upon trees and bushes, and from thence hangs 
 its long trailing shoots which wave to and fro in the summer breeze. The 
 poet Mason thus describes it : — 
 
 " The Woodbine wild, 
 That hives to hang on b;invn boughs remote 
 Her wreaths of flowery perfume." 
 
 In this situation it is often described by the poet, but artists find it very 
 difficult to paint trees ami bushes covered with a rich confusion of creeping, 
 climbing, overhanging, and interwoven plants and shrubs; with flowers of 
 all hues and leaves of all shapes, with wreaths and tendrils flung about by 
 every breath of air : all very beautiful to look at, but not subjects for the 
 young or inexperienced artist with which to commence his study of nature. 
 Let him become, by patient representation, well acquainted with the form and 
 colour of one or two flowers and leaves and the way in which the tendrils 
 turn, and he will be better able to group and arrange the whole in masses. 
 
 Another handsome hedge-creeper is the Red-berried Bryony (Bryonia 
 dioica), its graceful leaves and tendrils rendering it a tit companion to the 
 hop and so placed at the head of this portion of our work, while a single 
 spray is here given as an excellent and easily found object for the young 
 artist's study. It seldom climbs high, but throws long vine-like festoons 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 rough leaves and small greenish-white flowers from stem to stem with 
 
 great luxuriance. The rapid daily 
 growth of this plant is signified by its 
 botanical name, and we have scarcely 
 another that increases so fast, con- 
 sequently the student should draw 
 the example that he selects com- 
 pletely at one sitting, finding out 
 single leaves, flowers, or tendrils 
 to finish more carefully afterwards. 
 The stem is angular and rough, the leaves large, 
 and the red berries become conspicuous as the 
 leaves fall off in autumn. 
 
 " The sealloped Bryony mingling round the bowers, 
 Whose, fine bright leaves make up the want of 
 flowers." 
 
 There is one fact connected with climbing plants 
 mentioned by a writer on wild flowers, which I have 
 myself observed, and that is of some consequence to 
 artists in these Pre-raphaelite days. Some twining 
 plants follow the apparent course of the sun, and 
 turn around the supporting stem from left to 
 right. This is the case with the common Black 
 Bryony of our woods, which, with its shining heart- 
 shaped leaves and small green flowers, may be seen 
 in any wood during the summer months climbing 
 over the hedges and trees. Other plants, as 
 the large white bindweed or convolvulus, twine 
 contrary to the sun, or from right to left. 
 Botanists will be aware that the peculiar 
 tendency of every plant is constant in each 
 individual of the species. ' Thus the large 
 bindweed, wherever found, always turns one 
 way and the Black Bryony the. other; we 
 never see their position reversed." This Black Bryony (Tamus communis) 
 
 R TD-BERR I Ff> BRYONY 
 
LANE AND HEDGE PLANTS. 
 
 113 
 
 climbs far higher than the red-berried species ; the leaves also are smooth, and 
 resemble those of the bindweed in shape. 
 
 Found amongst the bryonies, but rising to a greater height, is the Clematis, 
 or Traveller's Joy {Clematis Vitalba), its dark green foliage contrasting well 
 with the lighter green of 'the other creepers. It is very common in the 
 hedges of those counties where chalk or limestone abounds ; the blossoms are 
 numerous, of a greenish white hue with a strong perfume. It may be seen 
 far away, decking the hedges in May or June with its blossoms, and holding 
 itself to the sti-onger plants near, by the twisting leaf-stalks, which serve as 
 tendrils. In the early part of winter its snowy tufts of seeds are very con- 
 spicuous, and as they become soiled by wind and weather they look like 
 masses of cobwebs. 
 
 Now, though far from having exhausted the catalogue of climbing plants 
 that attract the eye, and when pear the forepart of the picture should be 
 drawn with care and attention^ let us turn for variety to. a favourite hedge 
 plant of the artist, the Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea), which indeed merits 
 the title of the 
 
 " Wild chieftain of the wayside flowers, 
 O'erlooking all that grow around, 
 But loving most the wooded bowers, 
 Where it is in perfection found." 
 
 Doubtless owing to its size, fine pyramidical spike of rich-coloured blossoms, 
 and also to the precision of its bell-formed flowers, the Foxglove is generally 
 considered by artists as one of the handsoniest and most effective of wild 
 flowers. Its tall stem, finely-shaped leaves, and spike of large purple crimson 
 or white freckled bells, render it a striking object, both in form and colour, 
 for the foreground. It is generally to be seen in hilly or rocky situations, in 
 the skirts of woods, and amongst the bushes and fern of the heath or common. 
 The flowers are about two inches long, and are all on the same side of the 
 stalk ; when decaying the lower bells drop off first, leaving a few only at the 
 top of the stalk. Should the main stem be injured the side shoots become 
 more luxuriant, and form a scattered but larger cluster of flowers. It grows 
 to from three to four feet high, and flowers in June and July. The name 
 Foxglove is by some imagined to be a corruption of Folk's or Fairy's glove. 
 
 Thomas Miller, than whom no one writes better or has studied nature 
 more carefully, objects to the Foxglove being called purple; now we have 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 DRAWING PROM NATURE. 
 
 many flowers inure truly called purple, such as the monkshood, the violet, the 
 bluebell, all differing in the quantities of blue mixing with red. Purple 
 is indeed a very indefinite colour with all, but with artists the word gray 
 is more frequently used, as the tones they use are generally terriaries, com- 
 posed of blue, red, and a little yellow, thus light red and blue make a gray 
 light red, having a slight mixture of yellow in it ; we must thus be permitted 
 to doubt whether it should be called a deep red or rich crimson, and cannot 
 agree with Miller when he says it has not a dash of purple about it. 
 
 bryony and nop. The moister and more shady 
 
 e, the more abundantly grows the Nightshade. Its heart 
 a spear-shaped leaves form elegant festoons of a tine deep 
 in; and according to Tyas, it is the only plant in our 
 climate that sheds and reproduces its foliage twice a war. It bears scarlet 
 berries, which look very pretty and tempting from their resemblance to the 
 garden currant, but are injurious if eaten. It is called the Bittersweet 
 because the root, which smells rather like a potato, on being chewed pro- 
 duces a sensation of bitterness to the palate which is succeeded by sweetness. 
 
LANE AND HEDGE PLANTS. 
 
 115 
 
 It flowers in June, July, and August ; in the latter month the flowers and 
 berries begin to mingle, and the given and yellow of the half ripe fruit are 
 prettily contrasted with the brilliant scarlet of the fully matured. 
 
 The common Guelder-rose, or Wayfaring-tree (Viburnum Lantana), is a 
 thick branching shrub, common in the hedges of England where limestone 
 and chalk prevail. It grows to the height of four to eight feet, and bears in 
 June, flat, ample heads of white flowers at the ends of the stems, succeeded 
 by berries, first green, afterwards red, and finally black. The leaves are large, 
 broad, opposite, much wrinkled, veined, of a roundish, heart-shaped form, 
 serrated at the edges, and very downy on the underside; they become in 
 autumn a fine deep-red colour. " One of its common names is Cotton-tree, 
 doubtless from the cottony appearance of its young shoots. As early as 
 February these attract the attention of the country rambler, for they stand 
 above the branches of the leafless thorn and other plants, each surmounted 
 by a small, close, button-like tuft of a gray-green hue, which in time displays 
 the strongly-veined leaves and opening buds of the cluster. As the foliage 
 gradually unfolds, its downy covering gives it the appearance of being covered 
 with dust, and by May the large compact clusters of white flowers are fully 
 expanded. Though a sober-looking shrub, yet it is bright enough in autumn, 
 when its branches of glossy fruit are of a most brilliant scarlet, gradually 
 changing as they ripen into purplish black, and distinguishing themselves from 
 our other wild berries by growing in flat compact clusters, as well as by having 
 some fruits in the cluster of glowing scarlet, whilst others are dark as jet." 
 
 The Dog-rose (Rush. Canina) is the favourite flower of June, and many 
 a nosegay of its delicately-tinted blossoms, contrasted with the deeper pink 
 of those of the sweet-briar, finds its way into the cottage-parlour, or its lovely 
 buds arranged in wreaths to ornament the flaxen curls of some pet child. 
 It is to be found all over England, and its charming blossoms are connected 
 with all the bright but evanescent joys of summer. There are two varieties 
 of Dog-rose; the earliest to flower bears pink blossoms, and is a thick bush, 
 from three to six feet high, with reddish-brown stems and leaves like the 
 garden-rose, only smaller. In the other and later blossoming kind, the stems 
 are more purple, and the flowers are a most beautiful creamy-white, while 
 the buds are oval in shape, and when streaked with a deep red, as found 
 occasionally, they are exceedingly lovely. The rose-bush often grows on open 
 
 t 2 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 sandy heaths, mingling its roses with the wild thyme and other heath-flowers ; 
 on the chalky banks of Kent it thrives so well, as to form a good thick hedge- 
 row, and in autumn its brilliant scarlet fruit, called " hips," makes the country 
 gay, mingled with bunches of haws, and the black glossy berries of the privet. 
 
 Tossing its pure white bells over the thorny stems of the former shrub 
 is the large white Bindweed (Convolnil us Sepimn), a great favourite with the 
 
 artist, forming 
 lovely gar- 
 lands with its 
 graceful arrow 
 shaped leaves 
 and the chal- 
 ice like shape 
 of its pure but 
 
 fragile flowers. Though very common in the hedges 
 it is also found about rivers and streams, or other 
 moist grounds. The large white bells, which are 
 called by country people "old man's nightcap," are 
 not exceeded by any blossoms in whiteness of tint 
 and beauty of outline. It often creeps over the 
 drooping willow-tree, festooning it lightly with its 
 large flowers, or it wanders over the green bank, or 
 almost covers some little rill, so that the heedless 
 traveller might plunge his foot unexpectedly into 
 the midst of the hidden waters. 
 
 The study of such fragile plants as this, which, 
 from their beauty and refinement of form and 
 colour, require much time to carefully delineate, 
 and which are also often found in their greatest 
 luxuriance by the dusty road-side or in other in- 
 convenient places, requires some consideration. If 
 plucked, they fade directly ; besides, a great portion 
 of their charm consists in the form and position of 
 the leaves and tendrils as they climb round and hang from the firmer support 
 of the dog-rose or other shrubs. The best way is to cut the branch or spray 
 
LANK AND HEDGE PLANTS. 
 
 117 
 
 away from the hedge, and carry it carefully home. When in your room or 
 study, place it in a glass or vase filled with sand and well watered ; thus 
 firmly held, you can arrange it in the window so as to take a favourable light, 
 giving it some judiciously selected background of gray or greenish-tinted 
 paper. If possible, let the light 
 come upon it without the inter- 
 vention of glass, as the delicate 
 tones are materially degraded by 
 the added colour. Thus preserved, 
 it will last many days, the larger 
 buds opening each morning, and 
 the less formed increasing every 
 day, and making a charming gar- 
 land round the window, or even 
 over the mantelpiece. 
 
 The AVhite Garden-lily can be 
 treated in the same way, but the 
 greater firmness of the blossom 
 causes it to be easier to study. 
 White flowers are better outlined 
 with a fine brush and gray colour 
 than with the pencil, as the least 
 grit or roughness of touch is de- 
 trimental to their purity and de- 
 licacy. When I say gray, I oughl 
 to add that I mean a tone made 
 with a judicious mixture of the 
 three primitives — thus : cobalt, 
 blue and rose madder, or crim- 
 son lake, then add a little yellow 
 ochre or Indian yellow, sufficient 
 to take away the purple hue and give it warmth. This may be modified 
 to suit the tone of the blossom: some, like the Lily, require a decided 
 tendency to richness and warmth, others, as the convolvulus, or white rose, 
 being more transparent, are grayer in colour. 
 
1 18 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Contrasting well with the delicate convolvulus, are the large broad leaves 
 and bright pinkish lilac flowers of the common Mallow {Malva syhestris). 
 It is to be found everywhere in the south of England, and the leaves, when 
 young, are large, of a bright green, and very handsome, but soon become 
 ragged and gray in tint. Their general appearance is round, but they are 
 divided into seven lobes. The flowers have five petals, pink in colour, with 
 darker veins and centre, growing usually in ( lusters of three or four, and can 
 easily be represented in a sketch without showing too much botanical study. 
 It flowers in June and July. Height, two to three, feet. 
 
 Another of our largest and handsomest hedge plants is the Mullen 
 (Verlascum), the leaves of which somewhat resemble the foxglove, but are 
 more conspicuous from their grayish colour and silvery down. The blossom 
 has a striking appearance, being a regularly tapering spike rising almost as 
 high as the foxglove, and closely studded with delicate yellow flowerets con- 
 trasted prettily with purple stamens. 
 
 The young artist will not lose time in making careful studies of these 
 more important hedge plants, for when well acquainted with their charac- 
 teristics a few touches will indicate them sufficiently to help to form a useful 
 foreground to his picture. 
 
The Common Bramble or Blackberry (Rubtis 
 fruticosus) is a plant that even those least 
 acquainted with tin 1 country recognise at a 
 and is so common, and in art so useful 
 ;ssory in our lanes and rustic scenes, that 
 jt is deserving of more individual attention 
 an has yet been directed to it by the student. 
 The rough and ragged growth of the plants, 
 their thorny arching stems catching hold of everything that comes in contact 
 with them, and their long curved suckers give wildness to the landscape, and 
 may be introduced into thickets, rough uncultivated spot's of ground, and 
 hedges. While young its stem is of a pale green colour, but with age it 
 assumes a deep purple with a gray or bluish tinge, and the whole plant in 
 autumn, with its rich and deep-coloured berries, assists us to introduce figures 
 in the foreground ; and it would be difficult to enumerate the number of land- 
 scape pictures which owe their names to some incident connected with this 
 well known plant. The Bramble is useful and maybe drawn with good effect 
 when, thrusting its leafy shoots, through the interstices of a park paling or over 
 
1 20 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 a rough wall, it diversifies the line which it is desirable to break. The leaves 
 are picturesque, consisting of hve leaflets, the upper sides of a dark green, 
 while beneath they are white and downy. The pinkish white, gauzy flowers 
 appear in July and August. The fruit ripens in September and October. 
 
 There are yet three hedge-plants to be enumerated, the sweetest and 
 loveliest of them all perhaps, though, unless they grow in such masses as 
 to affect the colour of the foreground, not very available to the artist. 
 
 " The melancholy Hyacinth, that weeps 
 All night and never lifts an eye all day," 
 
 is one of these. It is sometimes found in such quantities along sheltered 
 banks as visibly to affect their hue. The Hyacinth is an inhabitant of 
 woods, in fact of any spot where the soil is moist ami shaded from the 
 sun; it has a pleasant perfume, but not nearly so powerful as the culti- 
 vated species. 
 
 Of violet and primrose-banks much has been written, both in prose 
 and poetry. In the former, my favourite writer on country matters, Miss 
 Mitford, excels, I think, in her exquisite Pre-raphaelite word-painting of 
 these beauties. Who that knows, or has any love for the country, has 
 not enjoyed her " Going a-Violeting," and description of a primrose-bank ? 
 The Primrose (Primula vulgaris) is one of the earliest blooming flowers 
 of spring, cheering us all with promises of summer, and all her dreamy 
 joys. Its pale, clear-tinted, star-like form, clusters in masses on the shel- 
 tered bank. The lanes of Surrey are in April bright with Primroses ; so 
 thickly do they crowd on the banks, that they may be gathered in hands- 
 ful. When found growing in such abundance, it affords the artist a 
 valuable opportunity of giving yellow light in great masses, often desirable 
 in the foreground. This flower has lately become as great a favourite with 
 artists as it has with our poets, and we rarely see a water-colour exhibition 
 without a careful and charming representation of it on the walls. 
 
 Clare's description of the Primrose and its favourite haunts is so 
 
 characteristic of the plant, that 1 quote it here : — 
 
 " Welcome, pale Primrose, starting up between 
 Dead matted leaves of oak and ash, that strew 
 The every lawn the wood and meadow through, 
 'Mid creeping moss and ivy's darker green. 
 How much thy presence beautifies the ground ! 
 How sweet thy modest unaffected pride 
 
LANK AND HEDGE PLANTS. 
 
 121 
 
 (ilows on the sunny bank and warm wood side ' 
 Ami where thy fairy flowers in groups are found, 
 The schoolboy roams enchantedly along, 
 Plucking the fairest with a rude delight ; 
 While the meek shepherd stays his simple song, 
 To gaze a moment on the pleasing sight — 
 O'erjoyed to see the flowers that truly bring 
 The welcome news of sweet returning spring. " 
 
 With these two flowers, the Hyacinth and Primrose, massed together, 
 the peasant-children of Barbison, in the forest of Fontainebleau, make 
 wreaths, affording a charming combination of colour, the deep rich blue of 
 the Hyacinth with the pure clear yellow of the Primrose. "With these 
 wreaths they adorn their favourite cow, and gravely parade the animal thus 
 honoured, up and down the shady lane, where the little procession has a 
 very pretty effect. 
 
 The incidents to which lanes and their hedges give rise, do not, however, 
 belong exclusively to the brighter seasons of the year. Many a picturesque 
 group may be found under a hedge even in winter time, to say nothing id' 
 the beauty the hedge itself possesses in a frost. Let us turn to the picture 
 Mary Howitt has drawn of it : — 
 
 "A deep lane leads abruptly down the hill; a mere narrow cart-track, 
 sinking between high banks clothed with fern, and furze, and broom, 
 crowned with luxuriant hedgerows, and famous for their summer smell of 
 thyme. How lovely these banks are now ! — the tall weeds and the gorse 
 fixed and stiffened in the hoar frost, which fringes round the bright and 
 prickly holly, the pendent foliage of the bramble, and the deep orange 
 leaves of the pollard oak ; oh ! this is limit in its loveliest form ! And 
 there is still a berry here and there on the holly, 'blushing in its natural 
 coral' through the delicate tracery; still a stray hip or haw for the birds, 
 who abound always here, every branch encrusted with the bright and 
 delicate congelations of hoar frost, white and pure as snow, delicate and 
 defined as carved ivory. How beautiful it is, how uniform, how various, 
 how filling, how satiating to the mind, above all, how melancholy ! Sculp- 
 ture has always the same effect on my imagination, and painting never. 
 ' Colour is life! As soon as the frost gives way, the lane is alive with 
 labourers repairing the hedges, or grubbing up the roots of trees. Then 
 along it comes the old and veritable 'hedger and ditcher,' with leathern 
 
L22 DBA WING FROM NATURE. 
 
 leggings and gauntlet gloves, bill-hook in hand, bearing on his shoulder 
 his precious faggot, wherewith to increase the comforts of his home." 
 
 Many country lanes possess the great additional charm of a babbling 
 brook or rivulet (how different from the ditches of our suburban lanes 1) 
 that dances merrily along by the stroller's side, chiming in harmoniously 
 with the thoughts to which the pleasant scene has given rise. Should 
 such be the case, there are the broad flat stones which enable the pas- 
 senger to reach, dry-footed, the stile leading to the corn-field : there is the 
 rustic bridge which spans the dip in the lane, where the little stream 
 crosses to the other side, from whence many an industriously-idle urchin 
 dangles an impromptu fishing-rod, or floats his boats ; and further on, in 
 front of the trim row of cottages, it is partially dammed up to secure 
 sufficient depth for the inhabitants to dip their pails from the large broad 
 stone into the water, as it trickles out sparkling and bright from under 
 the cool green leaves of the overhanging beech-trees. 
 
 Further on again, and we come to a stagnant pool, brilliant with duck- 
 weed, and alive with ducks, geese, &c. Bather an ignominious end, it may 
 be remarked, for our pretty little rivulet ; but it is only a very small branch 
 of it that thus ministers to the needs of the noisy feathered bipeds; the 
 principal stream still dances on, though we must no longer accompany it 
 in its rambles. 
 
 One more incident that arises from the overflowing stores of golden 
 autumn, and I will conclude this long, rambling description. Just before 
 the hedges begin to assume their many-coloured garb, and after the heavily 
 laden waggons have been with difficulty dragged through the narrow lanes, 
 the hedges on either side are adorned with trailing ears of oats, rye, and 
 wheat, and these foreign ornaments soon attract birds of all descriptions. 
 Then what a fluttering ensues, both above and below; the whole popula- 
 tion of a neighbouring farm-yard are there, turned loose lor the occasion, 
 and many a tempting ear, dragged down with infinite labour by the fowls, 
 becomes, on reaching terra firma. the prey of some grunting hog, to whom 
 nothing comes amiss in the shape of plunder. (See cut page 127.) 
 
To those who observe and study nature, and who 
 wish to draw sonic portion of the beauties that they 
 encounter, there is no better plan than in saunter 
 along some country Roachirfr, with a note-book ami pencil in hand- and 
 unlimited time at their disposal. They will be sure to meet with abundance 
 of incidents and objects for study; and although modern railroads have 
 shut us oft' from observing more than the general features of the country 
 
124 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 we pass with sc much rapidity, still, when we stroll down a country road, 
 we find the same picturesque studies as ever. Tiiose whose study is more 
 particularly directed to the figure, will be continually at work noting down 
 the variety of costumes, actions, and grouping of the peasants that they 
 meet. 
 
 By the wayside, while rambling in the Pyrenees and Switzerland, I have 
 often been tempted to stop short in my landscape studies and sketch the 
 various roadside groups I have met. Thus, the bright-looking haymakers 
 of the Oberland, the hunters of the Grisons, and the wild-looking shepherds 
 of the Pyrenees, in their rough sheepskin coats, overhanging bonnets, or 
 slouching hats, leading their singular sheep and goats, and fine dogs, have 
 arrested my attention ; while the neighbouring Spanish peasants or trampers, 
 with their mules gaily adorned with trappings, rich-coloured rugs, and 
 grotesque skins of wine, have equally proved attractive, when I have seen 
 them reposing by the roadside during the heat of the day, in the shade 
 of some overhanging rock or wild pine, frequently having the 1 refreshing 
 addition of some charming spring or mountain torrent bursting from the 
 rock, to lend coolness all around, and induce one to stop. 
 
 These have been quite sufficient to turn me aside from some more 
 distant expedition to study the pictures they have unconsciously made, 
 and it is thus that artists secure many valuable hints that they would 
 search for in vain at other times. We have only to look at the walls of 
 the Pioyal Academy to see how well Phillip, Ansdell, and others have 
 seized such momentary glimpses, and how they have furnished the nucleus 
 of many a vivid and popular picture. 
 
 The market-place, again, is an inexhaustible source of beauty for the 
 artist. It is there we see the heart of the country displayed quite bare 
 as it were, while the feelings of the actors are so earnestly engaged, and 
 the various costumes sought out and brought into contrast ; these, with 
 the addition of the produce of the country, all combine to give us an 
 insight into the manners of the country, and its life. These scenes all 
 require the finished artist, for to study such rapidly-moving incidents 
 requires the full and perfected power of the painter ; but in our own sweet 
 country, and with the limited ability of a student, the Roadside is a most 
 excellent source of study, not of life moving and passing too rapidly to 
 
THE ROADSIDE. 
 
 125 
 
 draw, but of that quieter, less confused life, that appertains to it; and it 
 is thus that many a picturesque group of gipsies, tinkers, or rustic labourers, 
 has been sketched ; and in harvest-time more especially, the temptation to 
 stop and draw the gleaners returning with their sunny burdens, or the 
 wains, and peasants at their labour, are so numerous, that it would try the 
 patience of any one accompanying an artist if he had not the same feeling 
 for art. 
 
 But at present I must leave the consideration of these moving inci- 
 dents, this work being chiefly for the instruction and encouragement of 
 the young student, and point out some of those less striking, but more 
 easily drawn subjects, with which the foreground of such pictures may be 
 enriched. The heading of this section merely shows a sand-bank, overhung 
 with^ brambles, and other creeping plants, forming a nook for some of the 
 many wild flowers and plants, the importance pf which might pass un- 
 heeded were they not pointed out. The colour, however, of these sandy 
 cliffs, with the additional interest attached to them by their pretty in- 
 habitants the sand martins, would always attract the attention of a 
 passer-by ; and should he be tempted to stop and give sufficient time to 
 make a careful study, he will rarely regret the labour he has bestowed 
 on a subject appareijtly so insignificant. 
 
 It is true that the luxuriant water plants of the stream and the graceful 
 climbers of the lane hedges are wanting here ; and should a stray plant of 
 bindweed or bright-leaved bryony try to embrace the dusty hedge, it quickly 
 proves, by its sickly and choked appearance, how utterly it is out of place. 
 Still the roadside has its own class of plants growing so well no where else, 
 which in their season grace the travel-stained wayfarer's path with their foliage 
 and flowers. 
 
 First in importance among these, stands the Burdock {Arctium lappa), well 
 known for the obstinate manner in which its burs attach themselves to any- 
 thing they come in contact with. It is a very important plant to the artist, 
 not only on account of its size, being the largest native leaf we possess, but 
 for its marked character and general distribution, thus forming one of his 
 boldest and simplest foregrounds. The student, however, must not often 
 introduce more than one complete plant into his sketch, though occasionally 
 a few stray root-leaves are admissible. These root-leaves, from their great size, 
 
126 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 constitute the most striking feature in the Duck. Their colour is a cool <>reen 
 little affected by autumn; but the dull purple flowers, and afterwards the 
 balls of seed, though small compared with the foliage, slightly vary the 
 general tint. The form of the plaid is pyramidal, and the height about three 
 feet. It flowers all through the summer. When circumstances render sketch- 
 ing in the open air impossible, one of the plants may he carefully placed in a 
 pot, and this, from the variety of position of the heart-shaped leaves, the 
 shadows cast by one leaf on another, and the foreshortening necessary, will 
 form a good subject for study. 
 
 To this illustration has been added the first slight outline of the leading 
 stem ami the ribs of the leaves, show ing crudely the way in which an artist 
 portions out the group. 
 
 The Teazel {Dipsacus sylvestris is a common plant in the roadside hedg< s, 
 and during the winter months " there is scarcely an object more conspicuous 
 than the chaffy bristly heads of this plant. Hundreds of them, standing on 
 stout stems nearly six feet high, may be seen looking so like the brooms used 
 in cleansing ceilings, that we wonder not to hear the cottager call the plant, 
 " woodbroom ; " the large leaves united at their base form a hollow, which serves 
 
THE ROADSIDE. 
 
 td hold the ruin or dews, and fc 
 bath." It flowers dining the 
 latter part of July and August. 
 
 The Nettle (Urtica dioica), 
 with its grayish erect leaves, 
 forms an agreeable relief to the 
 flat broad foliage of the Colts- 
 foot (Tussilago far/am), the first 
 plant that springs from marl or 
 limestone rubble, and spreads 
 itself with remarkable rapidity 
 over oar railroad cuttings. The 
 flowers appear in March, before 
 the leaves ; they are yellow, one 
 on a stalk, and soon change into 
 a beautiful head of long white 
 cottony hairs. Bishop Mant 
 thus describes it : — 
 
 " On scaly stem, with cottony down 
 O'erlaid, its lemon colour'd crown 
 Which drooped unclosed, but now 
 erect, 
 
 The Coltsfoot bright develbpes; decked 
 (Ere yet the impurpled stalk displays 
 Its (lark green leaves) with countless 
 
 Round countless tubes alike in dye 
 Expanded." 
 
 It is the leaves, however, 
 which are of use to artists ; they 
 are almost as wide as the bur- 
 dock, but not nearly so long, and 
 are rather heart-shaped and an- 
 gular. They cluster in great 
 numbers, and each leaf being 
 large, they allow of great breadth, 
 and can be distinguished by a 
 few lines ; the green is cool and 
 
 >r this reason is sometimes called 
 
 fresh, and contrasts well witli tl 
 
128 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 colour of the earth, or the gray stones amongst which they grow. The 
 surface of the leaf when young forms a cup or plate ; when older, it becomes 
 convex or rounded ; still the general direction is parallel to the ground, and 
 reflects the cool tones of the sky above. Calder Campbell says, 
 
 " The downy Coltsfoot gave its broad soft leaves 
 As pillow for the harebell's sleepy head." 
 
 The Viper's Bug-loss (Echium vulgare) is a handsome shrub, with prickly 
 foliage and bright blue flowers, as brilliant in hue as the furze, and forming an 
 exquisite contrast with it. It abounds in waste places; indeed, according 
 to Crabbe, the 
 
 " blue Bugloss paints the sterile soil." 
 
 Miss Pratt thus pleasantly describes it : " Among the flowers which 
 beautify our waste places, this plant is not only one of the most striking 
 from its height, but one of the most beautiful in shape and hue. We never 
 find it on the rich grassy meadow land, or among the lovely wild flowers 
 which border our streams, or rise beneath the shadow of the trees. But on 
 the heap of chalk, or sand, or gravel, accumulated by the wayside ; on the 
 sandy soil of the neglected field ; on the beach where, among the stones, a 
 little earth can find room to gather ; on the old wall or majestic cliff ;— there it 
 raises its rich spire of blossoms. Its proper season of flowering is in June 
 and July ; but the author has often gathered it even in December, not rising 
 to its usual height, but with the rich purple of its blossoms, and the bright 
 red tint of their long stamens, as beautiful as ever. The plant is usually 
 about two feet high ; but in places where it flourishes best, as in the sandy 
 fields of Cambridgeshire and on the chalky cliffs of Dover, it is sometimes 
 more than three feet in height, and the blossoms extend half-way down the 
 stem. The colour of the fully expanded flowers is of a deep blue, but the 
 young buds are of a full rose colour. The whole plant is very rough to the 
 touch." 
 
 The Greater Plantain (Plantago major), though smaller than the dock and 
 coltsfoot, is still useful in varying the form and tint of the roadside. The 
 leaves are deeply marked with seven ribs ; they all rise from the root, and 
 the spikes of green or brown flowers spring from the centre. The yellow 
 Toad Flax {Linaria vulgaris) is a tall showy plant with sulphur coloured bios- 
 
THE ROADSIDE. 
 
 129 
 
 soms .shaped like those of (lie .snapdragon, which appear during August and 
 September, and are useful in repeating in smaller quantities the yellow in the 
 dress of a figure. The common Hemlock (Conium ma-eulatum) with its dark 
 leaves and " stem of purplish brown, spotted and striped with purple, is not 
 uncommon on waste places. The hollow stem is two or three feet high, much 
 branched at the upper part, and bearing its umbels of white flowers in June 
 and July. Although the foliage is of a dull given, yet it is remarkably 
 elegant in form, and in some places the plant grows to a great size.'' 
 
 In our enumeration of roadside plants, we must not omit to mention the 
 Dandelion (Leontodon taraxacum), for though small it is very bright, and when 
 growing in quantities, often enables us to introduce a brighter yellow, while 
 it has this recommendation, that there is scarcely a spot where the introduction 
 of the Dandelion would be contrary to Nature. The writer on wild flowers 
 quoted above, thus remarks on its universality. " A lowly plant it is with 
 us, trodden over by the countryman as he passes through the field, or pressed 
 down by the feet of gladsome children, on pasture land or sunny bank ; a 
 treasure yet to them — a treasure to all who truly love flowers. It scorns 
 no grassy spot as unworthy of its beauty, from church tower or garden wall, 
 to the shadowy woods or the rivers brink ; to the pebbly beach, or the crevice 
 of the pavement. It is often the earliest flower of the green mead, sending 
 out a stray blossom even in February, and assembling in multitudes by 
 April and May. 
 
 " ' E'en when old Winter leaves Ids plash y slough, 
 The Dandelions, like to suns, will bloom 
 Beside some hank, or hillock creeping low, 
 Though each too often meets an early doom.' 
 
 " What a wealth to country children are the Dandelions, with their hollow 
 stalks linked into chains day after day with untiring eagerness, and with 
 the white downy balls 
 
 " ' The schoolboy's clock in every town,' 
 
 which come as the flowers fall away, and which sometimes whiten the 
 meadow by their profusion, till a strong gust arises and scatters them far 
 and wide." 
 
 These are the principal flowers that greet the roadside traveller, but he 
 has seldom much time to examine them, as his attention is continually 
 drawn off to some incident occurring on the road. There is the road-mender 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 and stone-breaker seated astride on his heap of stones hammering away, 
 while his dog lies dozing on the jacket, which, with the stone bottle and hat, 
 are his especial charge. There are the various pedestrians, carts, gigs, and 
 carriages ; and in those parts not yet completely in the web of railways, 
 there is now and then a stage-coach, with all its accompaniments of rattle 
 and importance. In such parts there may still be seen the humble con- 
 veyance of the poor ; the waggon with its load of merchandize in front and 
 hood behind, under which congregate the aged, the women, and children, 
 whose strength is not equal to the distance they have to go, and are therefore 
 glad to avail themselves of this old-fashioned conveyance, that creeps along 
 at the rate of three miles an hour. 
 
 Here and there, in spite of the innovations of civilization, may still be 
 found an old roadside inn, almost as rural as ever, with its farm carts, the 
 horses of which are feeding at the picturesque troughs or cribs ; its jolly 
 farmers, with their huge coats and capes, on stout old cobs, stopping to drink 
 a parting cup that is handed to them by the landlord's pretty daughter. 
 Yes, these are charming scenes for an artist, but alas I they are fast disappear- 
 ing, and in a few more years their memory only will be kept alive by the 
 pictures of Cooper. 
 
Section V. 
 
 HEATH AND COMMON' TRUE PAINTER'S GROUND, BUT FAST DISAPPEARING — NEIGHBOURHOOD OF 
 REIGATE— WALTON HEATH — A DINGER COMMON — FINE- LEAVED HEATH — CROSS- LEAVED HEATH- 
 LING— COLOUR OF HEATHER ON SCOTCH MOUNTAINS — HAREBELL — BROOM — FURZE— THISTLES- 
 THYME — LAVENDER. 
 
 Few people really understand how much the painter loves the open expanse, 
 broken ground, and varying incident of a Heath or Common. It is there he 
 can best observe the varied effects of light and shade as they chase each other 
 over the extended prospect, and, standing beneath the shelter of a group of 
 wild firs, may see the overhanging storm-cloud throwing the mid-distance into 
 deep purple gloom, while the foreground is a rich treasury of colour, with 
 its endless harmonies of russet, olive-gray, and gold given by the withered 
 heather, gorse, and fern, mingled with the richest-coloured sand bonks, and 
 other accessories of a moorland scene. 
 
 Unfortunately for the artist, opportunities for studying these decrease with 
 fearful rapidity, and these wild rambling grounds become fewer every day, 
 yielding to the increasing necessities of an overgrown population. Even 
 Hampstead Heath, the London artist's delight, is threatened to he overrun 
 by encroaching bricks and mortar, nor does there appear sufficient power or 
 energy among those interested to save this precious ground from the builder. 
 
132 
 
 DK AWING FKOM NATURE. 
 
 Thus, alas '. the breezy parade, the contemplative fir grove, the lonely and still 
 secluded North End, with its wild uneven ground, its copse, its verdant hill 
 and dale and picturesque fir clumps, must be cut and parcelled out into 
 cockney rows and suburban villas, or else carried entirely away to furnish 
 materials for some railroad ; and the poor artist, and what is of far more 
 importance, the poor over-wrought, over-crowded mechanic, will be obliged to 
 go still farther off for a refreshing glimpse of Nature. 
 
 I well remember with what interest I listened years ago to an enthusiastic 
 description of Hertford Heath, by a true worshipper of Nature, and how its 
 broken sandbanks, towering Scotch firs, common of yellow broom and rough 
 gorse, with many a rare wild flower, appeared m my mind's eye already 
 transferred to my paper. 
 
 At length, when fully prepared and accompanied by a chosen pupil, I 
 made an excursion to the desired spot, we found it levelled, ploughed, and 
 even railed off into square fields, with iron wire and sunk ditches, and we 
 felt almost angry that the joyous larks, as they mounted singing into the 
 heavens from the springing wheat, did not participate in our disappointment. 
 
 However, there still exist a few choice spots where studies can be made of 
 broken ground, extended view, or secluded nook, where the rare gipsy may 
 yet pitch his camp, or the travelling tinker and broom-seller turn his poor 
 beast out for a night or two. There are many such spots to be found in the 
 country about Reigate. 
 
 The town, but more particularly Eed Hill, may be spoiled to the artist's 
 eye by the inundation of ugly cockney cottages to which it has been of late 
 subjected, but the country a few miles distant is still untouched, and the 
 chalk and warm marly soils are highly favourable to the growth of plants 
 suitable to the artist, and though the bee-orchis, ladies'-hair, and other rare 
 flowers which abound there may not be available for pictures, their singularity 
 renders them interesting. If the Brighton railway be quitted at Merstham, 
 a delightful walk midst varied and beautiful scenery may be taken through 
 Gatton Park with its noble trees; then mounting the hill, Walton Heath 
 lies before you — a wide expanse covered with heather, furze, and broom, which, 
 though flat, presents many rustic bits. Skirting the common, sometimes 
 sheltered beneath overhanging banks and straggling trees, may be found the 
 hut of the broom cutter or the ash-hoop render. 
 
THE HEATH, OR COMMON". 133 
 
 The stacks of faggots, the heather-covered roofs, the men in their mstic 
 dresses, busied among barrels, carts, sheds, and pig-sties, an old horse or two, 
 and piles of brooms in all stages, furnish the artist with many a study ; and 
 if he must have a distance to his picture, he gains peeps of the blue horizon 
 through the trees crowning the little chalky knolls. But of all commons my 
 favourite is that of Abinger, with its hill and dale foliage and broad expanse. 
 The Scotch firs have made themselves masters of great part of the high 
 ground, where, besides the older trees, which, from their regularity give 
 evidence of having been planted, there is an undergrowth of young firs 
 rapidly on the increase, being apparently protected by the landowners. 
 Less fortunate is the venerable, oak scrub, which, though withered and 
 straggling in winter and spring, is covered with brilliant foliage in summer; 
 this is chopped and hacked away unmercifully, with no regard to the feelings 
 of the artist, who thus loses a useful foreground. Though entering my 
 protest against this partial administration of the bill-hook, I should be sony 
 to have the fir trees included in this doom, for underneath their shadow 
 grow a profusion of whortleberries, loo lowly a shrub to be singly of use to 
 the artist, yet valuable as giving occasion for many a pretty group. As soon 
 as the berries are ripened, dozens of little lads and lasses appear as if by 
 magic, busily gathering the fruit, while the "toddling wee things" and the 
 large baskets are left in 
 some sheltered spot under 
 the guard of the grand- 
 mother. 
 
 In the thickest of the 
 wood there is a saw-pit, 
 shielded from the keen 
 north and east winds by 
 fresh sawn " outsides." 
 Here Master Wrong works 
 away in wet and in dry 
 weather, his diligence hav- 
 ing a visible effect on the 
 wood around ; tree after tree is sacrificed as a roof or a floor is needed, while 
 every one makes free with the " outsides " and odd bits for shed or pigsty. 
 
134 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 There an; wonderful hollow ways, too, winding across and through our 
 common ; whether they have always existed, or whether some terrific water- 
 spout has hurst upon the higher land ages ago, scooping and scoring them 
 out, no one knows, hut now they are overgrown with oak-scrub, briars, and 
 fern. One of the deepest of the wild glens skirts Parkhurst palings, forming 
 a lovely hut rough path between sandy hanks crowned with noble trees, 
 among whose roots burrow the cunning stoats, while the squirrel leaps nimbly 
 in their branches. 
 
 And now having expatiated on the beauties of my favourite common, 
 justice recpures that I should mention its one fault — a lack of water, almost 
 as great a want to the artist as to the rustic inhabitants of the district. There 
 is a talk of bringing the water from the source at King George's Hill to a 
 head here, with trough before each cottage door; but this, though a great- 
 boon to the housewife, will not atone to the painter for the want of the 
 merry sparkling brook or shadowy pool overhung with pollard willows, 
 beneath which the cattle seek shelter from the noon-day heat. 
 
 Now to return to the foreground studies peculiar to heaths and open 
 country. The commonest of these is the Purple or Pine-leaved Heath {Erica 
 cinerea), which may be known by its many drooping flowers covering a great 
 part of the stem. This is the most frequent species we find at Hampstead. 
 The flowers rustle when gathered, as if perfectly dry ; it grows luxuriantly 
 on the sandy hanks bordering the rough country roads that cross the common. 
 Its masses of rich purple flowers form a good contrast with the yellow sand- 
 banks, and its warm, yet gray shadows, combined with the deep-toned greens 
 of the foliage, assist in giving value to the spots of gay sunshine that find 
 their way through the twisted roots, while abundance of warm reflected 
 light from the sand lends its influence in harmonizing the whole. Shoixld 
 a few stray ragged sheep have sought these tempting nooks, we want 
 but the pencil of a Sidney Cooper to produce the most delightful pictures 
 of repose. 
 
 A beautiful species which prefers a boggy soil, is the Cross-leaved Heath 
 (Erica tetralix), well marked by its delicate pink wax-like flowers, collected 
 into a head at the top of the stem. A third species is perhaps still more 
 abundant than the first, though botanically speaking not a heath at all, 
 as it belongs to another genus (Calhma communis), commonly called ling. 
 
THE HEATH, OK COMMON. 
 
 135 
 
 It resembles the erica, however, so closely in its general appearance, mode 
 of growth, and locality, that it is as frequently called by one name as the 
 other, while in Scotland it is known as heather. Its foliage is more beautiful 
 than that of the heath, resembling chenille. So common is this plant on 
 waste lands and open tracts of ground, that such places are called Heaths. 
 
 The flowers are a pale reddish purple, very numerous and small, growing 
 all along the young shoots. " It clothes the wild Highland hills, and its 
 flowers empurple the barren mountains of Scotland." It is in this light, as 
 affecting the colour of his picture (for it can scarcely alter the form, save 
 by rounding the angles of the broken crags), that it holds its prominent 
 place in the painter's thoughts, though where growing luxuriantly it may 
 also remind him of the trouble it gave him to wade through its tangle of 
 fragrance as he climbed craggy Goat Fell, or wandered out of his path in 
 Glen Rosa or Glen Sannox. 
 
 Regarding it then in large masses, Ave find that it must be studied more 
 with the brush and varieties of tints than with any marked form. In the 
 extreme distance it still retains its purple hue, assuming under the influence 
 of stormy clouds so dense a tone, that Southerners rarely paint it strong 
 enough ; none in my recollection has come so near the truth as Robson. 
 When close at hand, the purple tint yields to pink or purer red, though 
 in autumn, when " decay's effacing fingers " have passed over it, orange tones 
 prevail ; these are made with yellow ochre, burnt sienna, brown madder, and 
 crimson lake. Heather is generally cooler in colour and more ragged in 
 appearance than the heath. 
 
 Sprinkled about on the common, 
 
 " On the swelling down, where sweet air stirs 
 The heathbell lightly, ami where prickly furze 
 Buds lavish gold," 
 
 may be seen the favourite bluebell of the poet, more properly called the 
 Harebell, "that flower which the Scotchman deems especially his own; 
 dwelling on heath and moorland, raises its delicate stem and bows its gentle 
 head, neither proudly defiant of storm, nor easily broken by its violence ; 
 like the elastic spirit of some gentle woman, strong by its very weakness, 
 trembling before the tempest, but quickly after rising all fresh and vigorous, 
 as if nought but sun and smiles had ever beamed upon it." This elegant 
 
136 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 little flower lias move effect on the mind, however, than the sight, for its 
 scattered flowers can only be seen close at hand. Its delicate azure hells 
 hang lightly from the stein, the leaves are 
 long and narrow, the round root leaves soon 
 withering. 
 
 The Broom (Spartium scoparium), al- 
 though not so generally diffused over the 
 common as some other plants, is still 
 abundant on heaths and banks, growing to 
 a greater height than the furze, in favour- 
 able situations even reaching to eight or 
 nine feet, although its general height does 
 not exceed four or five. The flowers are 
 large and open, and grow along the entire 
 length of the shoots, which, clustering 
 thickly together, present a brilliant mass 
 1 f '/ of yellow, almost hiding the bright ever- 
 
 . .• • n i"li;i-' Tin 1 yellow ill' the Broom 
 is clearer, more dazzling, but not so glowing 
 
 HAREBELL. 
 
 as that of the furze. JNhss Kent, in recom- 
 mending it as a pleasant shade, says, " it seems to embody the sunshine while 
 it intercepts the heat." It is a favourite with many poets, not only for its his- 
 torical and legendary associations, but also for its beauty. Wordsworth says — 
 
 " 'Twas that delightful 
 
 Full flowered 
 Along the rop 
 
 , when the Bi< 
 every steep, 
 ins of gold;" 
 
 while Burns exclaims- 
 
 Their groves of 
 Where bright be 
 Far dearer to mt 
 Wi' the burn ste 
 
 len o gree 
 the long ; 
 
 gn lands reckon, 
 the perfume, 
 in breckan, 
 ?llow Broom." 
 
 It is particularly partial to high banks, and many a bright spot of colour does 
 the artist owe the " bonny Broom." 
 
 For studies of the Broom, however, there is no need to go farther than the 
 nearest sandy common. Luxuriant specimens may be found on an elevated 
 part of Abinger Common, called the Warren. (See cut, page 84.) 
 
THE HEATH. OR COMMON. 137 
 
 It flowers in June, and the seeds are lung pods of a dark brown colour. 
 
 Whenever a common is sketched, or a heath scene painted, there must the 
 Furze (Vlex Evropcea) be introduced, for it covers such spots with its golden 
 flowers ; indeed few plants are more abundant or more brilliant, especially in 
 the merry month of May, its peculiar flowering season, than 
 
 " The vernal Furze with golden baskets hung." 
 
 It has also this great advantage to artists, that it may, without violence to 
 Nature, be introduced into his picture at any season of the year, as it is 
 rarely unadorned with a few blossoms ; indeed Coleridge calls it " the never 
 bloomless Furze." Of course the full blaze of bloom must be reserved for the 
 spring and summer months. It is a shrub without leaves, but armed with 
 innumerable thorns, with which, doubtless, every one of my readers is already 
 accpiainted, unless the poet's warning to 
 
 " approach it not, 
 
 For every flower has a troop of swords 
 Drawn to defend it,'" 
 
 has come in time to save his fingers. 
 
 It is rarely found in the highlands of Scotland, yet is common enough 
 among the AVelsh mountains, where, as Miss Twamley says, " it clothes the 
 sides of the cloud-capped hills with a robe of gold, broken only by patches of 
 the purple gleaming heather." with which it forms a charming contrast. It 
 is essentially a native of temperate regions, extremes of heat or cold being 
 alike injurious to it, and in Sweden is unknown, as the often told story of 
 Linnauis's rapture, on first seeing a common covered with it, proves. 
 
 " A common overgrown with fern, and rough 
 With prickly gorse, that, shapeless and deformed. 
 And dangerous to the touch, has yet its bloom, 
 And decks itself with ornaments of gold. 
 
 Sportsmen would perhaps tell us, that the prickly gorse has yet another 
 good quality superior to richness of colour, that of forming one of the best 
 covers for foxes, for 'tis here that Reynard has his strongest hold, the plants 
 growing so thick, and the roots and branches so strong, that it sometimes 
 requires great perseverance to make the cunning fellow leave his retreat- On 
 other commons, where "the nibbling flocks do stray," or rabbits are numerous, 
 one is surprised to see how rounded all the clumps of Furze are eaten. 
 
138 DRAWING FROM NATURE, 
 
 "There is always something exhilarating in the fresh breezy air .if an 
 English common, with its strings of rosy-cheeked ragged children, its flocks 
 of noisy geese, its two or three scraggy horses and scrubby donkeys, its tall 
 furze bushes, with their rich golden garniture, that almost seems to glow from 
 the contrast with the snowy whiteness of the linen hung across them to dry. 
 Add to these the windmill, the snug public-house with its old tree and 
 swinging sign, the cottages huddled up in a corner opposite the pond, or 
 loosely scattered where the first enclosers reared their mud huts, a gipsy 
 encampment if the common be a wide one, and if it be a summer evening, 
 the cricketers, and you have pretty much what combine to make up ' a 
 common,' all England over." 
 
 The writer of the above, if not an artist, is, I am certain, possessed of 
 artistic feeling, and is, at any rate, a skilful word-painter; the only thing to 
 complain of being that lie crowds loo many objects of interest into his 
 canvas; there is enough in that description to form subjects fur halt a dozen 
 pictures. 
 
 For the young student we may add, that the colour of the Furze is richer 
 and far more intense and concentrated than that of the broom, the green is 
 less decided, being dull and gray in tone. 
 
 No common is complete without thistles for the poor man's ass. and most 
 numerous and varied are these 
 
 " Insatiate thistle :, tyrants of the plain." 
 
 One of the handsomest is the Musk Thistle (Cardan* nutans) ; the spines are 
 strong and prominent, and the flowers, which are large and of a reddish 
 purple, contribute their quota of colour to the landscape from May to October. 
 The stem is from two to three feet in height, and gray with cottony down. 
 
 A very lowly flower, the Wild Thyme [Thymus serpyllum) sometimes 
 affects the colour of the ground on our commons with its pinkish purple 
 flowers. It is not, however, large enough when taken singly to form an 
 artist's foreground plant; but by its habit of clustering in considerable 
 masses, and by its general diffusion, not only over this country, but throughout 
 Europe, becomes of importance. It grows equally well on the overhanging 
 cliff, the sunny bank, the mountain side, or barren heath, and its blossoms ot 
 pale pink flowers at the base of some fragment of gray rock, the colour of 
 
THE HEATH, OR COMMON. 
 
 139 
 
 which is broken by various tints of green lichen, form altogether an appro- 
 priate foreground to a lake or mountain scene. Thyme, with heather, gorse, or 
 fern in patches, aids the sentiment in such a figure-subject as Landseer's 
 " Lassie tending Sheep." Innumerable lines might be quoted from the sister 
 art to heighten the feeling so essential to the painter. Thus, Shakspear's 
 often-quoted — 
 
 •• I know a bank whereon the Wild Thyme grows ;" 
 
 or — 
 
 01 O'er fringed heaths, wide lawns, and mountain steeps 
 With silent step the flagrant Thyma creeps." 
 
 Virgil has also associated the " steepy cliff and flowering thyme." 
 
 We may judge of the importance of this sweet plant in the eyes of the 
 ancients when we read, in the lately published " History of Julius Caesar " 
 (page 121), that thousands of oxen were sent every year to the neighbourhood 
 of Marseilles to feed on the Thyme which grew there. 
 
 Speaking of Marseilles 1 may add, that to that town we owe the accli- 
 matisation of the vine and the olive ; while, journeying a little further east, we 
 find another favourite of our gardens — lavender — growing in prolusion on the 
 sunny cliff's of the Genoese coast. 
 
These plants arc truly the offspring of sum- 
 mer, for they revel in light and warmth, and 
 wither under the slightest breath of frosty autumn. The rarer and more 
 beautiful species are too minute to produce much effect in pictures ; but the 
 Brakes, or Braken (Pteris aquilina), the commonest kind, growing all over 
 the country, is a very handsome plant, and, fortunately for the, artist, is of 
 sufficient size to form a most effective foreground. Xo park scenery is com- 
 plete without it; and many a lovely picture is created by a group of noble 
 forest trees, their roots overgrown with the large Braken, among which wave 
 the antlered heads of the couching deer. But with ferns, as with most other 
 foliage, the interest felt in them by the painter increases in their dying 
 moments, for they then assume every shade of ochre, sienna, and even lake, 
 which tints, in winter, fade, to a deep brown. Fern-cutting is, during the 
 summer time, quite an occupation, the large fronds being used for various 
 purposes, as litter for horses, for instance, while the pigsty is not only thatched 
 with fern, but it forms a part of that most omnivorous animal's food. A fern- 
 cutter, stooping over his or her work, is often, in the proper season, a suitable 
 and picturesque figure to introduce into woodland scenes. Mr. Newman, in 
 bis work on ferns, thus describes the Braken and its favourite habitats: — 
 
THE HKATH, OK COMMON. 
 
 J J 1 
 
 " It is the most abundant of our British ferns, there being scarcely a heath, 
 common, wood, or forest, in which it does not make its appearance. Its 
 presence in great abundance is said to indicate poverty in the soil ; but, from 
 its luxuriance when growing in the vegetable mould of woods, and in highly- 
 manured gardens, I am inclined to suppose that its usual absence from rich 
 cultivated land is rather to be attributed to the effects of the plough and the 
 hoc tban to any quality of the soil. It appears one of those truly wild plants 
 which fly from man, and take refuge in wastes and wildernesses. In size it is 
 extremely variable, being sometimes scarcely a foot in height, while at others 
 it reaches an altitude of ten, and even twelve feet, Although it occurs on 
 every other description of soil, it avoids chalk, and scarcely a plant can be 
 detected on the South Downs of Sussex. In dry gravel it is usually present, 
 but of small size ; while in thick shady woods, having a moist and rich soil, 
 it attains an enormous size, and may often be seen climbing up, as it were, 
 among the lower branches and underwood, resting its delicate pinnules on the 
 little twigs, and hanging gracefully over them ; under these circumstances it 
 is a fern of exquisite beauty. The young fronds make their appearance in 
 May. They are extremely susceptible of cold, and it is by no means unusual 
 to see the earlier fronds, before their expansion, entirely destroyed by the late 
 frosts of spring. They are killed by the first frosts of autumn, however slight 
 they may be, and instantly turn to a deep brown colour, but remain perfectly 
 undecayed, and frequently in an erect position during the whole winter." 
 
 The Hard Fern {Blechnum .sjiirun/) is almost as universally distributed 
 throughout Great Britain. It is fond of moisture, and prefers clayey and 
 gravelly soil ; on chalk it is rarely met with. Mr. Newman says he does not 
 remember having seen a specimen from the chalk hills of Kent, Sussex, or 
 Surrey. It differs from the braken by remaining persistent through the 
 winter, when its bright glossy green leaves look very beautiful. 
 
 The Male Fern {Aspidum Filix-mas) is a large handsome plant, frequently 
 found in lane-hedges, where its fronds, before they uncurl, resemble shepherds' 
 crooks, and when fully developed, form a fine group of leaves rising from a 
 common centre, making a graceful natural vase. In drawing ferns, the 
 principal spine of the fronds should first be sketched, and then subdivisions 
 added in a series of short strokes. 
 
 Lower down on the bank glows the common Cuckoo Pint, or, as it is often 
 
142 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 called by children - Lords and Ladies " (Arum maculatum). The broad bright 
 green leaves of this plant are general 1)' sprinkled with dark purple irregular 
 spots, though their presence seems to depend upon the nature of the soil, as 
 they are frequently met with green. The flower-stalk becomes in autumn 
 very conspicuous, being a thick spike of scarlet berries, remaining long after 
 the leaves have decayed away. 
 
 The pretty little plant the Herb Robert (Geranium. Robertianum) flowers 
 all through the summer, and often enlivens our hedges with its pink blossoms 
 and bright red and green leaves, when they would otherwise be devoid of 
 colour. " Every one knows it, and most of us have bound it in the nosegay 
 gathered in childhood from woods, and thickets, and green lanes, and meadow 
 hedgerows. It conies with the brilliant blue germander speedwell, to tell of 
 the approach of summer ; and before a flower has yet expanded on the bank, 
 we may see its beautifully cut leaves gleaming in the sun. When winter is 
 approaching, and flowers are gone, and main' green leaves are turned brown, 
 this foliage is often among the few bright things that are left, and, touched 
 with a rich glow of crimson, it seems not to need the addition of blossoms to 
 render it attractive. We have in September seen masses of it covering large 
 heaps of stones with its steins and leaves, and thought, as the robin sat sweetly 
 singing near it his prelude to the winter, that the hue of bird and leaf 
 accorded well with each other." 
 
Section VI.— MEADOW GBASSES AND FLOWERS. 
 
 VARIETIES (IF GRASS IN' DIFFERENT SITUATIONS — FORM OF .SURFACE COVERED PRESERVED — 
 CHARACTER AND THE IDEA OF QUANTITY WITHOUT MANNERISM— RUSKIN ON GRASS — CHANGE 
 OF COLOUR IX SUMMER, ALSO DIVERSIFIED BY FLOWERS— DISTINCTIONS IN COLOURING OF 
 YOUNG CORN AND GRASS. 
 
 Before the young artist becomes ambitious, and while he still feels the full 
 difficulty of imitating the least portion of Nature, 1 le will do well to examine, 
 study, and sketch the simple grass at his feet. At this period he has abundant 
 opportunities of making thorough and practical researches into this portion 
 of the foreground ; and lie will find that an intimate acquaintance with what 
 is close at hand will assist, rather than prevent, him afterwards from glancing 
 
144 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 hastily over to the distant mountains, or soaring into the regions of the ever- 
 changing clouds. The eye that has learned to mark, and the hand to trace 
 " the sunshine which gilds the emerald blade," will by this invigorating 
 exercise, be better able to portray the expanded sunbeam as it falls on the 
 distant hills ; and a previous study of the varied hues of the waving grass 
 will give a greater power of appreciating the minute difference in the outline 
 of the snow-capped mountain or distant group of trees. 
 
 An early and perfect acquaintance with so common a production, begets a 
 degree of modesty in walking with Nature, by proving the insufficiency of 
 our vaunted Art to deal with even the humblest of the great Creator's works, 
 and prevents the young artist from becoming satisfied with a certain easy 
 mannered style of indication. He should study first the different grasses 
 with their wavy bloom, separately, as they bend beneath his feet ; then as 
 they grow in countless multitudes, thickening into one green, extended mass. 
 He will find that there is as much to be remarked in colour, as in form, for 
 though we say with the world that " grass is green," and there may be no 
 secondary colour more marked in its character than this, yet the most 
 positive green is instantly changed by the still more powerful predominating 
 rays of light, and it may be turned in a moment into crimson, tawny, or even 
 "genial gold." The British landscape painter especially, ought to be well 
 acquainted with that which, although found in every European country, so 
 pre-eminently distinguishes his native isles ; and as there is no other plant 
 or herb so generally diffused throughout his country as grass, he is frequently 
 required to give some definite instruction respecting it, to show with some 
 degree of understanding, what the hasty, apparently often thoughtless touches 
 intended to represent grass, do really mean. 
 
 Grass is, indeed, far too often carelessly drawn or caricatured by a con- 
 tinued repetition of clumps of three or four strokes radiating from one root, 
 and where it is intended to be abundant, these are scattered at random over 
 the foreground of the drawing. Now, if there were nothing but blades of 
 grass growing in tufts without blossoms, and these were all kept uniform, as 
 in a newly-mown lawn or hay meadow, this style of drawing might be better 
 understood; but grasses have so much character in themselves, and are found 
 in such different situations, that more careful observation and drawing is 
 required to make a faithful landscape-painter. Grass covers the fields, it is 
 
PLATE VI. 
 
 iBswsia ip&jict-ot hh sEipxa, otto ANW ^mmm, 
 
MEADOW (JK ASSES AND FLOWERS. 
 
 145 
 
 true, and in spring it may be difficult to distinguish any difference in the 
 form of one species from another ; but some kinds are peculiar to the 
 mountain, others to the woodland, some to the sandy sea-shore, whilst many 
 descriptions fringe our blue streams, or even grow in the water. When each 
 of these different species is perfected by blossom and seed, and when we can 
 see each plant separately, we are then better able to perceive the distinctive 
 character of each. One of the principal points about grass is, that it clothes 
 the surface of the earth without altogether lading its form. The method of 
 drawing the multitudinous shapes of leaves by arranging the larger lines first, 
 must be here adopted. Thus the surface of the ground upon which it grows 
 should first be indicated, the various little hillocks correctly outlined, and those 
 lines selected, which, by leading the eve into the picture, help the perspective. 
 
 On this outline, which is always general and faint, and disappears when 
 the study is finished, the blades should be drawn, and those which are relieved 
 by the masses beyond, whether by being lighter or darker, should be noticed. 
 In fact it is only at these points that it is necessary to mark their shape at 
 all. They are in general found to bo straight or slightly curved blades, 
 pointing in different directions, some being more distinctly marked than 
 others; to effect this, the strokes must be made firmer, until they are allowed 
 to die away into the undefined portion. 
 
 To explain this more fully, we will suppose a tint laid on with a brush, 
 leaving in light the tuft of blades, or vice versa ; these tints, if executed with 
 variations, will indicate the blades sufficiently for spring, but for the more 
 advanced seasons, when the variously formed blossoms become conspicuous, 
 it will be better to select a complete and isolated plant, either painting it out 
 light from a mass of blades, or representing it altogether darker. In all 
 studies of Nature that contain multitudinous parts, like leaves of trees, 
 grass, &o. there must be a method or system adopted, and one which shall 
 best express the character, while it gives without peculiarity of manner an 
 idea suggestive of innumerable quantity. 
 
 But when by study and practice the student becomes thoroughly acquainted . 
 with the forms, he may venture to give a little licence to his brush, and with 
 some touches conveying a predominating light, like the rays of the rich 
 evening sun, often given by Turner with a dusky roll of yellow ochre, he 
 may break up with ease, any monotony either of light, shade, or colour. 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 To fire his mind with poetic feeling, let him see with what a charm Ruskin 
 has invested the modest grass : — " Consider what we owe merelv to the 
 Meadow-grass, to the covering of the dark ground by that glorious enamel 
 by the companies of those soft, and countless, and peaceful spears. The 
 fields ! Follow but forth for a little time the thoughts of all Ave ought to 
 recognise in those words. All spring and summer is in them, — the walks by 
 silent scented paths, the rests in noonday heat, the joy of herds and Hocks, 
 the power of all shepherd life and meditation ; the life of sunlight upon the 
 world, falling in emerald streaks, and failing in soft blue shadows, where else 
 it would have struck upon the dark mould or scorching dust ; pastures beside 
 the pacing brooks, soft banks and knolls of lowly hills ; thymy slopes of down 
 overlooked by the blue line of lifted sea ; crisp lawns all dim with early dew, 
 or smooth in evening warmth of barred sunshine dinted by happy feet, and 
 softening in their fall the sound of loving voices." 
 
 Some grasses are more suited for single delineation than others. Among 
 the most distinguishable are Wall Barley, the spikes of which are covered 
 with long bristles ; the Fox or Cat's-tail grass, a green, hard, round spike, 
 somewhat like a small bulrush, common in meadows, and the Vernal grass 
 with its light downy flower. The most common grass is a diminutive species 
 called the Annual Meadow-grass, which is to be met with everywhere, "for 
 on every waste spot where a wild weed may spring, on the bank, by the 
 roadside, among the mosses and stonecrops of the old wall, coming up in 
 little clumps between the crevices of the city pavement, where the foot of the 
 passenger is not so frequent as to eradicate all vegetation, we tread on it daily, 
 in summer and winter." This and the smooth-stalked Meadow-grass are very 
 common in fields and pastures, and are useful for grass plats in towns, where 
 the smoke and confined air are so unfavourable to vegetation, that no grass 
 save these will grow. The alteration of form, as the plants approach maturity, 
 indicating the advance of summer, is far greater than one might have 
 expected in the earlier stages of their growth, and is accompanied by a 
 striking change in the colour of the mass, some species assuming quite a 
 different hue to others. 
 
 Thus the Scented Vernal Grass, with a compact head of blossoms, becomes 
 of such a yellow tint as it ripens, that it has suggested a botanical name 
 indicative of the circumstance ; and if the fields are painted at this period 
 
MEADOW GRASSES AND FLOWERS. 
 
 147 
 
 with water-colours, it will be better not to begin with general washes of vivid 
 spring-like green, but with some moderately-broken tints, made with yellow 
 ochre, or raw sienna and blue, warmed with lake, and here and there light 
 portions left, to be afterwards tinted down with a still richer yellow ; for on 
 glancing over the extended surface of a field ready for the mowers, whole 
 patches may be noticed where the blossoms congregate so thickly that the 
 green blades can no longer be discovered. At this season of the year the 
 panicles of flowers belonging to other species of grass vary from a light 
 delicate green to every shade of purple ; and besides these differences in 
 actual colour, what innumerable lights, shades, and delicate tones are 
 produced by shadows, the effect of the least breath of wind as it passes 
 over the bending and graceful forms ! Should the motion be great enough 
 to show the green leaves, or more glazed stalk, instead of the flowers, then 
 cooler tints will lie necessary to represent both the natural colour and the 
 reflection of the blue sky. In these pre-raphaelite studies, the zealous student 
 has yet another assistant to relieve him from the monotony of green blades 
 of grass in the kindly hand of a prudent farmer, who always mingles several 
 species of grass in his fields, and often adds the fragrant Clover, with its rich 
 white and purple blossoms. In addition to these, there are stray plants 
 scattered about the meadows plentiful enough to affect the colour of the whole 
 when seen in masses. Foremost amongst these stands the Buttercup, giving 
 a golden hue to whole meadows ; and the Sorrel, which, with its deep-red and 
 madder tones, is far more welcome to the artist than the former. It may 
 be well to point out the following artistic distinction between grass and 
 young corn. 
 
 Grass, when looked at close at hand, is brilliantly green, but when 
 observed in the distance, in consequence of the surface being but little below 
 the sight, the flowers and seed strike the eye more than the leaves, and tints 
 are presented varying from faded green to russet brown, diversified also by 
 the colour of many of the taller field flowers. Corn, on the contrary, if 
 examined with attention, appears less green near at hand, because of the 
 effect of the reflection of the cool sky tones on the broad blades ; whereas, 
 in the distance, it presents a vivid green, generally bluer in tone than grass, 
 because little else than the leaves themselves are seen. As corn is now 
 generally sown in drills, the appearance of parallel lines is evident, and causes 
 " L 2 
 
1 48 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 it to present a very different aspect from the thick sward of the meadow. 
 When fields of corn are thrown into ridge and furrow, the summit of the 
 ridge will he generally the greenest and most luxuriant in colour, and in wet 
 seasons the yellow tone of the com in the hollows or furrows is still more to 
 be remarked. This yellowish colour is particularly disliked by the farmer, 
 who would far rather his wheat had a blueddack shade. 
 
 It may be added, that all vegetation comes sooner to its natural colour by 
 the influence of light and warmth, so that some difference in the tone of grass 
 when under the shade of trees should be made apparent. It must, however, 
 be confessed, that it is the scythe that renders the artist the most effective 
 service in the grass-lands, and it is during the hay-harvest that he finds the 
 fullest exercise for his pencil. It is then the colour most decidedly changes, 
 each day bringing its own variation, while busy groups of figures with various 
 implements, carts and waggons with their teams, and the incidents that occur, 
 afford both figure and landscape-painter the greatest employment. 
 
 In sketching hay-fields, we should notice that the mowers like the grass 
 to lean from them, as it is more easily cut, and also to have the light behind 
 them. The body of the mower is much bent, and the handle of the scythe 
 is crooked. The grass is generally left in long narrow rows ; the day following 
 it is usually arranged in small heaps ; and the next day, if fine, it is collected 
 into haycocks, the delight of children and rustic lads and lasses, by whom 
 many an artistic attitude is assumed, or group unconsciously formed. 
 
 Grass rapidly loses its vivid green by drying ; the colour changes least 
 
 when it ha? been dried more by the influence of the wind than sun ; it then 
 
 becomes a dull gray or russet green, made by the more modest yellows, or 
 
 with addition of reds or lakes. The prevailing colour of the hay-field is 
 
 alluded to by Thomson — ■ 
 
 " As tliey rake the green appearm;; mound, 
 Ana drive the dusky wave along the mead, 
 The russet hay-enek rises thirk behind, 
 In order gay." 
 
 Cox has often proved how charmingly a hay-field on a windy day may 
 be depicted. It is indeed a pleasant sight and subject for the artist when 
 the well-laden waggon, crowned by a group of merry urchins, appears through 
 some opening in the lane, rustling among the over-arching boughs, and leaving 
 traces of its progress on the foliage. 
 
150 
 
 DRAWING FKlM NATURE. 
 
 Section VII.— CORX-FIELDS. 
 
 BEAUTY OF HARVEST — DISTINGUISHING FEATURES OF WHEAT, BARLEY, RYE, ETC.— CORNCOCKLE, 
 SCABIOUS, BLUEBOTTLE, POPPY, AND OTHER FLOWERS— HARVEST GROUPS. 
 
 The harvest is a matter of such deep importance to the welfare of the 
 country in general, that no one could fail to feel an interest in it, were the 
 scene the most unpicturesque in the world. This is far from being the 
 case ; before the harvest, many a beautiful combination of colour greets the 
 eye, while during that season, the interest lies chiefly in the incidents to 
 which the reaping and carrying of the grain give rise. When young and 
 green, very little difference can be discerned between wheat, barley, rye, or 
 oats, all being, if thriving, of a deep cool green ; but as they approach 
 maturity, the species are easily distinguished. Eye grows the highest, in 
 verification of the old saying, " good rye grows high," and wheat next ; indeed, 
 from the straw of wheat being stronger, and therefore bending less beneath 
 the ripening ear, there is not so much difference between the two as their 
 actual height would lead us to expect. 
 
 The ears of wdieat when ripe become richer and browner than the straw, 
 anrl bend slightly downwards. When a breeze passes over the field, this 
 inclination is increased, more being seen of the stalk ; the colour of the whole 
 is then not so brown, and as the corn is waved in portions by gusts of wind, 
 it gives a varied appearance to the field. Where corn is sheltered from the 
 sun by trees or houses it remains green longer, and these patches continue fur 
 a time quite distinct from the brown parts. 
 
 Barley and oats are generally cut before wheat. Oats are very difficult to 
 represent well ; the grains being separate and hanging loosely, do not admit 
 of much definition. Barley is much shorter in the straw ; the ear, when 
 quite ripe, hangs considerably, and the awns cause and require a lengthened 
 appearance in the touch which represents them. The colour of Oats is the 
 palest, and Wheat the deepest brown. 
 
 The flowers and weeds generally found among corn, though a serious 
 annoyance to the farmer, contribute greatly to the variety of colour. 
 
CORN-FIELDS. 
 
 151 
 
 The Corncockle (Agrostemma githago), a fine flower of a reddish purple 
 hue, grows about two feet high, and flowers in June and July ; the whole 
 plant is covered with erect silky hairs. The Scabious (Scdbiosa Arvensis) is 
 another beautiful plant, growing about three feet high, with a close head of a 
 bluish lilac colour. The Corn Blue Bottle {Gentaurea Cyanus) is the most 
 elegant of the native species of Centaurea, and the brilliant blue of its petals 
 forms an excellent contrast with the vivid scarlet of the poppy. No arti- 
 ficial colour can imitate the brilliancy of the blue of the outer florets of the 
 Cyanus. The colour is easily obtained by expression, and would be valuable 
 to the flower painter were it permanent, but it is not so by any ordinary mode 
 of preparation. Tyas tells us that, according to ancient fable, this plant is 
 called Cyanus after a youth of that name, whose attachment to corn-flowers 
 was so great, that he employed his time chiefly in making garlands of them, 
 seldom leaving the fields as long as his favourite flower was to be found, and 
 always dressing himself in the fine blue colour he so much admired. At last 
 he was found dead in a corn-held, half buried amid a quantity of the heavenly 
 tinted flowers he had gathered. This plant has various names in different parts 
 of the country ; in Scotland it is called Blue Bonnet, and in Kent Bluecap. 
 
 " Poppies, which bind fast escaping sleep," 
 
 though the most troublesome and difficult to eradicate of all the weeds of the 
 corn-field, are often useful to the artist, enabling him to repeat some strong 
 colour in the dress of a figure, and thus preventing it from being isolated or 
 unconnected with other hues and tints. 
 
 The harvest-held is even more productive of picturesque groups than the 
 hay-field, the colouring being warmer and more varied, the corn, in shocks and 
 sheaves, possessing a more distinct form than the hay, while rustic figures 
 in their different attitudes, with the younger portion seated, either among the 
 corn or keeping watch over the heap of many-coloured garments under the 
 shade of a tree, add much to the richness of the picture. 
 
 The gleaners, too, are a rich treat for an artist ; old women bent with age, 
 little children scarcely able to walk, yet helping their mothers, and graceful 
 young girls bearing upon their heads sheaves of drooping ears. 
 
 Then there is the Harvest-home, the wain with its golden burden, on which 
 a number of noisy, merry children have clambered, surrounded and followed 
 
152 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 by troops of reapers, all in eager expectation of the coming Harvest-home 
 and its accompanying fun and jollity. 
 
 In England it often happens when the harvest is early and the grain cut 
 before the murderous first of September, that the partridge and pheasant 
 congregate among the groups of sheaves, to feast on the ripe grain in fearless 
 security, all unconscious of their coming doom. 
 
 To assist the student in giving character to each species of corn, a few ears 
 have been carefully drawn from Nature, and are grouped at the heading of this 
 section, with several of the most striking weeds of the cornfield. But to finish 
 appropriately the harvest scenes we should follow the welcome sheaves to the 
 old-fashioned barn where the corn lies secure from wind and rain, but where 
 other enemies still pursue it ; such as rats, mice, &c. The barn door appears 
 to have been for ages the gibbeting place for all enemies of the farmer and 
 sportsman, and while the upper portion is devoted to the most charming 
 pictures of life and security, serves to show the penalty that must be paid 
 by all marauders. 
 
Section VIII. 
 
 " The current, thai with gentle murmur yli.l. s. 
 Thou know'st, being stopp d, impatiently duth rage ; 
 But when hid lun course is not hindered 
 
 With willing spurt to the wild ocean." 
 
 " The Twu Gen tlemen ok Verona." 
 
 THE AVON AND DR. ARNOLD — WARWICK CASTLE — THAMES FRUITFUL IN* WATER PLANTS — - 
 J. W. THORNE — RUSKIN — MOUNTAIN STREAMS — FLOWERING RUSH, WATER PLANTAIN, AND 
 WATER ARROWHEAD— WILLOW HERB — IRIS— MEADOW SWEET — WATER LILY — COMFREY, ETC. — 
 WATER DOCK — BUR REED — HART'S TONGUE — EVEKSHED's MILL POND— RUSHES— COMMON REED. 
 
 It is in and on the borders of such streams as the one so beautifully described 
 by our great poet, that the artist finds the greatest variety of foreground 
 studies of plants, for it is of plants that we are thinking at present, rather 
 than of the more impetuous, or grand and majestic rivers of our isle. Shake- 
 speare must surely have intended picturing his native river when he wrote the 
 above, for just such a stream is the Avon. Even before reaching Stratford, as 
 it wanders through the meadows round Rugby, an interest is attached to this 
 river ; but this is chiefly due to our own Arnold rather than to its picturesque 
 
154 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 beauty ; for it was across these banks that he leapt with his boys, and watched 
 their house-leapings, their steeple-chases, swimming matches and other manly 
 exercises. The stream is still small, and the country, Arnold calls " unsur- 
 passingly dull." 
 
 But it is fortunate for artists and students of Nature that they can find 
 interest and amusement in things where others find none. The plants that 
 adorn the smallest river's bank, the reflections of skies, clouds and trees in the 
 calm surface, broken only by the ripple with its delicate curves ami the foam- 
 bell as it floats onward ; these, with an old water-mill, a sluice-gate, or wooden 
 bridge, furnish many studies for the pencil ; but further on, the Avon joined 
 by the Leam, passes through a country presenting a fair type of English 
 scenery, picturesque, but not grand. It winds through Stoneleigh Park with 
 its noble trees, and on its banks there are magnificent specimens of ancient 
 oaks, under the broad shadows of which herds of deer lie quietly among the 
 fern. Fit scene for the artist in which to place the " melancholy Jaques, for 
 
 " As he lay along 
 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the hrook that brawls along this wood ; 
 To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, 
 That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, 
 Did come, to languish." 
 
 Or if he prefers an easier subject, a charming one is close at hand in Old 
 Stare Bridge, with our stream passing between its gray, timeworn buttresses, 
 overhung by bushes and a lovely ash, with the shy, but brilliant kingfisher 
 glancing through its pendant branches, or Guy's Cliff with its pretty mill, 
 and last but not least, stately Warwick, with its noble towers reflected in the 
 broader expanse. 
 
 Then, as we saunter along on the soft turf by the river's margin, the eye is 
 greeted by a succession of cheerful landscapes. The stream meanders with a 
 soothing murmur through fertile pastures, between banks which at one 
 moment slope so gently into its waters that the ripple from the faintest breeze 
 washes over the daisies that bedeck them, and the next start up steep and 
 broken, crowned with an old willow whose rugged roots bared by the winter's 
 floods, are now entwined by pink convolvulus and wild ivy, all forming a 
 picture charmingly reflected in the dark mirror below. On either hand are 
 broad open lawns and sunny slopes, running into bosky hillocks, a farm-house 
 
THE STREAM AND ITS BORDERS 
 
 155 
 
 or two half concealed among lofty trees and the gray tower of the village 
 church, with a few irregular root-tops about it, and a dark mass of foliage 
 beyond; these are features of the scene grouped differently at every bend of 
 our playful stream, and with the blue sky and fleecy clouds above, they make 
 many a picture that it does the heart good to look upon. 
 
 The Thames, however, may fairly vie with the Avon for the quiet beauty 
 of its banks and the abundant studies of water-plants that it affords. It is 
 scarcely possible to name the numerous rustic nooks, well known however to 
 artists, where sweet placid river-scenes may be studied. I have selected for 
 my heading a sketch from Caversham Bridge, as conveying an idea of this 
 beautiful stream with its sedgy " banks, pollard willows, and picturescpue eel 
 traps," but there are many other subjects to be found in strolling up its banks ; 
 the magnificent old Manor House at Maple Durham with its bays and oriels, 
 or the humble and truly picturesque water-mill, thought by many to be the 
 best mill on the Thames. A weir close by is also excellent. 
 
 For a landscape-painter who wishes to study from Nature without inter- 
 ruption, and to escape for a few days from the smoky atmosphere of London, 
 Pangbourne or Streatly are admirable ; and we have the authority of a 
 writer,* who is also quite an artist in feeling, for saying that here he may, 
 with little trouble and at small expense, bring his colours and canvas, and 
 then in some of those delicious spots already spoken of, fix his easel in the 
 open air, and without darkened windows or reflected lights, or any other 
 atelier contrivances, and forgetting atelier conventionalisms, try to represent 
 what he sees just as he sees it — aiming only to distinguish what is essential 
 and characteristic, giving himself up unrestrainedly to the teaching of Nature, 
 whom he will find to be a far better guide than any connoisseur or picture- 
 dealer. The young painter who will do this — who will come and dwell here 
 for awhile, watching in the early dawn the changing effects of the breaking mists, 
 the deep thick shadows, and the pearly sparkling dew ; the brightness and 
 glitter of the noon-tide as he looks out over the river from the shelter of the 
 rich groves ; the mellow radiance which the setting sun flings over trees and 
 river, and cloudless sky ; and as " the risin' moon begins to glowr," trace the 
 power of chiaroscuro, of those marvellous combinations of light and shadow 
 which genius has sometimes been able to fix on the canvas, but which Nature 
 
 * G. W. Thorne. 
 
15G 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 is ever lavishing with unsparing 
 hand before him who is abroad to 
 see : — he who will do this, will find 
 that the bounty of Nature is not yet 
 exhausted; that even in such un- 
 romantic spots as these, there are to 
 be found passages of river-scenery 
 still unappropriated by any of our 
 admirable landscape-painters, and 
 unnoticed by the great painters of 
 old. And he will find also plenty 
 of employment for his sketch-book 
 in figures. We cannot resist quoting 
 from another well-known lover of 
 Nature and art, a poetical descrip- 
 tion of a stream and the plants 
 upon its borders. " Patiently," says 
 Euskin, " eddy by eddy, the clear 
 green streams wind along their well- 
 known beds, and under the dark 
 quietness of the undisturbed pines 
 there spring up, year by year, such 
 company of joyful flowers as I 
 know not the like of among all the 
 
THE STREAM AND ITS BORDERS. 
 
 157 
 
 blessings o r the earth. It was spring time, too, and all were coming forth in 
 clusters crowded for very love; there was room enough for all, but they crushed 
 their leaves into all manner of strange shapes only to be nearer eacli other. 
 There was the wood anemone, star after star closing every now and then into 
 nebulae ; and there was the oxalis, troop by troop, like virginal processions 
 of the Mois de Marie, the dark vertical clefts in the limestone choked up with 
 them as with heavy snow, and touched with ivy on the edges — ivy as light 
 and lovely as the vine ; and ever and anon a blue gush of violets and cowslip 
 bells in sunny places, and in the more open ground the vetch, and comfrey, 
 and mezereon, and the small sapphire buds of the Polygala Alpina, and the 
 wild strawberry, just a blossom or two, all showered amidst the golden 
 softness of deep, warm amber-coloured moss. I came out presently on the 
 edge of the ravine ; the solemn murmur of its waters rose suddenly from 
 beneath, mixed with the singing of the thrushes among the pine boughs ; and 
 on the opposite side of the valley, walled all along as it was by gray cliffs of 
 limestone, there was a hawk sailing slowly off their brow, touching them 
 nearly with his wings, and with the shadow of the pines flickering upon his 
 plumage from above ; but with a fall of a, hundred fathoms under his breast, 
 and the curling pools of the green river gliding and glittering dizzily beneath 
 him, their foam globes moving with him as he flew." 
 
 It is on the borders of such streams as those first mentioned, that the 
 various water-plants, which should form part of the study of every truth- 
 seeking landscape-artist, are generally found. The woodcut, page 156, 
 represents three of these, the Flowering Push (Butomus umbellatus), the Water 
 Plantain (Alisma plantago), and Water Arrowhead (Sagittaria sagittifolia). 
 The Flowering Rush, often called the Water Gladiole, is a lovely plant with 
 narrow sword-shaped leaves, very sharp at the edges, and a fiite cluster of 
 rose-tinted flowers at the summit of its stem. It is sometimes called the 
 Pride of the Thames, and when it grows in the neighbourhood of the water 
 iris and white water-lily, a combination of colour and elegance is formed not 
 easily surpassed. The Water Plantain is much more general, rearing its 
 branches in almost every stream. The leaves are pointed, the flowers pink 
 on a branched stem. The Water Arrowhead is a beautiful and common 
 plant, its white flowers forming a lovely contrast with the rich green of 
 its leaves, which are elegant in form, exactly resembling the head of an 
 
158 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 arrow. It sometimes grows two or three feet out of the water, but generally 
 the leaves lie in large masses on the surface of the stream. It flowers in July 
 and August, 
 
 While pointing out to the student of Nature some of the simple studies 
 that may be found along the banks of the Thames, Avon, and such placid 
 streams, we must not forget to mention that there are endless subjects of a 
 
 ing, or picturesque weirs and salmon-traps, or, 
 by the side of quieter rivers, an ancient gothic ruin of surpassing beauty and 
 interest, such as Tintern on the Wye, or Bolton Abbey in Yorkshire ; but these 
 must all be left to more advanced students, our chief object at present being 
 to guide the young artist in his earlier attempts. 
 
 To return to our more tranquil streams : the Great Hairy Willow-herb 
 (Fpilobium Hrsutum) is a plant bearing large upright spikes of rose or 
 madder-coloured nWers, succeeded by long split seed-vessels. Our streams, 
 beautiful as they ever are with their rich verdure and many flowers, receive 
 an additional ornament when, during July and August, this Willow-herb 
 grows there in profusion. Most of the rills which trickle among our green 
 meadows, and the streams and rivers which wind their silvery way, as well 
 
THE STREAM AND ITS BORDERS. 
 
 150 
 
 as the stagnant ditches, can then boast this ornament in more or less abun- 
 dance. Often the purple blossom waving at a distance on a hot summer's 
 day, invites the wanderer to some cool sequestered spot. The stems of 
 this Willow-herb are much branched, so that the plant has somewhat the 
 appearance of a shrub. The leaves, like most downy foliage, are of a grayish- 
 green tint, and the large blossoms are reddish-purple. 
 
 The Water Iris (Iris pseudacorus) is common in the south of England on 
 the banks of the stream, and in marshy laud, and the beauty of such scenes 
 
 is greatly enhanced 
 during the months 
 of July and August, 
 by its large bright 
 purple or yellow 
 flowers. The leaves 
 are sword-shaped. 
 
 The Meadow- 
 sweet {Spiraea ulma- 
 ria), or la rcinc des 
 pres as it is called 
 in France, is one of 
 our loveliest wild 
 flowers, and at the 
 same time a most 
 effective foreground 
 plant. The stem is upright and red-tinted, with 
 handsome jagged leaves, and crowned with a 
 thick head of creamy, or as William Howitt 
 poetically expresses it, "foam-like flowers," which 
 cluster so close together, that they permit the 
 artist to give the general colour with truth, and 
 harmonize admirably with the warm Cuyp-like 
 sunsets sometimes seen over our English meadows. 
 Their colours recall the delicate and varied yellows which then surround the 
 sun, while the associations connected with this plant are invariably suggestive 
 of calmness and repose. Crowded though the flowers are, they are yet so 
 
160 
 
 I) HAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 light and feathery that the slightest wind ruffles them, and while it wafts 
 their perfume, bids them nod and bow gracefully before it. 
 
 " The almond-scented Meadow-sweet, whose plumes 
 Of powerful odour incense all the air." 
 
 The odour here alluded to is very overpowering, too much so for a room, 
 though in the open air it is a delicious combination of hay and hawthorn. 
 It flowers in June and July, and may therefore be appropriately introduced 
 by the margin of a stream in hay-making scenes. 
 
 If the meadow-sweet be the queen of the meadows, surely the White 
 Water-lily (Nymphwa Alba) is the empress (if the waters ; there is something 
 so truly imperial in the beauty of its sculpture-like blossoms and broad dark 
 green leaves, like the " pallettes of fairy painters." It delights in still waters 
 
 and in the shade of foliage, and it certainly is far more effective when 
 clustered in groups in such nooks, relieved by the shadows and its glossy 
 leaves, than if it were scattered indiscriminately over the general surface of 
 
THK STREAM AND ITS BORDERS. 
 
 161 
 
 the water. It is very abundant in the streams near Oxford, and on the Ouse 
 the spot is still pointed out where intelligent Beau performed the friendly feat, 
 afterwards immortalized in verse by his grateful master, Cowper. The Highland 
 lakes, too, abound in Water-lilies, especially Loch Lomond, where, according 
 to Professor Hooker, acres are covered with its waxen flowers. These, it is 
 said, " retire below the surface of the stream soon after noon, and remain there 
 during the night, rising again upon the waters early in the morning. Those 
 who have been accustomed to ramble by moonlight near streams decked with 
 these alabaster vases, know that this is not strictly correct, as many of them 
 lie folded above the water ; it is possible, however, that some may sink, and it 
 is quite certain they close after the sun has lost its power." Many poets 
 have sung the praises of this flower ; the following lines are by Mrs. 
 Hemans : — 
 
 " How beautiful thou art, 
 Thou sculpture-like and stately river-queen, 
 Crowning the depths, as with the light, serene 
 01' a pure heart. 
 
 " Bright Lily of the wave! 
 Rising in tearless grace with every swell, 
 Thou seem'st as if a spirit meekly brave 
 Dwelt in thy cell." 
 
 The Yellow Water-lily {Ni/mphcca lutca) is neither so laTge nor so beautiful 
 as the last, but is yet a fine flower, contrasting well with the white species 
 when they grow together, as they frequently do. The blossom of the Yellow 
 Lily sometimes rises higher than the white. The Brent is an excellent little 
 stream for the study of this and other water plants, which are there exceed- 
 ingly abundant, especially between Hanwell and Greenford. 
 
 The Comfrey {Symphytum officinale), a large plant common in watery 
 places and ditches, is well suited for foregrounds. The flowers are yellowish 
 white or purple in colour, and hang in two separate bunches. The leaves are 
 rough and wrinkled, growing down the stem and waved at the edges ; tho?c 
 only from the root have stalks. It flowers all through the summer, and grows 
 as high as three feet. The Brooklime {Veronica, Beccabimga), a littb plant 
 growing along with water-cresses and other inhabitants of running streams, 
 blossoms in June and July, when its pretty blue star-like flowers become 
 conspicuous. The Water Figwort {Scrophularia. aquatica) is another river 
 plant which blossoms in July and August ; the stem is square, bearing ovai 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 leaves that grow opposite each other; the flowers, too, spring from little 
 opposite separate branches. The Water Hemlock (Circuta virosa) rises high 
 above its neighbours ; its masses of blossom have a greenish-white tone, 
 which appears cold when contrasted with the warm lemon-white of the 
 meadow-sweet. The Great Water-dock {Rumex hydrolapathum) is as orna- 
 mental to the stream as the burdock is to the roadside, being a large handsome 
 plant, though very different in appearance to the burdock. The leaves re- 
 semble those of the horse-radish, and it bears a spike of flowers unmixed 
 with leaves. The Branched Bur-reed (Sparganium ramosum), though not of 
 sufficient importance to merit much attention, is useful in varying the fore- 
 ground. The stem is round and much divided, the rootdeaves very long, 
 sword-shaped, and rather hollow. The flowers are collected in several distinct 
 round heads, and appear in July. Height from a foot to a foot and a half. 
 The Hart's-tongue (Scolojicndrium vulgare) is a remarkable looking fern, and 
 loves the margin of streams or the mossy stones by hidden springs, which it 
 adorns with its long leaves. In the moat at Kenilworth Castle it may some- 
 times be gathered two feet long. 
 
 It is not often that we find many of these water-plants in the same spot ; 
 on the banks of a stream especially, first one plant and then another will 
 predominate ; small sheets of water, and ponds of all descriptions, generally 
 possess a greater variety. I remember in one of my rambles through the 
 country, being recommended by the landlady of the rustic inn where I was 
 stopping to take a certain walk which she pronounced a very pretty one, the 
 termination of her rather numerous directions being " by the mill-pond and 
 home through the wood." Of course I was not entirely successful in my 
 endeavours to follow her instructions, but after various detours through woody 
 lanes, I at last came suddenly on a more open spot, where two country roads 
 diverged, leaving a little triangular corner of rough grass, and revealing a 
 placid piece of water fringed with luxuriant rushes and rank water-weeds, the 
 whole inclosed in a noble framework of beech and ash-trees, whose gray and 
 silvery trunks were reflected with wonderful fidelity in the mirror at their 
 feet. While yet gazing on the scene, the click-clack of a bustling little 
 Avater-mill caught my ear, for lying, as it did, nearly hidden from sight 
 beneath the bank, and overhung by an oak and clustering hollies, it had at 
 first escaped my notice. Now, the sound of a water-mill is ever welcome to 
 
THE STREAM AND ITS BORDERS. 
 
 163 
 
 a landscape-artist, fur whether overshot, as this was, or undershot, it is always 
 a pleasing subject for a sketch. Its very position is engaging, nestled, as it 
 is almost certain to he, among trees, and surrounded by divers water-plants, 
 while from behind these starts up some steep bank to furnish a peep of warm 
 colouring. Though modest and unassuming in character, the water-mill, when 
 once discovered, seldom fails to excite interest, and in this instance it was not 
 merely the mill that charmed the eye. Of the various buildings grouped 
 around, each possessed some claim to attention, being either picturesque in 
 itself, or by position, dilapidated state, or peculiar adaptation to circumstance, 
 an additional object of interest in the group. Burrowing into a projecting 
 bank was an old cart-shed gray with age; its roof of thatch, patched with 
 tiles, and green with moss, protected in some degree the tilted cart, grind- 
 stone, and a discarded wheel or two, and was, moreover, the favourite resort 
 of the barndoor-cock. Then there were the sluice-gates and water-course, 
 with its broken and disjointed wall, where gigantic willow-herbs and figworts 
 flourished, while, the gem, or choice bit for the young student, was a rustic 
 bridge over this water-course, with old dilapidated steps of broken mill- 
 stones, that led down to the stream and formed the main entrance to the 
 miller's dwelling. 
 
 Surrounded by all these accessories, it had none of the unapproachable air 
 which belongs to the gaunt roaring windmill, with its vengeful arms warning 
 off all intruders to a respectful distance, and from which all objects must be 
 cleared, leaving it undisputed possessor not only of the earth beneath, but 
 also of the air above, sulkily refusing to move if it has too little wind, and 
 threatening to hurl its arms off if it has too much. No ! my busy favourite 
 speeds merrily on, and if incommoded with a superabundance of water is 
 much more easily relieved. Perhaps I am biassed in my preference for the 
 water-mill by the fact that I am utterly incapable of representing motion in 
 the sails of a windmill, and it is but natural to prefer subjects that one has 
 at least a chance of portraying well. The honour gained by the windmill 
 in having assisted Rembrandt to true ideas of chiaroscuro, in my opinion, 
 hardly compensates for the damage it inflicted on my favourite hero of 
 La Mancha. 
 
 At any rate, this particular mill had charms enough to make me sit down 
 and sketch it, and though unable to seize and depict all the changeful lights 
 
 2 M 
 
DRAWING FROiM NATURE. 
 
 and shades that flitted around it, the setting sun behind me cast on a portion 
 of the scene a rich golden light, heightening the effect of the mellow autumnal 
 tints on the beech-trees, while to the left a heavy rain-cloud in passing 
 scattered a few drops which still dimpled the water, gusts of wind shook the 
 wet boughs of the old oak over my head, supplying me with more moisture 
 than I needed for my drawing. Showers of leaves of every autumnal hue, 
 from the palest lemon yellow to the most brilliant crimson, twirled merrily to 
 the ground and water, seemingly glad to have their glories illumined by the 
 sun's warm rays as they finally sank to rest. Even the dark cloud as it 
 passed away threw a farewell smile on the scene, and glancing back in a 
 radiant fragment of rainbow, as if to say, " You have profited by my gloom 
 and made me serve your purpose, setting off your trees and balancing your 
 light and shade ; now behold me under a new aspect, transfer me to your 
 canvas, and — beware ' you do me justice." 
 
 This, though the first, was not the last visit I paid to the mill. I have 
 since made the acquaintance of the old miller, and held many a conversation 
 with him, as he smoked his pipe on the bench beneath the oak, on subjects 
 the most remote from Art that can be conceived. This bench commands 
 a view across the pond to the mingled mass of reeds and rushes, stunted 
 willows and alders, and thence up a vista of fine beech-trees. It is not 
 entirely the charm of the landscape, however, that attracts the old man to 
 this spot ; for though not wholly insensible to it, there is a deeper interest to 
 him in watching how the water holds on, for the pond is extremely shallow, 
 and should the water run short when a busy time comes on, when housewives 
 want flour and pigs want barley-meal, the fact is revealed by a muddy margin 
 garnished with old pots and pans, broken spade-handles and rotten baskets. 
 As I look at him, I half regret that I have devoted myself so exclusively 
 to landscape painting. What a capital study he would make for Gilbert 
 or Hunt! — his still, jet black, overhanging eyebrows, contrasted with his 
 white hair, his somewhat hooked nose and expressive mouth — these, with 
 his burly figure and appropriate costume, would all tell admirably in their 
 hands. 
 
 AVhile we thus sit deeply engrossed in chat and work, the water-rats treat 
 us as mere stumps or part of the scene, for they nibble away at the water-flags 
 and rushes with the greatest relish and in sou fiance in this their favourite 
 
THE STKEAM AND ITS BOKDEKi 
 
 165 
 
 locality ; nor is this preference theirs exclusively, being shared by myself and 
 other artists for the fine studies of water-plants that it yields. It is rare sport 
 to cross the shoot of waste water by the loose plank, and plunge into the thick 
 bushes that skirt the pond, for there grow profusely the lovely meadow-sweet, 
 water-iris, and stately bulrush ; the two latter, however, stand most tanta- 
 lisingly out of reach in mud and water. Many an hour have I wasted in 
 vainly endeavouring to cut or hook off, with my knife tied to a stick, some 
 (if their flowering or clubbed heads, and at last, in sheer desperation, and 
 justifying the act by the assurance that possession of them was absolutely 
 necessary for the completion of a foreground, I have actually slipped off boots 
 and socks and fairly waded to the capture. A pretty figure one cuts after 
 a raid of this sort over the border for rushes, coots'-hests, or water-lilies ; 
 a pair of close-fitting black boots seem to encase the feet and legs, and a good 
 deal of time is lost in getting rid of the encumbrance. The flowering-rush 
 and water-plantain do not cost so much trouble, as in many places they grow 
 cpiite close by the banks. 
 
 Common Rushes (Juncus Conglomcratm) grow in clumps of round, pithy, 
 smooth steins ; their flowers are in bunches on the sides of these stems, near 
 the top ; and the plants are generally devoid of leaves. The Bulrush {Junius 
 Palustris) can never occur too often for the artist ; its height and rich brown 
 clubbed spikes of flowers make it very conspicuous ; the long narrow leaves 
 all spring directly from the root. It grows as high as six feet, and flowers in 
 August, remaining till late in the year unbroken by the wind. Another 
 graceful plant is the Common Reed (Phragmites Communis), which appears 
 from afar waving its purple clustering feather, and attaining the height of five 
 or six feet. " Patches of immense extent are formed of this plant. In the 
 eastern parts of England, and in many of the lowlands of Huntingdonshire, 
 Cambridgeshire, and Lincolnshire, this reed constitutes the crop of the soil, 
 and is, in its season, carefully harvested, and even exported into the adjoining 
 counties for the various uses to which its culms are applied. An immense 
 number of acquatic birds find a home among these reeds, and sheltered there 
 may sometimes be found the rare bearded titmouse, with many of our more 
 common birds. So much injury is done by birds to this valuable crop, that 
 the farmers of these reedy districts are compelled, during the autumn, to 
 despatch boats, with men carrying firearms, to scatter them away. Knapp, 
 
166 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 who mentions this circumstance, observes, that as ' evening advances, one sees 
 crowds of starlings approaching from every quarter, in numbers that exceed 
 belief, to pass the night on the reeds, upon which, after various arrangements 
 they alight in myriads, bearing down by their weight this flexible plant into 
 the water, and one sees large patches lodged and beaten flat and spoiled ; 
 and though the guns of the boatmen sweep them away by hundreds, the 
 survivors are so drowsy that they remain stationary, or rising, settle again 
 immediately over the bodies of their slaughtered companions, returning 
 evening after evening, not apparently diminished and in oblivion of the 
 carnage of the preceding night." The farmers of these neighbourhoods 
 assured this writer that they commonly destroyed some bushels of these birds 
 in a night. Hid among the reeds, too, the fox lurks for his prey, and darting 
 out from his hiding-place, just when the hapless starlings are roosting, he 
 tramples down the waving grass before him and seizes his victims. The old 
 name of windle-straw, which this grass had, is still retained in some districts, 
 and was given because it bends to the winds. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LECTURES AND MISCELLANEOUS PAPEES. 
 
 Section I.— DRAWING FROM NATURE IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 " I tliink that in the present state of civilization physical science to a very 
 it extent tends to cultivate anil refine all the emotions connected with the love 
 jnler and beauty. — Dr. Temple's Evidence, Public Schools Commission. 
 
 N" considering the subject of teaching Drawing, now generally admitted 
 
 JL to be an important part of education in public schools, the question is 
 not so much what a well-qualified master would wish to do, but rather what 
 he can do in the time allotted to this branch of instruction. 
 
 The course of study will of necessity differ materially from that thorough 
 Art training and skilfulness of hand absolutely necessary to form an artist. 
 The careful, regular, and progressive method adopted in his case, beginning 
 by copying elementary forms in outline from the flat, passing from stage 
 to stage till the eye and hand are educated sufficiently to go to the round, 
 then by degrees from portions of the human figure to the perfect antique 
 statue, added to an intimate acquaintance with artistic anatomy, from the 
 
108 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE, 
 
 bones to the outer muscles, is quite out of the question, nor can it even be 
 pursued to a certain extent and then relinquished. Neither can we attempt 
 to teach the art by elaborate or highly-finished copying, such as we find 
 encouraged in some of the schools of design for artisans, for a public school 
 has not the time for technical teaching. 
 
 As we do not take the scholastic means which we know to be the best 
 to make artists, neither do we expect the boys of our great schools to become 
 elaborate mechanical draughtsman or architects, or to proceed far in the more 
 abstruse study of fortifications, unless intended for the army. Having thus 
 shown what it is impossible for the drawing-master to attempt in our public 
 schools, we may proceed to determine what ought to be his aim. It is to be 
 expected that, by the study of Drawing, the pupil will learn to appreciate all 
 that is grand and beautiful in Nature, his eyes being opened to the magnificent 
 outlines of the mountains, his mind alive to the surpassing glories of sunrise 
 and sunset, and in his unpretending sketchbook he brings back the memorials 
 of his past pleasures, which, though they may be of no great value to the 
 World, are to himself a constant delight, and a far more interesting record than 
 any written journal. Some of my pupils have told me that even their small 
 knowledge of drawing has been to them a never-failing source of pleasure, 
 and that the habit of drawing with the eye, when no use of the hand was 
 possible, has also been a keen enjoyment to them, interesting their minds when 
 all other amusements have failed. This training should also enable them, as 
 they advance in life, to judge of the excellence of Art, and prevent a servile 
 dependence on picture dealers, to dictate to them what they shall purchase 
 or reject. How common it is to hear one, who has himself no knowledge 
 of Art, value the pictures on his walls more, for the price given for them, or 
 on account of some famed collection whence they came, than for any pleasure 
 they afford him as works of genius. Is it too much to expect that a liberally- 
 educated man should be able to express his ideas of form or colour with his 
 pencil or brush? That in describing the piece of furniture he requires he, 
 should not be obliged to send for a common carpenter to draw a few lines or 
 curves for him, or when talking to his paperhanger or upholsterer be dependent 
 on them without even being able to give a blot of the colour he wishes to 
 have. Such being our modest aim, let us see how much time we have allotted 
 to us, and how to employ it to the best advantage. 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 169 
 
 The time to be devoted to Drawing will be, in general, about two hours 
 per week with the master, either at one sitting or divided, and from two to 
 four hours' preparation or practice, either with a junior master in class, or in 
 the pupil's own study. Much, of course, will depend on leisure or taste for 
 the pursuit, and much upon the season of the year, more time being available 
 for the study of Nature during the summer than the winter. The large 
 proportion of drawing taught in a public school will, of course, be what is 
 called free hand, or such as is dependent on the training of the eye and hand ; 
 but there will also be a portion of mechanical or measurement drawing, as 
 architecture and fortifications, neither of which can be taught by lectures 
 alone, even with the assistance of the black-board, nor by the exhibition of 
 diagrams or models ; all kinds of drawing not merely requiring careful training 
 of the eye to observe, but the proof of this in the execution of the hand. 
 This practice must be directed and watched by the vigilant eye of the master. 
 He alone can show the manner of executing the touch, and detect looseness 
 in copying, for a stroke or a few words addressed to each pupil at the 
 moment of practice will be worth far more than corrections of the whole 
 when finished. 
 
 Now, when numbers have to be taught, much information has to be 
 communicated in classes, say of twenty-five to thirty pupils, all being, of 
 course, as nearly as possible, of the same proficiency. The great difficulty is 
 to keep possession of the pupils' whole powers of attention, so that no time 
 should be wasted in repetition. Consequently, the lecture or explanation 
 must be short, say fifteen minutes ; this to be succeeded immediately by rapid 
 questions, addressed first to the youngest or least attentive, passing by degrees 
 through the class upwards to those who are tolerably certain to answer 
 correctly. Those who have not observed accurately or answered carefully are 
 brought close up to the diagram, black-board, or model, and the best answers 
 are commended, the complete solution being given. A short time suffices for 
 this, the rest of the time being devoted to practice in copying from the fiat, or 
 from models, groups, &c. 
 
 It is difficult also to oblige the pupil to connect the reality with the 
 drawing made from it, for to draw is not to copy the production of another, 
 which is but repeating his ideas, as though one were to copy or trace the 
 characters and forms of an Egyptian inscription without knowing in the least 
 
170 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 what they meant ; but to draw is to have the power of representing intelligibly 
 real objects, beginning with those that are simple, and progressing to the most 
 complex and fleeting. Now, the narrow end of the wedge of drawing is most 
 successfully inserted into the pupil's mind by geometrical forms, the easiest 
 of demonstration ; therefore it is to be regretted that there is not some 
 elementary knowledge of plane geometry, or of the construction of geometrical 
 figures, implanted in early education before entering a public school — by this 
 they would be made familiar with the real shape, figure, and dimensions of 
 plane surfaces, and it also would enable them to represent objects as they 
 really are, if certain of their conditions were better known. Let us, for 
 instance, take a vertical line formed with a plumb-line, which is easily shown 
 to be perpendicular to the horizontal line. Now. every one has seen this from 
 childhood, and can make it with facility, and so much has every one, educated 
 or not, been trained to notice this line, that all can tell if an object, such as 
 a candle, be out of the upright, or a picture hang straight on a wall. A line 
 which hangs free and stationary out of the perpendicular would strike every 
 one as unnatural, and the same deviation from the truth constitutes one of 
 the marvels of the world in the Leaning Tower of Pisa. 
 
 Tlic truthfulness of lines parallel to each other, or equally distant, is easy 
 of demonstration, and by drawing these sloping in different directions, greater 
 facility is given to the hand, and more precision to the eye. We are, indeed, 
 from our infancy always practising in writing, the sloping of lines in one way. 
 Drawing should teach us that, although a line may be easier to make in one 
 direction, it is equally beautiful in many others. This leads on to the forming 
 of right, acute, and obtuse angles ; and he who can strike off lines upwards 
 and downwards from a perpendicular line and of corresponding angles has 
 attained a fair step in observation and practice. Now, the teacher may com- 
 municate much of this instruction by means of diagrams or the black-board ; 
 but if the class be too large or not under complete control, it may chance that 
 half the pupils will be inattentive, of which I saw an instance many years 
 ago among some ladies attending the lectures of a fashionable drawing-master. 
 The class consisted of seventy, and I was complimenting the teacher on their 
 apparent attention, to which he listened with impatience, replying, " Hall of 
 them, I fear, are not thinking at all about what they are doing — we shall see." 
 " Now, ladies," he said, " I wish you to draw me a line from your right hand 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE IX PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 171 
 
 downwards to your left." We found, on examination, that twenty-five had 
 drawn it from the left hand down to the right. Thus some pupils don't listen 
 at all ; others will not think at all, but look how their neighbour is working 
 and copy him ; whilst others think hastily and often wrongly. 
 
 The next step, though simple, is in reality very important ; it is to 
 convince the pupil that objects apparently diminish according to their distance 
 from the eye ; this is, in fact, the study of perspective, and through per- 
 spective, art is connected with science. Now some people who copy well 
 from the flat, and call that drawing, have such a horror of the very word 
 perspective that they resolutely shut up their minds at once against any talk 
 upon it ; others, never having tried to draw from Nature, think that they can 
 do very well without it; and it took all the eloquence of Cardinal Wiseman 
 to recommend the study. Thus he described it : "Perspective signifies the art 
 of representing on a flat surface objects which are supposed to be in different 
 planes, or at varying distances, so as to give them, by the gradation of pro- 
 portions and of colour, the appearance to the eye which they would have 
 if they were real substantial objects. Observe, accurate perspective requires 
 the combination of two elements, the one scientific, the other artistic ; the 
 scientific consists of a disposition of the objects in their proper distances and 
 ratios geometrically determined, and the artistic or aerial perspective, in their 
 receiving the gradation and evanescence of tone which distance furnishes in 
 real Nature." 
 
 Now the eye is so wonderfully contrived, as to receive and cause the brain 
 to comprehend all the visible matter which may appear within a certain 
 space, conveying to the mind a perfect idea of the geometric and real forms 
 presented to the view. The trained hand is then needed to convey it to 
 paper, but the most practised eye and skilful hand may be at fault, if some 
 few rules are not laid down for their guidance. A great authority on art has 
 declared that "perspective is not of the slightest use, except in rudimentary 
 work," and again that "no great painters ever trouble themselves about 
 perspective, and very few of them know its laws, drawing everything by the 
 eye," yet I say where the work is, as it always will be in a public school, 
 rudimentary, and where we can expect no great painters, we may venture, 
 without fear of trammelling ourselves, to examine the first simple rules of 
 perspective, bet us look what the eve does and taking an enlarged drawing 
 
172 
 
 DRAWING FKOM NATURE. 
 
 of the pupil and retina, show how objects of the same size, hut at different 
 distances, send or reflect rays through the pupil on to the retina ; we shall 
 find these decreasing as the object is further from the eye. A diagram 
 composed of three squared pieces of cardboard can be easily made, and is 
 very convincing to the young. The first is merely a square aperture of four 
 inches, placed about a foot from the eye ; the second is composed of four 
 such squares, but placed at two feet distance ; and the third is one of four 
 times such squares as the second, but placed at four feet distance ; these will 
 all be seen through the small square aperture, thus proving how much objects 
 diminish as they recede from the eye. 
 
 A pane of glass in the window is an excellent thing to represent the 
 transparent plane, but a sheet of glass in a frame, fixed at arm's length between 
 the object and the eye, is more convenient. On this the pupil should draw 
 the principal outlines with a soap crayon ; the head must be kept steady, and 
 one eye should be shut, for in drawing from a model of a moderate size, the 
 possession of two views, one from each eye, causes you to see more than can 
 be strictly represented in a drawing — for instance, the square plinth of a vase 
 if seen only on one side, should be made rather larger to compensate for this 
 double view of the solid form. 
 
 As it is desirable always to refer to Nature or the real instead of models 
 or drawings, I find an excellent lesson may be given from the double or folding 
 doors of a room ; with this we can show the apparent alteration in size that 
 takes place in objects according as they approach or recede from the eye. 
 The whole of the door should at first be shut. The door-case should be then 
 drawn complete, afterwards one half of the door ; when that is done, partly 
 open the other and cause the pupil to draw it. It seems ridiculous to reason 
 on such a simple thing, but those who perfectly understand perspective, and 
 have mastered this artistic pons asinorum, will permit me to say that there is 
 such a propensity to draw any object the size that it is known to be, rather 
 than what it appears, that some pupils will much prefer making that part 
 of the door smaller when in the door-case, rather than raise it up above or 
 sink it below at the base, for to the unthinking mind it is a greater effort to 
 believe that the apparently larger end will diminish, than that the end already 
 in has been made too small. You have, therefore, to convince them, by 
 repeatedly opening and shutting the door at different degrees, of the truth. 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 173 
 
 of the simple problem that objects apparently diminish according to their 
 increase of distance from the eye. After this, their attention may be directed 
 to diminution of the sides of the room, to the maps that hang on the walls, 
 to the lines of the floor and the desks, and to the parallel lines of the windows 
 at the end of the room. 
 
 A great step is gained when a pupil is convinced that the position of his 
 eye must influence the direction of all the lines in the picture, so that any one 
 looking at the drawing ought to understand from what point it was taken. 
 This is worth much trouble. My opinion is, that so long as the pupil only 
 draws from the flat, or copies, he never will comprehend this, and it is 
 necessary that drawing from the real or Nature should be carried on simul- 
 taneously with copying. I prefer changing the height of the pupil's eye to 
 raising or lowering the model, and although asking the pupils to sit down 
 on a footstool and draw a line or two from thence, to do it standing, or from a 
 high stool or gallery, is apt to cause irregularity in class, it brings more lively 
 conviction that the horizon, in short, alters with the height of the draughts- 
 man, the point of sight depending entirely on the direction of his eye at the 
 moment of beginning his sketch. 
 
 We may talk about horizons and horizontal lines, and about sitting on the 
 sea-shore, or climbing a cliff, but the thoughts of some pupils that I have 
 known would wander off to the sea and the cliff, and they would say to 
 themselves, "Ah, and have a nice bath," or "Oh, yes ! I know a fine cliff 
 for a hawk's nest," and then good-bye to all hope of their ideas ever coming 
 back to dry perspective. Again, we may explain in a very satisfactory manner 
 to ourselves, what " the point of sight " means, as being opposite the eye on 
 the horizontal line, and of course opposite the point of station. I have done 
 so ; and on asking an apparently quick lad where it was, he has answered 
 " In my eye, that's where the sight is," catching in his shallow thought only 
 a portion of the idea. 
 
 Then when the eye has the power of choosing and of changing its direction, 
 to have only one point of sight, and to keep it constantly in view as the 
 governing point, is perplexing to the erratic mind, and the pupil has still 
 further to comprehend that in using models close at hand it is necessary, in 
 order to have a just idea of the true point, he must not only keep his head 
 still but shut one eye. Of course in drawing from more extended views this 
 
174 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 is unnecessary. A twelve inch cube is an excellent model, and an iron wire 
 of the same size fastened on to it perpendicularly, with a series of cardboard 
 diagrams, exactly the same size, but with different figures on them, such as a 
 circle, a triangle, a chessboard, &c. are extremely useful. These may be lifted 
 up to different heights within the frame wire, and the pupil made to mark 
 their apparent heights on it ; this may be done at the sides of the cube as 
 well, so that the pupil can then see that the top or side plane of the real cube 
 will only just be hidden by the card plane in perspective. Thus he will be 
 compelled to draw the side or retiring planes of the cube smaller than the 
 side which faces him. But no pains should be spared to teach him to convey 
 the distant and diminished form to the upright wire or plane, and from thence 
 draw it correctly on the flat surface or plane of his paper. Two cubes of the 
 same size, with angular pieces forming a slightly projecting roof, are useful, for 
 the sizes, though really equal, appear so different as to cause much study. 
 It is as well to remark to the pupil that as long as the plane of a cube is 
 perfectly opposite the eye, and no other side can be seen, it is a true square, 
 however much it may appear diminished, but when viewed at an angle to the 
 spectator and two sides are seen, the lines which are retiring must diminish 
 or converge. 
 
 Now the position of the paper on which the pupil draws, being on the 
 desk below his eye and not perpendicular like the glass on which he traced 
 the object, is against his readily understanding that he has to put on it the 
 appearance of the real forms. He has, in fact, to commit the form to memory, 
 first looking attentively at the reality, and then drawing it on paper. The 
 height at which his eye was when he looked at the object, is again most 
 important, as governing the disposition of the rest ; then follows the proportion 
 of the cube below and above the horizontal line, the next line that is drawn 
 being the corner nearest the eye. After the whole of the outline is drawn, it 
 is desirable that the shorter lines, such as those of windows, doors, &c. should 
 be added by the pupil, to show that he fully understands the direction of lines 
 above or below the eye ; no shading is allowed, but the best drawing is selected 
 by such of the elder pupils who have gained honours before. This produces a 
 sort of interest and examination, and the master, who does not interfere in the 
 decision, has many opportunities of giving a hint even to those who no longer 
 draw from these elementary models. 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 175 
 
 These simple geometrical figures lead on to drawing from larger and more 
 picturesque models, such as a rustic water-mill, or a martello tower, built 
 from care fid drawings made on the spot, and coloured as nearly as possible 
 after Nature. The original studies and sketches are shown at the same time, 
 the accessories or surrounding parts spoken of, the reasons why such a 
 position was chosen, and many hints given respecting light and shade, 
 accidental shadows, &c. There are many excellent models published for use 
 in teaching drawing, but as they are necessarily small in comparison with 
 the reality, and therefore afford little practice in reduction, I think we should 
 go to Nature as soon as possible, though as most of the pupils will not 
 have studied colour, it is well to give them objects in which is none, such 
 as leaves and fruit cast from Nature by Brucciani. Of these the most simple 
 is, perhaps, the ivy leaf, and as one can generally procure a real leaf of 
 about the same shape as the cast, they should be placed side by side. The 
 same may be done with a vine leaf, and it is worth while to point out, by 
 dividing the leaves, the importance of the centre vein or midrib, also the side 
 veins. Two or three of such examples drawn fully in front without any 
 perspective, and afterwards in various positions in perspective, will give a 
 knowledge of the forms that will be useful through life. Then follow groups 
 of apples on a bough, pears, plums, and a blackberry or bramble branch, 
 grapes, &c. for in a large class the tastes will vary, and fortunately there are 
 innumerable and most improving examples if there is sufficient time. Among 
 these would doubtless be small portions of the antique marbles, as an eye, ear, 
 mask, hand, foot, there being a breadth, simplicity, and refinement in these 
 that is worth much time and study. 
 
 The pupil acquires in these practices acuteness of perception and delicacy 
 of touch, qualities which abound in all good art, and to gain these we must 
 pay some attention to the mode of execution, and a certain portion of time 
 and practice must of course be given to acquire a good and effective method ; 
 the different modes of shading, which in drawing the human figure were so 
 exquisitely shown by Mulready, should be referred to and explained in detail ; 
 the way in which the pencil, chalk, or stump can be worked to the greatest 
 advantage, and the effect obtained with sufficient precision and in the shortest 
 time, for in a public school the time is far too short to allow much to be spent 
 in these details ; it is enough to show the pupils, that while they have the 
 
176 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 advantage of a master, some scholastic method must be adopted to express 
 themselves in art, as well as in language. 
 
 It is not unusual to attach great importance to a man's being self-taught ; 
 but he who either has not had the benefit of the experience of others, or 
 refuses to avail himself of their example, labours under great disadvantages. 
 Some one has said, " The moderns are but pigmies sitting on the shoulders of 
 giants," and it certainly is so with regard to art, for without the magnificent 
 remains of Greek art, left to us in the Elgin Marbles, the noble works of 
 Michael Angelo, Raphael, Titian, and Dutch school, with its perfect manage- 
 ment of materials, we should indeed be small. 
 
 Though there are few in a public school who have either the time or 
 taste to study carefully the antique, all these beauties should be pointed out 
 in class lectures, when the best examples should always be on the walls, either 
 in the shape of casts from the antique, copies of the cartoons, or tine examples 
 of the best masters, which those who possess them are generally willing to 
 lend. Having these opportunities, and our views being more particularly the 
 study of Drawing from Nature and the proper appreciation of art, we are 
 fortunately not compelled to confine ourselves year after year to the study of 
 the same example in the flat, perhaps at best a defective one, or to a single 
 figure, even though it may be the Discobulus. To labour for months, giving 
 only two or three hours a week and a greatly divided attention, to bring to 
 perfection a single copy, would just disgust the pupil, and thrash out any little 
 enthusiasm possessed before. 
 
 For those piqiils who are sufficiently advanced to study colour, and who 
 have gone through the necessary training in the management of the brush, 
 and have attained a good knowledge of the various pigments, their qualities 
 and their mixtures, there is nothing more amusing and instructive than 
 drawing from groups of objects or still life, and here again T give the pre- 
 ference to the real or to Nature, something found at hand either out of 
 doors or indoors. A group Of leaves in autumn, as the leaves of the cherry, 
 which are to be found of beautiful and varied tints, — a few of these, say 
 three or five, may be thrown on a sheet of paper, or if a nearer approach 
 to reality is wished, on a tray in which is sprinkled a little earth, sand, 
 or gravel. These may be arranged so as to contrast well with each other 
 in form and colour; the necessity of partly hiding the outline of some and 
 
GROUP OF GAMK 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 177 
 
 shadowing others may be shown, the whole being placed in sunlight if 
 possible. A group composed of jars of various forms and culours, with a 
 basket or two, placed on a piece of bass matting that shall hang down the 
 table in front, thus forming some variety in line and light, is always a useful 
 study. Picturesque subjects may be found also in genuine fishermen's baskets, 
 with nets, old coats, caps, sou'-westers, and buoys, &c. hanging on a wall or 
 thrown on the ground, which should be as much as possible like the sand and 
 stones of a beach, part of it being wetted and part left dry, just to show 
 the difference made on the beach by the rising tide. The great difficulty 
 with all these groups will be found in the arrangement of the background 
 objects and their tone. If the eye passes beyond the group to the furniture 
 or walls, most likely some incongruity will arise, either in form or colour, 
 and painted or prepared backgrounds if not strictly in keeping are too 
 much like a photographer's room ; but sheets of paper of varied tones may 
 be chosen, and different quantities of light and shade thrown upon the objects. 
 It may sometimes be desirable to paint and arrange a background for a 
 particular group, and I have seen most admirable and picturesque scenes 
 composed by the late C. Hullmandel, with boats, quays, &c. that he built 
 carefully after Nature, with backgrounds painted by Stanfield. At his con- 
 versaziones I have often met Turner, Stanfield, Collins, and many others, who 
 all sat down and studied together. 
 
 For those who have more time to collect and put together these groups 
 of still life, I would point out such as George Lance or Hunt so often 
 drew ; or in flowers, to those reproduced so beautifully from Nature by the 
 Misses Mutrie ; but with the desire once awakened to make the study of 
 drawing interesting as well as profitable, it is needless to say subjects of this 
 kind may be found in endless variety. At Rugby, I find dead game, as 
 a hare, pheasant, partridge, or wild duck, with hamper and matting, and 
 perhaps the addition of a ginger jar, very popular. The head of a stag, bear, 
 fox, or goat, is much used, and sometimes, when opportunity affords, a gull 
 suspended as flying, a mallard or two, with real reeds, fern, &c. ; but whatever 
 the study, at the end, all the sketches are placed in a room and examined by 
 the masters and the whole class, a few hints are given on each, and the most 
 successful singled out by vote of the class, some few T marks or a reward 
 being the prize, besides the Mat of having done the best, I should like, 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 of course, as a teacher of colour, to have all this study made under the 
 pure light of heaven, the sunshine falling on the groups without the inter- 
 vention of glass, and with a greater quantity of reflected colour and light 
 than can be obtained in a closed-up room with its artificial shadows. As 
 this would be impossible in a class limited as to time and by other duties, 
 we find our compensation to a certain degree in the various sketching after- 
 noons we have with the senior class. These are always exceedingly enjoyed 
 by my pupils ; and the romantic ruins of Kenilworth and the stately Warwick 
 have often shown how much unexpected power those have gained who have 
 steadily looked Nature in the face. 
 
 It now only remains, in these hurried notes of the system followed at 
 liugby, to add, that drawing has for some years formed a part of the school 
 duties, for, as it has been pursued as a real study and not in a dilettante 
 manner, it has heen judged by Dr. Temple to be entitled to at least a moderate 
 proportion of marks and classes, which assist those who gain them in their 
 advancement in the school. These are given at Midsummer, when the drawings 
 are exhibited, first in the drawing school, and afterwards the most worthy in 
 the great school at the Speech Day. At Christmas, also, there is an exa- 
 mination of the work of the half-year. At this time all the pupils are obliged 
 to draw, from the real, those that have just begun, from the simplest forms 
 around, and those more advanced from such groups, &c. as have been 
 described. 
 
 In addition to these examinations, each class has a series of questions 
 to answer in writing, without which no marks are obtained, however good 
 the drawings may be ; the necessity to understand and answer these questions 
 causes the pupils to attend to the different courses of lectures that are given 
 in the evenings during the winter. The rule that every one must exhibit 
 drawings from the real or Nature, obliges those among the pupils who are 
 inclined to indulge in laborious idleness and mere copying, to exert themselves 
 either by studying from models or groups, or by joining in the various 
 sketching excursions with the master during the summer afternoons and 
 evenings. In all these the more advanced pupils are eager to take part, 
 notwithstanding the attractions of cricket, &c. and thus a love of the 
 beauties of Nature is cultivated, and the requirements of Art are agreeably 
 inculcated. 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 179 
 
 But as the master can always teach more by his example than he can by 
 Ii is words, and as every artist of any worth always becomes a pupil himself 
 when he conies into the presence of all-powerful Nature, so I find that nothing 
 stimulates my pupils more than relating my own difficulties and experiences. 
 These I give in accounts of my sketching tours, illustrated by large and freely 
 executed copies of my sketches. In these they take the greatest interest, 
 entering into and enjoying the little adventures that an artist's tour generally 
 afford 1 ?. These lectures also allow me an opportunity of giving, without 
 irksomeness, hints on the management of their time or talent, and this has 
 induced me to place them in this book, with such illustrations as the nature 
 of the work would permit. 
 
180 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Section II. — HINTS ON GENERAL STUDY. 
 
 RUGBY, CHRISTMAS, i&56. 
 
 Tn a large class, subject to continual changes, like this of Rugby, it is 
 necessary at certain intervals to review the steps we have taken, and to 
 ascertain the progress made; for without this careful revision we might be 
 in danger of forgetting the grand yet simple principles of True Art, and of 
 becoming, after a series of laborious efforts, merely a school of careful copyists. 
 This imperfect result may be provided against, in some degree, by your 
 drawings being subjected annually, on the Speech Day, to the criticism of 
 persons of taste and judgment in Art ; but I think it also advisable to call 
 your attention to the importance of Art in general, and likewise to remind you 
 of the principles which form the groundwork of all my instructions. 
 
 In England Art has hitherto occupied a lower position in our public 
 schools than in most parts of the Continent ; here it has been treated as 
 an agreeable pastime, or trifling accomplishment ; there it takes rank at once 
 as a study, contributing largely to the cultivation of the taste and the 
 improvement of the mind. 
 
 In many continental cities the universities have regularly endowed pro- 
 fessorships of Art, with associated galleries of casts, drawings, &c. which greatly 
 facilitate study. 
 
 Mr. Wyse, an able advocate of Art, says, " How can Ave expect the public 
 should enjoy unless they appreciate ? and how can they appreciate unless 
 those preliminary studies which lay the foundation of taste, and develop 
 the sense and value of artistic excellence, form a portion, according to their 
 respective means and position, of their early instruction? Take any one 
 grade of society you may, ascend up from the lowest school in the country to 
 the universities themselves, and you will find that England is distinguished 
 from the other civilized countries of the world by an almost general exclusion 
 of the culture and study even of the elements of Art." 
 
 But although Art may not yet occupy in tins country the position to which 
 
HINTS ON GENERAL STUDY. 
 
 181 
 
 it is entitled, it has a very different place at Rugby to that which it held 
 many years ago, when I first formed this class ; and it is now acknowledged 
 here that drawing, especially from Nature, elevates the taste, educates the eye 
 to observe, trains the hand to realize that which the eye has seen, assists 
 materially in many professions, and aids every study while it interferes 
 with none. 
 
 Through the principles of perspective, drawing is closely allied to geometry 
 and mathematics, and is essential in the studies of fortification, architecture, 
 and engineering ; in fact, so necessary is it to all professions, and indeed in 
 all situations moderately elevated, that without some knowledge of Art a 
 gentleman cannot be said to have received a liberal education. 
 
 Having spoken of the advantages which arise from an acquaintance with 
 the principles of Art, we ought now to consider how you can most thoroughly 
 acquire those principles in the limited time which your other school duties 
 will allow. I begin, therefore, by requiring each pupil, on first entering the 
 class, to copy with accuracy a simple diagram, teaching him to measure with 
 his eye the space between the beginning and end of an upright or horizontal 
 line, taking care to place the points at the commencement and termination of 
 each line, which he then proceeds to draw with a light but firm hand ; this 
 being done with attention very little rubbing out is necessary; he assists 
 himself in this practice by comparing the lines made with the top, bottom, or 
 sides of his paper, but in no case is he allowed to resort to measuring with his 
 pencil, or to marking off on a piece of paper, except as a test of the accuracy 
 of his drawing ; this training gives him correctness of eye and firmness of 
 hand. Having acquired the power of drawing perpendicular, horizontal, or 
 other lines, he then proceeds to diagrams of square, angular, or irregular form, 
 still comparing the lines which bound them with the upright or horizontal 
 edges of his paper. His next attempt is to connect the idea of these lines 
 with the boundary of real objects, and he now learns to draw from geometrical 
 figures of large dimensions, such as cubes, parallelograms, angles, globes, &c. ; 
 thus he acquires the very important habit of making no line without an 
 intention. At this stage the pupil begins to feel the want of some principle 
 to aid him when he is doubtful of the direction of a line ; he requires, in fact, 
 some knowledge of perspective, which, stripped of its geometrical and mathe- 
 matical difficulties, need not alarm him. Tt is scarcely necessary to remind 
 
182 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 you that the word perspective is composed of two Latin words, per, through, 
 and spccto, to view, and is the art of drawing objects as they appear on a 
 transparent plane. 
 
 In a short discourse I can mention only one or two of the rules which 
 I have found most useful to my pupils ; but in addition to our practical 
 studies. I will refer you first to the many clever illustrations in the elementary 
 division of our folios, by Hayter, Green, and others, and as you proceed in the 
 study to the more elaborate works of Brook, Taylor, and Malton. 
 
 Now, in reference to the great points of our study, let me impress upon 
 your recollection that, as regards perspective, the horizontal line is the one 
 you must first draw, as that at once determines the position of the spectator. 
 In choosing your point of view, this line rises or falls as the eye is raised or 
 lowered ; but having once determined the position, the horizontal line becomes 
 the most important and fixed line in the picture ; even in a room where 
 no horizon can be seen, its place should be found by making use of a flat 
 surface, such as a book or ruler, and holding it parallel to the ground ; then 
 raising or lowering it, you will soon discover the height at which it appears 
 as a horizontal line on the nearest perpendicular of the model or building you 
 are copying. 
 
 I will merely add that the horizon or horizontal line appears naturally 
 placed when about one-third of the height of the picture from the base line, 
 a higher horizon giving the appearance of a raised position for the spectator, 
 and a lower, the effect of a sketch by a person sitting on the sea-shore. 
 
 You cannot be too particular about the principal lines of the subject you 
 are drawing ; until these are correct you must not begin to shade : and here 
 let me advise you to do one thing at a time, for it is by following this simple 
 rule that our greatest men succeed. Some pupils when they enter the class 
 are tempted to fly from subject to subject, folio to folio, contenting themselves 
 with copying slightly landscapes, rustic figures, cattle, horses, &c. using chalk, 
 sepia, or water-colours, studying carelessly, and doing nothing well. Such do 
 themselves no credit ; and in place of finding drawing an ever-varying source 
 of delight, reduce it to an irksome repetition of vague forms. 
 
 After the outline or form, we come to the consideration of light and shade ; 
 and to make this part of the subject easier, I will divide shadows into two 
 kinds. First, those which naturally belong to any solid object, and which fall 
 
SFAN1SH CHESTNUT, V A L T) ' A S T E 
 
HINTS OX GENERAL STUDY. 
 
 183 
 
 on that side of it which is turned away from the light; secondly, shadows of 
 incidence, or those which are caused by some other body that intercepts the 
 light, 1 laving no dependence on the form of the surface on which they fall, but 
 taking place on the light as well as the dark parts of an object. There must 
 be in all works the same breadth of light and shade that there is in Nature ; 
 and if I were to define the meaning of the expression breadth, I should say 
 that the light parts of a picture should not be divided or separated by small 
 portions of dark, nor the shadow by small portions of light ; and although 
 there are in all shadows reflections that are lighter, and cast shadows that are 
 darker, still, as a general rul , no part of the reflection, however bright, should 
 compete with the light, however low it may be. It is a truth which cannot 
 be too strongly impressed upon the student, that the eye is always more 
 attracted by the light parts of any object than the dark, and in putting on 
 these shadows, we should always think of the form of the light parts we 
 are leaving. Oil-painting has in this respect a great advantage over water- 
 colours and chalk, that the lights are painted over the shadows, and thus 
 leave their forms more complete and attractive. I must, however, refer you 
 to the works of Harding, Trout, and other artists, for brilliant examples of the 
 management of light and shade. 
 
 The parts of landscape drawing the most difficult to touch upon in a few 
 words are those which are the most varying and indefinite, and which therefore 
 require some previous acquaintance with Art, or systematic arrangement to 
 study with effect. Thus trees, moving water, and clouds present the greatest 
 difficulties to the student, but are at the same time the most beautiful portions 
 of a landscape. They must be taken up as separate studies, and their dif- 
 ficulties encountered one by one ; these difficulties will be greatly lessened by 
 the habit, which I trust many of you have acquired, of constant study from 
 Nature. Never take a walk without your note-book and pencil, and, if time 
 will not allow you to take a finished sketch, make an outline of anything 
 remarkable, and assist your memory with memoranda ; you will thus impress 
 Nature so thoroughly on your mind, that you will not be able to bear anything 
 unnatural or affected. 
 
 Gilpin was an ardent lover of Nature, and his works on Forest Trees are 
 of the greatest use to the artist. Harding also, with his dexterous pencil, has 
 done much to diminish the difficulties of Art ; and perhaps among these aids 
 
184 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 to the student, I may mention the elementary work of Foliage and Trees, 
 which I published for your use. 
 
 No artist, either living or dead, has approached Turner in representing the 
 ever-varying effects of light and shade, clouds and sunshine, mist, rain, wind, 
 and storm, and I entreat you to study his works with the greatest attention 
 and respect, more especially his early drawings, which, from the greater care 
 and finish he bestowed on them, are best suited to the student's use. The 
 first volume of " Modern Painters," written by Turner's eloquent advocate, 
 Euskin, will be found an excellent assistant in enabling you to appreciate 
 the many high qualities which abound in the works of this great artist. 
 
 Although the human figure is the highest and most ennobling study that an 
 artist can have, the want of time from their many other pursuits has hitherto 
 prevented my pupils here from having entered into it with the systematic 
 study and attention to which it is entitled ; still you must not be ignorant of 
 a few of the most important rules. Supposing, therefore, you are wishing to 
 sketch a figure, either from the cast or clothed nature, you must block out the 
 form in the simplest way possible ; taking the most prominent parts as points, 
 draw straight lines from point to point, until the whole is something like a 
 block of marble on which the sculptor has commenced, — you thus secure the 
 attitude and general proportion ; these having been gained, you should then 
 indicate the form ; after marking out the place where the feet stand, and the 
 top of the head, you will find an upright line assist you much in finding the 
 centre of gravity ; this line should be eight times the length of the head, which 
 is the proportion of the best antique figures. 
 
 A line across the shoulders and the hips also assists in gaining the 
 proportions. Let there be bone, and well-formed bone, in all your figures ; 
 and if any of you feel inclined to go more deeply into the study, let him begin 
 with drawing the bones from Nature, then the anatomical figure, afterwards 
 introducing the skeleton in the complete outline. The bones and muscles in 
 men and animals, the stems and branches in trees and plants, should be our 
 first study ; by beginning thus at the elementary parts, the knowledge which 
 you gain will be real, and for the future so incorporated with the subject in 
 your mind., that you will find it always at hand and always useful. You 
 will thus have the power of giving to each object its appropriate character, 
 which character or individuality is only to be gained by a close and constant 
 
HINTS ON GENERAL STUDY, 
 
 185 
 
 study of Nature, and should be carried through all your studies, from man 
 and animals, to trees, vases, &c. I have found Tiney's maps of the bones and 
 muscles very useful in tracing the origin, insertion, and action of the muscles. 
 
 With regard to the management of the chalk in shading, you cannot have 
 better examples than those in the folios of Julien, Lascelles, and others ; by 
 copying a few of these with care, you will soon acquire the power of shading 
 with such lines as shall not interfere with the shape. Many of the French 
 prints in our shop windows are pretty, but I do not wish you to spend much 
 time in copying them, as they might lead you into an affected and unnatural 
 style. I prefer the studies — of which indeed you seem fond — of Cooper, Hunt, 
 Collins, and others. These form excellent models for your imitation ; but, as 
 Nature is infinitely beyond all, I am more convinced of your real progress 
 when I see such studies as you have lately produced from groups of game, still 
 life, &c. than by any copies, however excellent. These, with rustic figures, 
 form admirable subjects for the exercise of your taste and pencil. 
 
 The difficulty of finding sitters need not prevent us from studying from 
 Nature, whilst we have such fine atldetic figures in action before us in your 
 manly game of foot-ball ; and I hope you will follow up the clever sketches 
 some of you have made, by inducing a group of these excellent models to 
 favour us by appearing in our study, wearing the costume of your different 
 houses. I trust that the excitement of seeing the game will not prevent the 
 senior class from using their pencils with effect. 
 
 I have now spoken in a cursory manner of the various ways in which you 
 may gain information and assistance in the study of drawing. You will 
 recollect that these observations are addressed to a class of gentlemen 
 amateurs, who may have much inclination, but very little time, to follow out 
 their tastes. Were I speaking to a body of artists, 1 should enter more largely 
 into most of the subjects, and certainly insist on a severer course of study. 
 
186 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Section III.— ON THE USE OF WATER COLOURS IN PAINTING. 
 
 I propose to employ a portion of the time in these Evening Classes in 
 endeavouring to explain to you the best method of using your materials, for 
 such a knowledge greatly facilitates the rapid acquirement of the art of 
 
 painting. I shall try to be as concise as possible, confining myself each time 
 to about twenty minutes, but request your full and entire attention during 
 that time, in order that you may all understand and lie able to answer any 
 questions which may be put to you at the Christmas examinations. 
 
 First. All colour is made visible by light ; that which is recognised by the 
 eye as colour is the united effect of the substance looked at, and of the light 
 falling on its surface, so that we have two important considerations, first the 
 light, then the colour. 
 
ON THE USE OF WATER COLOURS IX PAINTING. 
 
 187 
 
 Now pure light — that is the sunlight— is white ; but with the prism, we can 
 divide a ray into seven different colours, called the spectrum, and we can, with 
 another prism, collect them together again, into a colourless or white ray. 
 
 I will now show you the spectrum, by means of this ingenious lamp, called 
 an oxy-hydrogen light. This, of course, is not so good as sunlight, but that we 
 cannot always command, even in the day-time, Well, there is the spectrum 
 or divided ray of light, analyzed, and you can see the colours composing pure 
 white light are — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, as shown 
 in the diagram on the walls. All these are considered by philosophers as 
 primitive. AVe can combine the whole into white light, throw two of them 
 together, or absorb them, but we cannot change them, so we must consider 
 them as primitive. 
 
 But our pigments are wonderfully different. None of them can lie truly 
 considered primitive colours ; they are but dull earths, and only distantly 
 approach the pure colours of light. However, red, yellow, and blue artists 
 take the liberty of calling the three primitive colours, because with these 
 three all the others that we find in the spectrum, or divided ray of light, 
 can be formed. 
 
 Thus, red and yellow make orange, yellow and blue green, and red and blue 
 purple ; but red, yellow, and blue cannot be made by mixing any other colours, 
 so they are, in an artistic sense, primitive. 
 
 Now the colours produced by mixing any two of these primitives are called 
 secondary ; thus we obtain orange, green, and purple. 
 
 Again, we have to notice that in painting, as in Nature, there are very 
 few pure secondary hues, and but rarely any primitive colour. Think for a 
 moment : where shall we find anything so pure as the colours we see in the 
 spectrum? Blue we may now and then catch a glimpse of in the sky; but 
 red and yellow scarcely ever in any larger mass than a bird, a shell, or blossom, 
 too small to tell as pure colour in a landscape. With the secondary hues we 
 succeed better, for "the waves of everlasting green," as Buskin calls grass, are 
 spread wide fiver the earth, and a purple distance is frequently contrasted 
 with the brilliant orange of sunset. 
 
 But this gorgeous scale of colour will not serve the purpose of the land- 
 scape painter, so we must mix the three primitives in different proportions, 
 making what we will call tertiary colours. 
 
188 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Here begin the young student's difficulties in colour, for this mixing is too 
 apt to produce confusion, not only in the ideas, but on the paper, for, recollect, 
 that in mixing our so-called primitives we do not produce white light, as we 
 do when we combine the divided colours of a ray of light, but we make in fact 
 a brown disagreeable tone, much resembling mud, and the more we mix the 
 muddier it gets. 
 
 These tertiary colours, not being so striking in their appearance as the 
 others, require more education of the eye to enjoy, and more training of 
 the hand to produce. 
 
 The first business of the water-colour student then is to become well 
 acquainted with his materials, particularly his colour box ; he will soon 
 perceive that there are no true primitives amongst the various pigments. The 
 nearest approach to a perfect primitive is ultramarine blue, and that is but 
 rarely included in a landscape painter's box, being too expensive and difficult 
 to work. After that comes carmine, as the truest red, but the same objections 
 apply to this, with the addition that it is not permanent ; then for yellow we 
 must be content to take cadmium, although it has a slight tendency to orange. 
 
 We should, however, examine our colour box in its regular order, beginning 
 with the yellows, then passing on to those pigments of the orange tone, then 
 reds, reddish browns, blues, and mixed greens. There is such a great variety 
 in the modern box, that by a little study, we can generally make our tint 
 without much mixing, which must be avoided, for mixing many pigments 
 together, each perhaps having different tendencies, produces impure tones. 
 For instance, a pupil wants a warm gray for clouds: he thinks burnt sienna 
 with cobalt will do, but finds the mixture has a dirty greenish hue, for besides 
 the red in burnt sienna, there is much yellow, which joined to the cobalt blue 
 produces green of a dull hue ; with indigo, which has in itself a tendency to 
 yellow, the mixture is decidedly green ; with a purer red, like Indian red or 
 crimson lake, he gets rid of the yellow, and the mixture is purple. 
 
 Time is not lost, but decidedly gained, in ascertaining the tendencies or 
 bearing of the pigment you are using, and in order to discover these examine 
 with the greatest care and with some degree of method the nature of those 
 you employ. Firstly, divest yourself of any reliance on the names that are 
 given them by the colourman. There are no pigments in your boxes that 
 answer to them. Thus some yellows tend to red, some to green, some to an 
 
ON THE USE OF WATER COLOURS IN PAINTING. 
 
 189 
 
 indefinite brown or opaque neutrality. Again, some reds have so much yellow- 
 in their composition that they closely approach orange, and had almost better 
 be called orange, only that the name implies a mixture of a pure red and 
 yellow. 
 
 Others incline to brown, as brown madder ; others, more pure, or with less 
 yellow, like purple madder, tend, as the name implies, to purple. What can 
 be more different, for instance, than Vandyke brown and brown madder. One 
 tends to yellow, the other to red. 
 
 Now, none of these affinities appear so conspicuous when you look at the 
 colour in the box unmixed, or even as a wash, but when you mix a pure blue 
 with each of them, then comes out their affinities : thus the yellow in Vandyke 
 brown makes the mixture green, and the red in brown madder produces a purple. 
 
 If you attempt without consideration to overcome this natural inclination 
 by mixing more or stronger blue, then comes muddiness and heavy colouring. 
 The same with blues — cobalt, one of the most useful blues, is slightly opaque 
 and inclined to green. 
 
 French blue is slightly inclined to purple. 
 
 Indigo is altogether a mixed tone, scarcely blue. 
 
 Again, black shows its affinities when mixed with gamboge, for then it 
 makes a fair green, gamboge tending to green and black tending to blue. 
 Take therefore pigments suitable to the occasion, draw them, like the 
 Irishman's pig, the way they want to go, and they will go without trouble 
 or heaviness ; but try to overcome them, and endless vexation will arise. 
 Thus the time is well spent in becoming well acquainted with our pigments. 
 
 If then the student require a tertiary colour that shall not be muddy, let 
 him be sure to make one of the primitives subservient. Thus, cobalt blue and 
 crimson lake, with a very little yellow ochre, make a subdued purple or gray ; 
 again, gamboge and indigo, with a little red in the form of burnt sienna or 
 brown madder, form a pleasing broken green, a tertiary ; and so on, always 
 keeping in mind to mix together as few pigments as possible. 
 
 Should those taken not prove right, let him wash all out of the brush and 
 take others, thinking well, before he dips the brush in the box, of the character 
 of the pigment he is going to use. It may seem fanciful to notice respecting 
 the unequal quantities of the three artistic primitives, that if we refer to the 
 quantities in the real divided ray, we shall find that they are also unequal, but 
 
190 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 that the whole produces pure or white light ; thus, red has 9, orange 5, yellow 
 9, green 11, blue 11, indigo 8, violet 16. The first three, those that are most 
 allied to warmth and light, make up only 23, and the other four, which are 
 most nearly related to coolness and shadow, make 46 parts. 
 
 As this, however, is a strictly practical" lecture, I shall cut the theory 
 as short as possible, and dwell with some degree of minuteness on the 
 practice. If you have taken up the study of water-colours in earnest, you 
 will not find a connected account of the methods you must pursue tedious, 
 but will perceive that to examine the way you are to travel a little in advance, 
 enables you to take the shortest and easiest road ; as in mountain climbing 
 a glance through the field-glass clears up many a difficult path ; you have 
 also a guide, who has great pleasure in smoothing the obstacles and dimi- 
 nishing the labour of the ascent,— so once more to our footsteps. Before 
 you begin to climb, I conclude you all know how to walk. Understanding 
 a little of the laws of perspective, and being able to make a correct outline 
 of any subject with facility, you now wish to acquire the use of new materials, 
 and to copy nature through the medium of colour. 
 
 First, then, what is a water-colour drawing ? A water-colour drawing is 
 the effect of very fine, opaque, coloured particles, mingled with and sometimes 
 overlaid by transparent colours, which, being disposed upon a white ground, 
 so modify the light falling upon and being reflected from the white surface, as 
 to produce the effect constituting the picture. 
 
 Now, although I say that some of the particles of colour are opaque, 
 the great majority of our pigments are transparent, and the white of the 
 paper ought to show through all more or less. This is very different from 
 distemper or body colour, or even oil-painting, in which styles we begin 
 with a large proportion of opaque white, mixed with the other pigments, and 
 afterwards use those that are more transparent. 
 
 House-painting, for instance, is almost all opaque painting, laid on thickly, 
 each layer hiding the preceding ; these are sometimes called coats, but when 
 I hear any of my pupils say they have laid on two or three coats, I know 
 that they are getting their drawing opaque instead of transparent (the great 
 beauty of water-colours), and hiding the white paper, which is far better 
 than white paint. We call these first applications, therefore, washes, and 
 the very name implies that they are broad and general, flowing freely, and 
 
ON THE USE OF WATER COLOURS l.\ PAINTINi 
 
 101 
 
 thus allowing the particles of colour to dispose of themselves to the best 
 advantage. 
 
 The first of these washes is intended to give a slight warmth to the white 
 paper ; it has also the effect of making it look a little transparent, taking away 
 the dull dead whiteness of pure white paper, making it look more sunny. 
 Some people say, " Why not use a slightly warmed or tinted paper at once, 
 and save all this trouble?" I say, "No; 1 prefer the wash over white 
 paper ; first, because the wash of delicate colour damps the paper, making 
 it take the succeeding washes better ; secondly, because it fixes the pencil 
 outline, taking away the loose particles of lead ; and lastly, because this 
 wash can be modified. Thus, we can begin one part of the sky with yellow 
 ochre, gradually make the colour orange by mixing a little red or lake with it 
 and when we come to the foreground we can change these for the richer or 
 more vigorous colours of burnt or raw sienna.'' 
 
 After washes come tints, which I should describe as less extended, and 
 more definite, every one being put on with a carefully considered form, but 
 with a brush moderately full. This gives firmness to the drawing, for with- 
 out this precise and rather formal beginning the whole is apt to look thin. 
 
 Even clouds, the softest part of a landscape, should have well defined edges 
 to their shadows. A good deal of time is well bestowed in getting a command 
 of the brush and the art of laying on washes or tints of colour. 
 
 First the flat, even wash or tint of one unmixed colour ; then the gradated 
 tint, beginning light or dark, and increasing or decreasing in strength until 
 much force or delicacy is reached. This power may be well compared to that 
 of the command over the voice, which we all recognise at once from our 
 earliest infancy. The quality of the voice and a perfect command over it are, 
 we all know, the first requisitions for a fine singer, and the purity and 
 evenness of the tone, or the regularity and gradation of the wash or tint in 
 water-colour drawing, are the first lessons to lie learnt. "What a wonderful 
 degree of pleasure a single note of the Eolian harp gives, from its faintest 
 beginning to its full swell, and in its dying cadence a second note in unison 
 may be taken up before the first has ceased, the one dying away as the other 
 strengthens in power; so one colour maybe laid on, gradually increased in 
 strength, then suffered to die away, while another colour may be added to the 
 first until it finally takes its place. The advantage of this changing, without 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 any break or contrast, from one colour to another in harmony with it, is seen 
 by looking at this diagram of the first washes of a sky* You may easily 
 perceive the increase or diminution of each colour ; thus, yellow ochre gradually 
 gives place to crimson lake, and finally, being left out altogether, leaves a 
 delicate portion of lake to be shown with cobalt, The way in which colours 
 combine, passing from one pure colour through the various proportions to the 
 next in rotation, is beautifully shown in tin; spectrum ; thus a pure yellow 
 gradually changes to a pah 1 , then a deep orange, and so on. 
 
 If we examine Nature for the position of the primitives, we shall be able, 
 without much difficulty, to assign the sky and extreme distance to blue ; 
 indeed it is the only primitive that we find in landscape. It is varied by 
 slight quantities of red of different purities, from nearly purple to the various 
 grays, which are tones, artists are generally agreed to consider, having more 
 or less yellow in addition ; thus, light red with cobalt is called gray ; black 
 diluted is also a gray, but a neutral gray with very little tendency to any 
 primitive. As we approach the middle distance, blue diminishes in purity, 
 and red gains in power and quantity, yet it is never seen so pure as blue. 
 Here again we begin to perceive the mixture of yellow of some intensity, 
 producing tones in which we have to employ the madders, burnt sienna, and 
 Vandyke brown ; and finally, in the foreground, which requires all the bril- 
 liancy of the palette, we use the richest orange and yellows we have. The 
 mixture of these with blues gives us various shades of green so abundant in 
 landscape ; we have therefore in the near parts of the landscape many large 
 masses of the secondary colours, but generally modified ; such are the purples 
 of the mountain heather, the orange tones of the sea-beach or sandy shores 
 and banks, and the innumerable and ever changing shades of green on foliage 
 and grass. These are always in harmony, being united by the most delicate 
 and charming reflections of the blues and grays of the sky and the reds 
 of the general mass of the earth. 
 
 Having given you in this short summary some slight hints on the use of 
 colours, I must leave it to future lectures and to your practice, always most 
 important, to make you more thoroughly acquainted with them. 
 
 * The illustrations of this lecture being in colour have not been reproduced, in their stead 
 a diagram in outline has been placed at the head of the section. 
 
;hton, bko.s 
 
 ASH, WARKWORTH CAST t , E 
 
Section IV. 
 
 FIVE MINUTES' SOLITUDE WITH A GLASS OF WATEE. 
 
 " Parmi les couleurs artificielles le peintre doit connaitre cellcs qui ont amitie 
 ensemble (pour ainsi dire) et celles qui out antipathie : il en doit savoir les valeurs 
 separement, et par comparaison des unes aux autres."— Du Pile, Dialogue. 
 
 It happened that I was sitting alone at a table, on which, among drawings 
 and desks, was left a glass of water. Thoughts which at times come with 
 great rapidity, and pass as quickly through the brain, chanced in this short 
 space of time to become so vivid and expressive, that they appeared to me to 
 change into sounds, and from inarticulate sounds into murmurs and words, 
 expressing to my wondering ear pain and complaint, I listened with interest 
 to ascertain from whence this unusual phenomenon proceeded, and to my 
 astonishment traced these sounds to the glass of water, which stood on the 
 table before me. I had not noticed it previously, but my attention being 
 called to it, I saw that it was exceedingly opaque, disturbed, and muddy, 
 so much so that I wondered what could have thrown it into such a state, 
 or caused such a disagreeable-looking compound. Fixing my eyes upon 
 the surface, I saw arise frcm the polluted liquid a little sylph-like form 
 dressed in floating robes of the softest material, and more dazzling white than 
 China's far-famed looms ever produced. Unfolding a pair of tiny wings, she 
 
DK AWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 alighted uii the table by my side, near an open window, through which a 
 pleasant summer breeze stole into the room — 
 
 " Where, winnow 'd by the gentle air, 
 Her silken tresses lightly How, 
 And fall upon her brow so fair, 
 
 Like shadows on the mountain's snow." 
 
 In a voice whose sound was as though the lily of the valley bells were 
 shaken, she addressed me : " My name is Blanche of China, and I rise, 
 
 Professor, to tell the sad tale of my wrongs. Pure and innocent as 1 am, 
 some of those beings whom men call young and fair treat me like a slave, 
 and make me perform tasks for which my nature is unfit. Let other creatures 
 toil, carrying light, air, and space ; but leave me to rock on a branch near your 
 side, or to rest now and then on a stone ; let me haunt the sunny homes, the 
 craggy rocks, or disport myself on a waving spray, and I will promise to 
 sprinkle everything I touch with life and light. From such spots I have been 
 driven by the wicked sprite named Ignorance, far away into the sky, among 
 clouds, where I can never rest me a moment without injuring them and 
 myself too. O Painter ! stand my friend, and enforce Nature's laws which 
 protect me, and leave me safe to dance where the sunlight plays on the earth, 
 and to display my beautiful white robes unsullied, or to masquerade in the 
 warm mantles which some of my friends are so willing to lend me, though 
 
 1 prefer to have those of Fairy Ochre Jaune or Cadminana thrown over 
 me. To those who know how to treat me I am never cold or distant, but 
 delight in helping those who appreciate my solid qualities ; so pray do not let 
 me be banished to the shade or distance, for there, I confess, I lose my temper, 
 and disturb the harmony of my companions." Thus saying, with a slight rustle 
 of wings, she vanished, and, lo ! another took her place, like a 
 
 " Sapphire queen of the mid-May." 
 
 All beautiful she stood, in robes of lovely blue, and softly she whispered 
 her name, " Azura Cobalt." Heaven-born, but cradled on the bosom of a 
 peaceful lake, her fame had already reached my ears, and praises of her 
 constancy spread far and wide. Air, sky, mountain, distant hill, and far off 
 shady vale, all spoke of her sweet influence. Of a retiring nature, she ever 
 seeks the shade, though a friend she loves— one who shines like a crimson 
 
FIVE MINUTES' SOLITUDE WITH A GLASS OF WATER. 195 
 
 flower reflected in Azura's own calm lake — will tempt her forth to join her. 
 On biiglit evenings, she may he seen soaring far away with Eosa Madder, 
 with whom, resting on banks of clouds, she will delight in the warm glow of 
 the departing sun. Then again, she will dip down to earth, and, for a while 
 disguising her aerial nature, will join the Eed Litina in the splendour and 
 ostentation which she loves. Though of opposite -natures, they agree well 
 together, as Litina is a warm-hearted little sylph, though the least hit forward 
 and positive in character. Azura's gentle voice, with a melancholy cadence, 
 fell on my ear. " Why, Painter ! are these earthly maidens permitted to 
 torture me as they do ? One cruelly chains me to a rock, another drives 
 me up into the trees, while a third pins me down among moss and stones, 
 where every foot will trample on me. In all these instances I am forced to 
 perform the work of Fraulein Azura, (who comes from Prussia), and Indigo 
 Pera, whose manners and appearance are far too dull and heavy to be 
 mistaken for me." 
 
 This last taunt brought up from the turbid water the Indian maiden last 
 named, who exclaimed in good Hindostanee, " Nobody wants you to do my 
 work, which I am happy to say I enjoy. In spring, with my dear Gambogee, 
 we make the green grass grow, and the trees flourish ; we are gay then ; but 
 in autumn, when the leaves assume their glowing tints, we call to our aid 
 our warm-hearted friends Senores Terra de Sienna; the one is but a raw 
 uncultivated fellow, and I like his brother best, in spite of his showing traces 
 of having been burnt, I may reckon among my friends the Madders and 
 Browns, and also I mix much with the de Grays, who are rich, and have 
 extensive grounds, but for pity's sake do not put me in that cold inhospitable 
 place Sky." With this request, to which I immediately consented, she sank 
 out of sight, for it must be confessed that she is rather heavy and inclined to 
 look black, and retire when ill-treated. 
 
 Of course, this altercation between the light-hearted sylph and the Indian 
 maid did not at all satisfy the Fraulein Azura from Berlin, who now stept 
 forward in a lovely robe of greenish blue silk ; she begged to say, that it 
 was not her fault if she ever took the place of Azura Cobalt, for which, she 
 confessed, she was totally unfit ; indeed she feared she should be obliged to 
 resign her station among her friends, with whom she had always worked so 
 freely, on account of aspersions thrown on her character of late (she having 
 
 o 2 
 
196 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 been accused of being not only changeable herself, but influencing her com- 
 panions to change). They must find some one else to take her place, though 
 it would be difficult to get on without her, especially when on the water ; this 
 was universally allowed, as her character was easily seen through. 
 
 Now, a handsome looking fellow came forward, dressed in a rich coloured 
 suit, who said he had still more reason to complain, as he had by some 
 mischance, or by his early association with dyers, never received his proper 
 family name. He belonged to the ancient family of the Citrines, but had 
 always been called Mr. Brown Pink ; he was however neither related to the 
 Browns nor the Pinks, but was in fact much more closely connected witli a 
 warm and rich branch of the Greens. I looked at him, and saw he had reason 
 on his side, and that there was a colour for his complaint ; but I doubted 
 whether he would ever receive his right name, or even long continue to have 
 employment, if he could not prove his steadiness as well as usefulness. 
 
 Another vigorous youth then appeared in the colours of the Bed Indians, 
 a tribe who have always lived in opposition to the family of Greens, and 
 yet who seem continually to get near them, one, I suppose, contrasting 
 well with the other. He was strong, willing, and useful ; apt in stormy 
 weather to get into the clouds, and either eject or forget his companions, and 
 settle alone by himself in nooks and corners ; he pleaded he had been much 
 used to good society, indeed introduced there by Copley Fielding ; but of late 
 had not been asked out so much, as he had been accused of encroaching and 
 even destroying the property of others, he, however, confessed that he was 
 inclined to separate himself from society ; and as he liked a cloudy day, and 
 was not gay enough for bright weather, he feared Madder Brown had usurped 
 his place and occupation. 
 
 And now arose a confused noise from all the misused and thrown- 
 aside inhabitants of the glass, some, extravagantly dressed, like Emeralda 
 Green, crying that they were worked too hard, and declaring that they were 
 only good for illumination, which was indeed true, for they were never 
 agreeable with any one, only putting everybody out, and getting out of temper 
 themselves. There were besides many who complained they had been quite 
 neglected, and had had all their energies wasted, being thoughtlessly dragged 
 from their homes and immediately carried away in a flood, without being 
 allowed to be of any service ; they confessed, however, they had a secret 
 
FIVE MINUTES' SOLITUDE WITH A GLASS OF WATER. 
 
 197 
 
 pleasure in thinking that they had left a stain on the lips of those who had 
 used them so badly. This was going too far for my patience, and wearied at 
 last with all this turmoil, I used the most powerful spell I possessed, and 
 pronounced over the agitated waters the magical w^ords — 
 
 '• System and Arrangement ! " 
 
 The various beautiful colours then arose, and placing themselves side by 
 side in their different families and connexions, became at once endowed with 
 all the charms that they inherited from their great parent, the Sun. His 
 messenger, the child of the Rainbow, the glorious Prisma, descended among 
 them on a sunbeam — • 
 
 " A living flash of light he flew." 
 
 At a wave of his wand they performed a magic dance, most wonderful for the 
 beauty and harmony of the changes and grace of the movements : this was 
 called the Spectrum. As the arrangement and figures of this mazy dance may 
 be interesting, I will endeavour to describe it. Tiny beings of exquisite grace 
 and beauty, adorned with every hue of the rainbow, delighted my eyes. At 
 one moment, a fairy, whose crimson robes shone like the ruby, would stand 
 forth— 
 
 " Child of light, her limbs are burning 
 
 Through the veil, which seems to hide them 
 As the radiant lines of morning 
 Through thin clouds ere they divide them." 
 
 Her attendant maidens, in waving garments of the tenderest green, float cloud- 
 like around her, heightening her beauty by the contrast. Before I have time 
 to admire the lovely group it vanishes, only to be succeeded by another still 
 lovelier. The principal figure, decked in a glorious purple mantle, shone like 
 a vaporous amethyst, until she and her attendants in their turn paled before 
 the light of one whose robes, too brilliant for words to describe, were 
 
 " Starred with drops of golden rain." 
 
 Thus, with the most perfect harmony, some were content to retire to form, 
 as it were, a background to their friend, while she alone appeared in full 
 costume, and governed the whole, all eyes being, of course, directed to her. 
 It was, in fact, a kind of masquerade where no one could expect to appear 
 in their proper costume or colour long together — sometimes quiet daylight 
 
108 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 might help them, but sober shade would always disguise them again. But 
 the despotic magician, Sunlight, changed their gayest robes at will, sometimes 
 even obliging the most refractory to assume his livery ; while around and over 
 all was displayed a code of laws to prevent them from disagreeing again, and 
 in it the occupation, station, and duties of each were for ever assigned them. 
 
 Sweet rainbow harmonies filled the air, and But hark ! a tap at the 
 
 door ' It opens, and, with graceful movements, a class of young ladies enters 
 the room. I open my eyes : the glass of muddy water is still there, but my 
 lovely fairies— where are they? Is it possible that I have been dreaming? 
 
 Note. — Those who have bad much experience in teaching will frequently 
 find that their best and most carefully considered lectures or lessons apparently 
 fall to the ground, and make no impression on the memory of their pupils ; 
 while some trivial expression, or fanciful mode of conveying their ideas, will 
 be remembered, and form the clue to a large amount of sound information. In 
 this way how many of Fuseli's fierce outbursts are treasured up ! how many 
 of the art truths briefly uttered by Constable or Turner ! The mind, like the 
 beautiful sea anemone, has a perverse, but natural, tendency to reject entirely 
 nutrition presented in too great masses, so I have sometimes found that five 
 minutes might be well bestowed by addressing a youthful audience in a less 
 formal manner ; and the foregoing fragment is the result of a wish to correct 
 an inclination in young colourists to waste both time and colours for want 
 of a little method and consideration. 
 
■SCOTCH FTP POUT D KSPAGNt,, PYRENK 
 
THE ART OF LITHOGRAPHY. 
 
 199 
 
 Section V.— THE ART OF LITHOGRAPHY. 
 
 (On the occasion of this lecture, the walls of the drawing-class room at 
 Rugby were hung round with studies and drawings made by the most 
 celebrated masters, amongst others wen; original sketches by Raphael, 
 Leonardo da Vinci, Rembrandt, Rubens, Reynolds. Amongst more modern 
 examples of drawings were many by Sir Edwin Landseer, from the time 
 w hen he was seven years old, some by Sir Thomas Lawrence, Turner, Mul- 
 ready, Constable, Leslie, Harding, Prout, Bonnington, &c.) 
 
 As my pupils progress in Art, and attain the power of taking faithful 
 notes from Nature, it is desirable that they should be made in some degree 
 acquainted with an art by which their newly-acquired power may be made 
 more generally useful, enabling them to multiply their sketches. Now, there 
 is no way by which this can be done so well as by Lithography. This is only 
 a kind of chalk-drawing, such as many of you have been accustomed to, but 
 on such a substance and with such materials as will, with chemical appliances, 
 yield a large number of copies. True, we have many other means of multi- 
 plying works of art. We have engraving — either on copper or steel — which 
 must be done with infinite labour and by a person altogether devoted to the 
 art ; and we have drawing on wood, but that must be followed by a most 
 laborious process of cutting or taking away all the wood excepting the lines 
 drawn. Now, putting lines on to a surface allows of much more freedom 
 than paring or cutting away the substance from lines, and it requires much 
 and early practice to become an expert wcod-cutter, so that I consider the 
 art of wood-cutting as not at all likely to engage your attention. Some 
 artists, or even amateurs, are capable of drawing on wood ; there are many 
 more who have not the requisite neatness of touch and clearness of pencilling 
 that is necessary to make a successful wood-cut. Wc have also photography, 
 or the art of producing, by the action of light on exceedingly sensitive 
 surfaces, a representation of objects. This is entirely a chemical art, requiring 
 undivided attention and expertness in the use of chemical agents, and 
 employing the powers of manipulation rather than those of correct observa- 
 
200 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 tion and delineation of Nature, so that I turn to Lithography as an art more 
 desirable for my pupils to become acquainted with. By means of it the 
 painter, the sculptor, and the architect are enabled to hand down to posterity 
 as many fac-similes of their original sketches as they please. The artist can 
 multiply his studies from Nature, and the amateur the fruits of his leisure 
 hours. 
 
 When I gave you the materials for the lithographic drawings now on the 
 table before me, I explained to you the manner of using the chalks and inks, 
 with the nature of the stone that is used. I have now brought with me one 
 of Messrs. Hanhart's best printers, who will go through the process of pre- 
 paring for printing your sketches, and while he is proceeding with his 
 manipulations, I will explain to you the various processes he employs, and 
 the difficulties we have to encounter before we can ensure success. 
 
 In treating of any art, we ought, in all honesty, to turn to the discoverer 
 and give him due honour as being the pioneer. To follow is not so very 
 difficult when the track is beaten and the road made smooth; but to discover 
 the right path when all is dark is indeed the work. 
 
 Senefelder, the discoverer of Lithography, was a poor man, but clever, 
 persevering, and industrious. He left an interesting account of his invention, 
 from which I draw the following facts. His first work was a little comedy, 
 much applauded by his friends and afterwards published ; his second attempt 
 barely paid the expense of printing, and he had to spend entire days watching 
 it passing through the press ; but this time was not wasted, as he became 
 thoroughly acquainted with the whole art of printing. 
 
 At this period a natural wish arose in his mind, — the wish of most poor 
 authors, — that printing was not so very expensive. Then he thought he would 
 like to get the money the printers earned, instead of that gained by the 
 author, so he began considering how he could produce his work himself, and 
 so save his printer's and his publishers bill. He tried all manner of experi- 
 ments with casts of letter-press, and stereotyping, and etching on copper 
 plates covered with inks or varnishes, but in vain. Then he used plates of a 
 kind of calcareous stone or slate, not uncommon in Germany. At this stage 
 he happened to have a stone just prepared with a good surface (he says, 
 "polished/') when his mother entered the room and desired him to write her a 
 bill for the washerwoman, who was waiting for the linen. He says, and I think 
 
THE ART OF LITHOGRAPHY. 
 
 201 
 
 the exact words are touching and instructive : — " I happened not to have even 
 the smallest slip of paper at hand, as my little stock had been entirely 
 exhausted by taking proof impressions from the stones ; nor was there even 
 a drop of ink in the inkstand. As the matter would not admit of delay, and 
 I had nobody in the house to send for a supply of the deficient materials, 
 I resolved to write the list with my ink prepared with soap, wax, and lamp- 
 black, on the stone which I had just polished, and from which I could copy at 
 leisure. Some time after this, I was just going to wipe this writing from the 
 stone, when the idea all at once struck me to try what would be the effect of 
 such a writing with my prepared ink if I were to bite in the stone with 
 aquafortis, and whether perhaps it might not be possible to apply printing ink 
 to it in the same way as to wood engravings, and so take impressions from it." 
 He then put some of his etching mixture to it, and seems to have first 
 attempted to bite away or to leave the writing in relief ; then he applied the 
 printing ink to the stone, first by the common printer's ball, then by a fine 
 cloth and board, and lastly by the leather and roller as at present in use. 
 Thus the new art was invented. 
 
 Now before I show you the art of printing, let me give you in a few 
 words the outline of the whole process. First understand it distinctly as a 
 chemical art— not mechanical. The design is not cut or engraved on the 
 stone like copper-plate engraving, nor is it elevated by the surrounding parts 
 being cut away like wood cuts, or bitten away in any considerable degree 
 by acids ; the effect is produced by chemical affinity rather than mechanical 
 action. 
 
 The stone is a sort of calcareous slate found in Germany, and also along 
 the banks of the Danube, about Kellheiin and Solenhofen ; these stone plates 
 are found in horizontal layers of little thickness, ^easily split and equal in 
 substance and quality, they also take with readiness a fine polish or an 
 equal grain ; they should be uniform in colour, tolerably hard, have no veins 
 or spots in them, and also be of sufficient thickness to resist the great 
 pressure put on them in taking impressions. When ink is used such as in 
 these drawings some of you have done, the surface is polished, and when 
 chalk is used, you have noticed a fine grain which is exceedingly pleasant 
 to draw upon. 
 
 I will now take these drawings which you have done, and prepare them 
 
-202 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 by a PPty m S a mixture of gum and acid ; this is called the etching mixture. 
 You see it acts everywhere with the exception of those parts where the stone 
 is protected by the greasy chalk or ink, and this acid and gum prevents the 
 surface of the stone from receiving any more of these. 
 
 Now we will place it in the press, and in order to take impressions from 
 it, we must charge it with ink of a kindred nature from this roller. You will 
 observe that the quantity of ink that is attracted from the roller will be in 
 exact proportion to that which has been put on the stone in the shape of 
 chalk or ink ; but to prevent other parts of the stone from taking it from the 
 roller, we must keep wetting the whole stone with a soft sponge. A good 
 deal of care and dexterity, you see, is necessary in charging the stone in the 
 exact proportion, for the printer has to pass and repass the roller over some of 
 the darker parts, and leave others only lightly rolled over ; he can even take 
 away by a sharp and rapid motion any surplus ink. You will now notice that 
 he clears the edges of the stone from any ink they may have attracted, and 
 taking a sheet of damped paper, he places it carefully on the stone, then the 
 leather flap of the press, and now he draws the whole underneath this 
 wooden scraper, which gives a great pressure without shifting. 
 
 Now I take the impression off with care, and present it to the artist as 
 Ins proof. He will observe, the first thing, I dare say, that it is the reverse 
 way to which he drew it, and that many parts which he drew with difficulty 
 being as it is termed back-handed, are now right-handed, and this will induce 
 him to practise, to gain an equal facility of touch in any direction ; thus 
 Lithography is of use to show us our defects in the same way that a looking- 
 glass assists the portrait-painter to see his production reversed. I will now 
 give you a convincing proof that Lithography is a chemical art, by washing 
 the drawing entirely out with turpentine; and although it is now invisible, the 
 grease still remains in the stone, and will again attract ink from the roller in 
 the proper proportions. Another advantage that results from Lithography is, 
 that as no alterations can be made after the drawing is complete, it compels 
 us to proceed with caution, and causes us to be precise as well as firm in our 
 touches, putting on as much as possible at once, for all drawings that are done 
 timidly or with repeated touches are not likely to print so well. However, I 
 shall now request the printer to furnish all of you with an impression of these 
 works as a remembrance of this short explanation of the art of Lithography. 
 
THE ART OF LITHOGRAPH V. 
 
 203 
 
 Before I leave the subject I must call your attention to the beautiful 
 Chromo-lithographs that are around the room. Many of them are very close 
 copies of tine drawings by Hunt, Cooper, Birket Foster, Eichardson, and 
 others, and can hardly be distinguished at a distance from originals. 
 
 You are aware that the word Chromo means colour; this is therefore 
 Lithography printed in colours to imitate the effect of pure washes or tints 
 laid on by hand ; but, as the varnishes and pigments used must have some 
 consistancy given by a portion of opaque white mixed with them, of course 
 they are not nearly transparent, but are managed so as to alter and bring out 
 the effect by modifying as well as printing at once the exact tone. 
 
 The chalk drawing being done in the usual way, an impression of this is 
 transferred by pressure to other stones, according to the number of tints 
 required. These are all squared and the margin covered with gum and acid ; 
 this, as you recollect, prevents any chalk or ink from attaching itself to the 
 stone. Now when this flat tint, the size of the drawing, is filled in with ink 
 and etched, it will print with any transparent colour over the chalk drawing. 
 
 By stopping out with gum the pure lights, and by gradating with fatty 
 chalks the tints, and also by modifying them with the mezzotint scraper, much 
 of the effect of Chinese white is imitated ; but I think you will be satisfied 
 by trying a single tone, and so make your drawing look like one done on 
 tinted paper touched with white. 
 
204 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Section VI.- ON THE STUDY OF ROCKS. 
 
 ROCKS THE BONES OF THE EARTH — BROKEN FRAGMENT TO BEGIN WITH — LIMESTONE THE PAINTER'S 
 ROCK— FIRST STUDIES AT HASTINGS — EAGLE ROCK, GLEN SLIGACH AN— CHOICE OF COMPANION 
 IN SKETCHING TOURS IMPORTANT— THE " BLUIDY STAKE," HART-Y-CORRIE— LOCH CORUISK— 
 LOCH SCAVAIG— BETTWS-Y-COED — LES OTTLEYS, CHANNEL ISLANDS. 
 
 Perhaps there is no portion of Nature that arrests the attention more 
 universally than Rocks. To the artist, the bony framework of the earth has 
 an additional attraction, for it reminds him of the interesting study he has 
 undergone when drawing the human figure ; and without yielding the reins to 
 his imagination, he naturally compares Rocks to the bones, the earthy super- 
 structure to the muscles, and the more delicate vegetation to the drapery 
 which, without hiding entirely the stronger lines, adds so much grace and 
 beauty to the whole. The youngest student is induced to commence his 
 efforts in drawing by copying forms that appear so visibly exposed to view, 
 and should he be so fortunate as to know a little of geology, his study is 
 much facilitated. The forms of Rocks approach much more to the geometrical 
 exercises with which he will have commenced his early practice, and the 
 simplicity of the outlines will entice him again and again to the vigorous use 
 of his pencil ; and if he does not succeed at first as well as in copying from 
 the flat, he must not lose courage, but persevere. 
 
 Even before attempting large Rocks out of doors, the pupil will do well to 
 procure a mass of some Rock, such as limestone, and place it before him on 
 a board on which has been laid a quantity of gravel, shingle, or sand from the 
 sea-shore. Let the sunlight fall fully on it, so that it casts a clear, well-defined 
 shadow. He must then copy it faithfully, first with the pencil, so that he has 
 nothing to attend to but the perspective of the mass. Afterwards he must give 
 the light and shade with form and precise strokes ; he will take care not to 
 confuse it with the local colour, nor allow any anxiety about the minor details 
 of texture or inequality of surface to interfere with the breadth of his com- 
 position, not failing also to notice the greater depth of the cast shadow. A 
 sharp edged, fresh broken fragment of Rock, with unequal quantities and with 
 here and there a curve, is sure to cause more variety in his study ; and this he 
 
ON THE STUDY OF ROCKS. 
 
 205 
 
 may increase, as well as the interest, by placing a spray of bramble, or some 
 other plant, across it, and copying the leaves, stalk, and their shadows. In order 
 to help him to attain power in handling the brush, all these studies should be 
 made with that instrument and sepia (see Brush Practice, Plate VI.), keeping 
 a firm and decided edge to the different tints ; and after surmounting these 
 difficulties (for dragging, gradating, and leaving precise and varied forms with 
 the proper flow of colour are at first difficulties) he will try to imitate and add 
 to the composition some of the smaller masses of stones lying about. I have 
 frequently made the group more approach the reality of a mass of rock on 
 a beach by the addition of a shell or two of different colours, and a little 
 green or red-tinted seaweed. Of course, none of these studies have the whole 
 truth of Nature, and to study out of doors, on the beach or river's side, is 
 much better ; but this cannot always be done, and these indoor groups have 
 at least the advantage of limiting the objects as well as the pupil's attention, 
 for the young artist is apt, when rambling about, to grudge the time devoted 
 to what he will perhaps consider only a mere Rock, when there are trees, 
 mountains, and the ever attractive sea around him. Having, by tins disci- 
 pline, overcome the difficulties of the brush, and made acquaintance with the 
 various pigments in his box, he will find it much easier to deal with the 
 detached masses on the seashore, with the sandy beach, and the wild waves 
 dashing into foam at their base ; he will soon find he can get plenty of 
 subjects, and it will matter little what kind of Pock he meets with, for all 
 are interesting, and each has a character of its own, which must be faithfully 
 copied. 
 
 I have suggested to you the study of limestone first, for it has always 
 appeared to me to be more particularly a painter's Pock, possessing as it does 
 so much variety of form and colour, from the chalky cliffs of our southern 
 coasts, where it has rounded lines, curves, and hollows, sometimes scooped out 
 into coombs or step-like terraces, to the harder limestone Pocks of Yorkshire. 
 Hardness and solidity should have the first consideration of the student, for 
 these qualities are extremely important to convey, and are not given so much 
 by black cutting lines at the edges of forms, but by a certain degree of firm 
 quality in the shading, and while this important attribute of Rocks is the first 
 aim, the young student should not neglect to indicate the effects of weather, 
 and the appearance of the surface as affected by the lichens, mosses, and 
 
206 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 vegetation which more particularly abound on this kind of Rock. But the 
 painter loves the limestone more particularly for its great variety of colour, 
 which ranges from the most brilliant white, through all the tints of gray, to 
 blue, not unfrequently also passing through the richest and warmest shades of 
 yellow, streaky red, brown, and purply black. In the Pyrenees I was often 
 struck with the varied and harmonious tints of the marbles and crystalline 
 limestones by the river's side ; for although colour is not so much seen in 
 unpolished surfaces, when these Kocks were wetted by the dash of spray, 
 their latent colour was revealed in astonishing beauty. "When the pupil has 
 gained strength by this careful study of rocky character in small masses, what 
 an interesting field of labour is open to him in the picturesque limestones of 
 Derbyshire ; in Dove Dale especially, the Tors are so striking that even those 
 that have no taste or knowledge of drawing are tempted to try their hand in 
 imitating these forms. Then the charming valleys and waterfalls in Yorkshire, 
 with the singular vertical cliff's called Scars, and the rugged masses often 
 met with, are good illustrations of mountain limestone scenery. But, above 
 all, the chalky limestone has a peculiar charm for Englishmen, for round our 
 southern coasts it is ever presented to us in striking forms, and is indeed 
 connected with our earliest history and poehy. Who does not instantly think 
 of that bold landmark, Shakespeare's Cliff, immortalized in "King Lear;" or 
 Beachy Head and Flamboro' Head, or of those most picturesque masses, the 
 Needles? Sometimes these cliffs, when undermined by the sea, or scooped out 
 by the waves in large caves and hollows, and covered with seaweed and 
 vegetation, form fine studies for the artist; and even in the rolling, undulating 
 form of downs, there is so much character in the limestone, that has afforded 
 to one of our finest English artists, Copley Fielding, endless subjects for the 
 display of his unrivalled power in portraying mist and distance with lovely 
 colour. 
 
 First studies and first impressions are never entirely obliterated from the 
 mind, however numerous and varied may be the after scenes. I fancy they 
 even serve to mould and influence the future man. When I speak to you of 
 Rocks, and the importance of the careful study of them, I recall the first 
 lessons I received from Harding, from the Pocks of Hastings, the hints I 
 gained from him and from Stanfield on the beach. The patience and the 
 masterly dexterity displayed by these great artists was a most important 
 
PLATE XIII. 
 
OX THE STUDY OP ROCKS. 
 
 207 
 
 lesson to me, and thinking of it has caused me to devote one of our evenings 
 to the consideration of the young artist's study of this division of Nature. 
 Fortunately, you will find opportunities for this occupation in every place you 
 go to ; and whether you use the pencil, chalk, or brush, you cannot do wrong, 
 all tending greatly to your improvement. 
 
 I have placed before you this evening a sepia drawing of a very picturesque 
 group of granite rocks in Glen Sligachan, Isle of Skye, called the Eagle Eock 
 (see Plate XIII.), and as every one has to gain a command of his brush before 
 he attempts the difficulties of colouring, it is well to begin with a careful 
 study of such a mass of rock in a single colour. Scotland, you know, is the 
 country for Eocks, and Skye may be said to be the pick of Scotland for the 
 same study, for when there is nothing to divert your attention from your 
 work, you will most likely work well. I will answer for it, the luxuries and 
 creature comforts of Skye will not enervate you. Having one year determined 
 to brave all privations, as well as the chance of an incessant down-pour of 
 rain, I dashed off to Oban, from thence in a steamer up the lovely Sound 
 of Sleat to Skye, and on to Sligachan. I can well remember my first 
 walk in the wild and romantic glen which leads up to Loch Coruisk, and 
 what difficulty I had to resist the restless impatience of the tourists who 
 happened to be at this solitary inn, and who, not being artists, wanted to 
 make up parties to visit Loch Coruisk, or to ascend the grand Cuchullins ; 
 but I stopped short at this picturesque group, as I thought if I began with 
 the grandest subject I could find, I should never condescend to study with 
 patience a mere mass of Eock. 
 
 Many of you often tell me that you can find no time for drawing during 
 your eight weeks holidays, so I will give you a word of counsel about it ; if 
 you really wish to draw in earnest, go out with a congenial mind, or at any 
 rate with one who has some other pursuit that will allow you each to pursue 
 his fancy undisturbed: suppose, for instance, he fishes, geologizes or botanizes, 
 and you sketch, perhaps you make up your minds to separate for a day now 
 and then ; it will only cause you to enjoy one another's company more in the 
 evening, and then with what satisfaction each will show the result of his 
 labour; and thus you will both be stimulated to greater exertion, and each 
 be content to throw his whole energies into his pursuit whatever it may be, 
 and for a time, if necessary, be satisfied to be alone On this occasion, as it 
 
208 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 generally happens, I was alone, no uncongenial mind stood between me and 
 Nature, and during a long summer I rambled through the wildest part of the 
 Highlands and Skye. Now as the rocky feature greatly preponderates in 
 that country, I think my mind got pretty well imbued with the character of 
 Bocks. Day after day did I sally forth up the wild (Hen Sligachan, crossing 
 foaming torrents, which sometimes, if a storm broke on the mountains, gave 
 me infinite trouble to recross when I returned, rousing the magnificent red 
 deer on the majestic Ben-Blaven, or hearing his hoarse roar in such a wild 
 ravine as Hart-y-Corrie. This is the place to study Rocks, and the state of 
 mind after a long, solitary ramble under a gloomy sky and moaning wind 
 is highly artistic and poetic. It puts feeling into every touch and tint, and 
 my sketches and studies in this trip have been counted by some of my 
 Highland friends as particularly faithful. 
 
 I recollect one walk and study in particular. I had been listening over 
 night to a most horrible story of a murder of one brother by another in Hart- 
 y-Corrie at the foot of a huge rock called the " Bluidy Stane," and determined 
 to hunt it up the next morning. This proved excessively dull and heavy, but 
 off I went, scrambling over the roughest of paths, through dark-coloured 
 streams, and squashing into the blackest of peat bogs. After about eight 
 miles of this I was pretty well exhausted, having lost myself more than once 
 and not having met a single being to speak to. At last I caught sight of my 
 Bock, a huge black mass standing in a deep-coloured pool under the shadow 
 of the high cliffs above, down which dashed a small waterfall, and made the 
 oidy noise I heard, with the exception now and then of the sharp scream of 
 the eagle -above my head. As I plunged through the peat bogs and amongst 
 the purply black tufts of heather to get a good position, some whitening 
 bones met my eye, and I involuntarily thought of my last night's story. All 
 at once, as I was drawing my foot out of a water-hole into which it had 
 slipped, I heard a most unearthly gasp or sigh. You will believe me when 
 I say I was astounded, not knowing what it could be, the " Bluidy Stane " 
 and its tragedy being of course very prominent in my mind. I looked at my 
 footstep to see if I had trod on anything like a toad or reptile, but saw 
 nothing. On repeating the step to come to the truth, the same sound was 
 produced, and I laughed at myself as I discovered it was only the suck of 
 the softened leather of my boot in the sticky boghole. 
 
ON THE STUDY OP ROCKS. 
 
 209 
 
 The diversion in thought, however, caused by this little incident, was soon 
 overpowered by the solemn influences around nie, and the extreme solitude 
 and dreariness of the scent; were so impressive, that it required an effort to 
 remain and make a careful sketch on the spot. 
 
 In the study before you, 1 have endeavoured to give the desolate character 
 of this wild ravine, and the bones of a poor goat which had doubtless fallen 
 over the precipice, and had been picked clean by the eagles, add to the savage- 
 ness of the surroundings. Another of my rocky studies, almost as gloomy, 
 is Loch Coruisk, which lies buried in the bosom of majestic solitude, for the 
 Cuchullin Hills, with their peculiarly deep gray hue, rise up immediately from 
 its shores. I suppose the tone of the lake is also caused by the colour of all 
 around and above it, and it has been well described by Walter Scott both in 
 prose and verse. He says," Loch Coruisk is a deep, dark, solemn piece of still 
 water of a peculiar leaden hue. The margins are composed of vast sloping 
 rocks and great gigantic stones, and these hard and herbless masses rise 
 ridge above ridge till they blend with the higher sides and summits of the 
 mountains, seen only partially through the racking clouds, and seeming, so 
 unexpectedly do they appear at times above you, as if in the very act of 
 rolling downwards. The pervading colour is an ashy brown, and there is not 
 only a vastness, but an air of volcanic desolation about them which we have 
 not seen elsewhere equalled." 
 
 Should the student encounter a shower, as is indeed highly probable, the 
 scene is immediately changed: the mountain sides are then enlivened with 
 innumerable little silver streams and torrents, which sparkle in the returning 
 sunbeams, or, changing with its heat into floating clouds of vapour and mist, 
 play round and about its rocks and crags in the most fantastic shapes. 
 Locks, precipitous cliffs, and a wild sea are also well studied at Loch Scavaig, 
 and if the visitor skirts these in a boat, and inspects some of the numerous 
 ravines and caverns, disturbing with his gun the numerous sea birds, his 
 note-book and pencil need never be idle. I have thus given you some idea 
 of the impression rocks and their study make on an artist, but there are such 
 varieties of forms and colours to be met with, that every one may choose that 
 which he likes the best. 
 
 Innumerable artists study in the locality that David Cox has made so famous, 
 Bettws-y-Coed, in North Wales; and scarcely any place can be better suited 
 
 P 
 
210 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 for obtaining fine effects. Close by is the Conway, with its numerous salmon 
 traps and weirs, and the Leder, equally picturesque, with the fine outline of 
 Moel Siabod towering above. Again, sonic will like to study the highly 
 coloured masses of red sandstone in Arran, or the noble blocks of granite on 
 Dartmoor, or on the banks of the Dart, but in all what is most characteristic 
 is the first consideration, and must ever be kept in mind. 
 
 I was much struck when in the Channel Islands with some very singular 
 masses of rock, based on others of a different colour and more easily affected 
 by the action of the waves ; they formed a line subject for the artist, and I 
 have represented them here with the addition of a little blue or gray to give 
 distance. (See Les Ottleys, Plate XIY.) A tour through these picturesque 
 islands will well repay the young artist, and furnish him with innumerable 
 studies of all kinds ; I must not, however, stay to dilate on their varied 
 beauties but will conclude with quoting an eloquent passage from Ruskin, 
 who, speaking on the subject of rocky foregrounds, says, " One lesson, however, 
 we are invariably taught by all, however approached or viewed, — that the 
 work of the great spirit of Nature is as deep and unapproachable in the 
 lowest as in the noblest objects — that the Divine mind is as visible in its 
 full energy of operation on every lowly bank and mouldering stone, as in the 
 lifting of the pillars of heaven and settling the foundation of the earth ; and 
 that to the rightly perceiving mind there is the same infinity, the same 
 majesty, the same power, the same unity, and the same perfection manifest in 
 the casting of the clay as in the scattering of the cloud, in the mouldering of 
 the dust as in the kindling of the day-star." 
 
MODERN PAINTERS AS TEACHERS. 
 
 211 
 
 Section VII. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF SOME OF THE MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 TEACHING OF VARIOUS KINDS — DIFFICULTY OF PASSING FROM PAINTING TO SPEAKING OR WRITING 
 — TURNER'S EARLY CAREER AND PROGRESSIVE STYLE; IMPETUS HE GAVE TO LANDSCAPE 
 PAINTING — SIR EDWIN LANDSEER'S INTENSE EXPRESSIVE POWER — JOHN LEECH, TRUTH UNITED 
 TO GRACE AND HUMOUR — MULREADY, TALENTED MANIPULATOR — ON THE MANAGEMENT OF 
 CHALK — SAMUEL PROUT, GREAT ARCHITECTURAL DRAUGHTSMAN — WILLIAM HUNT, FINE 
 eoLOURIST — COX, AND THE SUGGESTIVE STYLE — HARDING, GREAT KNOWLEDGE OF FOLIAGE 
 AM> COMMAND OF PENCIL — JOHN GILBERT AND ILLUSTRATIVE ART. 
 
 It may be thought that I am going beyond my vocation in venturing to 
 address my class on the character and works of a few of the modern land- 
 scape-painters, and endeavouring to show what effect they have had on the 
 present state of Art-knowledge, and the practice of Art in public schools ; 
 but when I consider that many of you have been my pupils now for some 
 years, and that you may soon quit Rugby, either to carry on your studies at 
 Oxford or Cambridge, or to pass at once into the busy world, I think that a 
 few remarks on this subject may not be out of place. Keeping this in mind, 
 and looking forward to the part you may have to take in discussing even the 
 bare utility of Art, and in exercising an acquired taste in the support and 
 encouragement of true Art, and in the rejection of that which is meretricious, 
 I shall trace, as far as my memory serves me, the way in which a few of our 
 most eminent painters and men of mark have studied, and how their power 
 has been acquired, and shall thus endeavour to encourage you to pursue their 
 path as far as your other and more important duties will permit. 
 
 Now, first you must understand that I take teaching in its broad sense, 
 some men imparting knowledge in one way, some in another. The best and 
 most effective teaching is doubtless by example, for young men will gain more 
 in the short time allowed, by what they see actually done before their eyes, 
 than by long dry exhortations of what they ought to do. You all know the 
 old saying, " Example is better than precept ; " so that when a man teaches 
 clearly by his example and practice, and yet not at all by his writings or 
 voice, I consider him equally a teacher, and often the best of teachers. 
 
212 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Now it is very natural to suppose that the art a man is always prac- 
 tising, always endeavouring with all his energy, and throughout his whole 
 life, to advance in, should be the one in which he best expresses his innermost 
 thoughts and feelings. Whatever information he has gained from his study 
 of Nature he treasures up, matures, and reproduces in the way most easy 
 to him. This exclusive devotion to one course and mode of study will leave 
 him less power to express himself equally fully in another and totally 
 different manner. It is rare indeed when we find any man of deep thought 
 that can pass indifferently even from one language to another ; he will 
 naturally, when he begins to warm with his subject and become impassioned, 
 fiy to the one way in which he can throw out his full soul and feelings. 
 Kossuth is a wonderful example of a man of elevated sentiments, expressing 
 himself with almost equal facility in a language not his own ; his English is 
 magnificent, and derived from our purest sources ; but although thus eloquent 
 in a foreign tongue, it cannot be gainsayed that when addressing his country- 
 men his language proved far more forcible and irresistible. 
 
 Passing to our immediate subject, we have a remarkable instance in our 
 greatest of landscape-painters, Turner, of the extreme difficulty that there is 
 in acquiring, not a mere language, but an entirely different mode of ex- 
 pressing ideas. After a whole life of endeavours to convey thoughts in 
 colours, and through the skilful manipulations of the hand, it was impossible 
 for Turner to render the same in writing or words, and it is therefore not at 
 all surprising that he entirely failed, when elected Professor of Perspective at 
 the Academy, in making himself even intelligible. There is a well-known 
 anecdote of his showing diagrams on this art, and after landing himself in an 
 inextricable confusion of from A's to B's and C's to D's, thoroughly breaking 
 down ; and something of the same kind is told at Oxford of a great mathe- 
 matical don. Meg Merrilies calls Domine Sampson in her rage a " Sticket 
 Preacher ; " and there are many equally learned men who are entirely unable 
 to communicate by words or writing the thoughts that burn within them. 
 
 Education and early training have, you all know, much to do with the 
 direction of a man's industry and talent. Turner had none of this scholastic 
 teaching, for he was the son of a barber wdio lived near Covent Garden, and 
 began his career in the humblest of all ways. We hear of him washing in 
 tints and skies for architects at half-a-crown each ; then as going to a kind 
 
MODERN PAINTERS AS TEACHERS 
 
 213 
 
 old gentleman's house and working all the evening for a somewhat larger 
 sum and a supper. After this we see him carefully and laboriously working, 
 chiefly in sepia or some monotone, extremely cautious not to engage in the 
 difficulties of colour before he had thoroughly mastered drawing and light 
 and shade — this reticence, so different from modern hastiness, most amply 
 repaying him in after years. It appears to me that every great painter or 
 colourist has begun with this apprenticeship ; and Turner, in particular, seems 
 long to have been contented with mere effects of black and white. His 
 style may be divided into four different phases or periods, growing out of 
 each other. 
 
 First, he showed a severe, hard, and literal manner, in which is evident 
 the greatest wish to be faithful to Nature, probably at this time he had 
 no idea beyond this. Perhaps he did not understand effect; or lie may have 
 thought it unnecessary, finding his whole powers required to represent form 
 accurately. 
 
 He had in this study the example of Paul Sandby, whose drawings were 
 careful and true in lines, with flat washes and tints, but little effect. The 
 next artist whose works had an important influence on Turner was Cozens, 
 whose best drawings are remarkable for solemnity, serenity, and breadth. In 
 the Manchester Exhibition of 1857 there were examples of this artist which 
 illustrated the power of the painter over these sources of effect, but at the 
 same time showed no attempt to render much colour. This, says an excellent 
 critic on Art, " was at that time beyond the reach of flat washes and vegetable 
 tints; for as yet the draughtsman's practice in water-colours was confined to 
 the one, and his box to the other." Turner is said to have acknowledged that 
 he learned more from Cozens than from any other artist of the time ; and 
 Constable also praises the modest and unobtrusive beauties of his drawings. 
 After Cozens came Girtin, whose manner was also broad and simple ; and as 
 Girtin was linked by kindred style and spirit with Cozens, so Turner, by 
 admiration and common study, is associated with Girtin. Not to dwell too 
 long in our limited time on the progressive forming of Turner's style, I must 
 mention that he seemed to take up one or two colours at a time, and to 
 become thoroughly acquainted with their uses and effects. He did not plunge 
 joyously into the mysteries of colouring without knowing anything about it, 
 and suddenly find himself out of his depth, as some young friends of mine 
 
214 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 do. Then comes his grand mature stage, in which nearly all his finest and 
 most beautiful water-colour drawings were done, such as those that were in 
 the possession of Mr. AVindus, and are now in the hands of Mr. Fordham. 
 At a later period of his long career he seems to have tried experiments in 
 colouring with almost reckless liberty, often attaining, however, a wild and 
 poetical effect. It is to the middle period of Turner's life and works that 
 1 would direct your attention, and none will better repay a careful and minute 
 study. This will tend to elevate and refine your ideas of Art, and lead to a 
 better appreciation of the endless beauties of Nature. Turner's best and most 
 careful studies were made in Great Britain ; he appears, indeed, to have 
 visited almost every county in England and "Wales. By his will, he left 
 many of his larger paintings and a vast number of his sketches to the nation ; 
 and, with these great advantages, we have yet another; for, while Turner 
 possessed this grand power of teaching and influencing Art and artists by his 
 brush and pencil, he has had the great good fortune to gain for an exponent 
 of his thoughts, his feelings, and intentions, that most eloquent writer on Art, 
 Buskin, who, while Turner poured forth his soul and poetry in form and 
 colour, translated and diffused it almost with equal force in words. Thus 
 I consider Turner and his works to have influenced, in the highest degree, the 
 artistic mode of studying from Nature, and landscape-painters in particular 
 ought to reverence him, fov he gave such an impetus to the appreciation of 
 this branch of Art that has placed it side by side with the more popular 
 study, the figure ; and he must be regarded as having, by his works, during 
 a long life, eminently assisted in raising the British school of painting to its 
 present acknowledged character of supremacy both at home and abroad. 
 
 Many of Turner's later productions are exceedingly difficult to be under- 
 stood by the young artist ; but let him first carefully study the earlier works 
 of this great master, and he will then be better able to appreciate the wild 
 poetical beauty of those painted at a later period. 
 
 Bassing from Landscape Art to another branch, for which I know fidl well 
 my hearers and pupils have a great predilection, I will now speak of Animal 
 Drawing; and whom can I name so naturally as Sir Edwin Landseer, whose 
 works appeal at once to all Englishmen's hearts with irresistible power? 
 Truthfulness is depicted in every line. He is our English Snyders, and has 
 been termed the greatest dog-painter that ever existed; but be is almost 
 
MODERN PAINTERS AS TEACHERS 
 
 215 
 
 equally successful in horses, stags, and indeed all animals. In his works we 
 see good and true drawing from Nature, correctness of form and appropriate 
 colour ; his handling is delicate and graceful, and he shows a constant and 
 profound knowledge of animal character. I place him, therefore, very high 
 amongst the masters who have, by their example and teaching, raised a love 
 of Art and the study of Nature amongst us Englishmen. Landseer needs no 
 interpreter ; his dogs live and breathe, his horses snort and pant, and in many 
 of his earlier pictures, such as the " Old Shepherd's Chief Mourner," there is 
 wonderful expression and deep pathos. 
 
 Listen to a description of this picture in the eloquent word-painting of 
 Ruskin : " The exquisite execution of the glossy and crisp hair of the dog, 
 the bright, sharp touching of the green bough beside it, the clear painting of 
 the wood of the coffin, and the folds of the blanket, are language— language 
 clear and expressive in the highest degree. But the close pressure of the 
 dog's breast against the wood, the convulsive clinging of the paws, which has 
 dragged the blanket off the tressel, the total powerlessness of the head, close 
 and motionless upon its folds, the fixed and tearful fall of the eye in its utter 
 hopelessness, the rigidity of repose which marks that there has been no 
 motion or change in the trance of agony since the last blow was struck on the 
 coffin-lid, the quietness and gloom of the chamber, the spectacles, marking 
 the place where the Bible was last closed, indicating how lonely has been the 
 life, how unwatched the departure, of him who is now laid solitary in his 
 sleep — these are all thoughts — thoughts by which the picture is separated at, 
 once from hundreds of equal merit, as far as mere painting goes, by which it 
 ranks as a work of high art, and stamps its author, not as the neat imitator 
 of the texture of a skin or the fold of a drapery, but as the man of mind." 
 
 But I have less reason to call your attention to his beauties, because you 
 have, in the numerous folios around you, so many examples engraved from 
 his works. I consider these have materially assisted the modern draughtsman 
 in seizing the best points of a horse or dog, and in linking together the real 
 with a true and graceful representation. 
 
 Although not a painter, and not influencing Art through the medium of 
 pictures or colour, perhaps no man has contributed so much to the general 
 taste and enjoyment by the use of his pencil as one we have just lost, John 
 Leech. He was indeed a most popular and truly-lamented artist ; he was 
 
216 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 loved as well as admired by all, for he portrayed so truly, and yet with 
 such grace and humour, the various passing events of life, that when we 
 looked to his works we saw even our failings represented through a most 
 flattering medium. I call Leech a fine example for those who desire faithfully 
 to draw from Nature, and I am sure every one in this room would wish to 
 have possessed his most enviable talent, We ought then to examine how it 
 was he pleased so universally. First, he drew so truthfully, and yet appa- 
 rently so easily, it appeared as if his lines fell on the paper without effort 
 and without the horrors of painful correction ; hut, for the encouragement of 
 those amongst you who feel depressed in their first studies from Nature, I 
 must tell you that, besides having great natural abilities, Leech took immense 
 pains. In the late exhibition of his sketches I could see several instances 
 of careful revision of first ideas, such as horses with five legs, one being 
 rejected, or figures with three arms, or even four arms, the action not having 
 been sufficiently well expressed for his fastidious taste. Leech had, above 
 all, a sound knowledge of the figure, and amidst all his devotion to fashion 
 and fashionable costume you can see very well the form is always correct 
 and graceful. Joined to this charming power of seizing the most character- 
 istic points, he had sufficient wit in his pencil to give great point to his 
 jokes, and to make his hits relished as well as felt. But here let me tell you a 
 witty pencil is produced only by a witty mind ; a man cannot show with his 
 pencil what he has not seen and appreciated, any more than an author can 
 write thoughts that he has not felt. Mere copying of Nature will not do : 
 no, something more is wanted ; we want the poet, the artist, and the man as 
 well, to touch our feelings, and Leech was all these, and therefore we miss 
 him so much, for his place will not be filled again in a hurry. Moreover, the 
 scenes that he drew were, like Sir Edwin's, highly English and popular ; the 
 hunting-field and its various incidents, the sea-shore, and the drawing-room, 
 all came alike to his gifted pencil. Perhaps no man has ever sketched the 
 action and paces of a hunter so truly as Leech ; and he ennobled the branch 
 he followed to such an extent, that he must not be looked upon as a cari- 
 caturist, but as a real draughtsman from Nature. 
 
 Turning from the study of Nature out of doors to the more quiet self- 
 training of the artist, we cannot have a better example of devotion and 
 patience, as well as first-rate talent, than Mulready, who has exercised a very 
 
MODERN PAINTERS As TEACHERS. 
 
 217 
 
 beneficial effect on our English school of drawing, first, by his well-known 
 and exquisite paintings (many of which the nation are so fortunate as to 
 possess, and which are therefore always influencing the taste of the public) ; 
 secondly, by his wonderful chalk studies of the human figure from life, 
 decidedly the best examples of the mode in which drawings should be 
 made, and the way to manage the chalk and stump, for these materials are 
 inclined to be very unruly, and if not used with dexterity are very apt to 
 detract from the beauty of the drawing. As many of you draw from casts, 
 and therefore employ both Italian and Conti chalks, it may be interesting 
 as well as useful to examine one or two of these refined drawings of 
 Mulready's now on the wall, as well as others lent me by various friends, 
 and afterwards those drawn on stone by Bonnington, Harding, and others. 
 I must also quote to you, from a clever work on the Art Treasures of Great 
 Britain, by Dr. Waagen, some excellent hints on chalk drawing. 
 
 " The old masters always employed in their drawings the material best 
 adapted to the object they had in view, if they were desirous of noting 
 down a first thought, just as it arose in the fancy, they usually chose the 
 red Italian chalk with which sketching is so easy, or the soft Italian black 
 chalk. The breadth and softness of the stroke immediately gives to such 
 a first sketch something picturesque and massy ; while, at the same time, 
 the material allowed of a high degree of finish, if desirable. But if they 
 wished to arrest a rapidly-passing effect in Nature, to seize an accidental, 
 happy, quickly-changing cast of drapery, or to mark sharply and distinctly 
 the main features of some character, the pen was preferred, which allowed 
 them to unite the easy-flowing line with the sure and distinct indication of 
 forms. If, on the other hand, they aimed to express in a portrait or study 
 the most delicate movement of forms, and a fine play of surface within 
 the outline, they generally took a silver point. On a paper covered with 
 a mixture of white-lead and pale yellow ochre, verdigris, or some red, such 
 a pencil marks but lightly and softly, and therefore allows of alterations and 
 improvements ad infinitum, and by pressing hard, marks decidedly that design 
 which the artist finally prefers. Or if their chief object was the broad dis- 
 tribution of light and shade the full camel's hair brush, dipped in sepia or 
 Indian-ink, with its elastic point and its bold breadth, led most rapid])' and 
 surely to their end. In such drawings the outlines of the forms arc often not 
 
218 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 indicated, but result only from the limits of the shadows; when it was required 
 at the same time to indicate the form, the use of the pen was added. Lastly, 
 for a more detailed marking of light and shade coloured paper afforded them 
 a middle tint, by the help of which they produced, with black chalk in the 
 shadows and white in the lights, a very delicate gradation and a great relief 
 of the parts. On account of its many advantages this mode of drawing has 
 been very commonly used." 
 
 I have thus turned your attention to the works of Mulready and to the 
 most perfect manipulations of the chalk style, for although it is not very 
 probable or even very desirable that pupils in a public school should devote 
 much time to master all its difficulties, you should be aware that delicacy and 
 refinement are highly necessary in all kinds of art. 
 
 We must now turn to one who, although he passed from among us some 
 time ago, exercised very great influence on the modern style of sketching from 
 Nature. I mean Samuel Prout, one of the greatest and most picturescpie 
 draughtsmen of architectural subjects that has ever lived. 
 
 He possessed great knowledge, unbounded industry, and a most vigorous 
 pencil ; there is no drawing of old buildings that possesses so much vitality 
 so much reality, and so much picturesque quality as his. In his numerous 
 works, many of which are around you, may be traced an intense love .of old 
 Gothic architecture, and his mode of handling was so admirably suited to 
 portray massive stone work crumbling into ruins, full of rents and fissures, 
 and covered with lichens, mosses, and weeds, that it has a great charm 
 for the young student. My firs't studies were of his works, for he was yet 
 living when I was a boy, and many a time, when I have seen him drawing, 
 I could not but wonder how such a delicate-looking man could have adopted 
 such a massive, vigorous manner ; for at that age one is apt to think that 
 character should always correspond with the outward appearance. 
 
 I have wished that his style of sketching should influence you, and there- 
 fore have always placed before you his lithographic drawings, for we have the 
 great advantage of possessing many of his works drawn by himself on stone ; 
 in this art he was perfectly at home, and there is a freedom of execution and 
 a manly boldness of touch that is perfectly refreshing. 
 
 His figures are admirably grouped, and fill his streets and markets with 
 a crowd ; and, although they have somewhat of a stony look, they are broad 
 
MODERN PAINTEES AS TEACHERS. 
 
 219 
 
 and simple in character and light and shade. In foliage and vegetation 
 perhaps yon will think him heavy and ungraceful, but you must recollect 
 that these portions of the landscape were, in his w oks, always subservient 
 to architecture. He taught much while living, exhibiting also fine careful 
 drawings in water-colours, and with these and his vigorous drawings on 
 stone he doubtless greatly advanced the present mode of looking at and 
 drawing from Nature. 
 
 Let us now consider the works of another great master, one who also 
 possessed a most vigorous style and mode of colouring. I speak (if William 
 Hunt, the truest delineator of rustic boys and girls in their various joys and 
 sorrows. Hunt was a fine example of what steady perseverance and perfect 
 devotion to one style and kind of art will do. There was no subdivision of 
 his time in any way, no straining after the talent that other men possessed ; 
 but, having chosen a modest and confined class of subject, he carried it out to 
 the utmost of his ability. He was the best painter of still life we have ever 
 possessed, and his fruit and flowers are handled with a richness and power that 
 rival in every respect the most celebrated masters of the Dutch school. His 
 style was at first pure water-colour, without any extra vehicle or body-colour; 
 latterly he used more opaque colours and vehicles, but still covered them so 
 dexterously with delicate tones and washes, that the whole looks admirably 
 transparent. There is one point in his works I wish you particularly to notice : 
 it is the way in which he placed small touches of pure primitive colour side 
 by side, thus making, by their various combinations, every shade of secondary 
 and tertiary colour. After his lamented decease, there was in the exhibition 
 of the Old Water-colour Society a splendid example of this in the basket of 
 flowers of a flower-girl; the blots of pure colour, placed in harmonious positions, 
 formed a most lovely composition of colours, and showed wonderful talent in 
 the master. Here, again, we have many opportunities of studying his style 
 and subjects, as the folios to which you have access contain many of his works, 
 some of which he drew on stone himself. 
 
 As a pendant to Hunt, but his antithesis in manner, T must mention 
 David Cox. one of the greatest landscape painters in the broad and indicative 
 style, who with a single blot of colour or dash of his brush suggests more 
 thought and feeling than many with t lie most careful elaboration. His 
 intense love of Nature, and the devotion with which he studied for fifty 
 
220 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 summers at Bettws-y-Coed amongst the foaming rapids of the Conwav or 
 under the shadow of the heathery mountains, should surely be the admiration 
 of all students of Nature. I own that were I addressing artists I should 
 long to dwell on this great example of the power there is in Art to convey 
 the most varied sentiment and subtle effects with no apparent effort ; but in 
 your case labour in Art conies first, and I must beware how I encourage 
 young amateurs to copy the manner without being able to approach the more 
 noble qualities of such a mind. 
 
 We have still another master of landscape, whose works, in colour and 
 pencil, have borne an important part in forming the modern style of drawing 
 — I mean Harding. I should speak of him with some reserve were I the only 
 one who had benefited by his instructions, but his pupils, or, at any rate, 
 those who have gained their knowledge of Art from himself or his works, are 
 so numerous, that I am quite sure all will admit they have been greatly 
 indebted to him. 
 
 Previewing Harding's works from some distance of time, and judging him 
 and his teaching divested of the prejudice which he doubtless experienced 
 whilst living, all must allow that his teaching, his pictures, and his published 
 works exercised a powerful influence on drawing; he is admitted, by one 
 quite capable of judging (Ruskin), to have possessed a greater knowledge of 
 foliage and tree-drawing than any other painter, with the exception of Turner ; 
 nor had we, at the period when he drew the best, any one, either in or out of 
 the Academy, in any way comparable to him in the masterly representation 
 of foliage. In rocks, also, he was equally strong, and his foregrounds are 
 admirable. His command of the pencil was wonderful ; with it he could 
 express more than most men, and " his work in near passages of fresh broken, 
 sharp edged rock, is absolute perfection ; and the perfect freedom and facility 
 with which his fragments were splintered and scattered was exceedingly 
 fascinating, for there was truth in every line without any apparent effort. In 
 colour he was also most admirable, and the rich lichenous and changeful 
 warmth and delicate grays of Harding's rocks, illustrated as they are by the 
 most fearless, firm, and unerring drawing, render his wild pieces of torrent 
 shore the finest things, next to Turner, in English foreground-art." Harding 
 had sufficient power and ambition at one period of his life to become a fine 
 oil-painter, his skilful handling and command of all manner of material giving 
 
MODERN PAINTERS AS TEACHERS. 
 
 22 1 
 
 him great advantages ; but with all this talent it was, perhaps, to be regretted 
 that he latterly strained too much after dash and rapidity, and masterly as 
 was his hand, and practised as was his eye, he sometimes fell into a too 
 obviously pictorial arrangement of his subjects, which hi rendering apparent 
 the painter's artifice, destroys for us much of the effect of his pictures. It is 
 the fashion with some of the modern critics to decry the services that Harding- 
 has rendered to Art ; but it would be difficult to name any one who lias 
 laboured more energetically and successfully to advance the ability and tastes 
 of the public for drawing. 
 
 I have yet to mention a style of Art which has of late exercised great 
 influence in forming the general taste, I mean Serial Illustrative Drawing, 
 by which passing events are presented to the public in a pictorial and forcible 
 manner. For this is required the draughtsman with great knowledge of the 
 human figure, an educated mind stored with costume and great power to 
 express passions and actions ; to these must be added rapidity to convey them 
 all to the block of wood in a way that it may " cut well." In all these 
 points John Gilbert stands first, and with his vigorous pencil, great knowledge 
 of character, and profound study of costume, more particularly of the time 
 of Elizabeth, he has done much to make Art popular and welcome to the 
 multitude. Without aspiring to be a colourist his exhibited works are very 
 fine, but his strength is best shown in his illustrations of Shakespeare and 
 Don Quixote, and weekly contributions to the Illustrated News, where his 
 wonderful faculty of extemporising designs and rapidity of execution, rarely 
 making any previous sketch, and often occupying only three hours for a page 
 plate, make him an invaluable aid. 
 
 I might add many modern painters and teachers to this list, who have 
 aided, by their devotion to some branch of Art, to spread abroad the culti- 
 vation and appreciation of drawing ; but I must, for the present conclude. To 
 you who thus early in life have devoted a certain portion of your time to 
 master the difficulties of Art I leave the consideration of following up your 
 studies by repeated efforts ; and by taking for example those masters whose 
 works have assisted to form our present school of drawing, I trust you will 
 find the exercise of your talent produce a large increase in your enjoyment 
 in Drawing from Nature. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 SYLVA EVELYN'S COUNTKY. 
 
 " Him no false distant lights, by fortune set, 
 Could ever into foolish wanderings get, 
 He measures time by landmarks, and lias fc 
 
 ig wood, born with himself 
 old contemporary trees." 
 
 Cowley. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF AN ARTIST WHILE SKETCHING — OLD MANOR FARM— ABINGER COMMON— LEITH AND 
 HOLMBURY HILLS — ANCIENT DANISH AND SAXON REMAINS — WOODLAND SOURCE — THE EVELYN 
 WOODS — SYLVA EVELYN, HIS LIFE AND TIMES — FELLING TREES AT THE ROOKERY — FORMER 
 GUNPOWDER MILLS AT WOTTON, FORGES AT THE HAMMER— PHOTOGRAPHY NOT ALWAYS CORRECT. 
 
 NE autumn evening I was sitting drawing before a group of picturesque 
 
 V.X old beech trees, with twisted and gnarled roots, overhanging a broken 
 sand-bank near Wotton Place. I bad worked at the study many days, 
 patiently elaborating all the details, and now only wanted a group of cattle 
 to make my work complete. This was just then fortunately presented by 
 some cows seeking shelter from the heat of the day underneath the protecting 
 branches ; they grouped themselves so charmingly for an artist, that, intent 
 on sketching them, I scarcely heard the approach of a young sportsman, who, 
 with dogs and well-filled bag, was returning from his day's shooting, for which 
 I had seen him start in the morning I barely lifted my head to return his 
 salutation, but, having walked off his superfluous animation, he evidently felt 
 inclined to chat, while he smoked his cigar. Like many others who rejoice 
 in health and strength and have not by discipline in early life overcome the 
 difficulties of drawing, he could not appreciate the interest of the occupation, 
 and seemed to pity me for my inactivity. "Yours is a charming art," he 
 began; "it's a pity it is so tedious. When I see you and other artists 
 painting away from morning till night, from week to week, the same objects 
 
224 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 from the same .spot, till the very grass id worn bare under your feet, 1 often 
 wonder what your minds can be employed upon while your hands are so 
 busy ! Are you really thinking of nothing but matching the green of your 
 trees, the colour of a sand-bank, or of rendering what you call a spot of 
 pure sunlight on fallen leaves or gravel ?" 
 
 " By no means," I replied ; " past years of study have taught me the use 
 of my colours, with something of composition, and how light and shade must 
 fall, so that my mind is now free to play around the subject while my fingers 
 are employed ; my thoughts find time to wander to the history of the scene I 
 paint, and to animate the whole, and I strive to convey a reflex of these to 
 my canvas, not merely a photographic representation, devoid of all poetry. 
 Of an artist, least of all people, should it be true that — 
 
 " 'A primrose by a river's brim 
 A yellow primrose was to him, 
 Ami nothing more. ' 
 
 A painter should acquaint himself with every tale or legend attached to 
 the spot, and choosing the one best suited to his subject, should then aim at 
 getting an effect in harmony, and proceed to embody his idea so as to convey 
 both the nature and the poetry of the scene to the beholder ; indeed, they 
 should lie inseparable. Of course it is always difficult to apportion what a 
 man brings to a subject and what he finds in it ; but the more enriched and 
 cultivated the mind, the greater will be the amount of beauty discovered. 
 Preconceived ideas exert an imperceptible sway over the strongest under- 
 standing. If a man look at Nature to find straight lines and angles, he will 
 find them ; if he look for curves, curves lie will find. For example, as a 
 portrait painter aims at showing the mind of his sitter in his face, more truly 
 than the photographer, who merely presents a map of the features (often 
 distorted by a strained or stolid expression) ; so the intelligent landscape 
 artist is ambitious of conveying something in his pictures infinitely beyond 
 the mere outline of the houses, the greenness of the foliage, or the clear blue 
 of the sky. He whose works answer to his ideal conception, presenting 
 faithful detail and elaborate finish, combined with the poetry of an elevated 
 and cultivated feeling, must rank high in the judgment of those who are 
 competent to judge. Doubtless the Dutch and Flemish schools, the most 
 perfect in manipulation and faithful in delineation, though destitute of 
 
sylva evelyn's country. 
 
 225 
 
 sentimental beauty, will always please the great numbers to whom the idea of 
 a picture means nothing more than an accurate copy of objects before their 
 eyes, as a face, a cottage, or a bird's-nest with moss. But some there will 
 always be to encourage and reward the rarer genius which records not merely 
 the features, but catching also tiie happiest moment when the mind reflects 
 itself most truly in the countenance, fixes it for ever on the canvas, and thus 
 hands down the statesman or the poet to posterity." 
 
 " Well," said my young friend, " I dare say you are right, and I wish I could 
 view all this capital country through your eyes now and then, for when I 
 neither get a shot nor a nibble all day, I am preciously out of humour with 
 myself, and all the reading of "Field Sports" and Walton's "Angler" doesn't 
 prevent me from feeling that I have wasted my time when I go to bed." 
 
 " You had better come up to the Old Manor Farm, then, where I am living 
 at present," said I, " and breakfast with me, and we will have a walk and a 
 talk about this, the highest and most picturesque spot in Surrey." 
 
 " Shall I bring my gun and the dogs ? " inquired my friend. 
 
 " On no account ; change your whole ideas for one day, for dogs will lead 
 you to think of game, and even a fishing rod should be exchanged for a good 
 field-glass." 
 
 I should mention that I recognised in the speaker, Dobson, a former pupil, 
 and found that he still possessed the habit of argument and apparent contempt 
 for Art which had tasked my patience in his boyhood. On one occasion, when 
 corrected for careless, idle habits by the prophecy that he would never be an 
 artist, he replied that if he thought he was likely to be one, he would hang 
 himself at once. He was answered that he might feel himself quite secure 
 against such a termination to his career, as he never could be an artist. Having 
 now found my young fellow out in this quiet place, 1 determined to show him 
 something of the mind of a painter, and, if possible, cause him to think that 
 there was something besides Latin and Greek that was worth studying, and 
 other amusements worth living for besides shooting and fishing, and the 
 boisterous, though manly, games of football and cricket. As he was always 
 very frank, I was sure to hear his opinions without reserve, and could thus 
 administer the antidote on the spot, 
 
 A bright sunny morning and early habits gave me the advantage of 
 Dobson, and I had nearly completed a study of the porch of the old house 
 
226 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 before he made his appearance. After a hasty survey we sat down to the 
 good farmhouse breakfast of broiled ham, eggs, and coffee, with various kinds 
 of cake and bread (the latter really sweet), provided by my good landlady ; 
 then with cigar and pipe, which artists and sportsmen are wont to consider 
 aids to digestion (though with how much truth I will not say), we had leisure 
 to look around. We sat in the quaint old-fashioned hall or kitchen, with its 
 capacious hearth, on which was blazing a fire of huge beech logs, a settle 
 on one side in the chimney, and the farmer's old arm-chair in the opposite 
 corner, with a little window at his elbow to allow him a peep at the labours of 
 the yard. The smoke curled away above our heads in the chimney, circling 
 among the rafters and hams. "This is a favourite room with my children," 
 said I, " there is so much to amuse them ; everything is so new and singular 
 to Londoners ; they like it far better than the inner or best room. The wind 
 roars merrily round the old house in winter ; and I assure you that in many 
 a stormy night I have felt the whole building, substantial as it looks, rock 
 with the blast, and the old diamond-shaped panes and casements rattle in 
 fine style ; the wind then swirls round the large chimney nooks, bursting 
 in at the front door and rushing out at the back, up through the boards from 
 the vaults below, making it necessary to keep on hat and great coat, for the 
 cold is piercing on this high ground : at such times another huge log is 
 thrown on the fire, and the younger part of the family cheerfully add their 
 gatherings of fir cones, sticks, crackling holly, and laurel ; elder wine is 
 warmed and toast made, and as all circle round the blazing hearth, each tells 
 something interesting about the old place." 
 
 "This makes an excellent interior for an artist, with a rustic figure or two ; 
 the old farmer smoking his pipe, while his dame sits knitting by the light 
 of the rush, dipped in grease, held in that curious iron stand. This kind 
 of light was used almost everywhere when I first knew the place ; you see 
 it has to be changed in the pincers every few minutes, or else held in the 
 hand, both interruptions to quiet reading. I have heard many old people 
 say it is far more comfortable for getting into bed by, because it goes out 
 of itself, and gives no trouble ! In the chimney corner you may see the 
 piece of rough bark that holds the store of dipped rushes, which are gathered 
 and stripped by the poor as the autumn warns them of the approach of long 
 evenings. The farmer's wife buys them in bundles, and melting some fat 
 
SYLVA EVELYN'S COUNTRY. 
 
 227 
 
 in a frying pan, passes them through it, and thus has plenty of candles at 
 a trifling expense ; but when more light is wanted she indulges in the luxury 
 of a candle, shielding it with that quaint covered shade with two little 
 windows in it, thus protecting her light from the wintry gusts. But come," 
 I concluded, " let us leave all these details, which are interesting only to nn 
 aitist or an antiquarian, and have a stroll about the place, and see- if we can 
 make, anything of it." The capacious porch, with its oak settles, carved door, 
 old iron loop handle and knocker, were noticed, and some little pains taken 
 to decipher a scarcely visible coat of arms on the oval stone medallion over 
 the doorway. The little prophet's chamber above it looked bright with its 
 tiny panes, half hidden in clusters of roses and honeysuckles, while the 
 caucarus, with its brilliant yellow balls, and the guelder rose grouped well 
 about the base. 
 
 An avenue of yew, I am told, once led from the porch to a side door in 
 the front garden, and just afforded a peep of the little old-fashioned church, 
 with its taper spire of wood, and in the garden at the south side were 
 some fine walnut trees, which were either blown or cut down some twenty 
 years ago, when they must have both sheltered the building and contributed 
 to its picturesque appearance. The garden and orchard have originally 
 been surrounded with a strong wall and moat; while a high mound, with 
 two much shattered but fine old firs, seems to have, been a kind of keep 
 or watch tower, as a light from thence would be visible all around, and 
 communicate an alarm from Holmbury and Ewehurst to Wotton and Dorking. 
 
 But finding Dobson longing for a walk we started for Leith Hill, and 
 soon found ourselves on the breezy common, knee-deep in the bracken and 
 whortleberries, and under the fragrant Scotch fir. Following a deep gully, 
 which gradually led up to Leith Hill, we coidd easily believe the tales told 
 by some of the old people, that these defiles were many years ago frequently 
 traversed by smugglers, who transported their goods from the southern coasts 
 to London, one old cottager assuring me that his father had often seen fifty 
 or a hundred horses heavily laden pass through them. The whole of this 
 part of the common seemed to justify the name of Abinger, which, according 
 to Aubrey, signifies an eminence or rising ground, the upper part of the 
 parish being the most elevated spot in the county. By degrees we left the 
 thick fir woods behind, then the straggling advanced posts of trees, and finally 
 
228 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 came out on the wild barren moor, at the summit of which stands a square 
 tower. It was fortunately a splendid day. and the view over the wealds of 
 Surrey and Sussex, and of the forest ridge, with the North and South Downs 
 in the hazy distance, was magnificent. Artists, however, look upon such an 
 extended panorama with very different ideas from those of the world at large, 
 the former regarding it somewhat in the light of a map, while to the latter it 
 presents all that constitutes a picture. 
 
 " There," said my companion, " why don't you sit down and paint that \ 
 What can ba more glorious ? There you have everything; fifty miles of the 
 most beautiful country in every direction, and a little of London besides. 
 "What more can you desire ?" 
 
 " Rather less distance and a good deal more talent, my friend." 
 
 v We poor artists must be content to attempt a little bit of Nature at a 
 time ; some corner or nook is better suited to our ability ; the world enjoys 
 looking down, we almost always like to look up. A man must be educated 
 in his appreciation of hills as well as any other faculty. 
 
 " But come," said I, " to the leeward side of this square tower, out of the 
 rough wind, while I tell you my opinion about these high grounds of Surrey. 
 Though Leith Hill is the highest, being nearly one thousand feet above 
 the sea, and owing to its broken face forming a more abrupt line, Holnibury 
 Hill is quite as picturesque, and its shoulders and quarries of sandstone, 
 with luxuriant heather and gorse, make it, perhaps, the favourite of the 
 artists. Several fine pictures have been painted with this hill as a back- 
 ground and a glowing cornfield in the foreground. There is always a diffi- 
 culty in introducing the cultivation of corn lands, with our modern machinery, 
 into these heathy pictures, which ought always to have an air of negligence 
 and imperfect farming. The rustic labourers, the sickle, and the gleaner come 
 in well, but the formality of the drill and more modern machines is very much 
 against the artist; nevertheless, many living and studying amongst these hills 
 do manage to make beautiful and truthful pictures of them. 
 
 " But let me tell you of former times, when these fine spurs of hills, 
 jutting out on the fertile plains below, were the scenes of great excitement, 
 contrasting with their present stillness. On Holnibury Hill, the Saxon 
 chronicle states, were stationed the invading Danes, when, in 851, a battle took 
 place between them and the Saxons under King Ethehvulf. It is thought that 
 
SYLVA EVELYN S COUNTRY. 
 
 229 
 
 the dyke on the summit marks the site of the Danish camp. There is also 
 another camp distinctly traceable on the ridge to our left, called Anstiebury, 
 above Coldharbour ; but this is now somewhat hidden in woods. Not far from 
 these hills, in the vale below, lies Ockley, or Okely, which derives its name 
 from the oak woods formerly abounding in this part of Surrey, and the Roman 
 road from Arundel, here called the Stane Street Causeway, passed through 
 it ; before the time of railroads it was thought the nicest piece of trotting 
 ground for the coaches from Brighton. Walk down to Ockley, and you will 
 be interested in its broad green, with the picturesque well in the centre, and 
 village houses scattered round about. Try also if you can find a molehill on 
 the smooth expanse of turf, for you must know that the country people say 
 there are none, and to this day attribute the absence of moles on the green, 
 while they abound all around, to the creature's dislike of the blood of the 
 Saxons buried here after one of their fierce encounters with the Danes. 
 After ascertaining the truth of this assertion, I should advise you to search 
 out the quaint old building called Oakwood Chapel, which lies buried in a 
 hollow in the woods." 
 
 Having bidden adieu to my friend with these parting instructions, and 
 furnished him with an object for a good walk, I insensibly fell into a dreamy 
 mood as I proceeded on my return to lower ground, down one of the numerous 
 vales diverging from Leith Hill towards the larger valley which runs from 
 Dorking to Guildford. I am never tired of this varied and extensive common, 
 and being now alone, without an impatient spirit by my side, was at liberty to 
 wander on in the bright noontide sun, 
 
 " Where slowly stray those lonely sheep 
 Through the tall foxglove's crimson bloom, 
 And gleaming of the scatter'd broom. 
 Love you not, then, to list and hear 
 The crackling of the gorse flowers near, 
 Pouring an orange-scented tide 
 Of fragrance, o'er the desert wide ? " 
 
 Passing again under the ragged firs, amongst the undergrowth of scrubby 
 oak, whortleberry, bramble, and fern, down an endless variety of little glens, 
 broken banks, and glades of handsome trees, I found myself at one of my 
 favourite spots, a rocky sandstone bank, overhung with beech trees, among the 
 roots of which trickled a charming little stream. That quiet frame of mind 
 so essential to a landscape artist being somewhat disturbed, I left my sketch- 
 
230 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 book unopened, and was fain, while I rested, to solace myself with a well 
 worn volume. The following lines catching my eye, seemed to describe this 
 woodland source very truly: — 
 
 " I traced a little brook to its well-head, 
 
 Where, amid quivering weeds, its waters leap 
 
 From the earth, and hurrying into shadow creep 
 
 Unseen but vocal in their deep-worn bed. 
 
 Hawthorns and hazels interlacing wed 
 
 With roses sweet, and overhang the steep 
 Mossed banks, while through the leaves stray sunbeams peep, 
 And on the whispering stream faint glimmerings shed." 
 
 A little pool, half covered with the tiny white ranunculus and forget-me- 
 not, which still left enough of a placid dark mirror to reflect the trees and 
 blue sky above, being added to the beauties here described, is it wonderful 
 that artists are often seen studying in the cool refreshing shade ? 
 
 Following the rivulet, and noticing sundry old sluices and embankments 
 for former mills, one comes to a much larger pond, at the end of which grew, 
 till lately, a gigantic old oak, which had long withstood the gusts of wind 
 rushing down the valley from Leith Hill, but at last succumbed and pitched 
 headlong down the bank below, tearing up with its roots the embankment 
 of the pond, and emptying the waters on the cottages below. Of course 
 this was a subject for the artist, who, if he is in earnest, never lets such an 
 opportunity slip. I made a note of the locality, and passing on, entered a 
 winding green lane by a gate, now overhung with magnificent trees, now 
 opening out to show a picturesque cottage with its humble garden, and again 
 being closed up with bushes and trees, accompanied through all its course by 
 a sparkling little stream, the overflow of the mill-pond above. This, about 
 half way, tired it would seem of sunning itself on the right side under 
 wild festoons of dog-roses and briars, unceremoniously crosses the lane, thus 
 creating a necessity for a rustic bridge, such as lovers of the picturesque 
 delight in, made of the rounded outside plank of an old tree, and resting on 
 two or three huge stones. This is a favourite resort for the birds which flock 
 here to drink, for not only is the stream clear and shallow, but there are stones 
 of all sizes for them to perch upon, some high enough to keep the tail of the 
 water wagtail dry, others low enough for the tiniest wren's neck to reach the 
 water. The choicest spot of all the lane, however, is where it terminates at 
 the entrance-gate of the Wotton Woods. Here the stream forms a pretty 
 
SYLVA EVELYN'S COUNTRY. 231 
 
 little pond, overhung l>y a lovely ash, and surrounded by rushes, reeds, and 
 various water-plants, while upon a broken bank stands in sylvan majesty a 
 group of noble beeches, throwing their wild fantastic limbs far over the lane. 
 An oak lias crept up under the protection of their boughs, and, becoming 
 encircled in their arms, proves by its stunted growth how dearly it has paid 
 for the protection afforded to it; like a young artist, who, too unskilled and 
 indolent to carry out his own ideas, continually borrows from others, and thus 
 checks his own powers. 
 
 Towards sunset the eye is caught by a mass of light breaking through an 
 opening caused by one of the giant beeches toppling over one windy autumn 
 day, and in its fall crashing and breaking away nearly all the boughs of a 
 neighbouring tree. The gap thus left looked at first very mournful, but Nature, 
 ever bent on restoring and beautifying, soon threw up a growth of vigorous 
 underwood, and with fresh shoots and hanging sprays, clothed a portion of the 
 naked trunks, yet not so as to shut out the glorious sun ; and now he must be 
 fastidious indeed who could wish the scene other than it is. A gate opens 
 into the Forewalk overhung by the arching branches of more fine beeches, 
 among the roots of which spring numerous clumps of glistening holly. This 
 is a delightful wood for the artist. The fancy of the architect might, without 
 much exaggeration, imagine the boles of the grand old beech trees were the 
 clusters of pillars of some magnificent Gothic cathedral, such as St. Ouen at 
 Rouen, the interlacing branches meeting overhead reminding one continually 
 of the fretted roof — the very sunlight streaming through and curving round 
 the trunks adds to the resemblance; while the wind with its plaintive 
 murmurs might be the rising and falling notes of the far-distant organ. 
 
 Others again, forgetting the works of men, consider these gigantic arches 
 as a forest portal, and thus a beautiful and poetical picture has been painted 
 by one of our Abinger men, which has left a lasting mark in Art. From this 
 charming walk, still swept and tended like a promenade in memory of the 
 planter, one may descend with a scramble down the hill-side to the edge of 
 the hanging wood, where knotted and twisted roots form most curious festoons 
 on the sandstone rock, and where young trees, growing among the decaying 
 roots of their ancestors, altogether create most interesting studies for artistic 
 lovers of Nature; while the chequered shade beneath the wide-spread branches 
 of the beech invites to most luxurious repose, and green and shady nooks offer 
 
232 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 shelter from the hottest noonday sun. Here I first met my young friend on 
 his return to Wotton, and after his long walk, here we met again, and settled 
 that we should return to the spot on another day, when I would tell him some- 
 thing more about Wotton, and about my hero, Sylva Evelyn. It happened, 
 however, that the next day, instead of being suitable for our projected stroll, 
 was pouring wet, the day following the same ; even the ducks had had enough 
 of it ; and as for those people who had nothing to do, — no former studies of 
 skies to put in, no tones to gradate or figures to paint indoors,— theirs was 
 a weary time indeed. Guns were cleaned, till every room smelt of oil and 
 gunpowder; dogs taught to beg till begged off by the bystanders ; every device 
 for killing time employed until night hid the incessant pour. Under these 
 melancholy circumstances we settled, by a series of despatches, to meet 
 " pour passer le temps " indoors, and search all records for information about 
 the country. 
 
 " Well, sir," M as the sportsman's first salutation, " how have you managed 
 to exist during all this horrible weather ?" 
 
 " Oh, very well indeed ; I don't really dislike a break of a day or two 
 sometimes ; it prevents one getting out of breath, hurrying on too fast ; it 
 gives time to think, and follow out an idea or an effect. A little starvation 
 is good occasionally, you know, if you happen to have a weak digestion ; and 
 too great a fulness of ideas, to use a country simile, is, like the crowding 
 of cabbage plants, apt to make them all abortive, or grow spindling ; let 
 every idea that is worth anything have fair play." 
 
 " Well, I can't say I see the fun of that ; I grow horridly moped and dull 
 if there is not a continual change, and indeed ideas won't come at all 
 indoors." 
 
 " Ah, my young friend, that shows you have been brought up in a crowd ; 
 perhaps even when reading in the long vacation five or six of you fellows go 
 together (to Bettws, for instance), where there is generally good fishing on a 
 rainy day and jovial choruses in the evening. But suppose, while I proceed 
 with my sky, we go back to the first question you asked me, — What I could 
 be thinking of when sketching round about Wotton ? Well, T think much 
 of Sylva Evelyn and his character, as displayed in his Diary, lying there on 
 the table. What a different life and diary to Pepys's, both perhaps equally 
 true, and faithfully delineating the character of the writer ; — but what different 
 
SYEVA EVELYNS COUNTRY. 
 
 233 
 
 men ! the one we respect and the other we despise. The weakness of Evelyn 
 (if we may call the intense love of his family, his house, and trees, a weakness,) 
 we are all ready to forgive, as it never interfered with his duties, "hut we can 
 hardly see what duties Pepys ever fulfilled. We can enter into Evelyn's 
 admiration of his old ancestral house, although it might take a great deal to 
 make some of my Alpine friends live in such a narrow valley. Hear what he 
 says of it in his Diary : — 
 
 " ' Wotton, the mansion house of my father (now my eldest brother's), 
 is situated in the most southern part of the shire, and though in a valley, yet 
 really upon part of Lyth (Leith) Hill, one of the most eminent in England 
 for the prodigious prospect to he seen from its summit. The house, large and 
 ancient, suitable to those hospitable times, and so sweetly environed with 
 those delicious streams and venerable woods, as in the judgment of strangers 
 as well as Englishmen, may be compared to one of the most pleasant seates 
 in the nation, and most tempting for a great person and a wanton purse to 
 render it conspicuous. It has rising grounds, meadows, woods, and water in 
 abundance. I will say nothing of the ayre, because the pre-eminence is 
 universally given to Surrey, the soil being dry and sandy ; but I should 
 speake much of the gardens, fountains, and groves that adorne it, were they 
 not as generally known to be amongst the most natural, and until this later 
 and universal luxury of the whole nation, since abounding in such expenses, 
 the most magnificent that England afforded, and indeed gave one of the 
 first examples of that elegancy since so much in vogue, and followed in the 
 managing of their waters and other ornaments of that nature.' 
 
 " Even before Evelyn's ancestors bought the house and estate it was of some 
 note, being called in the Domesday Book Adeton, or Wodeton, in modern 
 orthography Woodtown, a name apparently referring to the woodland cha- 
 racter of the district, though it has been surmised that the original appellation 
 might have been Woden's Town, from the name of the Saxon deity, Woden. 
 There are one or two other places in the neighbourhood, the names of which 
 have been thought to be of similar origin, as Friday Street (a charming little 
 rustic lane), from Frigga, the Saxon Venus; close by is also Monday Farm, 
 evidently derived from Montag. 
 
 " Wotton, after the lapse of many centuries, still justifies its appellation, 
 for it has grand old woods all around ; the trees which first gave it the name 
 
234 
 
 DRAWING FHOM NATUKE. 
 
 have doubtless all perished, and have even been succeeded by others perfectly 
 different in character, but woods still surround the family mansion. The 
 taste and feelings of the first possessor may be in some degree lost, but a 
 large portion of the old character appears ; thus an artist's works do not 
 always remain as he leaves them, but sometimes change, their colours going 
 down in tone, or even being altered by the want of skill or presumption of 
 picture restorers ; Evelyn's country also must be greatly affected by time, 
 storms, and the variety of taste of his descendants. For instance, the greater 
 part of the trees in the neighbourhood of Wotton are now beech where oaks 
 formerly prevailed. In a letter to Aubrey, Evelyn remarks, in reference to 
 Wotton, that ' where goodly oaks grew, and were cut down by my grandfather 
 almost a hundred years since, are now altogether beech, and where my brother 
 has extirpated the beech there rises birch. Under the beech spring up innu- 
 merable hollies, which, growing thick and close together in one of the woods 
 next the meadow, is a viretum all the year long, and a very beautiful sight 
 when the leaves of the taller trees are fallen.' 
 
 •' As an instance of the size of the oak, he mentions an oaken plank of 
 prodigious amplitude, cut out of a tree which grew on this estate, and had 
 been felled by his grandfather's order. Also in referring to a destructive 
 storm, he says :— 
 
 " ' Methinks that I still hear, sure 1 am that I feel, the dismal groans of 
 our forests, when that late dreadful hurricane, happening on the 26th of 
 November, 1703, subverted so many thousands of goodly oaks, prostrating the 
 trees, laying them in ghastly postures, like whole regiments fallen in battle by 
 the sword of the concpueror, and crushing all that grew beneath them. Myself 
 had above 2,000 blown down, several of which, torn up by their fall, raised 
 mounds of earth near twenty feet high, with great stones entangled among the 
 roots and rubbish, and this almost within sight of my dwelling, now no more 
 Wotton (Woodtown), stripped and naked, and almost ashamed to own its 
 name.' 
 
 " However, it is well known that Nature requires and rejoices in a change 
 or succession of trees, as well as of crops, for acorns are thickly planted every 
 year by thousandfold agencies in pine forests, and putting forth a shoot or two 
 then die for want of light and air ; but when once the forest is cleared, the 
 tender stems spring up into vigorous oak saplings, fitted to replace the pines 
 
SYLVA EVELYN'S COUNTRY. 
 
 which preceded them. Also if a forest of oaks be cleared or burnt, instead of 
 oaks coming again, the cherry or another tree appears ; thus there is study 
 for the naturalist and artist in every change." 
 
 Chatting thus about Evelyn, we could not but wish to go over the 
 ground that he describes so feelingly ; and as the weather now cleared, and 
 a beautiful gleam of sunlight glanced through the clouds, promising a grand 
 sunset, which I always see if possible, we struck into the woods that lead 
 down to Wotton. Here we found another of the changes that must always 
 await an old family estate, for a whole wood of the noblest beeches standing 
 on a sloping hill, and described by Evelyn as those under which the hollies 
 grew, and long known to me as a fine old rookery, were falling fast under 
 the merciless axe of the woodman, whilst the poor rooks, wheeling in circles 
 over them, lamented the destruction of their dwellings in the saddest of cries. 
 The scene was somewhat painful, for as we advance in life we treasure up 
 the recollection of spots visited in company with those we love, and many 
 a study had I made of these mossy and lichen-tinted boles, and many a swing 
 had my children enjoyed in the meantime on their pendant boughs ; but the 
 woodmen with their mallets and wedges, all in full action, made the artistic 
 element predominate, so the sketch-book was rapidly filled with notes, though 
 while the branches creaked and groaned, and the whole mass crashed to the 
 earth with a shuddering thud, the wedges entering the hearts of the noble 
 victims, my heart also was sad, and 1 almost involuntarily thought of Sylva 
 Evelyn, and what he would have felt. Turning away we followed one of the 
 principal streams which comes down the valley south of Wotton, and winding 
 about is diversified by many little falls ; and though any stream kept by 
 artificial aid from descending with the natural dip of the ground is always out 
 of harmony with the surroundings, and so of little worth to the artist, yet the 
 fine old hanging woods on each side, with their varied tints, always most 
 beautiful in autumn, were now still more lovely in the setting sun. 
 
 After having his interest in some degree awakened to the past, my com- 
 panion was more inclined to listen when I asked him, "Who can tell what 
 visions have teemed in the brains of the many painters whose chosen spot has 
 been this favourite nook of old Evelyn's ? How many have let their fancy 
 dwell on the fine true-hearted old Englishman retiring from the dissolute court 
 of Charles II. to his quiet ancestral home at Wotton. solacing himself in the 
 
236 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 society of his beloved daughter, his fatherly care of his tenantry and his 
 plantations ?" 
 
 It is indeed quite impossible, in a hasty sketch, to do justice to the many 
 virtues of this excellent man, who, living in such troublous time and amidst 
 such a court, preserved his independence, and although a court favourite, no 
 royal or popular distinction or applause ever induced him to swerve from the 
 conscientious and unbiassed discharge of his public duties. It was, notwith- 
 standing the character of the court, an age of literary giants, his contemporaries 
 comprising some of the brightest luminaries of this country — Milton, Cowley, 
 Dryden, Locke, Newton, and many others. Those who wish to know more of 
 this good man's life must read his memoirs and other works— that on Forest 
 Trees, called " Sylva," is the most interesting to the landscape-painter. Evelyn 
 was our first landscape-gardener — the hist to introduce an art requiring a 
 combination of true artistic feeling with the power of seeing, with prophetic 
 eye, the future aspect of hill and dale, now perhaps stretching before him in 
 naked grandeur, anon to be clothed with noble trees, the product of his 
 judicious planting. Evelyn took great delight in laying out parks and gardens 
 for his friends as well as himself. Besides Wotton and Sayes Court where 
 was the famous holly hedge through which Peter the Great took pleasure in 
 being trundled in a wheelbarrow, he designed Albury Gardens and Park, a few 
 miles from Wotton. 
 
 If, as I believe, it is true that an artist impresses on his work a portion of 
 his own character, ought we not to find in these charming solitudes traces of 
 the placid endurance and firmness under trial that Evelyn's life displays? 
 The character of the man will be shown both in the choice of his subject or 
 materials and in the way of treating it. It may be fanciful, but I think I see 
 in those graceful hanging woods of beech, with their pendant boughs, adorning 
 each side of these valleys, something of Evelyn's suavity of manner ; in the 
 sturdy gnarled trunks of those fine old oaks thai lead up to his house, his 
 power of resistance to the frivolity of Charles's court ; in the elegance of that 
 silver birch, his love for his charming and accomplished daughter ; the groves 
 of firs and evergreens portray the repose and freshness of his ever-youthful 
 mind ; and even those slender poplars swaying about in the breeze, but still 
 ever pointing upwards, might they not also indicate the constant direction of 
 the good man's thoughts to a higher and a better world? So, in reply to the 
 
SYLVA EVELYN'S COUNTRY. 
 
 237 
 
 question, "What were an artist's thoughts while occupied on his picture?" 
 I answer, " Each of these scenes as they engaged the pencil would seem an 
 embodiment of a thought of Evelyn's, and it would occur to a thoughtful 
 painter that agreeable autumnal tints and soft lights should picture the frame 
 of mind delighting in these scenes as life gently declined." But, in short, the 
 life of John Evelyn may be regarded as one of the most admirable portraits 
 of genuine English character ; and the birth-place, the nursery, the school, the 
 residence, and the death-place of this admirable man are alike consecrated by 
 the purity of so perfect a model of moral worth and excellence. 
 
 But, waking up from my pleasant train of thought, " Come," said T, " you're 
 bored by all this, and don't see how you, who only want a good country for 
 game, a good gun, and a good dog, are interested in it all." 
 
 " Ah ! that's it and nothing more." 
 
 "Stay! You surely want good gunpowder? So you are interested 
 in Evelyn's house, and country ; for on the streams that spring out 
 from Leith Hill and join around Wotton (afterwards finding their way to 
 the Thames by means of the Mole and the Wey), the first gunpowder 
 was made in England ; for Evelyn says in a letter to Mr. Aubrey, dated 
 8th February, 1675, that on the stream near his house formerly stood many 
 powder-mills erected by his ancestors, who were the very first to bring 
 that invention into England, before which we had all our powder from 
 Flanders ; and he also gives an account of the explosion of one of these 
 mills, which broke a beam fifteen inches in diameter at Wotton Place, and 
 states that one standing lower down towards Sheire, on blowing up, shot a 
 piece of timber through a cottage, taking off a poor woman's head as she was 
 spinning. He adds, that on this stream were set up the first brass mills in 
 England for casting, hammering into plates, and cutting and drawing into 
 wire; also a fulling mill, and one for hammering iron : all of which are now 
 demolished. Such a variety of mills on so narrow a brook and in so small 
 a compass was not at that time to be met with in any other part of England. 
 The last of these mills gave name to a small street or hamlet in the parish of 
 Abinger, which to this day is called the Hammer. On approaching Wotton 
 from Gomshall station, you may see the remains of the dam and sluice-gates 
 to the pond, for the mill was, like most of those about here, overshot. At 
 present the pond is converted into a marsh, with singular-looking hillocks of 
 
238 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 tufted grass, reeds, and rushes, and it is, I must tell you, a capital place for 
 snipes in winter. You can also easily see to what an extent the forge was 
 worked, for on turning up the earth nil around, you will find abundance of 
 black ashes and clinkers. Here is also a ferruginous spring close by, with its 
 yellow water, though I scarcely believe iron was ever found here, but rather 
 that the abundance of wood and water all around caused the forges and 
 powder-mills to be erected in this vicinity." 
 
 " Well," said Dobson, "I can scarcely believe all this about powder-mills 
 and forges." 
 
 " What!" said T; "You are somewhat of Mr. Bray's opinion, who doubts 
 that there ever was a mill at Wotton, or that the. purchase of that place was 
 made with such a view. But I can tell you, that this very year, 18C4-, a 
 curious discovery has occurred in confirmation of such an extraordinary 
 circumstance as powder-mills being allowed so near a house of so much 
 importance as Wotton Place ; it was, that in digging down for the new gate- 
 house just finished, and which, is close by the side of the stream, the workmen 
 came upon the remains of a building, and also, they affirm, of a layer of spoilt 
 gunpowder, four inches thick. How such a deposit could have been made or 
 caused is extraordinary ; it might have been spoilt before the explosion, or 
 may have been made since ; but it appears from my inquiries to be genuine 
 powder ; I suspected it to be merely powdered charcoal." 
 
 I found afterwards that this subject of the powder-mills stirred up a great 
 deal of interest in Dobson's mind, and that he spent several days in searching 
 about the neighbourhood of the various streams and old null dams ; his gun 
 having given place to a spade, and his dogs being greatly bewildered to know 
 what he could be unearthing, Meeting him one day at this interesting 
 occupation, I ventured to remark that I hoped he had now more pleasure in 
 the country and artistic pursuits. 
 
 " Oh, well — yes — I have found several bits of iron and brass, and I can 
 well believe all about the gunpowder-mills being placed close to the house ; 
 why they do a great deal worse than that now, with a thousand times as much ; 
 look at Erich, ami what occurred there. But," continued he, " 1 fear you will 
 make nothing of me as an artist. Besides I don't see the fun of wasting my 
 time in such pursuits, when I can get any photographer to knock me off a 
 portrait or a view for a shilling, far better than I can ever hope to do." 
 
SYLVA EVELYN'S COUNTRY. 
 
 239 
 
 "But," replied I, "is there not a pleasure in expressing your own ideas 
 yourself in your own language? Are you always to trust another to tell you 
 what you have seen, and do you wish always to let another person tell you 
 what is good in Art ?" 
 
 " Well, I don't know about that/' replied Dobson ; "if the idea of another 
 person is better, I adopt it, and that saves trouble, you know." 
 
 " Ah, the boy was father to the man ; you were one of those, if I recollect, 
 who always defended the use of cribs at school, and I see you still bolster 
 yourself up with crutches of all sorts." 
 
 "Oh, photographs are no cribs, they are done by the sun, and are sure to 
 bo quite true, whereas sketches are very likely to be wrong." 
 
 "There you are quite mistaken— there is nothing lies like truth, or rather 
 what appears to be truth. Photographs are often the most incorrect things 
 possible, and there is such a propensity to shirk honest work and honest 
 thought in this world, that there is nothing that has come to the aid of 
 laboriously idle persons more opportunely than the habit of taking it for 
 granted that whatever is shown by a photographer is true. This it is that lias 
 made so many think that they are making good illustrations or pictures, when 
 they place their models and sitters in groups, with all the accessories they can 
 think of, and then photograph them. Any one, at a glance, can at once detect 
 the imposition ; if the figure is in any degree removed from one plane or dis- 
 tance, look how every limb or extremity gets out of proportion ; look at the 
 feet, when they are placed nearer to you, what a size they are ! what distorted 
 hoofs, in fact ! Ask one of your fellows to place himself in a boxing attitude, 
 and photograph him with his fist aimed at you, then see if he likes the size it 
 comes out. Why it is like a leg of mutton. Look at your face in a convex 
 or concave mirror— is it like Nature? It is no use trying to arrange these 
 distorted groups into pictures; they won't compose." 
 
 " Well, perhaps you are right ; at any rate if I can't do these groups in my 
 study or garden, I shall not do them at all ; for I can't march about with my 
 apparatus like a showman. But with regard to buying of pictures, I still 
 think that the way my governor takes is the best ; when he wants a first-rate 
 Stanfield, or a Birket Foster, he just says to somebody he knows, ' I don't care 
 what I give, but I want something reliable,' and he generally gets it — to be 
 sure he pays a pretty round sum for it. He did try to collect for himself some 
 
240 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 years since, and finding out a capital Chambers, had almost settled the price; 
 but in the night poor Chambers died, and when he went the first thing in the 
 morning, and said he would have it — the price was doubled I It's wonderful 
 how a man's works are valued after his death ! " " Then," continued Dobson, 
 "there's Johnson, of the Stock Exchange, he's got a capital collection; when 
 he has made a hit, he just goes in with a friend, and says, ' Let us toss up for 
 that proof — heads I win— tails I lose;' whoever loses pays, and so by degrees 
 he is getting a capital collection. Or, perhaps, he wants something warm, in 
 the way of colour, to look at after dinner: an old woman in a red cloak, or a 
 couple of cows and a bit of a pond; so he goes to the sale of a well-known 
 collector — one, you know, that has been well cracked up ; and then whatever 
 he buys there has not only got the artist's name, but the collector's, to give it 
 value, and it is sure to be a good investment. So 1 think I know pretty well 
 about Art and artists." 
 
 This fluent converse, after all my hopes of the effect of my eloquence upon 
 my young sportsman, quite astounded me ; so, leaving him to follow his own 
 and his father's ideas about Art for the future, I bade him a courteous, but 
 rather hasty, farewell, and saw him no more in Sylva Evelyn's country. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FOIJKST OF FONTAINEBLEATT. 
 
 VARIETY NECESSARY FOR THE STUDENT — OAK AT FONTA I NEBLEAU — GRANDE ROUTE— BEECHES— 
 JUNIPERS — ROUTE DE CHA1LLY ; GORGES NEAR IT BEAUTIFUL — TREES TOO UNIFORM —WANT 
 OF WATER — GENERAL SCARCITY OF ANIMAL LIFE — NO FALLING STREAMS OR MOUNTAIN M 1ST ; 
 OLD MONARCHS OF THE FOREST — LITTLE IN PALACE FOR LANDSCAPE ARTIST — COUR DES ADIEUX 
 — NAPOLEON — GORGE D'APREMONT — VILLAGE OF HARBISON MUCH FREQUENTED BY ARTISTS — 
 MAISON GANNE — EBAUCHES— RULES OF HOUSE— BAS BREAU — BRIGANDS' CAVE — WOLVES — ROSA 
 BON H EUR. 
 
 under various 
 brent circum- 
 stances being one of the objects of the present work, I have made 
 it my aim to indicate some of those places where it can be pursued 
 to the greatest advantage. Though far from lacking opportunities for 
 this in our own favoured land, where our forests, parks, and woods 
 afford almost every variety of tree and shrub, still it is desirable for 
 the student to add the freshness of novelty to his folio. Therefore, a few 
 summers ago, I spent some time in Fontainebleau, celebrated for its magni- 
 ficent trees, and have selected Plate XV. an Oak, as a type of the general 
 character of that forest in its wddest glades. As a contrast to this, the 
 
 K 
 
242 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 vignette at page 243 represents one of the most striking features that meet 
 the eye of the traveller in France, a " grande route" traversing the forest. 
 In former days of the diligence a " grande route " was too deeply and often 
 too disagreeably impressed upon the traveller's mind to be easily forgotten, 
 or for the beauties which it possessed to be appreciated ; but when, as in 
 the present instance, the road passes through an avenue of magnificent trees, 
 it offers many attractions to the student. In Fontainebleau the eye is not 
 annoyed, as in other parts of France, by the predominance of a species of 
 poplar, stiff and unpicturesque, though with foliage more diffused and stem 
 more irregular than that of the Lombardy poplar ; on the contrary, grand, 
 wide-spreading trees, in great variety, escaped from the levelling axe of the 
 woodman, tower to a lofty height, opening out into lovely forest glades, or 
 stand interspersed among sandstone rocks of rugged and singular character, 
 whilst caves and gorges possessing great interest to the artist, abound. 
 
 Of the trees, the oak is certainly the most important both in height and 
 picturesque beauty ; and although we are told, by those who have studied 
 the subject, that it thrives best on clayey soils and not on sand, we see it 
 here attaining a height of eighty or a hundred feet, with a girth that would 
 delight the eyes of a builder ; while in some of the openings, or among the 
 rocks, we find magnificent spreading oak trees, assuming the same character 
 that this tree possesses at Windsor, Packington, or Stoneleigh. Of such are 
 the Chenes de Sully, de Henri Quatre, &c. 
 
 The beeches also attain enormous heights, being drawn up by their close 
 proximity to each other, but fur variety of form and colour are not to be 
 compared with those at Knowles, renshurst, Wotton, and many others in this 
 country. The white spreading poplar appears to keep more to the skirts 
 of the forest, which is in many places bounded by a wall of squared stones 
 loosely piled together, the gaps which frequently occur being occasionally 
 repaired with thin lathy palings; in fact, just such an inclosivre as was 
 so forcibly depicted in Burton's picture of the Wounded Cavalier. 
 
 Another tree that attains to a large size, and is apparently allowed to 
 decay away, is the birch ; not even in Scotland can it be found more wildly 
 picturesque than among the rugged rocks and cliffs of the Bas Breau, though 
 no mountain stream reflects its light and graceful foliage, as is often the 
 case in Scotland. 
 
FOREST OF FONTAINEBLEAU. 
 
 243 
 
 The tree of all others, however, that presents the most uncommon and 
 distorted forms is the juniper, known only in England as a low shrub, but 
 here rising to a height of from thirty to forty feet, with a twisted tinted stem 
 and sombre canopy, the latter affording a most welcome shade in the arid 
 spots it seems to prefer, and reminding us of the account in Holy Writ of 
 the prophet sitting under a juniper tree. 
 
 The Route de Chailly, like most " gvandes routes" in France, is paved 
 in the centre with large squared stones, having a road on either side for 
 light carriages, while now and then the weary foot-passenger, in bis endeavour 
 to escape from dust and beat, forms yet another path under the stately trees. 
 
 R 2 
 
244 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 The sameness of the road is broken only by piles of hewn stones, placed 
 at intervals for the repair of the middle track, or heaps of wood for fuel, 
 deposited in regular stacks, all very uninteresting to the artist ; but let him 
 ramble off into one of the many gorges, and he is certain to meet with great 
 variety of form, accompanied with the picturesque disposition of light and 
 shade so essential to a painter. 
 
 Perhaps, like many other forests in France, Fontainebleau gives evidence 
 of too much design, not only in planting, but in systematic cutting ; so that 
 too many trees are kept to one size, too few suffered to reach a grand old age. 
 In addition to this, Fontainebleau has been so mapped and figured and cut into 
 paths by a most indefatigable cicerone, that a meditative Jacques would scarcely 
 choose to lie beneath one of these vast oaks, as his reflections would be too 
 often interrupted by M. Denecourt inarching by, his staff following in single 
 file, armed with hatchets, pickaxes, shovels, and pots of blue paint, wherewith 
 to direct incipient taste, or rescue the thoughtless wanderer. Artists are not 
 grateful for carefully-prepared, regular pathways, indications of the best points 
 of view, or for having the hugest rocks and trees plastered over with arrows, 
 letters, and figures painted in the most brilliant of blues, reds, or blacks, with 
 directions to find how one rock looks like a lion, another like a walrus, 
 or toad ! 
 
 If, instead of all this, a piece of water could have been formed, of 
 sufficient importance to give charaoter to some one part of the forest, it 
 would indeed have been a boon ; as it is, there is literally none, the 
 small marsh of Franchard having little or no pretension to the name 
 of water. 
 
 Yet, though at every turn we are met with evidence of man's work, 
 there is a great want of life in the forest. Few deer are ever seen, as they 
 hurry away at the least sound of a footstep, and do not contribute at all to 
 the beauty of the landscape. The sheep, forlorn and dejected-looking animals, 
 do not seem to belong to the forest, being driven home during the heat of 
 the day, and appearing only in the early morning or evening. Cattle, also, 
 are. not numerous, though now and then a picturesque group may be found 
 reposing under the shade of the rocks or trees, tended by a peasant in a blue 
 frock and slouched hat, vigorously plying his knitting needles. The want 
 of wafer is doubtless the reason of the scarcity of animal life here, as the 
 
FOREST OF FONTAINEBLEAU. 
 
 245 
 
 flocks and herds have all to be driven home in the evening to obtain a 
 supply, except after rain, when the pools of brackish water, formed in the 
 hollows, prove most welcome to both birds and beasts. 
 
 The student, therefore, who resorts to Fontainebleau must not expect to 
 find the falling streams or slatey rocks of North Wales, nor any of the aerial 
 effects of mountainous countries ; but will, nevertheless, see much to interest 
 him in the fine old monarchs of the wood, and the least artificial portion of 
 the rocky forest. 
 
 There is not much in the palace to attract the landscape artist; such 
 interminable suites of rooms, courtyards, and trim parterres are generally very 
 fatiguing to a lover of simple Nature. One court, however, the " Cour des 
 Adieux," where, at the foot of its peculiar old-fashioned horseshoe stair, 
 Napoleon said farewell to his Old Guard, on the eve of his departure for 
 Elba, is interesting from its associations and quaintness. Having seen this, 
 fed the monstrous carp, and given a glance at the clipped and formal avenues 
 and gardens, he will do well to take his course at once to the forest. 
 
 My first walk was through the Gorge d'Apremont, more formidable in 
 sound than in reality, for the ascent is very gradual, the sandstone rocks on 
 either side presenting strange grotesque forms of considerable elevation, from 
 the sides and crevices of which grow fine old oaks and birch. Proceeding 
 along this gorge, I came upon a long straggling village, called Barbison, known 
 to all French artists, being admirably suited for their sejour ; eagerly did I 
 seek for their favourite resort, the " Maison Ganne," being hot, weary, and 
 hungry. 
 
 There is no need to look long : a tumble-down caleche standing in front, 
 and a bough of mistletoe suspended before the door, sufficiently announce the 
 hostelry, for it is little more. 
 
 The entrance-hall combines shop, parlour, and bedroom, for Pere Ganne, 
 besides being aubergiste, is also Spicier ; while in an alcove, near the counter, 
 stands his bed, thus enabling him to be ever present in the scene where his 
 best interests lie. About the house there are some signs of its having seen 
 better and quieter days, but the chief interest to the visitant lies in the inner 
 room, or salle-a-mangcr, which is profusely ornamented with the ebauches of 
 many artists, since risen to distinction. Most industriously idle have these 
 gentlemen shown themselves, every panel of armoire, or fireplace has been 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 filled with groups of figures, flowers, and landscapes, and as soon as the fire- 
 boards are filled, the^>ere appears quite ready to supply new ones. 
 
 Of these groups, one of flowers by M.Diaz appeared to be the most valued ; 
 but others, over the fireplace, were more intelligible — portraits of the pere, mire, 
 and pretty Louise. A gigantic mastiff's head on the lowest panel of the door, 
 with the old inscription, " Cave canem," is well done ; indeed, in every direction 
 the eye is attracted by curious whims and fancies. Grotesque heads carved in 
 the plaster of the bedrooms, landscapes daubed on the walls, and framed with 
 scrapes of the knife, whilst various dirty habits are proclaimed by the smudges 
 of palettes wiped on every available space. May it be said without offence, 
 that, with all due allowance for the necessity of whiling away a wet day, or 
 the exuberance of nonsense after a good dinner, these specimens of Art did 
 not impress me with a very exalted idea either of the talents or industry of 
 the occupants, nor was their value enhanced by the tale that some thousands 
 of francs had been offered by some not overwise Englishman for the whole. ' 
 
 The artists residing at Maison Ganne appear to conform themselves to 
 certain rules and hours, which it may be as well to mention for the benefit 
 of those who propose to study there. 
 
 The fraternity agree to rise about seven or eight, take a little cafe cm lait 
 with a crust of bread, and having slung a havresack or poche, containing 
 a small bottle of wine, a fragment of cold meat or sausage, with a huge 
 hunch of bread, provided by the good mere, they light their invariable 
 companion, the pipe, and stroll off for the day, some favoured member being 
 sure to be accompanied by an old dog who has adopted the companionship 
 of artists as his profession. Depositing his bottle in some convenient rabbit- 
 hole or rocky shade, the student works away till noon, when he refreshes 
 himself with a rest, a smoke, and examination of his bag, then to work 
 again till eight, and then home to dinner. 
 
 Dress is perfectly uncontrolled, liberty of choice attaining in hot weather 
 to a degree of latitude, both as to quantity and quality, that is sometimes 
 a little astonishing to one fresh from the forms of civilized society. A great 
 profusion of beard appears to be cultivated, so much so as to have called forth 
 the poetic talents of one of their number, whose verses are appropriately 
 illustrated and framed on the wall of the mile, the refrain being that at 
 Barbison the artists " portent des barbes de bisons." 
 
FOIiEST OF FONTAINEBLF.au. 
 
 247 
 
 Barbison lies near to some of the finest scenery in the forest, the rocks 
 and incidents at Bas Breau being most picturesque, while the cliffs and " point 
 de vue" afford an extensive prospect of the surrounding country ; and in the 
 " Vallon des Peintres" and Gorge de Neffleurs there are some of the largest 
 trees in the forest. In addition to these is the Brigands' Cave, a very 
 remarkable cavern, formerly the hold of a band that for some time harassed 
 the country round. A man on this height levies his contributions upon the 
 thirsty traveller by the aid of lemonade and wine, and sometimes entices la?y 
 artists from their work by his performances on the horn, and tales of his 
 encounters with wolves, which he asserts still make their appearance in 
 severe winters, as many as five having been killed in this vicinity lately. 
 
 Since the foregoing sketch was written, the interest of Fontainebleau has 
 been greatly increased by the residence in its vicinity of one of the most 
 enthusiastic of Nature's students, in the person of the talented Eosa Bonheur. 
 The range of this lady's study has been as extended as it has been truthful, 
 from the crowded Horse Fair to the placid lake with cattle, or the shepherd 
 witli his flocks. All these are depicted with such vigour of brush and seized 
 with such boldness of action that would indicate a masculine rather than 
 a delicate feminine hand, and her works display so thorough a knowledge 
 of Art, with so intimate an acquaintance with Nature, that the present 
 century has produced none so altogether excellent. 
 
 In addition to her out-of-doors study, Mademoiselle Bonheur makes at 
 home the most careful drawings of various pet animals kept in the numerous 
 paddocks around her atelier; and thus it is no wonder that her pictures 
 should be so entirely satisfactory to the most competent critic of animal 
 portraiture. In testimony of the appreciation of her great talent, Made- 
 moiselle Bonheur has lately received the insignia of the Legion of Honour, 
 and a charming anecdote is related of its presentation by the Empress 
 Eugenie herself. 
 
CHAPTEll VII. 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF THE VACATION. 
 
 In ilie Beige hinein, in das liebe Land, 
 
 In der Berge dunkelschattige Wand, 
 
 In die Berge liinein, in die schwarze Schlucht, 
 
 Wo der Waldbach tos't in wilder Flucht, 
 
 Hinauf zu der Matten warmduftigem Griin 
 
 Wo sie bliihn, 
 
 Die rothen Alpenrosen." 
 
 VARIOUS WAYS OF TAKING NOTES — VALUE OF SKETCHES — TRAVELLERS' STAMPEDO — YOUNG 
 ETONIAN — CHILLON, ETC. — DIVIDED INTEREST IN PICTURE — VALLEY OF ST. NICHOLAS AND 
 HARDING — MATTERHORN — HOW TO REPRESENT HEIGHT — ZERMATT — PANORAMA AT THE EIFFEL 
 — ZMUTT — SNOW STORMS — CRETINS — VALLEY OF FEE — GLACIER RIVERS — FRANZ ANDERMATTEN 
 — MATTMARKSEE — MARMOTS —MONTE MORO — SOLITUDE AT THE BELVEDERE — BORCA — MAGGIORE 
 ORTA — GRESSONAY — ITALIAN SIDE OF MATTERHORN — HOSPICE OF ST. BERNARD — DOGS— FAITH- 
 FULNESS IN DESCRIPTION AND DELINEATION — MORGUE — FER DU CHEVAL. 
 
 HAVE endeavoured this evening, gentlemen, to prepare for your general 
 
 question, — Where have you been this summer, Mr. Barnard ? — by putting 
 together a few of my notes and reminiscences of the tour, and bringing down 
 Avith me some of my sketches, for I do not know how to answer this kind and 
 flattering inquiry in any better way. 
 
 Every one, as you all know, has his own way of taking notes, for most 
 people when travelling wish to make some kind of memoranda by which 
 they may better recall their past experiences. An old gentleman whom I 
 met abroad had a very decided and short way of taking his notes, for he had 
 been careful to provide himself with a map of Paris, beautifully illustrated 
 with engravings of the most extraordinary buildings in their proper places. 
 His chief pleasure was to obliterate in the evening all that he had seen in 
 the day, exclaiming with great gusto — " I've done that — and that — and that !" 
 He kept this blotted memento of his three days in Paris to exhibit to his 
 friends on his return, telling me exultingly that no doubt he had seen more 
 of Paris in three days than I had during all my different visits to it. Now 
 
REMINISCENCES OF THE VACATION. 
 
 249 
 
 I recommend all of you to adopt a different plan, and preserve your notes 
 in sketches, and I venture to say your friends will be more interested in 
 looking at pleasing chalk or water-colour drawings, than in staring at shape- 
 less blotches of ink, and hearing the oft-repeated boast of " I've done all that !" 
 
 There is another advantage in treasuring up your reminiscences of such a 
 country as Switzerland in the form of good careful drawings, which is, that in 
 sitting down to sketch anything, you invariably with every stroke impress 
 it more completely on your mind, and at the same time the occupation 
 prevents your being carried away with the impatience that sometimes seems 
 to attack travellers, causing them to rush about from place to place like a 
 herd of wild horses in a stampedo ; and when this infectious disorder takes 
 place, and when once the guides and mules are seen at the inn door, who 
 shall go first and farthest in one day is the cry. What ideas, what impres- 
 sions, can scenes thus hastily passed through have on the mind ? 
 
 I met in this last journey with a striking instance of the want of such an 
 employment in a young Etonian near Monte Eosa. Some of his companions 
 were going to ascend the mountain, but as he did not like the fag of such a 
 climb, it was proposed that he should wait three days for them at Zermatt. 
 
 " Wait three days, " said he, " in such a small place ? What on earth am I 
 to do all that while? I can't stay anywhere but in a large town three whole 
 days." 
 
 Our young friend's education, I thought, has certainly not fitted him to 
 enjoy Switzerland, for setting aside the pleasures of walking and climbing — 
 doubtless very great in their way — what has he left? No interesting study of 
 the rocks — no enthusiastic search for new and beautiful plants ; and above all, 
 as an artist you know, I could not but think that if he had acquired the power 
 to convey by a few and vigorous touches the beauties of the wild scenes around 
 him, what abundant occupation and pleasure he might have derived from it, 
 and what satisfaction he would have felt in showing them to his friends on 
 his return! In sketches you will find the merest scratch or touch brings 
 back the place, the people, and everything that was said and done. This 
 is, indeed, far the best kind of diary, just as with a few notes of an old air 
 " the scene recurs, and with it all its pleasures, but not all its pains." 
 
 I had often visited Switzerland — in the course of many rambles had become 
 acquainted with most of the well-known places, and had penetrated into many 
 
250 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 a secluded nook ; I found, however, after Forbes and Wills had written on the 
 High Alps, that a new favourite arose among the mountains, and was in pos- 
 session of public favour. I was behind in the race — I had seen nothing ! Not 
 been to Monte Eosa? — Not seen the Matterhorn ? I was in despair; but it was 
 the long vacation, my knapsack was at hand ; it was quickly packed, and off I 
 set. Geneva was soon reached by rail; thence by boat to Yilleneuve, where I 
 remained two days to sketch Chillon, while I inhaled energy with the fresh 
 air, and got my walking-boots into order before rushing upon the mountains. 
 ( )ne result of this rest at Chillon you may perceive in the sketches on the walls. 
 To Visp by rail and diligence, thence on foot to Stalden, a picturesque little 
 village ; but just before reaching it, there is a striking point at Neubriick. 
 Stalden, as perhaps you are aware, is placed at the junction of two valleys, 
 one leading to Zermatt, the other to Saas and the Moro pass. Now there is 
 always difficulty in a view which has two distances, or points of interest in 
 different directions — this is increased when they are. separated by some large 
 object, which in this case is a grand buttress of a mountain ; to counteract 
 this division, the light is introduced from the valley of Saas on the left, being 
 allowed to fall on the interesting chalets to the right of the foreground, the 
 whole is thus united, and forms one picture. Murray remarks, that at the 
 head of every one of these valleys you need to speak German, while lower 
 down Italian or French is used, this I found to be the case. From Stalden 
 up to the valley of St. Nicholas was not quite as picturesque as I expected 
 from Harding's grand picture, exhibited some time ago. The rocks on the left, 
 though fine in themselves, make the snow-mountain in the distance appear 
 low, requiring great attention to the aerial perspective to convey any idea of 
 the real height. After a long walk, I was unfortunate in my first view of 
 Zermatt ; it was raining hard, and, of course, no Matterhorn — the crowning 
 feature of the whole — to lie seen. I expressed some disappointment to 
 M. Sieller, the landlord of the Monte Eosa, " Wait a little," was his reply. 
 About sunset he came up to me : " Monsieur, you've not yet seen the 
 Matterhorn ; come out now." 
 
 I went, and, looking up the valley, beheld far above the highest hills and 
 lower clouds the wonderful peak, well described by Professor Forbes as beyond 
 comparison the most striking natural object he had seen —an inaccessible 
 obelisk of rock, nearly as high as Mont Blanc. When T now saw it, the veil of 
 
THE MATTERHO'RN 
 FROM UNDER THE RIFFELRERG 
 
KKMIXrsCKXi.'KS Oh' THE VACATION", 
 
 gauze-like rain-clouds w as just floating away, leaving the craggy pinnacle tinted 
 with a most beautiful rose colour ; it was indeed " earth's rosy star." I could 
 not withdraw my eyes from this astonishing revelation until the sun had 
 set, and a deadly gray tint had overshadowed the scene. Shall I confess, 
 under pain of being voted sentimental by those who never experienced such 
 a, sensation, that I felt more inclined to cry than to sketch ? It was like 
 witnessing a death, and to represent the effect on paper was, as near as 
 possible, hopeless. Still, in order to have all the wonderful variety of tones 
 and changes in sky and mountain continually before me, I chose a bedroom at 
 the hotel facing the peak, from whence 1 could gaze and study at all times. 
 
 One most absorbing question was the colour and management of skies. 
 In some of my recent pictures I had endeavoured to give, the intense depth 
 and purity of the ether. I had also tried to give some idea of looking into 
 space, but to effect this I had almost always to resort to nearly pure ultra- 
 marine, stippled on with the greatest care. The result of this was to give 
 a general air of coldness to my drawings ; and although snow, gray rocks, and 
 dark green fir trees will make cool pictures with such blue skies, I was well 
 aware that a warm predominating light ought to conquer all this, for we do 
 see many glowing and richly warm skies and effects in Switzerland as well as 
 in other countries. 
 
 In one of my sketches I have attempted a lovely effect of the earliest dawn, 
 a time I enjoy much, and which is most fruitful in ever-varying beauties. The 
 sky was of a deep purple, approaching to black — not a purple, mind, that 
 would have been objectionable, but an indescribable dusky hue, beautifully 
 gradated into the delicate yellow morning light. Against this rose the cold 
 gray pinnacle of the sword-cleft mountain, which became gradually like a 
 lambent flame when touched by the first saffron hues of the rising sun, then 
 was slowly tinged with a pale rose tone, until the pure clear daylight followed. 
 The contrast of the lovely golden hues with the deep, intense, purply tone 
 behind was wonderfully fine. An old Greek poet calls mountains or clouds 
 when thus tinted "crocus robed," and I felt that if I could light up this 
 flame with my dull colours, I should indeed esteem that I had not studied 
 in vain. 
 
 In all these views you cannot but perceive that the wonderful Matterhorn, 
 or Mont Cervin— for it is as often called the one as the other— is by far the 
 
252 
 
 DRAWING FKOM NATURE. 
 
 most striking object. It seems to pierce the very sky, and often towers far 
 above the clouds. To convey something of this effect of altitude, I find it 
 necessary to keep the summit close to the top of the picture, nothing to attract 
 the eye being above it ; without attending to this you cannot give great height 
 to mountains. This effect is also increased by placing objects of interest, 
 such as chalets, low down near the base line. If at the same time they are 
 finished in detail, and with great force of colour, and the sketch be well hung 
 (that is, rather above the eye), some idea will then be gained of the strain that 
 is occasioned by looking up to such magnificent heights. 
 
 One could ramble long about the quaint old village of Zermatt, always 
 finding subjects of interest for the pencil, but the great excursion is up the 
 Kiffelberg, where a splendid panoramic view of the snow mountains is seen ; 
 after that the St. Theodule pass and round Mont Cervin is the route most 
 taken, but some way or other up you must climb, or else return on your 
 footsteps, a thing most disagreeable to travellers. If you take the steep brae 
 of the Riffelberg, and climb through the rugged fir forest and rocks, just as 
 you are leaving the last of the trees and the little chalets, where the cows 
 are milked for a few weeks in summer, there is a fine view of the Matterhorn 
 and of the Gorner Glacier below you. This position has the advantage of 
 a characteristic foreground, the part of the picture most important to an artist, 
 without which it is not easy to give aerial effect or distance. This supplies a 
 starting point, and also forms a sort of framework wherewith to enclose the 
 subject appropriately. Now on the Riffelhorn or Gorner Grat there is nothing 
 but the bare rock on which you stand. 
 
 A little hotel on the Eiffelberg offers a resting-place before ascending the 
 Gorner Grat, being the point from which most of the tourists start for the 
 ascent of Monte Eosa. Although, as I have said, there are no foreground 
 objects to enrich the picture, this is a splendid ridge from which to view the 
 panorama of snow mountains. Amongst these are conspicuous Monte Eosa, 
 with its numerous glaciers, and the Matterhorn ; but I confess this situation, 
 although so much praised as finer than any round Mont Blanc, did not strike me 
 as the spot from which an artist could exercise his pencil or brush with effect ; 
 indeed, while I sat there, I found most tourists thought it not at all necessary 
 to stay longer than to recover breath, for down they all rushed as hard as ever, 
 saying, " very fine" — " very fine"—" the grandest thing I've seen by far" — 
 
REMINISCENCES UE THE VACATION. 
 
 253 
 
 " beats Chamouni out and out " — " let's get back to dinner" — " we'll try for 
 Zennatt, good table d'hote there, nothing up here in the clouds." 
 
 After a few hours had passed, and the setting sun had thrown his parting 
 beams over the distant peaks of the Oberland, lighting up in his course the 
 snowclad summits around me with varied hues, from the palest yellow to the 
 deepest crimson, while the glaciers and valleys below were shrouded in the 
 deepest and richest of purple tints, I thought that even if I could not 
 reproduce this glorious effect, it was quite worth while to impress the scene 
 strongly on my memory by an attempt to represent it. My sketches are only 
 portions of this wonderful panorama, for you are aware that not more than 
 a sixtli part of the panoramic view can be taken in one picture. When more 
 is attempted the head has to be turned, consequently more than one point of 
 sight is taken, and from this a division of interest is sure to proceed. 
 
 There is a charming excursion up the valley of Zinutt ; little picturesque 
 chalets, built on huge masses of rock, or crouching in their shelter, like great 
 tortoises or toads, and curious wooden bridges occur at every step. One 
 bridge in particular struck me as highly picturesque, spanning a fearful 
 ravine, with the grand peak of the Matterhorn towering above the other 
 mountains. I think the old giant fir trees in the foreground rather add to 
 the height of the mountain than otherwise, although one is at first inclined 
 to think that, as in the picture, they are nearly of the same height as the 
 mountain, they might detract from its grandeur. Much, of course, in such 
 a case, will depend on the truth of the aerial perspective. In this valley 
 I first saw that magnificent tree the Pinus Ccmhra, which I trust will be soon 
 introduced into this country. 
 
 As my object was to see the mountains from the valleys as much as possible, 
 I did not cross the fine pass of St. Theodule, but heard much of its sublime 
 beauty. It is sometimes dangerous to be caught up there in snow storms ; at one 
 spot, t wo or more glaciers meet, and a gentleman showed me one day several 
 portions of the bones of a party of poor peasants who all perished at this 
 junction of the great glaciers; they had evidently been bewildered in a snow 
 storm, and did not know which way to turn. On my return, I did not like 
 the valley so well, in fact it becomes rather tedious in the descent. You are 
 doubtless aware that looking down valleys or rivers is not so picturesque as 
 looking up ; in one direction you turn away from the mountains, while in the 
 
254 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 other, they form conspicuous objects. With torrents of falling rivers also, 
 much of the best form is lost in looking from above them, downwards. Besides 
 this the appearance of objects in motion going from you is more difficult to 
 convey, than when they are approaching ; this you can verify by trying to 
 draw a horse or bird, going from, or coming towards you ; when added to this 
 is the greater difficulty of representing anything below you, it will serve as 
 an explanation why artists' sketches are generally taken looking upwards. I 
 ascended the Saas valley the same day, to the village of Saas, making, as the 
 worthy cure Imseng said, " a strong day's walk ;" for I sketched on my way a 
 magnificent waterfall. AVhile thus employed, and quite absorbed in my work, 
 I was startled by hearing a sort of hollow groan at my side ; and turning, saw 
 one of those hideous cretin objects kneeling at my feet, and praying for 
 charity. As a general ride. 1 consider it better to place the relief one ought to 
 give to such poor creatures, in the hands of the cures, or in the boxes always 
 to be found in the hotels ; children especially should never be encouraged 
 to kiss their hands and beg. The valley of Saas, although little known, is 
 very picturesque, and there is a delightful excursion up a steep mountain 
 into the side-valley of Fee; here the glaciers and snow mountains surround 
 you on every side. There is also a beautiful little spot, like an oasis in a 
 desert, called the Jardin ; it is even snperior for botanical riches to the 
 Jardin at Chamouni, but one has sometimes to creep between two glaciers 
 which approach each other so closely that you can touch the ice on each 
 side. In the summer cows and goats are conducted over plank bridges and 
 moraines to this verdant spot, for the grass is luxuriant. I am afraid my 
 sketch wdl not give a complete idea of the wildness of this romantic spot, 
 as the summits of the mountains were entirely hidden in vapour, in fact 
 the glaciers appeared descending out of the clouds. 
 
 A grand effect of resistless power is conveyed by the rush of a torrent 
 from the blue vault of a large glacier ; but as far as regards the artist, rivers 
 having their origin in glaciers are disappointing. Their colour is bad, for they 
 are all muddy and opaque, being charged with the debris ground from the 
 rocks by the ever-moving glacier, and even when at rest in a pool or small 
 lake, like the Mattmarksee in this valley, there it no beauty of colour or 
 reflection ; then there is such a cold chid feeling produced, when sitting- 
 long by their banks, or in the draught of waterfalls, that you must not expect 
 
REMINISCENCES OF THE VACATION. 
 
 255 
 
 much finish in my sketches of such subjects. Moreover, the sense of hearing 
 is required, as well as that of sight, to convey the full idea of these wild and 
 impetuous torrents, for as they descend with great rapidity they have sufficient 
 power to roll along immense blocks, or portions of rocks, and gradually to 
 chafe them into irregularly rounded masses, with a hollow, rumbling noise, 
 which every one who lias visited the Alps will recall as one of the most 
 striking of natural sounds. 
 
 The Allelein glacier with the ascent of the Monte Moro is very fine. I 
 had a good and amusing guide here— Frank Andermatten, the landlord of the 
 Mattmarksee hotel on the Distel Alp. He had just brought a party of ladies 
 over the Moro pass on chaises a porteurs. There were four old rickety 
 wooden chairs, only one being an arm chair, improvised on the occasion. 
 They required twenty men, all the serviceable ones of Macugnaga, and as it 
 was the first time four chairs had passed over, they thought it right to hoist 
 silk handkerchiefs on to long poles, tied to the back of the chairs, coming 
 in with a grand succession of jodeln and Alpine cries. 
 
 Frank was very attentive to the ladies, and having imbibed rather freely, 
 could not part for the night without shaking hands all round as we were 
 sitting at dinner, and, as I had engaged him to return with me in the morn- 
 ing, I was included in the ceremony. We started the party early the next 
 ni( uning, having pinned and tucked up the ladies in four better arm-chairs, 
 and then took our way upwards, in Excelsior fashion. Passing the Allelein 
 Glacier, we soon arrived at the Mattmarksee hotel. On the borders of the 
 desolate lake enormous blocks of rock lie scattered around, one of which 
 I sketched and Dr. Tyndall has measured ; it must have been deposited 
 there by the glacier in former times. We wandered all the afternoon about 
 the mountain, trying to smoke out marmots, and to see into the economy of 
 the desolate chalets, built on the side of the mountain, and inhabited only 
 for a few weeks in the summer, while the cows are kept up here. You must 
 know poor unfortunate pigs are brought up also, and fed upon the refuse of 
 the dairy and boiled thistles, so plentiful here that the Alp has its name from 
 them. All this was very amusing, but I am almost ashamed to say 1 did not 
 sketch at all, though I really had an excuse, as it was too cold to sit still. 
 
 We started the next morning by sunrise, and climbed the Moro over locks, 
 ice, and snow, not a very serious pass, though sufficiently fatiguing, while 
 
250 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Frank had about thirty pounds' weight of my goods on his back. He showed 
 me a fine long slope of snow, down which he had made a glissade, with three 
 ladies behind him, taking them just three minutes, while the gentlemen of 
 the party descended the rocks in an hour. I did not stop to sketch on the 
 summit of Monte Moro, but descended to Macugnaga, in the VaT Anzasca. 
 The panorama of Monte Rosa and the chain of mountains from the Belvedere 
 is, in my opinion, one of the grandest, giving a comprehensive view of snow 
 mountains and of glaciers, that take their rise from the base of the vast fields 
 of snow. I wished to get a sketch here, so with some difficulty I scrambled 
 over the huge moraine that divides the principal glacier. I sat all day, 
 studying until I was positively exhausted, and depressed with a feeling 
 of incapacity for such grand scenes, and then the extreme solitude became 
 oppressive. The huge towers of ice seemed to threaten to advance towards 
 me, to fall, and in their fall to overwhelm and crush me as an intruder on 
 their privacy. 
 
 While my sense of hearing was strained to catch the hollow roar of the 
 distant avalanche, I became keenly sensitive to the incessant chirp of the 
 grasshoppers around me, till at last the chirp-chirp, close to my ears, became 
 almost insupportable, the sound varying from the clink of the tiniest hammer 
 and chisel of a stonemason's yard, to the coarse grating rasp of the largest file. 
 Everything is by comparison. The whiteness of snow sinks to shadow when 
 contrasted with sunlight, — darkness with the least speck of light, is light 
 itself compared to total darkness, and perfect stillness is so rarely felt, that 
 when it is experienced it becomes oppressive. 
 
 The little inn at Borca, Osteria de Cacciatori, or " Les Chasseurs,'.' appears 
 a curious place to select for repose after a fortnight's hard work ; but I found 
 it comfortable, and the landlord justified the name of his inn by treating me 
 to chamois, marmot, and trout, besides ornamenting the table with fresh 
 Mowers, a grateful sight after the rough inns to which I had been used. 
 
 The Italian language being spoken here, I, not being ready with it, was 
 obliged to have recourse to my pencil, and by a modification of the far-famed 
 Giotto's 0, at last procured an egg, and by various sounds indicative of 
 crowing, lowing, bleating, &c. managed to have milk and various other things 
 placed before me ; the marmot's shrill whistle I could not imitate, but for 
 it I was indebted to fortune, as our landlord's dog had caught one before 
 
REMINISCENCES OF THE VACATION. 
 
 it reached its hole. I found it something between calves head (being dressed 
 with the skin on) and boiled mutton, although the claw was too much like a 
 rat's to be touched by me. A fine stalwart guide, Ulric Lauener, was at table, 
 and is well known as one of the boldest chamois hunters in Switzerland. I 
 begged him to carve the dish, which he seemed thoroughly to enjoy. 
 
 All these reminiscences are connected with that little obscure mountain 
 inn at Borca, and I find many others have equally pleasing recollections 
 of the genial landlord-hunter, the good cook his brother, and the cleanly 
 woman his wife. 
 
 The VaT Anzasca, of which Macugnaga and Borca are the head, is very 
 fine, and it will be eventually one of our tourists' chief roads ; it is especially 
 picturesque about Ponte Grande, but my sketches are not here, so I will 
 leave what I have to say about it to some future time. Passing down this 
 valley I descended to the Italian lakes, thinking a little change from the 
 continual climbing and descending would be agreeable. 
 
 The first view of Lago Maggiore after an absence of years disappointed 
 me, the shores having been made artificial with villas, a grande route, and 
 telegraph wires : consequently the foreground part of the picture is not varied. 
 Still there is the wonderfully beautiful hazy warmth about the air and 
 mountains, far more congenial to the painter than the harsh literal sharpness 
 of outline north of the Alps. With Orta I was again delighted, although the 
 fine old tower on Isola Julia has given place to a formal college. The side of 
 the island nearest Pella is yet occupied by the old Byzantine-looking church, 
 and forms the subjects of two of my sketches. The first is taken from the 
 island and the latter from a boat, the rower of which, owing to a breeze, had 
 quite enough to do to keep it steady. The motion of the boat, while drawing 
 under a broiling sun, and a long day of fifteen hours, caused me rather a 
 severe feverish attack the next day or two. 
 
 My boatman told me he had had a nice customer a few days before — a 
 young Englishman, whom he had rowed about for an hour or two, and to 
 whom, when demanded his fare, he had replied fifteen soldi, a soldo being 
 about one penny, upon which the traveller put a sovereign into his hand. 
 He stared. " Are you not satisfied ?" was the question. "Ah, yes, too much 
 content." "Oh!" exclaimed the Englishman, suddenly enlightened, "never 
 mind the change ; put it into your pocket." The soldi had evidently been 
 
258 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 supposed shillings. I hinted that he need not expect any such mistake from 
 me, as this youth was most likely spending his papa's money and I mv own. 
 
 After crossing the mountains to Varallo, so well know n for its Sacro 
 Monte and chapels containing costumed groups as large as life, 1 followed the 
 Val Sesia, a beautiful valley, up to Alagna at the head. This is an excellent 
 starting place for numerous excursions on the neighbouring mountains ; for 
 discovering one or two of these I was indebted to the directions given in the 
 traveller's book. 
 
 From Alagna I crossed the Col d'Ollen, a fine wild pass, into the Yal de Lys, 
 and got a quiet rest at Gressonay St. Jean. This is a valley full of mag- 
 nificent subjects — fine trees, rocks, and grand snow mountains. From thence 
 over two passes to Chatillon Val d'Aoste, then up the Yal Tournanche, with 
 which I was not much struck until I arrived at Breuil, or the hotel just about 
 the chalets called Jumont, close to the foot of Mont Cervin, on the contrary 
 side to Zermatt. The Matterhorn from this point is even better suited to 
 give a grand idea of a craggy pinnacle of snow-covered rocks than seen from 
 Zermatt, although perhaps it may not appear so singular and wild, for here 
 one can trace this noble mountain, rising Tip from the glaciers and valleys at 
 its very base. This is a study of early sunrise from an Alp above the little 
 inn, the cattle, with their musical and sonorous bells, passing gradually to 
 the highest grazing grounds. From this side the mountain certainly does not 
 look quite so impossible to climb ; indeed, while I was there, Mr. Hudson's 
 guide, an old veteran, ascended alone 12,000 feet, merely, as he said, to look 
 at it. When accomplished, it will be one of the toughest pieces of climbing 
 work ever done ; none but an old hand would, I think, ever dream of 
 attempting it.* 
 
 From Chatillon to Aoste, thence up the Great St. Bernard, in company 
 with two American gentlemen, who much amused me with their national 
 peculiarities. At the hotel at Aoste, while leaning out of the balcony, one 
 of them was- greatly regretting his inability to draw. "Why so?" asked L 
 " Oh, it's because I should so like to take off some of these sad deformed 
 critturs, jist to show what a state things have got to in the old world. Now, 
 stranger, draw them out for me, do, and I'll give you as many dollars as you 
 
 " Since the ahnve was written the Matterhorn has been asoendecl from both sides, but 1 am 
 assured by Mr. Whymper that the north side, contrary to public opinion, will prove the easier. 
 
REMINISCENCES OF THE VACATION. 259 
 
 like ! '' It is sufficient to say that J did not indulge him. I have been 
 recommending drawing to you, but this would have been a desecration of 
 the art. I was much struck with the truly American style in which these 
 gentlemen describe the effect the avalanches at the Wengern Alp had upon 
 them, and yet, perhaps, their words would give to their countrymen a more 
 vivid idea of the truth than many a more polished description. " Well, 
 stranger," said one, " I'll tell you, when I heard the furst avalanche fall, from 
 he pine forest below, I j is t thought the whole creation was tumbling to 
 pieces ! " " And yet,'' said the other, " 'twas no more to look at than a 
 barrel of Hour tipped over!" 
 
 Their opinion of our laws was expressed after this fashion : — " Well, I 
 guess we've about the best laws in the world. Yours, perhaps, are jist as 
 good, but the difference is, you cany yours out and we don't ours." 
 
 In company with these gentlemen, I took a carriage to St. Eemi, and after 
 that a mule to carry our luggage while we walked, for the ascent to the 
 Hospice, on the Italian side, becomes very rapid after leaving this village 
 At the most precipitous part we turned round a huge rock, and came in 
 sight of the well-known lake, looking black as ever, and especially dismal 
 at that moment, as a violent storm of wind was drifting the snow across 
 it, still showing us at intervals the far-famed Hospice. At the further 
 extremity of the lake we soon heard the deep bay of the great dogs, and the 
 sound of the bell, rung by the guides of earlier travellers to announce their 
 arrival to the Clavandier, or Bursar, of the establishment. It is the duty 
 of this official to usher travellers to their rooms, and of course there is 
 no choice. I had visited the pass before, but I found it was a subject so 
 interesting to my pupils, that I again took it in my route. 
 
 On the former occasion I ascended from Martigny ; it was the first pass 
 I had made. I had just parted from my friends, in a broiling hot day, and 
 I recollect well the great heat in the valley, the gradual putting on of coat 
 and cloak as the cold increased, then the getting off my mule to warm myself 
 by walking, till I became gradually enveloped in cloud, mist, and sleet. The 
 mule, smelling at last the well-known shelter, trotted on, and was soon lost 
 to sight. The guide ran after to catch him, and I, being left to pick out my 
 path alone, soon became bewildered and lost, plunging knee-deep in the thick 
 snow ; suddenly I broke through an icy crust, and hung suspended over a 
 
260 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 roaring torrent beneath, only supported by ray alpenstock across. Glad waa 
 I to struggle out, and at last catch my runaways, just as we came in sight 
 of the hazy lights from the many little windows of the Hospice. This time- 
 1 was rather too late in arriving, and a large party of ladies and gentlemen 
 were just rising from dinner, or supper, as we entered the cheerful-looking 
 refectory, but our polite attendant comforted us by the assurance that there 
 would be a second supper in half an hour. 
 
 I must tell those of my young friends who have not visited this 
 interesting pass, that the Hospice is placed at the very highest point, close 
 to one extremity of the lake. It is a massive building of stone, well arranged 
 to resist the violent storms it has to withstand, and can accommodate about 
 seventy travellers with beds ; and when we were there we found them nearly 
 all engaged. Besides these, there are sometimes as many as three or four 
 hundred peasants lodged and fed in one night, A second house, on the other 
 side, was built as a refuge in case of fire, an event which has twice happened 
 since the foundation of the establishment. It is used for offices, but I found it 
 Avas customary for all the women peasantry to sleep there. The basement is 
 occupied by stables, store-rooms, and the far-famed dogs. On the first floor 
 are the chapel, a long corridor, and offices ; and on the second floor the 
 refectory and apartments for visitors. In the capacious dining-rooms, we 
 found the first party seated round a blazing fire of huge logs ; and while 
 enjoying a good supper of soup, chamois, and other refreshments, we had the 
 additional pleasure of hearing some agreeable music, both from some of the 
 brethren, and the lady visitors. The pianoforte was excellent ; it had lately 
 been presented to the Hospice by the Prince of Wales, who spent a night here 
 some years since. 
 
 In the morning I made acquaintance with the dogs, whose deep baying 
 sounds very fine, as they play about in these wild solitudes. Since the time 
 when the faithful Victor died, and nearly all the dogs with him, they have 
 quite recovered the breed ; one of the finest being five years old, and black 
 muzzled, named Pluto, another Turk, a third, a fine young puppy of ten 
 months, I. longed to bring away with me. However useful these dogs are, 
 you must not suppose that they go out by themselves, and bring home little 
 chubby boys in a fancy dress clinging on their backs, as represented in a 
 French print, or even carry warm cloaks strapped round them, and little kegs 
 
REMINISCENCES OF THE VACATION. 
 
 2G1 
 
 of spirits to restore warmth. Their chief use is going the rounds with the 
 domestics or monks, after a storm, to discover the buried travellers. In this 
 they are very useful, and it is said, that they can smell those thus over- 
 whelmed, even when fifteen or twenty feet beneath the snow, and greatly assist 
 in scratching down in the direction they lie. 
 
 "Great is truth, and all prevailing," says the proverb, so it is my duty 
 to impress truth in Art upon you, by telling you of another picture that is 
 false. It is that of Napoleon crossing the Alps on a white charger, by 
 Horace Vernet. Now it is well known that Napoleon rode a mule on the 
 ascent, and was saved from falling off, when in a deep sleep, by his guide. 
 This, the true manner of journeying, has been painted by Paul de la Roche. 
 Keep to the truth, then, and trust to that for making your sketches interesting. 
 
 This keeping to the truth holds good in many things ; I was much struck 
 by an article in the Times, commenting on a description of the English 
 character by a well-known writer, and taking as an illustration sketches made 
 without sufficient care or knowledge of the subject. It says, " Yet meanwhile 
 it seems to you somehow or other short of the truth, or rather beside it. Truth 
 has been sacrificed to facility of arrangement and expression. It is like one of 
 those clearly defined and highly coloured pictures of the Alps, or Swiss lakes 
 and towns, you buy on the spot, and which, you fancy, may serve, your memory 
 ten years hence; but they are really not a bit like the thing they stand for. 
 You know it ; you see the coarseness of the presentment, and that beauteous 
 Nature never was so lackered and burnished up as in the picture before you. 
 That mountain was never so decidedly pink ; that water so uniformly blue. 
 The disappointment is felt all the mure, when you know the scene well." 
 
 In the morning, notwithstanding the continued snow, I took a sketch of 
 the Morgue, or house where they place all the poor creatures found dead in 
 the snow, a touching scene, as they still remain in the same position in which 
 they died : the mother with the babe in her arms — the sleeping group, all 
 appeared to me the same as long ago. It was very difficult to get a sketch, 
 as I had to peep through latticed bars, and the interior was very dark ; such 
 as it is, I have placed it before you. I was glad to hasten down from this 
 cold desolate region, the snow falling, and the eaves of the hoary old Hospice 
 dripping away very miserably. I met a long string of horses, carrying 
 wood up from a distance of four leagues. 
 
262 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 I still wanted a sketch or two, to complete my tour, of the magnificent 
 Valley of Sixt and the cul-de-sac called the Fer du Cheval ; this was recom- 
 mended to me by my friend Mr. Alfred Wills, the well-known author of 
 several interesting Alpine books. I was not at all disappointed ; it is the 
 grandest amphitheatre, I think, I ever saw, superior even to the Gemmi from 
 Leuk. My sketch is taken from a mass of fallen rocks, and on this very spot, 
 200 years ago, 180 human beings were overwhelmed by the fall of a mountain 
 in the night. The chapel on the left is raised in commemoration of the event, 
 and bears an inscription, promising, as usual, the customary indulgence for 
 prayers said for the souls of the poor people. The pinnacle of rock, on the 
 right, towers immediately over head, and when one is looking up for hours 
 together, it is easy to imagine the same thing likely to occur in an instant ; 
 whether this idea is aided by the constrained position of the head, or some 
 optical effect into which I am not qualified to enter, I cannot say ; but the 
 perpendicular cliff appears at last actually to curve over, and threaten instant 
 destruction. I then proceeded rapidly from Sixt to Geneva, where I was 
 fortunate in getting such trains as brought me home in twenty-eight hours. 
 And now I have only to hope that the sketches I made may be interesting 
 to you, and that these additional remarks will enable you, if so inclined, to 
 take the same tour yourselves, and that I may then have the pleasure of 
 seeing your sketches on your return. 
 
\l PISE 
 
 HFFICCLTY OF THOSE NOT Ai 
 SCENERY IN UNDERSTANDING TERMS IN USE — 
 painter versus PEAK-CLIMBER— ORIGINAL mean- 
 ing OF ALP— ALPINE CATTLE — THE CHALET — SNOW 
 ARTISTICALLY VIEWED — THE FON— AVALANCHES 
 — TOURMENTES OR WHIRLWINDS — BAN FORESTS — 
 COLOUR OF GLACIERS — MORAINE — GLACIER DES 
 BOSSONS— PROFESSOR FORBES ON GLACIER MOVE- 
 MENT — ICE TABLES— MOULINS — BERGSCHRUND — - 
 ARETE — PROFESSOR TYNDALL's ADVENTURE IN 
 PASSING A COULOIR — CREVASSE — ICE CAVES — 
 SNOW BRIDGES— OPINIONS ON ROPING— SERAC'S. 
 
 RECOLLECT, some years since, long 
 before the Alpine Club had made 
 Switzerland and its wonders familiar, that I frequently found myself at 
 a loss as to the meaning of various terms and expressions commonly used 
 by the guides and travellers ; and, although a vast amount of travelling and 
 research have now made them generally known to all who have cnce seen 
 
264 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Switzerland, among my pupils there may be many who have not yet "become 
 acquainted with the magnificent scenes and wonders of the Alps. I think, 
 therefore, that a short time may be well spent in defining and illustrating 
 such Alpine terms. No mere explanation can give so vivid an impression 
 as a representation in colour, however rough it may be ; I have therefore 
 brought before you a few of my own scenic studies,* premising that you must 
 not consider me as being, or ever having been, a great summit climber. 
 Although I have for many years found my greatest pleasure in studying 
 amongst the Alps, I have only climbed sufficiently high to obtain the views 
 I wished to paint, finding that if time and strength were spent in climbing 
 there was little left for careful drawing ; for it is not surprising that, after 
 a long day's walk of thirty or forty miles, the sketch then made should be 
 hasty, or thrust aside with pleasure at the welcome sound of the dinner-bell. 
 You will therefore understand that although most of these descriptions are 
 drawn from my own sketches in the high Alps, there are others that I have 
 found in the notes or journals of my Alpine Club friends. Amongst these 
 I ought to mention Mr. Eeilly, an old Rugbeian, and pupil in this class, one 
 who possesses so much power in using his pencil, that I mention his name 
 as an example of what can be done with it even by an enthusiastic climber. 
 
 I must begin my definitions with the common word Alp. What is an 
 Alp? What are Alps? Why, we all know what we think they are, the 
 highest summits and mountains in Switzerland, whereas the word really 
 means a mountain pasturage. But every one seems to use the term as 
 describing generally mountain peaks, therefore it is as well at once to 
 explain that in Switzerland the original meaning is retained. Thus the 
 Wengern Alp is a wide stretch of mountain pasture opposite the Jungfrau ; 
 it supports a large number of fine cattle, and as it is not one of the highest 
 Alps, they continue there for most of the year. The custom throughout 
 Switzerland is to graze these Alpine pastures in rotation ; thus in the spring, 
 as soon as the snow has disappeared, and the young grass sprouts, the cattle 
 are sent from the villages up tu the first and lower pastures, and so mount 
 upwards as the season advances, the very highest pastures never being 
 occupied more than three or four weeks. 
 
 * The author regrets that he is unable to introduce (even as woodcuts) many of the sketches 
 that originally gave interest to this and the succeeding papers. 
 
ALPINE TERMS. 
 
 265 
 
 The life of the senner, or cowherd, is spent in making butter and cheese 
 in solitude, and is not so charming and luxurious as some young people may 
 imagine. He has to collect the cows morning and evening, to milk them, 
 to make butter and cheese, and he liv es on little else than their milk, the 
 poorest kind of cheese, and coarse bread ; meat he tastes but seldom, and the 
 consequence is that to me these peasants always have a pallid, half-nourished 
 look. I have very little doubt that almost any English tourist, after a fort- 
 night's training, could do more hard walking and climbing than most ot 
 them ; mind, I do not speak here of the guides, who live a very different 
 life, eating very freely of good meat, and taking as much wine, &c. as is 
 good for them. These cowherds are sometimes picturesque fellows, but when 
 
 they move about, witli their one-legged stools (used in milking) strapped 
 on to them, they have the drollest appearance. 
 
 The cattle are handsome, and, with their large bells fastened round their 
 necks and gay collars, are quite worth drawing. I recollect wishing to sketch 
 some on this Wengern Alp many years ago, and was surprised to see with 
 what ease my guide collected them. It was by putting his hand in his 
 pocket, and then holding it out to them, as if containing something, and, 
 as they are in this way treated with salt, they soon surrounded us. 'When 
 
266 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 I had finished my sketch, and wanted them no lunger, he said, " Now see 
 how soon they will go," and oft' they all started, tearing away in the greatest 
 fright. This was entirely owing to a little buzzing sound he made, imitating 
 a gadfly ; this fly is their great torment, and the least appearance or sound of 
 one will send them off for miles ; they stand also for hours on the glaciers or 
 in ice-eaves to avoid this plague. The Ranz des Vach.es is of course the 
 cowherd's song, and when well sung is a charming kind of melody, varying in 
 different districts of the Alps ; it consists of lengthened trills and notes, now 
 abrupt, now protracted. The jodel is still more extraordinary, but is not so 
 often heard now as when I first knew the Alps. 1 asked a guide to jodel 
 for me one day. " Ah, sir," he replied, " a man who is getting old and is 
 poor has no breath for jbdelling ; " and indeed for my part I find very little 
 desire to jodel or sing in the awful solitudes of the Alpsj perhaps, however, 
 the exhilarating air with young companionship may have a different effect 
 on my friends around me. 
 
 The Chalet, or in German "Sennhiitte, in which the herdsman resides, is 
 literally a log-hut, formed of trunks of pines, notched at the extremities 
 so as to fit into each other at the angles of the building where they cross; 
 it has a low flat wooden roof, covered with shingles, and weighted with stones 
 to prevent its being blown away by the wind. Some of these Chalets are, 
 however, only used for the storing of hay, and this may give rise to much 
 disappointment to travellers in search of hospitality. 
 
 Now we must say a few words on the Snow which lies constantly on these 
 grand mountains; when they are above 11,000 feet high, it is rare to find a 
 spot uncovered with snow, except where the rocks are so perpendicular that 
 it cannot rest upon them ; and these dark precipices, contrasting with its 
 unsullied purity and the purple sky, add greatly to the beauty of the scene. 
 
 As Alpine subjects with snow and ice have occupied much of my atten- 
 tion, I must tell you some of the difficulties that all artists feel in drawing 
 from Nature under this aspect. Of course these difficulties are greatly 
 increased when one has not yet acquired a perfect knowledge of the materials 
 used. The paper must not only be white, but the different washes and tints 
 must be mixed with considerable dexterity to imitate a substance SO white, 
 so pure, and so filled with light, transmitted and reflected, as driven snow. 
 But how feeble are our means to represent the colours that we find in Nature ! 
 
ALPINE TERMS. 
 
 2<;t 
 
 and when brilliant and peculiar effects of light arc added t,o these, we are 
 obliged to confess the most successful efforts are but indications of our 
 intentions. 
 
 Perhaps the dazzling solid snow on the summit of a mountain or layers 
 on a mass of rock is the least difficult, for in sketching on tinted papers we 
 can put the snow on with Chinese white, with a sharp and defined edge ; 
 we can also pass a film or wash of some colour over this white, and thus 
 modify or warm the tones. When the pencil alone is used the line should 
 be clear but firm, not ragged, or even with the broken rough touch with 
 which we imitate the edges of rocks, f must not discourage my young 
 pupils, but we may just hear what an excellent judge of Nature and Art 
 thinks are some of the difficulties in depicting a snow-drift. 
 
 liuskin says : — " In the range of inorganic nature I doubt if any object 
 can be found more perfectly beautiful than a fresh deep snow-drift, seen under 
 warm light. Its curves are of inconceivable perfection and changefulness ; 
 its surface and transparency alike exquisite ; its light and shade of inex- 
 haustible variety and inimitable finish ; the shadows sharp, pale, and of 
 heavenly colour; the reflected lights intense and multitudinous, and mingled 
 with the sweet occurrences of transmitted light. No mortal hand can ap- 
 proach the majesty or loveliness of it ; yet it is possible, by care and skill, 
 at least to suggest tin 1 preciousness of its forms, and imitate the nature of its 
 light and shade." 
 
 At great heights the snow does not fall in large flakes lad in a dry 
 powder, and, as it does not cling together, is often disturbed by the wind, 
 which rages with great violence on the lofty summits, blowing with a fury 
 quite unknown in the plains, and often, indeed, when it is perfectly calm 
 there. The snow is thus swept away and deposited in the valleys; but 
 powerful as all ordinary w inds are in removing snow, it is more particularly 
 the south wind, called the Fon, which, after passing over the hot sandy 
 deserts of Africa, suddenly melts the snow with its fiery breath, and when 
 accompanied by warm rain causes fearful floods and damage. Then torrents, 
 usually almost hidden at the bottom of gorges, and crossed, without thought, 
 by springing from rock to rock, are increased a hundredfold, and carry away 
 everything in their course; trees are uprooted, and borne along in the boiling 
 flood : chalets, cattle, bridges, and sometimes human beings, are swept away, 
 
208 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 and huge rocks are frequently deposited on the roads, rendering them quite 
 impassable. I tried after one of these Fons to pass the Simplon, generally a 
 very good carriage road, and had to cross the torrent on a pine-tree instead 
 of a bridge, but could not resist taking a sketch of this picturesque scene. 
 I have, however, a most lively recollection of the hazards I then ran, and the 
 extraordinary incidents produced by the hot simoom. 
 
 The Avalanche is a mass of snow, which falls down the mountains with 
 a noise like thunder, scattering death and destruction around. At a distance 
 avalanches are very beautiful ; they look like graceful waterfalls, descending 
 so gently in white foam and silvery spray that you wonder what can cause 
 the awful sound. If, however, you were nearer you would cease to wonder, 
 for thousands of tons thus fall at once. Forests are cut through, and great 
 trees broken off short, as if a gigantic mower had been busy with his scythe ; 
 houses and villages are buried, and the inhabitants suffocated without a 
 moment's warning. Then, again, the avalanche is accompanied by a violent 
 rushing wind. The vacuum created by the snow torrents is instantly filled 
 by the rush of air, which produces a perfect hurricane. Houses are unroofed, 
 haystacks sent whirling through the air, and trees torn up by the mots. In 
 certain conditions of the snow and atmosphere, and when the former hangs 
 on a steep mountain, a very slight concussion of the air is sufficient to bring 
 down an Avalanche ; and indeed guides sometimes caution travellers against 
 even speaking in such situations. As Byron says: — 
 
 " Ye toppling crags of ice ! 
 Ye Avalanches ! whom a breath draws down 
 In mountainous o'envhelming." 
 
 You can therefore easily imagine how the concussion of the air produced by 
 one Avalanche sets another going ; and thus with increasing power and awful 
 noise they rush into the valleys, where at length, after their wild and mighty 
 course, they lie still and dead, and all is silent as the grave. 
 
 In particular states of the air, Tounnentes, or whirlwinds, arise, and lifting 
 the fine particles of snow, whirl them round and round, and letting them i'all 
 in bewildering masses, bury the unfortunate traveller many feet deep in a 
 moment. A friend once saw a Tourmente of this nature, which revolved 
 about the summit of Mont Blanc as quickly as I pass my hand round my 
 head, the snow moving at least 150 miles an hour. A party of poor guides 
 
ALPIXE TERMS. 
 
 2(39 
 
 were caught in a Tourmente of this kind, and becoming bewildered on the 
 St. Theodule glacier were all lost, their remains being found years afterwards, 
 when I happened to be at Zermatt. I was once caught in a Tourmente of this 
 character in passing a col above Bad Gastein, and had to crouch down behind 
 a rock with my companion and guide, and was heartily glad when we were 
 able to creep on again, and still more when we heard the welcome sound of a 
 Hospice bell. We then saw the use of the small solitary houses of refuge, 
 one that we passed having been gained by a number of poor travellers, who 
 had burnt all the wood, even the fittings of the cabane, including the door, to 
 keep themselves alive. 
 
 These Tourmentes may be considered to belong to the kind called Staub- 
 Lawinen or dust avalanches, also to Schleich-Lawinen or slide avalanches, 
 which slip down from inclined plains, often without disturbance of the 
 surface ; and it is only when they begin to roll over and bound that they 
 become Schlag or Grund-Lawinen. The greatest avalanches fall in spring, 
 when the sun begins to undermine the foundations on which the snow rests, 
 but smaller avalanches are falling all the year. In some places, such as the 
 steep sides of the Jungfrau, as seen from the Wengern Alp, avalanches are 
 falling every few minutes. In many parts of Switzerland forests of fir trees, 
 planted above villages to protect them from injury, are religiously preserved, 
 a curse being pronounced against any one who would cut them down ; thus 
 Schiller makes Tell say : — 
 
 •' Pie Baume sind gebannt — das ist die Wahrheit, 
 — Siehst Du die Firnen dort— die weissen Horner, 
 Die hoch bis in den Himmel sich verlieren ? 
 Walther. Das sind die Gletscher, die des Nachts so donnern, 
 Und uns die Schlag Lawinen niedersenden. 
 Tell. So ist's und die Lawinen batten langst 
 Den Flecken Altdorf miter ihrer Last 
 Verschiittelt, wenn der Wald dort oben niclit 
 Als eine Landwehr, sich dagegen stellte. " 
 
 We must now come to the greatest and most sublime feature of the Alps 
 — Glaciers (German, Gletscher). A glacier may be described as a stream of ice, 
 descending into the valleys of high mountain chains, fed by the snow which 
 occupies their tops, and fills the hollows and clefts between their peaks and 
 ridges. What it loses at its lower end by the increased temperature, is 
 supplied by the descent of new masses from the upper regions. The snow 
 
2/0 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 which falls upon the summits and plateaux of the high Alps is at first, 
 as I have said, a dry and loose powder. The action of the sun gradually 
 converts this into a granular mass ; as the portion which is melted during 
 the heat of the day is recrystallized in irregular rounded grains. In this 
 state the entire mass appears white and opaque, hut the separate grains arc 
 transparent. In the course of successive years, in consequence of repeated 
 thawings and freezings, the whole becomes consolidated into a seemingly solid 
 mass of ice; hut when closely examined this mass of glacier ice is found 
 to he penetrated by innumerable fissures, and consists in fact of separate 
 granules, closely compressed and cemented together ; for this reason a glacier 
 is not so slippery as ordinary ice. 
 
 "With regard to the colour of ice, a subject of the greatest interest to the 
 artist, it does not appear to he dependent upon the tone of the shy or clouds 
 above, nor on the rocks which are under and around it, for I have seen in the. 
 glacier of the Rhone the ice of the purest blue in the midst of heavy rain, the 
 clouds being at the time intensely murky and dark. It varies, however, at 
 different times and with different glaciers, and the young artist will find it 
 very desirable to keep his colours and washes as transparent as possible. 
 Photography, although very useful in giving the forms of masses of ice, fails 
 entirely in denoting the quantities of tone, or light and shade of different 
 colours; for instance, parts which are pure blue in Nature are rendered 
 either black or white, instead of a medium tint. 
 
 The inhabitants of the Alps have distinct terms for the various modifi- 
 cations of the snowy covering of the high Alps. The upper granular and 
 unconsolidated part they call Firn, or Neve in French, and apply the term 
 Glacier to the lower limbs of more solid ice, which stretch down into the 
 valleys. The firn occurs only at a height where the snow, which falls in the 
 winter, does not entirely disappear in the course of the following year, while 
 that which falls on the lower glacier is almost always melted during the next 
 summer, and never combines with the ice. 
 
 Glaciers are exceedingly numerous in the Alps. Some calculate them at 
 600, and the extent covered by them at 1 00 square miles. They vary from 
 a few square yards to acres and miles in extent, covering in some instances 
 whole districts, filling up entirely the elevated hollows and basins between the 
 peaks and ridges of the Alps, and sending forth arms and branches into the 
 
ALPINE TERMS'. 271 
 
 inhabited valleys below the region of forests, and as far down as the level 
 at winch corn will grow. Glaciers are of different lengths and thicknesses. 
 Professor Forbes calculated the Mer-de-Glace at 350 feet in depth. Glaciers 
 are undergoing a perpetual process of destruction and renovation ; the lower 
 portions, descending into the valleys, are gradually dissolved by the increased 
 temperature which prevails at so low a level. The summer sun, aided by 
 particular winds, acts upon their surface; so that, in the middle of the day, 
 it abounds in pools, and is traversed by rills of water- The constant evapora- 
 tion from every part exposed to the air produces great diminution in the 
 upper beds, the temperature of the earth also, which is at all seasons greater 
 than that of ice, melts yearly a small portion of its lower surface, reducing 
 the bulk and height of the glacier, which towards the end of the summer 
 is many feet lowered and shrunken. The vacancy thus caused is entirely 
 filled up from above by the winter's snow falling on the mountain tops, and 
 on the whole upper region of the high Alps, and passing into the valleys, 
 pressed down by its own weight; thenceforth the ice-stream, like the river, 
 moves steadily onward by day and night, even in the winter, though its 
 progress is then slow. 
 
 Leaving the theory of the progression of glaciers and other points of scientific 
 interest, I will touch upon some of the wonders visible to the least instructed 
 eye. Perhaps the most striking thing to one who has never before seen a 
 glacier, is the existence of such an immense mass of ice low down in a valley, 
 in the midst of meadows and cornfields, and with the summer sun blazing 
 overhead; for many glaciers spread quite down the mountain side, far below 
 the pine forests, and, if advancing rapidly, push up the grassy turf, or squeeze 
 over the bushes, which may be still in full leaf. 1 have gathered nuts from 
 bushes at Grindelwald glacier that would be covered in a few hours. Then 
 the continued motion of glaciers is most wonderful, for they look so massive, 
 so much a part, of the surrounding rocks and mountains, that you can hardly 
 believe they are moving on at the rate of two to three feet in twenty-four 
 hours. 
 
 I cannot resist quoting here Professor Forbes's fine comparison of human 
 life to a glacier : — 
 
 " Poets and philosophers have delighted to compare the course of human 
 life to thai of a river; perhaps a still apter simile might be found in the 
 
271' 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 history of a glacier. Ileavemdescended in its origin, it yet takes its mould 
 and conformation from the hidden womb of the mountains which brought it 
 forth. At first soft and ductile, it acquires a character and firmness of its 
 own, as an inevitable destiny urges it on its onward career. Jostled and 
 constrained by the crosses and inequalities of its prescribed path, hedged in 
 by impassable barriers, which fix limits to its movements, it yields groaning 
 to its fate, and still travels forward, seamed with the scars of many a conflict 
 with opposing obstacles. All this while, although wasting, it is renewed by 
 an unseen power — it evaporates, but is not consumed. On its surface it bears 
 the spoils which during the progress of existence it has made its own — often 
 weighty burdens devoid of beauty or value ; at times precious masses, 
 sparkling with gems or with ore. Having at length attained its greatest 
 width and extension, commanding admiration by its beauty and power, waste 
 predominates over supply, the vital springs begin to fail ; it stoops into an 
 attitude of decrepitude ; it drops the burdens, one by one, which it had 
 borne so proudly aloft — its dissolution is inevitable. But as it is resolved 
 into its elements, it takes all at once a new and lovelier and disembarrassed 
 form; from the wreck of its members it arises, 'another, yet the same' — 
 a noble, full-bodied, arrowy stream, which leaps rejoicing over the obstacles 
 which before had stayed its progress, and hastens through fertile valleys 
 towards a freer existence, and a final union in the ocean with the boundless 
 and the infinite." 
 
 The apparent solidity and immoveability of a glacier are greatly increased 
 by its being frequently covered with debris, stones, gravel, and from large 
 rocks being imbedded in it; and on some glaciers, when standing on a 
 medial Moraine, and seeing nothing for hundreds of yards but immense 
 blocks of stones, it seems almost impossible that all the surrounding masses, 
 yourself included, should be moving on together. I have mentioned the word 
 Moraine, and am trying to recall my impressions ; and, placing these wonders 
 in the relative order in which they struck my imagination, I count Moraines 
 amongst the most striking features of the glaciers. One has read so much 
 about the cliffs and seas of pure ice, that at first sight one is disappointed 
 to find their surface rough, tossed about in hillocks, ploughed into gullies, 
 and, except when covered with fresh fallen snow, or at very great heights, 
 without the purity which might be expected in fields of ice. Glaciers 
 
ALPINE TEEMS. 
 
 273 
 
 exhibit a surface of dirty white, soiled with mud, and often covered with 
 stones and gravel. Such beds of stone, dirt, and rubbish, common to most 
 glaciers, are called Moraines ; when running along them in parallel lines 
 at their sides, lateral, or in the middle, medial, and also when pushed up 
 before the glacier, frontal or end Moraines. They are formed in the following 
 manner: — The edges of the glacier at its upper extremity receive the frag- 
 ments of rocks detached from the mountains around by the destructive 
 agency of moisture and frost. As the glacier itself is constantly descending, 
 this fallen rubbish goes along with it, increased from behind by the debris of 
 each succeeding winter, so that it forms a nearly uninterrupted line from the 
 top of the icefield to the bottom. Whenever the glacier from one valley meets 
 that of another, the Moraines from the two unite, and form one, running down 
 the centre of the united glacier, instead of along its margin as before. This 
 can be seen exceedingly well in the great glacier descending from Monte 
 Rosa; six or eight of these run side by side, each traceable to its origin by 
 the nature of the rocks composing it. 
 
 The Moraines remain upon tin' surface of the glacier, and unless after 
 a very long or uneven course they are not dissipated or engulfed. On the 
 contrary, however, the largest stones attain a remarkable pre-eminence, and 
 the heaviest Moraine, far from indenting the surface of the ice, or sinking into 
 its substance, rides upon an ice ridge as an excrescence, like a colossal back- 
 bone of the glacier. Sometimes it appears like a noble causeway, fit, indeed, 
 for giants, stretching away for leagues over monotonous ice, with a breadth of 
 some hundreds of feet, and raised from fifty to eighty feet above its general 
 level. Almost every stone, however, rests upon ice; the mound is not a 
 mound of debris, as it might at first sight appear. The most magnificent 
 Moraine I have ever studied is that which descends with the Glacier de 
 Miage into the Alice Blanche from the south side of Mont Blanc. Basil 
 Hall, who had seen much of the wonders of the world, says of it : — " I am 
 acquainted with but one other scene in the world which can pretend to rival 
 in natural magnificence the Glacier de Miage, I mean Niagara ;" and indeed 
 it does appear to rush into the valley like a grand cataract or torrent of 
 rock and ice. 
 
 Scrambling amongst these Moraines in search of the picturesque, or in 
 passing across a glacier, is not very easy work'. A Moraine has been 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 1ii;a\VI.\<; FBOM NATURE. 
 
 described by one of the younger members of the Alpine Club as " 100,000 
 cartloads of scones, carefully piled up by Nature on scientific principles, with 
 a view to the dislocation of the human ankle." 
 
 One word more on the motion of glaciers : they move (pucker in summer 
 than in winter, and the centre moves (pucker than the sides : in fact, it 
 appears to drag down the sides. 
 
 Professors Forbes, Agassiz, and Hugi have made some interesting expe- 
 riments on the movement and rate of progress of the glaciers. Hugi noticed 
 numerous loose blocks lying on the surface of the Aar glacier, relatively to 
 the fixed rocks at the sides. He also erected a hut upon the glacier, which 
 hut in seven years' time had advanced 2,184 feet. A mass of granite, 
 containing 26,000 feet, originally buried under the snow of the tirn, w hich 
 had become converted into glacier, had not only been raised to the surface, 
 but was elevated above it in the air upon two pedestals or pillars of ice, 
 so that a large party might have found shelter under it. 
 
 Perhaps the most striking instance of the progressive motion of glaciers 
 was furnished by the finding of the remains and clothes of the guides in 
 the summer of 18G2, at the bottom of the Glacier des Bossons at Chamouni, 
 1 happened to be there at the time, and went across the glacier, finding 
 morsels of the ladder, clothes, &c. I have since seen many interesting relics 
 such as parts of a metal lantern, a straw hat, the leg of a fow l, wrapped up, as 
 n usual in Switzerland, in coarse blue paper, part of a tumbler, and portions 
 of a book, which we hope to be able to decipher. To make this incident more 
 intelligible to those who may not have heard of it, I must mention that, 
 these poor men, the three guides who perished about forty years ago, when 
 ascending Mont Blanc with Dr. Hamel, were swept away with an avalanche, 
 and buried under hundreds of feet of snow in a crevasse. Professor Forbes 
 had calculated that, according to his rate of glacier motion, they ought to arrive 
 at the bottom in forty years, and he told Balmat that he should look out for 
 them about that time, for one of them was a relation of his. Strange to sax- 
 one of the bodies was recognised by the colour of his hair as the very relative. 
 
 I have mentioned a huge block of stone, that had in the course of years 
 been lifted up and set upon a pedestal, and have often seen these curious 
 objects ; they are called Glacier Tables ; and the way in which they become, 
 as it were, hoisted up on these pinnacles is very curious. When a single 
 
ALPINE TERMS. 
 
 275 
 
 large mass of ruck has fallen upon the glacier, the shade and protection from 
 the sun's rays and the warm rain prevents the ice on which it rests from 
 melting, and while the surface around is gradually lowered the block remains 
 supported on a pedestal, forming a table, like a mushroom on a stalk, often 
 attaining a height of several feet. At length the stone falls off the pillar, 
 and the process recommences. The glacier has been ascertained to lose 
 three feet of surface by melting in as many weeks. An exactly opposite 
 phenomenon occurs when a small stone, not more than an inch thick, rests 
 upon the ice. As it absorbs the sun's rays with greater rapidity than ice, 
 not merely its surface but its entire substance is warmed through, and instead 
 of protecting it melts the ice below it, and gradually sinks, forming a hole, 
 which not unfrequently pierces the glacier entirely through. These pools, 
 or hi >les, filled with water, are a source of great amusement to young 
 travellers. It is very common to send down an alpenstock into the beautiful 
 blue water until it is completely out of sight, when it soon, by its buoyancy 
 springs entirely out again. One of my friends, however, lost an alpenstock, 
 with all his achievements burnt on it, by its getting hitched against the 
 sides. 
 
 Although these glaciers and moraines seem the most desolate regions on 
 the face of the earth, yet there is life even in them. Whilst studying on the 
 Gross Gldckner glacier, my guide said to me that he could find me animals 
 in full life and activity all around; he immediately lifted a stone, and there 
 was a glacier ilea swimming about quite merrily, and nearly every stone 
 we lifted disclosed the same proof of life. There are little streams of water 
 running over the surface of the glaciers, which sometimes make their way 
 down one of these round holes with a haul rumbling noise; on listening at 
 the apertures one hears a noise like that of a mill, on this account they are 
 called Moulins. There are also streams which are continually running under 
 the glaciers, and during the whole summer the traveller who crosses the glaciers 
 hears them rustling and running below him at the bottom of the azure clefts. 
 These are generally all collected in one stream at the foot of the glacier, which 
 in consequence is eaten away into a vast dome-shaped arch, sometimes a 
 hundred feet high, gradually increasing, until the constant thaw weakens its 
 support, when it gives way, and falls in with a crash. I have seen such 
 at the source of tlir Aiveiron, at Chamouni, and at Grindelwald. I also made 
 
276 
 
 DRAWING FliOM NATURE. 
 
 a study of a grand fallen vault last summer at the glacier of the Rhone. 
 It puzzled me exceedingly to imitate the intense blue of the fragments 
 of ice under the vault; the day was cloudy, and even rainy, nor could 1 
 discover the origin of so pure a colour. The ice is granular, and when we 
 scooped out holes with our alpenstocks the colour was greatly increased. 
 
 If we trace a glacier rapidly from its commencement to the terminal 
 Moraine, we find the following striking features : — When the snow which falls 
 on the sloping side of a mountain becomes gradually changed into Neve and 
 ice, there commences a settlement or shrinking away downwards, called 
 Bergschrund in German (see heading) ; it forms, therefore, the first grand 
 crevasse in the Neve or upper glacier, as it separates from the mountain or 
 rock. In climbing, these crevasses are most formidable obstacles, and cause 
 the climber to make long detours over steep slopes of snow or icy snow. 
 " The quality of surefootedness, a mountaineer's first desideratum, depends 
 upon two habits, both easily acquired: first, that of lifting the foot well from 
 the ground, and bringing it down at once; secondly, that of observing the spot 
 on which the foot is to rest. It is not merely in order to choose the ground 
 for each footstep that this is useful, though in some places it is requisite to 
 do so ; the chief advantage is, that the muscles, being warned by the eye, are 
 prepared for the precise exertion that is wanted at the moment. If aware 
 that the next step is to be on rock worn smooth, an instinctive movement of 
 the body is made to maintain the hold of the ground, when otherwise a slip 
 would be inevitable. In the same way, a suitable slight effort often prevents 
 debris from slipping, but here the choice of the particular stone on which 
 the foot is to rest becomes important ; with habit the slightest glance at the 
 ground is sufficient, and the process is an almost unconscious one." 
 
 An Arete, when of snow, is a ridge like the roof of a house, sometimes 
 with an ascent, and sometimes a plane ; it also, when rocky, somewhat 
 resembles the backbone of a fish, being sharp and jagged, and this has, it is 
 said, given rise to the name. I should imagine that this is the result of the 
 alternate action of the fierce winds, of the sun's heat, and of the frost piling 
 the snow up on each side of a mountain, melting and freezing it, until it 
 assumes a somewhat consolidated form. He who walks along the Arete 
 should have a firm foot and steady head, for he looks down thousands of feet 
 of steep slopes of snow, or, which is still more trying, into clouds beneath his 
 
ALPINE TEEMS. 
 
 feet. It is strange, but experience proves, there is a comfort in seeing something 
 to fall upon, even if it be. at an immeasurable depth. Sometimes, I am told, 
 these Aretes are so extremely pointed and slippery, that one is obliged to 
 straddle across them, and hitch oneself along. The word Arete is also applied 
 to tracts which may form a projecting ridge or buttress, of course at any angle, 
 and being sharp and jagged, are often chosen by Alpine climbers in preference 
 to the snow or ice, as giving better footing. 
 
 Mr. Leslie Stephen, in describing an Arete on the Weisshorn, says, " It 
 was dreary work laboriously turning one rocky shoulder covered with big loose 
 stones, only in order to see. another rocky shoulder covered with big loose 
 stones just in front of you. Imagine a fraction of a vast stony horizontal 
 wilderness heaved into long parallel ridges, like a long ocean swell. Suppose 
 that this wilderness had performed a miracle analogous to that by which the 
 pavement of Glasgow astonished the Scotch divine after his whisky toddy, 
 when it rose up and smote him in the face ; you will then have some, idea 
 that the whole mountain-top was kept in exceeding bad repair." 
 
 At the summits of some ridges or mountains there are huge clefts or open 
 fissures which are sometimes called Cheminees or Chimneys, and exceedingly 
 disagreeable they are to climb'. There is one about fifty feet high on the 
 Breyent, and I recollect climbing one many years since with a young friend 
 in the Tyrol. We had trusted to a faithless guide to lead us over a mountain 
 col from the head of one valley to another ; in order to avoid a long detour, he 
 led us by most fearful precipices and slopes, until we found ourselves under 
 some stupendously percipitous slatey l'ocks, and up one of these Cheminees it 
 was necessary to climb. We did so, my friend cutting one of his hands to 
 the bone ; and I never shall forget the blank dismay we felt, when we sat 
 straddled across the sharp ridge at the top. There was nothing but an 
 immense dome of snow, stretching away into the distant rocks, which un- 
 fortunately began to get dim in an approaching snow-storm. If caught in 
 this, we should have been most assuredly lost; so after a pull at our solitary 
 flask, I took the lead and attempted to descend. I was not aware that the 
 upper surface was frozen into slippery ice, and after a few steps I fell down 
 on my back, and began a rapid descent, which would have soon landed me 
 in a crevasse, if T had not been fortunately brought up by a projecting rock. 
 After this I proceeded more cautiously by cutting my steps, my friend and 
 
27S 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 wretched guide following until we gained the rocks. I sketched the scene 
 afterwards as nearly as I could, hut, as may he imagined, I was in no 
 condition for drawing on the spot. 
 
 A Couloir may be defined as a gully or steep slope of snow on the 
 mountain's side, forming the channel for many a shower of stones or masses 
 of ice. It is frequently quite a feat to pass one. of these active Couloirs ; the 
 loose masses of rock or ice above are so easily set in motion, that one does 
 not know when they may come bounding down, as Leslie Stephen says in his 
 droll manner, " It is always unpleasant to have the prospect of a few tons of 
 ice playing leap-frog about your ears." It requires coolness and quickness of 
 eye and foot to dodge some of 'these, and one ought to be careful oneself, and 
 to be in careful company, to escape accidents. I was once very nearly bowled 
 off a steep rocky slope by a huge rock, set in motion higher up by my son. 
 Another time, in ascending the Oherland Alp, I was terribly persecuted by 
 showers of stones, sent down upon me by a troop of goats, who would follow 
 nn' on the rocks above, and when about to enjoy a delicious bath in a 
 cool pool under some precipices, fairly pelted me out from above, appearing 
 curious to see what I could be doing there. 
 
 Dr. Tyndall, in relating a recent and perilous adventure on the Viz 
 Morteratsch, gives an excellent description of the danger of passing a Couloir: 
 — " We at length reached the point at which it was necessary to quit our 
 morning's track, and immediately afterwards got upon some steep rocks, which 
 were rendered slippery here and there by the water which trickled over them. 
 To our right was a broad Couloir, which was once filled with snow, but this 
 had been melted and refrozen, so as to expose a sloping wall of ice. We were 
 all tied together at this time in the following order : — Jenni led, I came 
 next, then my friend H. an intrepid mountaineer, then his friend L. and last of 
 all the guide Walter. L. had had little experience of the higher Alps, and 
 was placed in front of Walter, so that any false step on his part might he 
 instantly checked. After descending the rocks for a time, Jenni turned, ami 
 asked il'I thought it better to adhere to them, or to try the ice-slope to our 
 right. I pronounced in favour of the rocks, but he seemed to misunderstand 
 me, and tinned towards the Couloir. 
 
 " I stopped him before he reached it, and said, 'Jenni. you know where 
 you are going : the slope is pure ice.' 
 
ALPIXE TERMS. 
 
 279 
 
 " He replied, ' I know it ; but the ice is quite bare for a few yards only. 
 Across this exposed portion I will cut steps, and then the snow which covers 
 the ice will give us a footing. 
 
 '■ He cut the steps, reached the snow, and descended carefully along it— all 
 following him, apparently in good order. After a little time he stopped, 
 turned, and looked upwards at the last three men. He said something about 
 keeping carefully in the tracks, adding that a false step might detach an 
 avalanche. The word was scarcely uttered when I heard the sound of a fall 
 behind me, then a rush, and in the twinkling of an eye my two friends and 
 their guide, all apparently entangled together, whirred past me. I suddenly 
 planted myself to resist their shock, but in an instant T was in their wake, for 
 their impetus was irresistible. A moment afterwards Jenni was whirled away 
 and thus all five of us found ourselves rolling downwards with uncontrollable 
 speed on the back of an avalanche, which a single slip had originated. 
 
 " When thrown down by the jerk of the rope, I turned promptly on my face, 
 and drove my baton through the moving snow, seeking to anchor it in the 
 ice underneath. I had held it firmly thus for a few seconds, when I uame into 
 collision with some obstacle, and was rudely tossed through the air, Jenni at 
 the same time being shot down upon me. Both of us here lost our batons. 
 AVe had in fact been carried over a crevasse — had hit its lower edge — our great 
 velocity causing us to be pitched beyond it. I was quite bewildered for a 
 moment, but immediately righted myself, and could see those in front of me 
 half buried in the snow, and jolted from side to side by the ruts among which 
 they were passing. Suddenly T saw them tumbled over by a lurch of the 
 avalanche, and immediately afterwards found myself imitating their motion. 
 This was caused by a second crevasse. Jenni knew of its existence and 
 plunged right into it — a brave and manful act, but for the time unavailing. 
 He is over thirteen stone in weight, and he thought that by jumping into the 
 chasm, a strain might be put upon the rope sufficient to check the motion. 
 He was, however, violently jerked out of the fissure, and almost squeezed to 
 death by the pressure of the rope. 
 
 " A long slope was below us, which led directly downwards to a brow where 
 the glacier suddenly fell in a declivity of ice At the base of this declivity 
 the glacier was cut by a series of profound chasms, and towards these we were 
 now rapidly borne. The three foremost men rode upon the forehead of the 
 
280 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE, 
 
 avalanche, and were at times almost wholly immersed in the snow; but 
 the moving layer was thinner behind, and Jenni rose incessantly, and with 
 desperate energy drove his feet into the tinner substance underneath. His 
 voice shouting, ' Halt ! Herr Jesus, halt !' was the. only one heard during the 
 descent. A kind of condensed memory, such as that described by people who 
 have narrowly escaped drowning, took possession of me, and I thought and 
 reasoned with preternatural clearness as I rushed along. Our start, more- 
 over, was too sudden, and the excitement too great, to permit of the develop- 
 ment of terror. The slope at one place became less steep, the speed visibly 
 slackened, and we thought we were coming to rest ; the avalanche, however, 
 crossed the brow which terminated this gentler slope, and regained its motion. 
 Here H. threw his arm round his friend, all hope for the. time being extin- 
 guished, while I grasped my belt, and struggled for an instant to detach 
 myself. Finding this difficult I resumed the pull upon the rope. My share 
 in the work was, I fear, infinitesimal ; but Jenni's powerful strain made itself 
 felt at last. Aided probably by a slight change of inclination, he brought the 
 whole to rest within a distance of the chasms over which, had we preserved 
 our speed, a few seconds would have carried us. Jsone of us suffered serious 
 damage. H. emerged from the snow with his forehead bleeding, but the 
 wound was superficial ; Jenni had a bit of flesh removed from his hand 
 by collision against a stone ; the pressure of the rope had left black welts 
 on my arms ; and we all experienced a tingling sensation over the hands, 
 like that produced by incipient frost-bite, which continued many days. 
 I found a portion of my watch-chain hanging round my neck, another portion 
 in my pocket ; the watch itself was gone." It is interesting to know that 
 the watch was afterwards found by its owner, not having sunk in the snow 
 owing to the reflective power of the metal. 
 
 It was in going down one of these Couloirs on the Col de (leant that three 
 unfortunate Englishmen perished a few years since. They were descending, 
 and unfortunately left the Arete, and to get along more easily took to the 
 Couloir, when one, it is supposed, began to slip, and all three, with one 01 
 the guides, were dashed down tremendous precipices; the two other guides, 
 who held the rope in their hands instead of having it secured around the 
 body, let it go to save themselves. It is necessary to mention to young 
 travellers that the rope should always be round the body, so that the 
 
ALPINE TERMS. 
 
 281 
 
 alpenstock can be used with both hands, when almost any slide can be 
 prevented. 
 
 A Crevasse is almost explained by its name. It is met with when 
 walking on a glacier in the form of slits or cracks, which are sometimes not 
 above an inch, sometimes forty or fifty feet wide. They are often very deep, 
 frequently descending to the bottom of the glacier, a depth sometimes of 
 700 or 800 feet, and the principal difficulties and danger of glacier 
 walking arise from their occurrence. If your foot should slip while walking 
 along a narrow ledge or steep hill of ice, bounded on each side by a crevasse, 
 nothing could save you from falling into the abyss, and your chance of 
 escaping with life would be small indeed. 
 
 The following description by Mr. Eeilly, one of the most enterprising 
 members of the Alpine Club, will give you some idea of the perils encountered 
 in attempting to cross one of these fearful chasms: — 
 
 " We were cutting slowly up the slope, clinging to it with great difficulty, 
 as the blast threatened every moment to jerk our frozen toes and fingers out 
 of their insecure hold, when our guides, who were about fifty feet above, 
 gradually ceased to make any progress at all, and remained stationary, cutting 
 steps, now on the right, now on the left, but in vain, for at each stroke the 
 axe broke through the thin crust of frozen snow, which bridged over an 
 enormous chasm, the extent of which we could not guess, as no external pecu- 
 liarity of the neve betrayed the hollow which lay beneath. They were, in fact, 
 working on a thin crust of snow, tilted up to an angle of fifty-three degrees, 
 with nothing underneath; and we, although fifty feet below them, appeared 
 to be in the same position, for on handling, without that tenderness which 
 was necessary, a step which served me for handhold, my arm plunged through 
 the crust into empty space, and T certainly expected every instant that the 
 whole surface which supported us all, weakened as it was with steps, would 
 break through. In this agreeable position we froze for half an hour, but 
 neither Croz nor Couttet could reach the limits of the crevasse, or find any 
 spot where the crust was sufficiently firm to afford any hopes of crossing it ; 
 and then, as I felt my feet losing all sensation, in a suspicious manner, and 
 recollected the delicate tread which such a ticklish ladder would require 
 in descending, I lifted up my voice, and suggested a retreat, a course which 
 no one vehemently opposed. It was time, for we had had nearly enough 
 
282 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 of it, and one of Couttet's hands was frost-bitten, but by excessive friction 
 with snow all evil results were prevented. In our second attempt we 
 found the spot where we had been, fallen in, but were still unable to judge 
 of the size of the crevasse." 
 
 Amongst the wonders of the glaciers are Ice Caves, of the most magical, 
 fairy-like beauty. I have walked in these caves, with an ice roof above me, 
 an ice floor under my feet, and ice walls on each side of me. The ice was 
 so transparent that I could see at least a yard into its substance, which was 
 all of the most beautiful blue colour. 
 
 Snow bridges in and across crevasses are very wonderful ; the snow seems 
 to cling together so much, especially in the soft or melting state, that one 
 is able to cross over many places that would otherwise lie impassable ; it 
 is, however, always better to lie roped together. 
 
 Mr. Ball, in the Alpine Guide, says that a practised mountaineer can 
 pass the Theodule 500 times without accident, and the 501st time he might 
 be lost in a crevasse, as has happened once or twice on this pass. 1 might 
 also say the same, for when traversing it some time after the sad accident 
 occurred to the Puissian gentleman, I was determined to have a rope, which 
 my young guide, one of the Taugwalders, maintained to be quite unnecessary, 
 and I have no doubt he thought it unmanly in a guide to be roped to a 
 gentleman on such a lady's pass. But what happened ? Before long we 
 were caught in a blinding snow-storm, and the party just before us, losing in 
 some degree the track, as nearly as possible fell into a crevasse, which they 
 warned us to avoid. 
 
 Of the use of the rope in real climbing I can say little, but quote the 
 highest authority, which the late most tragical accident on the Matterhorn 
 has made doubly interesting. Mr. Alfred Wills, the President of the Alpine 
 Club, says, in his letter to the Times, — 
 
 " Young and inexperienced climbers should neither go nor be taken 
 on expeditions of this kind. Another warning, hardly less distinctly uttered 
 and hardly less important, but valuable chiefly to those who engage in 
 similar undertakings, is against the slackened rope, — the best friend of the 
 climber, converted only ton easily into bis most insidious and dangerous foe!" 
 
 1 cannot resist quoting from Air. Whymper's most eloquent letter after 
 the accident : — - 
 
ALPIXE TERMS. 
 
 283 
 
 " Poor Croz had laid aside his axe, and in order to give Mr. Hadow 
 greater security, was absolutely taking hold of his legs, and putting his 
 feet, one by one, into their proper positions. From the movements of their 
 shoulders it is my belief that Croz, having done as I have said, was in the 
 act of turning round to go down a step or two himself; at this moment 
 Mr. Hadow slipped, fell on him, and knocked him over. I heard one startled 
 exclamation from Croz, then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying downwards ; 
 in another moment Hudson was dragged from his steps, and Lord F. Douglas 
 immediately after him. All this was the work of a moment ; but imme- 
 diately we heard Croz's exclamation, Taugwalder and myself planted ourselves 
 as firmly as the rocks would permit; the rope was tight between us, and the 
 shock came on us both, as on one man. We held, but the rope broke midway 
 between Taugwalder and Lord F. Douglas. For two or three seconds we 
 saw our unfortunate companions sliding downwards on their backs, and 
 spreading out their hands, endeavouring to save themselves ; they then 
 disappeared one by one, and fell from precipice to precipice, on to the 
 Matterhorn glacier below, a distance of nearly 4,000 feet in height, From 
 the moment the rope broke it was impossible to help them." 
 
 But I must leave this most interesting subject, to give you a short 
 description of one other Alpine term which you might not understand, — 
 it is Seracs. These are enormous blocks and masses of ice, occasioned 
 by the glaciers in moving downwards over an irregular rocky bed, which 
 causes the ice to divide, split, and toss about in the wildest and most 
 picturesque confusion. When these are lit up with the brilliant sunlight, 
 the rays falling sometimes on them, and showing grand chasms and crevasses 
 of the most intense blue, I know not of any wild wonder of the Alps more 
 beautiful. The name is supposed to be given them from the great likeness 
 these masses bear in shape to a substance that the Swiss cowherds have 
 continually before them, namely, the lumps of curds when broken up to 
 make cheese. With this somewhat hasty description I must conclude, 
 trusting that T have made some of the most usual terms more intelligible 
 to you. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 AX ALPINE SKETCHING TOUR. 
 
 REAL'TY OF ART — ADVANTAGES of Mm* AT. CRITICISMS— CHARACTER INDICATED BY DRAWING 
 — RIGHT COURSE TO DISCOVER TALENT — GENERAL TREATMENT OF SUBJECT — DUTCH PICTURES — 
 PICTORIAL EFFECT— POWER OF OBSERVING — FARADAY — NEWTON — ALPINE CLUB— OBJECT OF 
 PRESENT LECTURE — ARTIST'S WALK, TEN MILES A DAY — MONCH AND EIGHJER — PREDOMINATING 
 EFFECT — MATTERHORN, EXAMPLE OF BREADTH — BRUNNEN, LAKE LUCERN, ETC. — COLOUR IN- 
 TENSIFIED BY MOISTURE — GOATS AND PIGS— KLAUSEN, SUSTEN PASS, STEIN ALP — MEYRINGEN, 
 MURREN, JUNGFRAUJ STAUBBACH— RESTIVE MULE— MAR JELEN SEE— ALETSCH GLACIER. 
 
 AT the time when a prize for the best set of sketches from Nature was 
 awarded, I promised to exhibil souk 1 studies which 1 had also made 
 during the summer, These are now placed before you, and I will proceed, 
 after briefly explaining the principles which have guided me in my work, 
 to give you a short account of my tour, illustrating both by reference to my 
 sketches. I trust that these examples will prove the practical utility of rules 
 founded on those principles, for it is of the first importance that you should 
 believe in the reality of Art ; from the very beginning of your practice you 
 must feel that the rules of Art are no sham, invented to impose upon the 
 ignorant ; but that those who teach must practice the principles they inculcate, 
 or inevitably fail in their attempts. 
 
 The advantages of such mutual reviews of our labours are manifold ; the 
 
AN ALPINE .SKETCHING TOUU. 
 
 285 
 
 most obvious, that we may become aware of the causes of success or failure 
 in our studies, and that we may produce records of the steps of our progress, 
 thus encouraging the diligent to persevere, and stimulating the idle to exertion. 
 Let me advise you not to destroy your early sketches ; bring them forward for 
 exhibition, submit them freely to criticism. It is only by humble submission 
 to comparison with others, and constant reference to our great and infallible 
 guide, Nature, that we can form a just estimate of our own powers. 
 
 Artists submit to this ordeal to a very trying degree in sending their 
 pictures for exhibition to the Royal Academy or elsewhere. The criticisms 
 they undergo are often cuttingly severe, every weak point is dragged into 
 notice, while even to excellence praise is sometimes grudgingly awarded. 
 You, at any rate, meet no unfriendly critics here. All are anxious that justice 
 should be done ; each step in the right direction is rewarded by a corresponding 
 increase of marks, sometimes by a "first or second class ;" and this in addition 
 to the pleasant feeling which accompanies successful exertion. 
 
 Another advantage we may mention ; if there be truth in the assertion, 
 that character is indicated by handwriting, is it not more strikingly the case 
 with drawing, especially from Nature? "Writing is merely copying symbols 
 of a recognised form, and only by minute shades of difference in strokes and 
 curves can character develop itself; while in delineating the features of a 
 landscape, symbols must be invented at the moment to convey to others the 
 impression produced upon us, and thus greater scope must be afforded for 
 indicating qualities of mind. 
 
 Supposing the spark of genius to be lying latent among us, we are surely 
 pursuing the right course to draw forth a manifestation of it; and as surely 
 we may assert, that without steady persevering study, genius will exercise 
 rather a baneful than a beneficial influence on its possessor. "Excelsior!'' 
 then, be our motto. 
 
 First, then, it would lie a complete, waste of valuable time, if an artist 
 began bis sketch before he had formed some clear scheme for the general 
 treatment of his subject, and with which all the parts must combine to produce 
 that beautiful harmony we so much admire in nature; tor he who depends 
 upon his mechanical skill in the representation of individual objects, and relies 
 too much upon what he imagines to be nice finishing of parts, without con- 
 sidering them chiefly as a means to enable him to produce a whole, will never 
 
28G 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 be able to complete such a picture as the eye of taste can contemplate with 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Now we have to consider what it is that makes sketches agreeable : it is 
 not in reality the subject, but the treatment. There are subjects enough in 
 Switzerland, and most magnificent ones, as every one knows; but beautiful 
 pictures of the Alps are exceedingly rare, whereas Holland, one of the least 
 picturesque of countries, has furnished materials for a countless number of fine 
 works of art. It is pictorial effect that is wanting. Forms, of course, we all 
 ought to draw correctly ; but more than this is necessary, more even than the 
 common light and shade belonging to each object ; we must learn to place the 
 objects, or the whole subject, before the spectator, with an adjustment of light 
 and shade and colour that shall be true, and at the same time pleasing. This 
 effect is wholly independent of the objects introduced, and should never be 
 neglected, even in the slightest sketch ; the Jungfrau itself taken from the 
 Wengern Alp would be nothing but a huge wall, unless represented with some 
 choice of pictorial effect. 
 
 Of course, such a country as Switzerland affords pictures the most complete 
 and beautiful, with effects all that the artist could desire; but, alas! these 
 appearances are but momentary, and while we open our folios and colour 
 boxes they frequently entirely disappear, and the very abundance of forms 
 and intricacy of details prevent us from sufficiently recollecting the one 
 prevailing effect. How important it is, then, to understand what it was that 
 made the subject so beautiful, in order that we may reproduce it at our leisure. 
 And here, among these evanescent splendours, the full value of the educated 
 eye is felt, for by the aid of careful training alone can we trust our memory to 
 store up effects so fleeting that no human hand can transfer them to paper 
 while they remain. 
 
 Few people are aware'of the difficulty of the art of observation ; to observe 
 properly, in the simplest of the physical sciences, requires a long and severe 
 training. No one knows this so feelingly as the great discoverer : Faraday has 
 said that he always doubts his own observations, and he once told me that he 
 had made 3,000 different experiments without arriving at the desired result, 
 until one final and successful trial furnished the clue to the whole. There is a 
 wholesome lesson in this for the artist : observation, in its strict sense, is not 
 every man's gift, and but few men's actual habit of mind. New ton used to 
 
AN ALPINE SKETCHING TOUK. 
 
 287 
 
 say that, it in any way lie differed from other men, it was in his power of 
 continued attention, of faithful, unbroken observation ; his ladder had its steps 
 entire, and he went up with a composed, orderly foot. It recpaires more 
 strength and fineness of mind, more of what deserves to be called genius, to 
 make a series of genuine observations, than to build or draw any number 
 of castles in the air. 
 
 Exact, patient, honest, and delicate observation is neither easy nor common ; 
 but if this be followed up with skilful manipulation of the brush and pencil, 
 and the whole be guided by sound rules, the result will he successful progress, 
 ('art ful research and close observation have had their devotees of late, who 
 have given their leisure time to explore the most beautiful parts of the Alps, 
 not of course all, or perhaps most of them, for artistic purposes ; many 
 scientific men are investigating the construction of glaciers, the effects of 
 heights upon temperature, &c. and these last few years have witnessed a 
 vast amount of enterprise, of energy, and talent expended in exploring the 
 higher and less accessible parts of Europe. Switzerland has benefited -most 
 largely by these exertions ; it has been traversed in every direction, the 
 beaten paths made easy of access, and the most difficult passes rendered 
 so comparatively simple, that those which, but a few years since, were con- 
 sidered impassable, are now trodden even by the feel of delicate women. 
 
 A proof has been given of the great interest taken in these researches 
 by the formation of the Alpine Club, an association of gentlemen engaged 
 for the greater part of the year in studious or sedentary pursuits in London 
 and elsewhere, who seize with eagerness the opportunity afforded by the 
 Long Vacation to brace their limbs by climbing and expand their lungs 
 with the mountain air. Among these rugged peaks they can gratify that 
 craving with which all men are, at some time or another seized, for physical 
 'exertion and exercise, for testing their steadiness anil powers of endurance, 
 while their minds are filled with the most magnificent scenes, the marvellous 
 wonders of the ice world, and glorious visions of snowy summits, which 
 all recur to them afterwards in the crowded city, refreshing them as they 
 labour at their vocation through long days of toil. Then follows the pleasure 
 of communicating their experience to their friends and the public; and many 
 are the delightful papers which are published from time to time, revealing 
 to the tourist fresh scenes of Alpine travel. 
 
DRAWING FROM NATUJRE. 
 
 This natural desire to share pleasure or amusement with others is, in 
 fact, the foundation of all our truly national sports. Our games of cricket 
 and football, our boat races and our fox hunts, are instances of this love of 
 sympathy ; but, while we acknowledge the necessity of action, and confess 
 that for youthful frames exercise to the full extent of the bodily powers 
 should be encouraged, we must recollect that the mind has also its duty 
 to perform, and that mere bodily exertion, however diversified, will never 
 be sufficient to satisfy an intellectual and cultivated man. Of course every 
 one has his own favourite way of employing the mind ; and the artist, or 
 he who loves art, selects drawing as his pursuit, and the principal object 
 of this lecture is to clear away obstacles to a more general use of the pencil 
 in your summer excursions. 
 
 The first thing is to go with the intention of sketching, and to associate 
 witli those who have the same desire. Now amateurs, as well as artists, 
 if thi^v really wish to work, must be content to limit their excursions. Ten 
 miles is but a short walk, but quite as much as those who really wish to 
 draw, ought to average per day. Sometimes a beautiful sunrise will occupy 
 one for hours ; and not unfrequently a sunset is so exquisitely tinted, and 
 in settled weather so exactly repeated, that it may be worth while to spend 
 two or three evenings in studying it carefully, and working up one's sketches 
 of it on the spot. The sketch of the Monch and Eigher is the result of such 
 study. The first evening was sufficient to impress this transitory effect on 
 my mind ; the next day the outline was carefully made and a few general 
 washes laid in ; then, when the sun again sank to the horizon, I was able 
 to add my notes of colour, a third evening, most fortunately similar and 
 equally beautiful, allowing me to finish my effect. 
 
 With artists of some experience, you must be aware that the predominating 
 effect forms their principal study, for they have passed through that ele- 
 mentary stage which now occupies you, the outline or even the light and 
 shade being but secondary matters when they contemplate painting a picture. 
 
 In this subject I was anxious to portray the fascinating but evanescent 
 effect of the last gleams of the setting sun, as they strike the snowy summits 
 of the mountains, a most difficult thing to attempt. To bring out or give 
 value to this most exquisite and fleeting light and colour, which change more 
 rapidly than the tints of the dying dolphin, the rest of the picture must 
 
AN ALPINE SKETCHING TOUR. 
 
 289 
 
 be in shadow. I have therefore kept the whole of the foreground deep and 
 quiet in tone and unobtrusive in form, but passing upwards over the greenish 
 and purple grays of the glaciers, the eye rests on the chief point of interest, 
 the glorious peaks, lit up with a burst of rosy light, enhanced by a carefully 
 worked sky, in which I have endeavoured to give all the space and air I 
 could, although approaching darkness. The only pigment to accomplish this 
 is ultramarine. Another study of the same time of day is the Matterhorn 
 rising over a sea of pines, in which everything is kept subdued to heighten 
 the peculiar effect of moonlight struggling with the last rosy tints of the 
 setting sun : this is an example of breadth. 
 
 Unfortunately, the roseate tint cast by the sun takes away a portion of the 
 light of the paper, while that of the moon remains white and pure ; it is 
 thus not quite true in scale. I am often asked by my pupils how such 
 effects as this of deep twilight, or that of Monte Rosa by moonlight, are 
 produced. They are in a great measure the result of a carefully cultivated 
 recollection, assisted by a faithful sketch of the outline, and perhaps a hasty 
 blot of colour. We all know that the memory is much strengthened by 
 practice, and many artificial ways have been invented to aid it ; and not 
 only does the outline preserve the form of the subject for the artist, but also 
 reminds him of the colour that accompanied it. 
 
 In order to become imbued, as it were, with the wonderful beauty of 
 moonlight, I arranged my plan, this last year, to pass ten days, about the 
 full of the harvest moon, on that most charming and romantic of Swiss lakes, 
 Lucerne, the choicest part of which is Brunnen, where I fortunately secured 
 a good bedroom, with' a balcony overhanging the lake. 
 
 One who has been passionately fond all his life of the higher Alps might 
 be almost tempted from his allegiance by the exquisite effects I saw during 
 tins sojourn, when coasting under the huge perpendicular limestone cliffs in a 
 small boat, watching the glancing of the silvery beams on the waves, or looking 
 over to the snows of the Rothhom ; a fire of pines, kindled by some men in 
 boats collecting driftwood, casting a lurid gleam across the waters, and forming 
 a striking contrast with the pearly green moonlight. The harmony of the 
 scene was completed by the wild plaintive jodel of a solitary boatman. 
 
 Of course I visited Tell's Chapel, of which I took a sketch, and also one 
 in the midst of the forest of pines, but the latter was a more difficult subject 
 
 l" 
 
290 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 to treat. You will observe I have kept a broad mass of light on the clouds, 
 and brought it in contact with the greatest dark in the picture (the trees), and 
 as these, being in themselves very deep in tone, could not be in light, they are 
 thrown into shadow, where the colour only heightens the effect. 
 
 From Brunnen I went up the Muotta Thai, the Pragel Pass, and Klon Thai 
 to Glarus ; then through the Lint Thai to the picturesquely situated baths 
 of Stachelberg, much frequented by Germans, French, and Swiss, but not 
 yet well known to English tourists. Perhaps this may be considered an 
 advantage by some who sympathise with a young bank clerk, whom I met 
 at the table d'hote, who said he did not want to see any English, or pictures 
 of English buildings, when out for his holiday, and declared that he had 
 had his appetite once taken quite away by a print of the P>ank of England 
 at the bottom of his plate ; and on another occasion was exceedingly dis- 
 gusted, after climbing up the Col de Balme, by being suddenly accosted 
 by some old City acquaintance, who had come up the opposite way, with, 
 " Now, sir! Are you for the Bank! Bank! Bank! All the way, sir, for 
 twopence!" The rememberance of his monotonous drudgery took away all 
 his enjoyment, poor fellow. You can hardly Wonder, then, that a painter, 
 when he has gradually wrought up his mind to cope with a fine subject, 
 likes as little to be interrupted by uncongenial minds. It breaks the stride 
 of a good high-mettled racer to be stopped by a donkey or a wheelbarrow, 
 and, strange to say, I have heard the same thing of a fine locomotive. 
 
 A first-class engine- driver told me the other day at Rugby that engines 
 have their little tempers as well as horses and women. " Why, sir," continued 
 he, " do you think such an engine as he would work well in a stopping 
 or luggage train ? No, sir, he snorts, and jibs, and rushes, and would soon 
 wear himself out. He likes to come down to Iiugby at a sharp slapping- 
 pace, picking up his water by the way ; he don't mind that drop cold and 
 fresh, but otherwise he takes the rest of his water, here and at London, 
 witli the chill off, and is verv particular about his coke and his odd lunches 
 of coal. Why, sir, put such an animal on to shunting trucks for a month 
 on the Camden Station, and he would soon be in the hospital, with most 
 likely his constitution ruined." 
 
 Almost the only drawback to the beauty of the Lint Thai is the number 
 of gigantic cotton-mills built across it, taking advantage of the vast amount 
 
AN ALPIXE SKETCHING TOUK. 
 
 291 
 
 of water- power, but at the same time destroying the romance of the valley ; 
 the colour also of the meadows is changed by hundreds of yards of red 
 cotton handkerchiefs and dresses laid out to dry. The eye is, however, 
 led away from these to where the snowy peaks of the Glarnish and the 
 Todiberg tower beautifully over the luxuriantly wooded valley. Among 
 the waterfalls, the Fatschbach and Schreyenbach are the most striking. The 
 latter is shown in the foreground of one of my pictures, but its importance 
 is lessened by the superior height of the mountains beyond. This was taken 
 in a showery day, as you may perceive by the numerous clouds ; sometimes 
 one is very much annoyed by the continuance of cloudy or showery weather, 
 and this was my case here. 
 
 It is well, however, for artists to recollect that the varied effects produced 
 by clouds on the landscape are a great source of picturesque beauty. The true 
 form and situation of rocks, cliffs, and mountains are often revealed to us by 
 the shadows of clouds passing over them, and a patient study of Nature under 
 these circumstances is often desirable. Even the obscurity caused by clouds 
 and rain is not without its beauty, whilst we have a rich compensation for this 
 shading of the tints with darkness, in their brightening by moisture ; for as it 
 is well known every colour wet is twice as brilliant as it is when dry. 
 
 The climb one day up to the base of the glaciers, which descend from the 
 Todiberg, took me nearly five hours. I had hoped to be able to sleep at the 
 chalets there, and spend the whole of the next day sketching. After dining 
 upon abundance of milk, curds, and black bread, I was shown the low loft 
 filled with hay, over the cowhouse, where I was to sleep with four or five, 
 others ; but when after two hours it began to rain heavily, with every prospect 
 of continuance, and I thought I should be shut up in such a confined hole, 
 with such companions — my courage failed, and I fairly ran away, and Lad my 
 five hours' walk back again. However, I got two sketches, one of which is 
 from the summit of the Sand Alp. 
 
 In this climb I was amused, but annoyed by a flock of goats, which would 
 follow me, as they do most passengers, for salt ; I was heartily glad when a 
 barrier shut them off. Goats, you must recollect, do not merely follow, but 
 leap from rock to rock over one's head, sometimes sending down showers of 
 stones, to one's surprise and discomfort. You have heard that pigs can see the 
 wind coming, and T had a ridiculous instance of their capacity in this respect, 
 
 U 2 
 
2i)2 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 for whilst sketching in the most beautiful sunshine, all at once several stout 
 pigs came tearing along, squeaking and grunting to gain the warm retreat of 
 their sties. They had seen the white ghosts of clouds rise up from the valley 
 helow, and knew that wind and rain were to be expected. 
 
 From Stachelberg I took the pass of the Klausen, resting a night at one 
 of the wildest little places near the summit, called Urner Boden, and was 
 well repaid for any temporary discomfort, by a tine sunset, twilight, and 
 sunrise, in a picturesque spot. Then over the Susten, by the Stein Alp to 
 Meyringen. 
 
 From Meyringen the pass of the great Scheideck begins, which, although 
 not very high, is full of beauties for the artist. At some sawmills, a few miles 
 from Rosenlaui, a magnificent view of the Wellborn and Wetterhorn with the 
 glacier, opens out. At the distance of an hour, another equally fine picture 
 may be obtained, just on the flat grassy plain of some meadows. I have 
 attempted to depict the astonishing blue of the glacier of Kosenlaui, the 
 loveliest in all Switzerland for colour. A party of the Alpine Club were 
 employed in making their researches, and I was greatly indebted to their 
 coloured flannel dresses, for adding a little warmth to such a cold scene. 
 
 Grindelwald, with its interesting glaciers, I passed this year almost without 
 stopping, being anxious to sleep at the Wengern Alp Hotel, opposite the 
 Jungfrau. At Lauterbrunnen I took but a hasty look at the Staubbaeh, and 
 immediately struck up the hillside to Miirren, a new hotel, beautifully placed 
 on a grand terrace, pleasing me better than the crowded hotel in the valley. 
 You will find that most of my sketches this year are from mountain heights, 
 as I rather avoided the larger and more frequented hotels below. The gravity 
 with which cockney tourists, whether from London, Paris, or A'ienna, march 
 along the level valleys, armed at all points for the refreshment or the support 
 of poor frail human nature, is sometimes amusing. Never venturing off the 
 beaten track, or more than a few hours from a comfortable resting place, they 
 yet take the greatest care to supply themselves abundantly with barrels and 
 gourds for drinking — chiefly, T should suppose, for the benefit of the guides — 
 and formidable alpenstocks, branded, from the chamois horn at the top to the 
 bottom, with the names of the precipices they have scaled. The crowds ot 
 beggars and girls selling carved toys, as remembrances of Switzerland, all 
 about Lauterbrunnen and Grindelwald, are quite annoying. They seem to 
 
AX ALPINE SKETCHING TOUE. 
 
 2 9 a 
 
 think that no true Englishman ought to be without a large deal box of 
 these round his neck. I rather longed for Leech's pencil one day at Lau- 
 terbrunnen, when a group inarched before me ; there was Paterfamilias, with 
 four stalwart daughters, each armed with a gigantic alpenstock, chamois 
 horn and fringe of goats' hair all complete, their long dresses raising a 
 cloud of dust from the level road, flasks and gourds suspended from one 
 side, and opera glasses from the other, while the ever faithful guides, with 
 a half-concealed smile, led the loaded horses behind. The constant inter- 
 ruptions these apparitions make to the artist's ideas made me select more 
 secluded spots for study. While sitting at work above the falls of the 
 Staubbach, the continued sound of the Alpine horn, with the report of the 
 cannon, was at last very wearisome. How different to the feelings raised, 
 when one hears a few unexpected notes, with their wonderful echoes, from 
 the rocks and snowy summits ! 
 
 The level terrace at Murren along the edge of the Lauterbrunnen valley 
 is just the spot from whence to watch the lovely Jungfrau wakening to the 
 first glow of the morning or shrouding herself in the whitest of veils at 
 night ; or if one is more actively disposed, to dash down the rugged goat 
 path to Trachsel-Lauinen, to study the Schmadribach with the glorious 
 granite rocks at its base, round perhaps by the Capricorn at Lauterbrunnen 
 for letters, but always back again at night, for one sees more clearly, thinks 
 more truly, and feels more vividly when alone. 
 
 One lovely evening, after some hours of solitary thought, I opened my 
 window overhanging the deep blue gulf and watched the filmy clouds passing 
 over the moon and across the snowy breast of the Jungfrau, white clouds 
 were also beginning to arise in ghost-like pillars from the depths below ; as 
 I put out my hand to close the window I started to see an immense shadowy 
 spectre, witli arm outstretched, pointing upwards like the ghost of Caesar. 
 I felt with Brutus when he exclaimed : — 
 
 " Ha ! who comes here ? 
 I think, it is the weakness of mine eyes, 
 That shapes this monstrous apparition." 
 
 A moment after I saw it was but my own shadow thrown by the light behind 
 me on the uprising cloud — a simple representation of the spectre of the 
 mountains. 
 
294 
 
 DE AWING FKOM NATURE. 
 
 From Miirren most delightful excursions can be made to the tup of the 
 Schilthorn, and also to the extremity of the valley of Lauterbrunnen, a 
 wild and secluded spot, perhaps containing more beauty than any other 
 that I know. As I was prevented by a heavy fall of snow from taking 
 the short cut over the mountains, I was obliged to make a long detour by 
 Tnterlaken and Kandersteg to cross the Gemini. Here I was nearly losing 
 all the fruits of my labour— for my mule, which had all my sketches and 
 effects slung over his back, took a restive fit, ran down the fearful pass, 
 and finished by kicking all the packages off, and they narrowly escaped a 
 fall of 2,000 feet over the precipice. 
 
 I finished this tour by a careful study of the beautiful Marjelen See, 
 with the great Aletsch glacier, and found this little lake a charming minia- 
 ture representation of such scenes as we read of in McClintock's "Voyage 
 of the Fox," and the deep and brilliant blue of the ice, with the intense 
 green blue of the lake, has not, I believe, been at all exaggerated in my 
 studies. I had the good fortune, whilst sketching, to see one of these huge 
 cliffs of ice topple over, and fall in a thousand fragments into the lake, 
 with a roar like thunder, and raising a wave as if a man-of-war had been 
 launched. Some of the floating icebergs I found of most fantastic shapes, 
 and I lost a little time in pushing off with my alpenstock some of those 
 stranded on the shore. I was not, however, so venturesome as Dr. Tyndall, 
 who told me he got on one to float about the lake, until it rolled over, 
 and gave him a cold bath. The lady who wrote "A Tour round Monte Bosa" 
 mentions these extraordinary shapes, and, with a graceful feeling for the 
 poetic, says, " In one place, the broken ice appeared to form a kind of landing 
 place from the lake to the glacier, with rude steps and balustrades leading 
 up to the small deep blue caverns. But where, to complete this scene of 
 enchantment, was the fairy boat ? — and where the ice-queen, to step forth 
 from those lovely caverns and descend the staircase ?" (See heading.) 
 
 I concluded with the grand panoramic view from the summit of the 
 iEggishorn, which has been compared with that of the Gorner Grat ; but, 
 although it embraces more celebrated peaks, they are too far distant to form 
 a striking picture. From this point I turned my face homeward ; and having 
 now brought you back to England, I must here take my leave, hoping that 
 this short description of an artist's tour will not have proved tedious to you. 
 
CHAPTER, X. 
 
 ARTISTIC EFFECTS AND INCIDENTS 
 OF TRAVEL. 
 
 VALUE OF ARTISTIC E: 
 LEAST AMBITIOUS SI 
 — MISTS — FOREST ON F1KE - 
 PANIONS — VALUE OF A SKE 
 
 Clouds, mists, i 
 
 
 sry rocks, and emerald turf, 
 
 Clouds of all ti 
 
 
 
 Confused, comi 
 
 
 dally inflamed, 
 
 Molten togethe 
 
 
 sing thus. 
 
 Each lost in eai 
 
 ;h, that man 
 
 ellous array 
 
 Of temple, pall 
 
 ice, citadel, s 
 
 .nd huge 
 
 Fantastic poni] 
 
 
 : without name, 
 
 In fleecy folds 
 
 voluminous e 
 
 nwrapped." 
 
 OMENA OF SW1 
 
 TZERLAND- 
 
 —STUDENT TO BEGIN W 
 
 -AIGUILLE DE 
 
 CHARMOZ- 
 
 — CLOUDLAND — ROSY GI 
 
 —NATURAL PHEJ 
 S — MONT BLANC 
 
 — STRANGE ACCOMMODATION — DOGS T 
 ADVENTURE IN THE VAL ANZ 
 
 NUEslItAKLE TRAVELLING COM- 
 
 A FTER our long vacation we have met once more ; we have shaken hands 
 A- as we clustered round the hospitable hall-fires, and recounted some 
 of our adventures, aiding the descriptions by showing our various trophies'. 
 Our alpenstocks, our knapsacks, and sketch-books are now doubly endeared 
 
296 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 to us, calling to mind, as they do, the different scenes through which we 
 have passed. It is of the sketches you have made that I have now to 
 speak, for we have had to determine to whom should be awarded the prize 
 for the best set of four. 
 
 I must congratulate you on the general excellence of the whole, and the 
 set which has gained the prize is particularly distinguished for a large amount 
 of artistic effect. This is a quality which, after good sound drawing, is 
 sure to be greatly valued, not only by artists, but by the world in general. 
 A sketch, or even a careful drawing, may be pronounced most correct, and 
 may even gain great honours, but yet may not touch the feelings or convey 
 any sentiment ; some discourses, as we well know, are only addressed to 
 the understanding, while others, not perhaps so talented, from having some 
 more intimate association with ourselves, call forth our highest aspirations 
 and carry us along with the speaker. " One touch of Nature makes the 
 whole world kin," and the power to portray some pleasing incident, or 
 striking effect, is a talent to be earnestly sought for, and is sure to be 
 greatly admired. 
 
 Having fulfilled my promise this evening as regards your sketches, and 
 awarded the prize, I have also brought down some of the results of my 
 own tour, which you will see, by the map before, you, has been somewhat 
 extended. I do not, however, intend to recount my adventures, for really, 
 in these railway days, with the exception of smashes and crashes, these 
 become more rare every day ; so that I must content myself with describing 
 to you a few artistic effects, and surely no country in the world is better 
 suited than Switzerland for observing the ever-varying aspects of Nature. 
 
 It is there we may contemplate with delighted eyes the infinite beauties 
 of sunrise and sunset, of sunlight streaming through clouds, or from behind 
 a mountain, with all the inexhaustible phenomena of rain, storms, &c. while 
 the impression produced by the grandeur of a chain of lofty mountains 
 seen for the first time is, perhaps, one of the most forcible that the mind 
 receives. 
 
 When I first went to Switzerland, I recollect well how hopeless I thought 
 any attempt to portray the glorious scenes then opened to me, and not 
 until many days had, in some degree, familiarized me with the magnificence 
 of the surroundings did I gain courage to draw forth my pencil. 
 
ARTISTIC EFFECTS AND INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL. 
 
 297 
 
 Should any of you go again next summer to Switzerland, I would advise 
 you to begin with the lower valleys and hills, and gradually work up to 
 the grander mountains. One cannot well study small objects, after the 
 sublime peaks seen from the Montanvert or the Corner Grat have been 
 enjoyed. Thus the Minister Thai comes well before Lauterbrunnen ; Thun 
 before the Grimsel. With regard to lakes we find that almost always the 
 highest mountains are at the head of the lake, so that it is better to begin 
 at the lowest end ; for instance, Lucerne from the town, Como and Maggiore 
 in the same way if possible : but a young artist's first wish naturally is 
 to gain the most commanding view of the mountains, every other object 
 being secondary. 
 
 On a bright day nothing can be more clearly and distinctly defined than 
 Mont Blanc, with his attendant mighty ranges, cut in dazzling snowy 
 brilliancy against the pure blue sky, and surrounded by countless smaller 
 peaks appropriately termed Aiguilles, which, though of inferior altitude to 
 the great summits, add much to the grandeur of the whole. Those which 
 present the most striking and peculiar features rise almost precipitously 
 from the icy base of the Mer de Glace ; the Aiguille Dru, Aiguille Verte, and 
 Aiguille de Charmoz, are the most imposing, the latter even appearing to 
 be out of the perpendicular and to threaten to topple over (see heading of this 
 section). 
 
 I recollect well my first view of Mont Blanc, that monarch of mountains, 
 from a distance of eighty or ninety miles ; and the sight of those glorious 
 glittering fields and pinnacles of ice and snow produced immediately a 
 longing to be there among them. They make an impression upon the 
 soul of something supernatural, almost divine, and no language, spoken or 
 painted, can convey the magnificence and sublimity of the scene. 
 
 Again, there are days in which the air around the mountains seems itself 
 of such a hazy whiteness that the snow melts into the atmosphere, as it 
 were dying away in the heavens, like the indistinct outline of a blight but 
 partially remembered dream. There are other days in which the fleecy clouds, 
 like light veils over lovely faces, rest upon and seem to mingle with the 
 snowy summits ; so that it is difficult to tell where the one begins and the 
 other ends. Sometimes you look upon the clouds, thinking they are moun- 
 tains, and then again the summit itself will be revealed in such far off, 
 
298 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 unnioving, icy grandeur, in such wonderful distinctness that there is no 
 mistaking the mountain for the cloud. 
 
 It is surprising to see how long Mont Blanc retains the light of day, 
 and how long his snow-covered peaks glow after the sun has sunk from 
 view behind the green range of the Jura, Then the crimson tints die away, 
 and it seems that the sun has left the mountain to a companionship with 
 the stars alone, and you also are ready to depart, the glory of the scene 
 being over; when suddenly and unaccountably the white robed summits 
 redden again as if the sun were returning upon them, the countenance of 
 Mont Blanc is " filled with rosy light," and the cold gray gives place for 
 a few moments to a deep, warm, radiant tint, which again fades in the 
 deepening twilight. 
 
 Clouds and mists add wonderfully to the beauty of Alpine phenomena. 
 Sometimes when all the valleys are shrouded in mist, we find the mountains 
 in beauty and sunshine. I have seen, on such occasions, an ocean of mist, 
 as smooth, soft, and white as the down of the eider-duck's breast, lie over 
 the whole lower world, and on ascending the mountain to its overhanging 
 Verge I seemed to look down on an infinite abyss of vapour, where only 
 the mountain tops were visible, the lower range like wooded islands, the 
 higher summits as glittering icy peaks and snowy pyramids. No language 
 can describe the extraordinary sublimity and beauty of the view. A level 
 sea of white mist in every direction, as far as the eye could reach, with 
 a continent of mighty floating icebergs on the one side, and on the other 
 a forest promontory, with a slight swell on the bosom of the sea, like the 
 long smooth undulations of the ocean in a calm. Sometimes bright sunset 
 colours stream athwart this sea of cloud, which then rolls in waves burnished 
 and tipped with fire. Going down into the mist again, and leaving behind 
 you the beautiful sky, clear bracing atmosphere, the bright sun, and the 
 resplendent mountains, is like passing from heaven to earth. Such are scenes 
 in Cloudland, possessing mysteries of beauty that defy the skill of the most 
 talented painter. 
 
 I regret much, for the sake of the youthful part of my audience, that I 
 have no romantic accidents to relate, no surprising adventures, no hairbreadth 
 escapes by field or flood. Even in my youth, as student, I never sought 
 for them, never put myself in the way of being attacked by picturesque 
 
. . : K U J 
 
 FRUM THE. BASH OF 1 HE IY1ER DE GLACE. 
 
ARTISTIC EFFECTS AND INCIDENTS OF TRA.VEL. 
 
 299 
 
 banditti, or wished to be taken prisoner by them in order to live with them in 
 wild caves in the mountains, like Salvator Kosa, until ransomed. My ransom 
 has, perhaps, in one or two instances, been demanded, but it was by 
 some rather exorbitant innkeeper, and a bank note from England has effected 
 my release. 
 
 Still, although I have not found the excitement of adventures, in the 
 course of many summer rambles I have seen some striking phenomena, one 
 of which occurred many years ago, and remains strongly impressed on my 
 memory. We were travelling over the Appenines by night, and jogging on 
 in a very leisurely way, lulled to sleep by the musical bells of the mules 
 in the diligence, when we were roused by the stopping of the vehicle to let 
 an old Italian woman get in. She seemed in great distress, and after some 
 time began to wring her hands and cry, "Oh, oh! II fuoco ! II fuoco 1 
 Povefetta mia ! Foveretta mia I " After- some consideration I managed to 
 find enough Italian to ask her what was the matter, when she replied, " Alas ! 
 the whole forest is on fire! and our road lies through it." This fully awakened 
 us, and anxiously we watched for the first signs of the conflagration, which 
 became visible at the next village. The whole of the inhabitants were 
 astir; some had escaped from their burning houses; some had been vainly 
 trying to beat the fire out or stop its progress by digging trenches, and so 
 cutting it off; but the summer had been long and hot, not a drop of rain 
 had fallen for months, so the flames had it all their own way. Soon we 
 were in the midst of the forest, among the tall fir trees, and most exciting 
 it was ; the fire roared around them, pursuing its course in .rings and belts 
 up the sides of the mountains, devouring everything in its way, and driving 
 all the wild denizens before it. We heard strange stories of wolves slinking 
 away and crouching in the outhouses amongst the sheep and cattle, also bears, 
 in no pleasant mood, one would think, but too frightened to attack anything. 
 
 Of course we were far too interested to stop in the carriage, but climbed 
 slowly up the hill. The rolling smoke and heat were at times almost stifling, 
 and once or twice a burning tree fell crashing across our road. It was a 
 magnificent sight. Sometimes the fire would play amongst the lower shrubs 
 at the root of a tall pine, the tonguedike flames licking up the bark as it got 
 dry, until like a devouring serpent they reached the branches and leafy top, 
 when the whole would burst into flame at once, and explode like a cannon 
 
DRAWING FROM NATUBE. 
 
 or a volley of musketry ; these occurring all through the forest made a con- 
 tinual roar. After a time we passed the worst of it, but before altogether 
 leaving it we had time quietly to run up the bank to light a soothing cigar 
 at a burning fragment. Of course to sketch was out of the question, and 
 much as I sometimes impress upon you the necessity of having your sketch 
 book at hand, ready for entering notes on the spot, still I think I could in 
 this case recommend you to do as I have done, draw it from memory. 
 
 Sometimes the love of adventure causes Alpine climbers to put up with 
 strange and droll accommodation : thus I have been told by a lady, that 
 their party during an ascent slept remarkably well on some hay in a loft, 
 and we know that the large bands of young Swiss or German students must 
 put up with such rough accommodation ; but I get less and less inclined to 
 try it, for when I have done so, I find my next day's studies always the 
 worse, perhaps very slight and hurried. The last time I vowed I would for 
 the future do much to avoid such romantic nonsense. 
 
 The low loft, only three feet high, nearly filled with hay (which although 
 very sweet, is to me very oppressive when stored in such small spaces), then 
 the rough, uncouth companions, the strong odour of the goats, cows, or pigs 
 underneath, or the smell of cheese or cheese-making, are enough to keep me 
 awake all night long. I think I should much prefer the hotel of the 
 Keuchatelois, which you know Mas a hole between or under a rock, that 
 Agassiz lodged in for weeks on the Aar glacier, or that in which Mr. Wills 
 slept when he ascended the Wetterhorn, where he had just room enough to 
 crawl in, and lie at length and see the stars pass over the crevasse above 
 him, in the morning being pulled out by the legs by the guide Balmat. 
 Or, again, if only climbing and in company, the cleverly constructed tent 
 of Mr. Whymper, with a waterproof bag to creep into ; but to cultivate the 
 peculiar temper of mind of a painter, one requires less action and more repose 
 of body, and one turns to the stationary hut or tent of Holman Hunt on 
 the shores of tlx 1 Dead Sea, or that of Hamerton on Loch Awe. These are 
 earnest students of Nature ; so also were Atkinson in Siberia, and Catlin in 
 America, although their studies were made in a more roving or Arab-like 
 character. 
 
 In all these excursions one must endure a certain amount of trial ; patience 
 anil fortitude are necessary ; an artist particularly must travel with those of 
 
ARTISTIC EFFECTS AND INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL. 
 
 301 
 
 the same tastes, or be alone sometimes in utter solitudes. I for one think 
 this the best for quiet study, but then it is pleasant to return to friends in 
 the evening and have a chat over a fresh trout, a bit of chamois, and a glass 
 of wine. 1 have tried the companionship of a dog, but found him much in 
 the way, the creature with his impatience disturbing my attention. A well- 
 known Alpine traveller once told ine that a friend of his went with a party 
 up Mont Blanc, and one of the guides asked leave to bring his dog with 
 him, as he said that one that had been to the top of such a mountain would 
 be worth a good deal of money. This was refused, as they thought the dog- 
 would be a great nuisance, and away they went without it. Of course it soon 
 overtook them, though the guide protested he had ordered it to be tied up. 
 Well, the dog was a trouble, he got between their legs and bothered them, and 
 they were obliged to throw him over all the crevasses. 
 
 He was what is called a Spitz dog, a kind distinguished by a very pointed 
 nose, sharp black eyes, and a tail curling stiffly over the back. The mountain 
 atmosphere had an extraordinary effect on this dog ; it made him uncurl his 
 tail ! As lie went up this bushy appendage gradually got straighter and 
 straighter, till at last it hung down behind as straight as a broomstick. No 
 Spitz dog's tail was ever before known to uncurl; and, curiously enough, as 
 he came down his tail by degrees curled up again as usual. As the dog got 
 towards the top of the mountain, the air had the same effect on him as it had 
 on human beings. The traveller had taken up a cold chicken with him — cold 
 enough it was, as you may imagine ; when he reached the top he thought 
 he would eat it, but he found he could not swallow a morsel, so he cut oft' 
 a bit for the poor dog. The dog rushed at it, as if he would have eaten 
 it up ten times over, but he could not manage it : he bit it, and bit it, but 
 his throat was so dry and his mouth so parched it would not go down, and 
 at last the poor brute dropped it in despair. 
 
 If a dog is in the way amongst climbers, he is still more de trop whim 
 hours of uninterrupted thought and study are desired. The Landscape Painter 
 has to be' thoroughly imbued- and strongly impressed with Ins subject before 
 he can successfully transfer it to his canvas ; he will then guide the spectator, 
 and lead him to look at the subjects as they were regarded by himself. 
 Then indeed he may hope to make him a sharer in his own strong feelings 
 and ideas, and leave him delighted and instructed. 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 Every one who has travelled at all knows the pleasure he experiences 
 when he happens to meet with a view of some spot that he himself has visited. 
 How immediately it recalls to him the scenes, the feelings, the very atmo- 
 sphere of the past ' If it be a careful sketch he may even have the satisfaction 
 of pointing out the inn where he lodged, the hill he climbed, and the stream 
 he leaped ; to these he adds, in the excitement of the moment, all the little 
 incidents and adventures that befell him there. Before he saw the sketch, 
 had he been asked for a description of the place, he would very probably 
 have answered, it was so long ago, that he had forgotten all about it, or if 
 pressed have laboured through some languid statistical account of no interest 
 to a single person present. Watch him after you have placed a faithful 
 sketch before him : see how his eye brightens as he recognises one spot after 
 another ; and when a thorough examination has refreshed his memory, and 
 he has warmed at the sight of the once familiar scene, if he has a moderate 
 power of expressing himself, you are sure to have secured at least one half 
 hour of agreeable reminiscences. 
 
 With us artists also, the lapse of years and hard actual life seem entirely 
 to obliterate portions of our existence, till chance leads us to turn over the 
 folio containing the sketches made at that period, and there we find the 
 key to events, sensations, and circumstances, that ten minutes before we 
 should have said were completely forgotten. The rough sketch that I point 
 out to you may recall, to the memory of those who have visited the place, 
 one of the most beautiful spots in the valley of Anzasca ; but to mine it brings 
 circumstances, and particularly sensations, all of which it is not possible to 
 depict. The intense heat of that August day, the exquisitely grateful shade 
 of the overhanging vines, the languor and total repose of Nature during 
 mid-day, when all but energetic> strong-minded Englishmen take their siesta, 
 — all this might be portrayed by a Turner's pencil ; but as I gaze at this early 
 sketch after the lapse of many years, I am not first struck by the grandeur 
 of Monte Rosa, the rival of Mont Blanc (in modern estimation), nor yet by 
 the frail structure which spans the torrent, but involuntarily my eye glances 
 to a rope across the old balcony, on which hang some articles of clothing. 
 
 I had ascended and descended the long but beautiful pass of Barranca to 
 Banio, made in fact a forced march, and though in much need of repose, almost 
 despaired of finding a house to rest in, for the Chalet-like buildings which 
 
ARTISTIC EFFECTS AND INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL. 
 
 303 
 
 appeared so numerous from the summit of the pass were only filled with hay. 
 However I came at last to a little village, and by dint of numerous inquiries, 
 in a language composed of French, Italian, and dog Latin, I found a poor 
 little albergo, kept by an ill-favoured and scowling-looking man, who at 
 first gruffly denied me admittance, but seeing by my clothes, or finding by 
 my voice, that I was an Englishman, he suddenly changed his tone, and said, 
 " If the signore would be content with humble fare, I think I can find 
 him a bed in the village." I eagerly drew near the common fire on the 
 kitchen hearth, for my clothes were soaked with the snow and mountain 
 torrents, and, what was still more annoying, my boots were completely cut 
 to pieces by scrambling over the glaciers and rough slatey rocks. My first 
 business then was to search out a cobbler. One of the swarthy fellows who 
 were crowded round the fire, and who I was painfully aware stared at me 
 most unceasingly, and inquired as I thought most curiously into my future 
 destination, was introduced as possessing the requisite skill ; to him therefore 
 I entrusted my boots, on his promising faithfully to return them to me early 
 in the morning. Having set this important affair en train, I next turned 
 to my supper, of which I was really in want. 
 
 My mountain appetite caused me to eat more than, on any other occasion, 
 I should have thought possible of the miserable supply of mouldy Indian 
 corn bread and dried hard pork sausages set before me. I seasoned my 
 repast with a draught of very fair "vino d'Aste," and then declared myself 
 ready for bed, upon which the surly landlord, taking a candle, conducted 
 me, bootless as I was, across a bridge to an old broken-down house, up the 
 creaking staircase, and, traversing a long gallery on which numerous doors 
 opened, finally introduced me into a deserted-looking chamber, most meagrely 
 furnished. The bed was anything but inviting ; but, finding it was either 
 that or nothing, I smothered my disgust, and declared that it was " Sta bene ;" 
 the fellow set down the candle, and, gruffly wishing me "Buona notte," 
 withdrew. I, half asleep already, and tired to death, threw off my upper 
 clothing and soon found myself within the blankets, where I immediately 
 fell asleep. 
 
 After some time I woke with a terrible suffocating feeling about the chest, 
 as if somebody was keeping me down by main force. I struggled violently, 
 at the same time exerting all the strength of my lungs to shout for assistance; 
 
304 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 but produced only hideous husky sounds. At last, by a great effort, I 
 released myself, and rushed to the door— all was dark. Out I burst upon 
 the gallery that overhung the roaring torrent, the door swinging behind me, 
 felt my way along the loose and broken boards of the gallery, and had 
 begun to descend the stairs, when suddenly I was jerked off my feet by 
 
 MONTE ROSA FROM THE VAL ANZASCA. 
 
 a rope thrown under the chin, and hung violently on my back, at the 
 same moment I received a slap on the face from something that felt like 
 a wet hand. For some moments I lay on the ground half stunned. As 
 my senses gradually returned, I ventured to rise, and listened intently to 
 find out who or what were my assailants. 1 could distinguish nothing— 
 
ARTISTIC EFFECTS AM) INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL. 
 
 305 
 
 the torrent roared and foamed within a few paces of me, and the wind 
 moaned and sobbed through the valley — all else was still. My courage 
 and common sense began to resume their functions, I stepped forward, 
 missed my footing, and fell to the bottom of the stairs. 
 
 This time, however, I rallied immediately, and finding the door through 
 which my surly host had led me locked on the other side, I shouted and 
 kicked and hallooed manfully, all to no purpose ! 
 
 At length, with desperate resolution, I ventured to reascend and grope 
 along the gallery in the pitch darkness, hoping, at least, to find my own 
 room again ; but here fresh difficulties awaited me, for there were several 
 doors opening out upon it. One or two that I tried were locked ; but in 
 a third, which I decidedly thought was the. one I had occupied, I stumbled 
 over two or three men sleeping on the floor, wdiose outcries and maledictions 
 caused my most precipitate retreat. 
 
 At last 1 gained my owu room, which I recognised by the position of the 
 bed, and sat down to recover breath. By this time I had a suspicion of 
 the real state of the case, namely, that nightmare had taken possession 
 of me ; so, after a careful examination of the room by touch — for very 
 foolishly I had no means of getting a light — I ventured to throw myself 
 once more on the bed, whence I was roused next morning by the landlord 
 without having my rest further disturbed by the vision of inquisitive bandits, 
 by ghosts of pork sausages, or any more tangible messengers of evil. 
 
 As I descended the stairs, on my way to breakfast, a clothes' line, 
 with a wet stocking dangling from it, hung so low as to cause me to 
 stoop, and forcibly reminded me of my adventures of the past night, pro- 
 voking a smile as I thought how different things appear under different 
 lights. 
 
 My breakfast was better than my supper, my boots were repaired, the 
 company of travelling muleteers, whom the cautious landlord had locked 
 in lest they should decamp without payment, looked more amiable than 
 my companions of the preceding night ; and, my equanimity restored, 
 I returned to the old house once more to take a sketch of the lovely scene 
 with its, to me, peculiarly interesting foreground. 
 
 x 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 AN OUTLINE OE A TOUE IX THE FYEENEES. 
 
 pyrenees and alps —bordeaux, its wini!s — les landks, stilts — frog concert— bayonne, 
 bayonet first used — biarritz, bathing— pau terkace, view from : sunset effect — 
 pyrenees, a barrier or wall— cols ok ports — outline of mountains— cirques — primi- 
 tive team — les eaux chaudes— impatient guide— valley of gave, beauty of-val 
 
 flies— col de toiites— col de saucede- cauterets— " les poitrinaires "—pont d'espagnk 
 — lac de gaube — la chassis — photographs — luz — cirque de gavarnie — luohon— "lovely 
 mountain lakes — iiicii wind in por'i — " ma i, ad etta " — smugglers* cave — lose the 
 way -danger of bears —hermitage— back to luchon — excitement at hotel— pauls — 
 england — comparison of pyrenees and alps— in pyrenees more abundant foliage, 
 Richer colour, atmosphere more misty and warmer — climate not good for pedestrians 
 —saddening effect of thick mists in valleys. 
 
 I WILL endeavour this evening to give you a sketch, and will call it an 
 Outline of a Tour in the Pyrenees. It will be made more with a brush 
 and colours than described by words, but still a few words may assist you 
 to understand these cartoons, and enter into the feeling with which they 
 have been drawn ; and I shall premise that my chief object is to assert the 
 usefulness of the art that I teach. 
 
 Drawing adds greatly to the power of explaining and illustrating events 
 and thoughts, and it is a language intelligible to all — to the unlearned as 
 well as the learned, to the ignorant peasant as well as the most polished 
 inhabitant of cities Mr. Murray has often told me that notes made on the 
 spot, or at the time, are always acceptable, and I find that sketches made on 
 
308 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 the spot are still more appreciated, conveying' a more vivid impression than 
 words. 1 wish, therefore, this evening, to encourage you to persevere in 
 sketching from Nature, while I explain where even a practised artist finds 
 difficulty, for, when trying to copy infinitely beautiful Nature, 1 assure you 
 he finds as much reason for discouragement as you can. 
 
 However, there is a very great pleasure in even a small measure of success, 
 and it is satisfactory to find that when we turn away from the perfection of 
 Nature, our efforts, which appeared on the spot so weak, so futile, immediately 
 become more valuable, increasing in value (if conscientiously made) as time 
 passes. 
 
 It requires a strong determination to surmount difficulties ; the weather 
 will always be too hot or too cold, the subject too large or too small, the 
 paper or the colours of the wrong kind, and above all, as every idler tells 
 you, the time too short. I have no magical means of transmitting pictures 
 to paper, and I know full well what great resolution it requires to make 
 even a beginning; but remember a wise man never waits for opportunities, 
 but makes them, and perseverance will enable you to bring home memorials 
 of scenes which you may never see again. A well-known writer has thus 
 expressed herself on this subject : — " I have often heard the complaint that 
 young ladies cannot draw from Nature, that they have never drawn without 
 a master ; and I am sure that something must be wrong in the system of 
 instruction pursued in our schools, if, after years of expensive lessons, after 
 the attainment of a degree of excellence in the art of copying almost equal 
 to that of the master himself, numbers of young ladies loiter up and down 
 the promenades of Pau, wishing the lovely aspect of the scenes around them 
 could be transmitted to their sketch books, yet never, even at the solicitation 
 of their parents, or the entreaties of their friends, being induced to attempt 
 even so much as an outline." 
 
 Having been long known as an enthusiastic student of the mountain 
 scenery of the Alps and Tyrol, I had often been asked how it was that 1 had 
 never visited the Pyrenees — "a range of mountains," as one friend assured 
 me, "which, though inferior in height, were far more picturesque in form, and 
 infinitely more diversified in colour, and the verdurous beauty of their valleys ; 
 with the additional charm of abundance of wild, savage, and untrodden scenery 
 in many of the higher passes." Another friend promised me " the finest study 
 
AX OUTLINE OF A TOUB IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 309 
 
 of foliage, and the most picturesque of fir forests, untouched by the axe of the 
 woodman." The only answer I could give to those remarks was, that as an 
 old Alpine traveller, 1 had been so accustomed, during the long vacation, 
 to study and walk in Switzerland, and had still so many fresh points of 
 interest to examine, that I hardly knew how to tear myself away. I confess 
 I had also a suspicion that the mountain air of the Alps was more invigo- 
 rating and more suited for the refreshment of mind and body, after a loop; 
 season of professional engagements, than the warmer and more southern air 
 of the Pyrenees, which appeared to me to be better suited to invalids, or 
 to those requiring the use of the waters. Having, however, been rather 
 harassed during a late visit to Chamouni by crowds of uncongenial cockneys, 
 I determined for this once to turn aside from the main shoal of travellers- 
 and visit the Pyrenees instead of the Alps. I do not in the least regret 
 the decision 1 came to, as mountains, perhaps the most glorious portions of 
 inanimate Nature, should be depicted under a warm and misty atmosphere, 
 like that of the Pyrenees, as well as under the clearer and dryer air of 
 Switzerland. The journey is certainly rather more' tedious than to Switzer- 
 land, but a good long day will take one to Bordeaux, where there is always 
 much to interest. Its handsome quays, forest of masts, and noble river, strike 
 the stranger almost as much as Liverpool or London, and the presence of the 
 Union Jack on many of the vessels tells us how largely our countrymen 
 partake of its commerce. One feels that here man works and prospers. It is 
 impossible to visit Bordeaux without becoming interested in its principal 
 source of wealth, that of the far-famed wine, which is stored in innumerable 
 barriques in vaults, or seen ranged on the spacious quays. The vine which 
 produces the best wine is grown on a poor stony soil — an accumulation of 
 sand and pebbles, apparently brought down to the Garonne by the torrents 
 from the Pyrenees. The long tongue of land stretching north from Bordeaux 
 towards the sea is called Medoc ; the wine being known by that name on 
 the spot, and not by that of claret. Why some English should persist in 
 calling the wine, which glows around Bordeaux, claret, I do not know. AVe 
 find great fault with the French for altering the spelling of names, such as 
 Cicero to Ciceron, or our London to Londres ; this we are apt to call conceit, 
 but why should we then show our ignorance by calling wine grown at Medoc, 
 or exported from Bordeaux, by the name of claret, which is perfectly unknown 
 
DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 to the French. I suppose for the same reason that we artists call a greenish 
 citrine pigment by the extraordinary name of brown pink. 
 
 It is curious to think how closely a soil producing such treasures borders 
 on the barren Landes, which begin close to the strip of laud called M^doc. 
 I left Bordeaux for Bayonne by the rail, and a few miles soon brought me 
 to the dreary, and apparently interminable wastes of Les Landes. From my 
 earliest: youth I had felt the wish to visit these sandy deserts and morasses. 
 After the deserts of Africa I think those of the Landes take the greatest 
 possession of the youthful mind ; and if the camel, the ship of the desert, 
 be absent, we have instead the Landais peasant, with his stilts or echasses, 
 which, to a boy, are almost as interesting. By the aid of these they are 
 not only enabled to stalk over the prickly bushes, and avoid the incon- 
 
 LKS LANDES. 
 
 venience of filling their shoes with sand, but they gain an elevation not 
 afforded by the even surface of the soil. They cany a long pole, which when 
 stuck into the ground forms a sort of stool, and on it they can rest, and knit 
 stockings all the day through. The Landais peasant is a primitive-looking 
 being, and the long woolly sheepskin that he wears does much to increase 
 the singularity of his appearance. I have given you a sketch of one stopping 
 with a few of his ill-conditioned sheep to have a chat with some acquaint- 
 ance's as they go to market. In another sketch I have shown some of these 
 peasants in a retired nook in a pine wood, with their tubs, oxen, wain, &c. 
 and here there is inore appearance of society, for you may see a figure 
 employed blazing or scoring the bark of one of the pine trees, while another 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUE IN THE PYBENEES. 
 
 311 
 
 is collecting the resin from an incision previously made. It is pleasing 
 to know that these vast deserts of shifting sands are gradually becoming 
 cultivated and profitable. Large portions of them have been sown with seed 
 of the common broom, the plants of which were covered over with pine 
 branches, pinned down to keep the sand from shifting ; amongst these were 
 introduced seeds of the Pinus pinaster, which gradually have grown up and 
 supplanted the broom which protected them. The pine soon becomes very 
 valuable for the resin and tar which it produces. As you pass through the 
 forest, inhaling the sharp aromatic odour of the pines, you will notice that 
 almost all the larger trees are blazed or scored down the lower part of the 
 trunk ; the resin flows down this, and is caught at the bottom of the stem 
 in a small trough, fashioned in a few moments from the bark removed by 
 the cut; this process is repeated till the tree has been entirely scored round, 
 and yet, strange to say, it is not killed. Tar is also made from the roots 
 and thick portions of the stem. 
 
 I was informed, by the proprietor of a large tract of these forests, that 
 owing to the American war, all his produce, namely, resin, tar, and wood, had 
 greatly increased in value, and that Les Landes were not after all such bad 
 property. Although the main portion of Les Landes is an arid and sandy 
 desert, there are lagunes and morasses near the sea-shore which impress one 
 powerfully with their extreme solitude, and perhaps an artist who is generally 
 much alone in his rambles feels this more keenly than others ; but still some 
 of these marshes have innumerable inhabitants, and such as can make a most 
 prodigious noise in the world — namely, frogs. The first time I heard a frog 
 concert 1 was truly amazed. I was returning to my lonely auberge after 
 studying a lovely sunset, the twilight was gradually deepening into gloom, 
 the air was filled with a tender bluish light, into which the eye penetrates 
 without giving the forms of objects. The stems of the gray firs had become 
 less distinct against the distant forest, and although the branches and foliage 
 still relieved against the purple clouds it was not with that clear outline which 
 had charmed me so much in the earlier sunset. From time to time my eye 
 had caught the silhouette of a shepherd upon his stilts, leaning against a 
 tree, or standing erect like a solitary heron; his sheep were already lost 
 in the herbage and bushes at his feet. Thus I was sauntering along in a 
 dreamy mood, when all at once I heard a call, like "Who are you?" 
 
312 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 repeated several times ; this was immediately responded to by five or six 
 others, of different tones, some very rattling and hoarse. Then burst forth 
 from all around a deafening uproar perfectly astounding ; and this was a 
 frog concert. It is no exaggeration to say, that when the concert was at 
 its height it would have been quite impossible to hear myself speak. It is 
 not the duck-like quacking of our English frogs, but a sort of rattle that 
 beggars all description. The sound is loud enough to disturb and harass 
 people when shut up in their houses half-a-mile off ; and before the first 
 French Revolution it was a complaint of the poor peasants that they were 
 forced by the nobility to be out all night thrashing the ponds, in order 
 that their lords might sleep. It, however, amused me for a time very much. 
 It seemed quite like a scene in life. One little fellow finds a stone, with 
 some difficulty he crawls upon it; when seated he calls out, "Who are you ? 
 Who are you?" till he is pushed off by a big bully. The chorus joins in, 
 " Who are you ? Who are you ? " and then conies the grand uproar, until a 
 stone is thrown among them, when all is still. 
 
 Again the railway engine rushes on, carrying one through this desert track 
 before, perhaps, the lonesome solitude has been fully realized ; but as the 
 evening shades advance, and the warm glowing sun declines to the horizon, 
 and long golden and crimson clouds, tinged with its rays, mingle in form and 
 colour with the stretches of the distant sandy plains, the mind is wonderfully 
 impressed with the scene. It reverts to the sandy shores and vast expanse of 
 the boundless ocean ; but the endless monotony of these deserts, never broken 
 by storms into waves, and the noiseless solitude of all around, so different from 
 the ceaseless wash of the wave on the shore, make one if possible feel the 
 loneliness more ; for the ocean in the greatest calm reflects on its bosom the 
 ever changing hues of the sky and clouds, but the dull gray coloured sand 
 of the Landes, save in some stagnant morass, reciprocates but little of the 
 heavens above. On the strand we likewise picture to ourselves the living 
 monsters of the deep, the fish that approach the shore, and even the shell that 
 we pick up as the wave recedes, all recall to our thoughts the abundance of 
 life with which it teems. The murmur also of the tiniest wave as it breaks on 
 the beach gives a more cheerful turn to the thoughts than the sough of the 
 heated air through the branches of the withered pine, and the distant sail 
 bearing, as we believe, its numerous crew, conveys to our minds far different 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUK IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 313 
 
 ideas to the solitary being we see stalking away on liis stilts or leaning 
 against the fir tree. 
 
 But leaving the Landes and their dreamy thoughts, I arrived at Bayonne, 
 where I had some difficulty in procuring a bed, as the hotel was completely 
 filled with Spaniards. 
 
 I visited the Citadel, which, though considered very strong, did^not interest 
 me so much as the Adour below Bayonne, where Wellington crossed in the 
 Peninsular war. This passage is styled by Colonel Xapier a stupendous 
 undertaking, which will almost rank among the prodigies of war. 
 
 It may be worth while to mention that the. bayonet was invented near 
 Bayonne, by a Basque regiment which, having run short of powder, assaulted 
 the Spaniards opposed to them by sticking the long lances, usually carried by 
 the Basques, into the barrels of their muskets. The French subsequently 
 fastened the bayonet outside the muzzle of the musket, and greatly astonished 
 our soldiers by using it, after having fired a volley upon them. This occurred 
 about the beginning of the 17th century; 
 
 The markets, always interesting to me froiri the various produce, costumes, 
 and scenes of life which they present, were here rendered more attractive by 
 the picturesque dresses of the Basque peasants, and the lively and active fish- 
 women, who wait the arrival of the boats with fresh sardines, and immediately 
 rush with full speed through the town, uttering a shrill cry resembling that of 
 the fish-women in Newhaven. Some very picturesque old men, with mules 
 in gay trappings, carrying sacks of large fir cones, and charcoal covered with 
 fern, caused me a long trot after them to get a sketch as they cried their goods 
 through the town. But the great heat and fatigue of the long journey from 
 Paris made me sigh for the refreshing sea breeze, and 1 soon found myself on 
 the top of a diligence on the road to Biarritz, five miles distant. It used to be 
 the custom to ride these en cacolet, that is, by occupying a pannier on one side 
 of the, back of a horse or ass, while the other is filled with a Basque paysanne, 
 and I have been told that it required some dexterity to mount, for unless both 
 jumped to their seats at the same moment, the equipoise was destroyed. Now 
 however, with a good road, it seemed hardly likely that many would ride in 
 that manner, nor did I see any but single lasses on their panniers. 
 
 I had heard much of Biarritz and its rolling waves, and perforated rocks, 
 its bathers en toilette dt fsavti, and it? promenades ; and if its picturesque beauty 
 
314 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 is somewhat spoiled by building, there is still much to amuse a stranger. 
 Here it is evident that the French love and live for society, without it they 
 cannot exist ; they are positively frightened at the idea of being left alone. 
 Even the Empress Eugenie has her palace placed in such a situation that it 
 is overlooked on every side, and she may be frequently seen bathing on the 
 Cote Napoleon. The favourite promenade is the narrow semicircular strand 
 extending between the base of the cliffs, hollowed out by the waves into 
 fantastic forms, and the Villa Eugenie. The smallness of the space is in its 
 favour, as the French are a gregarious race, and like to jostle in a crowd. 
 There, when the tide serves for bathing, you meet all the bathers, the custom 
 being for visitors of both sexes to promenade in their costume de bain before 
 they enter the water. The scene is very French and very curious. "The 
 
 ladies may be seen floating about like mermaids, being supported on bladders, 
 casks, or gourds, attired in woollen trousers covering the feet, and over- 
 shadowed by broad brimmed hats," — so says Mr. Murray; but it appeared to 
 me that every lady had either a professional bather in some stalwart fisherman, 
 or some friend; and it was necessary, for, as the waves roll in from the Bay of 
 Biscay with considerable force, they have to keep up a succession of leaps to 
 avoid being overthrown, and it is a very amusing sight on a rather rough day 
 to see the rows of bathers popping up and down as they meet the waves; 
 Some ladies, however, seem to prefer being carried till a large wave comes, and 
 then In be dipped in head first, afterwards being held floating about while the 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUR IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 waves wash over them. This appeared to me to be almost as luxurious for a 
 lady, as a plunge off a boat is for a gentleman. For those, however, who like a 
 more retired spot, a dive and a swim, there is a good place called Le Yieux Port. 
 
 The woodcut gives a general view of Biarritz, with the palace of the 
 Empress Eugenie. 
 
 I did not, however, come to lounge amongst these idlers, but to study, and 
 therefore made my way back to Bayonne ; from thence the railway passes by 
 Orthez, celebrated for the victory by the British over the French in 1814. In 
 this battle the Duke of Wellington received what appears to have been his 
 only wound. The remains of a very picturesque bridge and tower made me 
 wish that I had arranged to stop and sketch it, but 1 passed on to Tau. 1 
 need scarcely remind you that Tau was the ancient capital of the little, 
 kingdom of French Navarre and Beam, and was the birthplace of the good 
 king Henri IV. who was born in the tine old castle which stands so loftily 
 upon a ridge overlooking the river (lave. This chateau is full of interest, but 
 time would fail were I to enter into details. Tau, however, owes its principal 
 interest with us to its having for many years been the chief place of resort for 
 invalids during the winter ; the genial climate and the numerous comforts that 
 can be there found render it perhaps one of the most charming of winter 
 residences. On the terrace there is a magnificent promenade ; the distant 
 mountains look clearest at sunset, while the line of vine-clad lulls is painted 
 against the evening sky with that distinctness of outline which renders every 
 tree, one might almost fancy every leaf, visible upon their summits. Still 
 more lovely is it to study the mountains towards Bayonne, along which the 
 rays of the setting sun are glancing ; they are tinged with all the glories of 
 the sky, and their very forms are so melted into air that at times one can 
 hardly be distinguished from the other. The eye marks harmonious changes, 
 from the faint blue line of the distance down to the richer and deeper purples 
 of the woods and fields that compose the varied banks of the serpent-like 
 Gave beneath ; this charming river, bathed in a broad expanse of gold, 
 forming a beautiful contrast. 
 
 The colours of evening in this climate may be more evanescent than with 
 us, but while they last they are also much more varied and intense. 
 
 " All its hues 
 From tho rich sunset to the vising star. 
 Their magical variety diffuse. "— BVROK. 
 
DRAWING PROM NATURE. 
 
 Even the snow on the distant mountains, though still retaining its purity, 
 partakes of the colouring of the scene, so that sometimes, on looking up, you 
 suddenly behold them wrapped in a mantle of pale roseate madder ; then this 
 deepens into stronger tones, changes even to crimson, then to gold, passing 
 into the palest yellow, until one peak after another loses the parting radiance 
 of the sun, and all are again clothed in that cold blue, and colder white, 
 which has been well described by a distinguished traveller as resembling the 
 aspect of death when the spirit has but just departed. Byron also says, with 
 more feeling of an artist than he generally showed — 
 
 " Parting clay 
 Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues 
 With a new colour as it gasps away. 
 The last still loveliest, till 'tis gone— and all is gray." 
 
 Of course a painter caii do little 'else at such moments than silently stand 
 and admire, treasuring up in his memory the most striking points of the 
 effect. He aids himself in this great effort by taking rapid notes of the forms, 
 and with a kind of short-hand of letters, figures, or symbols ; with these and 
 a rough outline he fixes still firmer the chief beauties in his mind; thus the 
 lover of Nature studies to imprint on his memory an effect, which if he 
 attempted to wash in, even with the hastiest colours, would be all confusion. 
 He photographs the scene, as it were, complete and entire at the most favour- 
 able moment ; then as soon as possible he opens out these hasty notes 
 adding here and there, and perhaps blotting in examples of the colours and 
 tones. Not Only thus, but, as in this favoured and settled climate, when 
 evening after evening the same effect occurs with only some fresh beauty, he 
 takes again his favourite walk ; his note-book is filled with additional treasures ; 
 and, studying part by part in detail, he learns to know and appreciate the 
 whole. One can well believe that thoughts thus studied, ripened, and cor- 
 rected, become at last of inconceivable service to him in painting his picture 
 at home. 
 
 The view from the park, of the Pyrenees distant some twenty-five miles, 
 is beautiful, and while sauntering under the magnificent trees I had to arrange 
 in what manner 1 should commence my studies of this noble range, of which 
 every mountain and valley would be new to me. First, 1 must tell you, 
 I was far too impatient to sit down and take a sketch of the mountains 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A T.OUll JN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 317 
 
 from this great distance ; they were too far off, nor was the panoramic view 
 at all comparable to that from the terrace at Berne. I had obtained a few 
 notes from various friends, who were well acquainted with the country, so 
 that J settled to make three general divisions of my time, and take three 
 valleys or points of interest, with two or three connecting cols in passing 
 from one to the other. I was well aware that I could not hastily run over 
 the whole country, nor yet take even the shortest of Mr. Murray's tours, 
 for an artist must occupy more time than one who travels merely to see 
 the country ; he has to spend days where the cursory observer spends only 
 minutes or hours, or his time would all be wasted. I therefore had to reject 
 much that was beautiful and picturesque, and choose these three different 
 centres of interest. First, the magnificient Pic du Midi d'Ossau, with its 
 cloven summit, claimed my attention. 1 had heard much of its beaut)', and 
 of that of the whole valley up to its base. Its very name has something 
 attractive in it, for it means, " the vale by which the bears come down." 
 On my way to the grand object of interest, I should also see Les Eaux 
 Chaudes and Bonnes. Next I should study the beautiful and romantic 
 valley from Luz to the Cirque de Gavarnie ; and, lastly, finish off with Luchon 
 and its lovely vicinity. I have to explain to you that by the Pyrenees I mean 
 only those mountains that divide France from Spain ; for, notwithstanding 
 the expression of Louis XIV. after a certain event, that there were no more 
 Pyrenees, I can assure you that they still exist, and are a very remarkable 
 barrier or wall between the two countries, stretching in a straight line about 
 two hundred and eighty miles, and being in some places fifty miles across. 
 You will see by this map their general direction, from near Bayonne to 
 Perpignan, and on it I have marked my route, which, you will observe, 
 leaves much of this picturesque country for future exploration. This range 
 of mountains is remarkable for its wall-like form, indented by gaps or Ports, 
 as they are called, which give passage between France and Spain. There 
 are, besides these high passages, five carriage-roads in the chain, all lying 
 to the extreme east or west; and through one of the lower passes a rail- 
 road, from Bayonne to St. Sebastian, has lately been carried. The Ports, 
 which answer to the Cols of Switzerland, though generally higher, present 
 scenery of great grandeur, rising on each side in perpendicular walls of two 
 hundred to three hundred feet high. In consequence, however, of the Pyrenees 
 
318 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 lying further 30uth than the Alps, and of their vicinity to the sea, there is 
 much less snow and ice than on the Alps. 
 
 A remarkable and very interesting feature in the Pyrenees is the basins— 
 "cirques" or " oules " is their local name. They are situated in the trans- 
 verse valleys, lying between the buttresses of the principal ranges, and are 
 generally surrounded on three sides by lofty walls of rock, opening into the 
 valley by a narrow gully. The scenery of these einpies is peculiar, uniting 
 sublimity with great pastoral beauty. One of these, called the Cirque de 
 Gavarnie, generally considered the grandest, has the additional beauty of a 
 fine waterfall, which is supposed to be the highest in Europe. 
 
 Having sketched out this scheme, looked at my map, and made a some- 
 what hasty breakfast, I secured a place in an excessively crowded diligence, 
 coming from the railway-station, and going to Les Eaux Chaudes. 1 was 
 not sorry that it was necessary for me to sit beside the driver up above the 
 coupe, as there I had the best view of the country, and had the amusement 
 of seeing the manners of the coachman with his drolly-harnessed horses. 
 1 little thought in these railroad times to see such old-fashioned teams, with 
 immense collars hung about with little tinkling bells, and loose rope harness, 
 allowing the horses to trot about in every part of the road before they settle, 
 to their work. One of our leaders had the impudence to turn quite round, 
 and look at us. "Ah! ha !" said our Jehu, "you have forgotten something, 
 have you ? I'll teach you to remember," and with that he administered a 
 severe cut with his whip. 
 
 I had heard much of the great beauty of the first view of the Pic du 
 Midi near Sevignac, but a heavy shower and continued clouds prevented 
 my enjoying this, or stopping to sketch. Thus an artist is governed by 
 circumstances. I passed therefore at once to Les Eaux C'haudes, losing also 
 one or two tine forests by the way from the increasing darkness. At Les Eaux 
 C'haudes I got a fair study; but, this place being wedged in a narrow goige, 
 and the hotel full of invalids, and also very uncomfortable, I determined 
 to walk up the lovely Val d'Ossau to Cabas. I passed by the hot springs, 
 bursting forth out of the granite close to its junction with the limestone. 
 This outbreak of hot sources near the points of contact of granite, or trap- 
 peau rocks, is of usual occurrence among the Alps and Pyrenees. I enjoyed 
 this walk exceedingly, although sorely hurried by an impatient young guide, 
 
AN OUTLINE OP A TOUli IX THE PYRENEES. 31!) 
 
 whom I was obliged to check when I overheard him telling a friend that 
 he should be back again in two hours. "No," I said, "I shall not walk 
 at that rate, for I want to see the country." -'Oh," he replied, "Monsieur 
 pent rester meme cinq minutes." This was not the sort of guide for an 
 
 artist, ami indeed it is preferable to be without one. I strolled up and down 
 this lovely valley more than once, always finding fresh beauties. 
 
 The chief distinguishing points of the Pyrenees are the great beauty, 
 transparency, ami colour of the foaming torrents, which are not at all like 
 the muddy, cold, leaden-coloured glacier rivers of the Alps, but are of the 
 most exquisite and delicate pale green colour, like the beryl or ckrysoprase. 
 From the foam, when the rays of the sun shine through it, to the deepest 
 pool, when in shadow of the richly tinted marble rocks, the most remark- 
 able tones arc seen. Then again the colour of the water of the little lakes 
 is perfectly marvellous, seeming to be uninfluenced by the surrounding rocks, 
 or sky above, and to have some independent source of colour. The charming 
 Gave struck me the most, 1 think. Not merely was the water with its 
 
320 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 numerous falls beautiful, but so rich and varied were the colours of the 
 rocks, and the enormous boulders of marble, limestone, and slate, when 
 heightened by moisture, that a far greater mellowness of hue was produced 
 than we see in Switzerland. Upon these rocks, lovely little knolls of grass 
 and velvet tufts of the greenest moss were frequently seen, and their crevices 
 were made purple by the deep-coloured gentian, and a thousand other flowers, 
 not only interesting to the botanist, out affecting and enriching the colour of 
 the moss. Over the bed of the roaring torrent are sometimes seen the elegant 
 branches of the birch, drooping like the weeping willow ; the elder, with its 
 well known clusters of yellowish white blossoms, and another kind with 
 lovely scarlet berries. More rarely seen, but still more striking, was the 
 mountain ash, with its pendant and gorgeous clusters ; the noble beech, 
 equally beautiful in its glossy foliage, waving branches, and varied silver 
 gray trunk. Beyond and above, these rose shelving and woody heights, 
 clothed with the gloomy pine, the young trees shooting up fresh and vigorous, 
 while the gray and storm-shattered trunk of the old shewed the ages that the 
 forest had remained untouched by the hand of man. Far above all these 
 Were seen the summits of the mountain range, sometimes tipped with the 
 eternal snow, and the heaven ascending walls, which appear inaccessible, 
 save to the wild izzard, or to the floating eagle which wheels his happy flight 
 the highest heavens. 
 
 In about two hours, which I could easily have made four, from the wish 
 to linger if not to sketch, I arrived at Gabas. This solitary little village 
 is the last in France, and being the only place where one can stop to study 
 the Pic du Midi, 1 determined to put up with rough accommodation. 
 Unfortunately I was persuaded by my guide to take the worst of the 
 two little inns. The first night I got very little sleep, for the shepherds 
 and Spanish muleteers kept up such a noise all around me, especially in 
 the kitchen, which was divided from my room only by a thin partition, that 
 I heartily wished their wants were all supplied, and themselves laid to rest. 
 This was not all, for the floor of my room being immediately over the 
 principal stable, the braying of mules, and the lowing of oxen, with various 
 other noises, smells, and annoyances, prevented me for a long time from 
 sleeping. The vibration of the boards was so remarkably strong, that when 
 the mules brayed I was glad to take my feet off the floor. In the morning 
 
322 
 
 D HAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 I explored the dark cave-like stable, which was partly hewn out of the rocks 
 around, and presented a scene never to be forgotten — a subject worthy of 
 Lewis or Phillip. There were the mules feeding away, with their rough pack 
 saddles and gay rugs on their backs, while the Spaniards had unrolled others 
 and were quietly reposing in a corner. Strange wild-looking men too, who 
 might have been banditti from the other side of the frontier, were seen 
 emerging from dark recesses, or standing about in those picturesque attitudes 
 natural to Spaniards. The principal part of their merchandise appeared to be 
 wine, held in the customary pig- skins, which were either standing against the 
 walls, or hanging on pegs, whilst one of the men was solacing himself with 
 a drink from a smaller kid-skin bottle. This manner of getting a draught 
 requires practice ; the bottle is held above the head, and allowed, or forced 
 with a gentle squeeze, to squirt into the mouth from a distance of a few 
 inches, an affair of considerable difficulty to those not accustomed to it, for 
 if you do not take care when you close your mouth to swallow or get breath, 
 it is sure to inundate your neck and clothes with strong red wine. On 
 entering the kitchen I was equally pleased with the costume of the group 
 surrounding the fire ; there was the landlady with her crimson hood folded 
 on the top of her head, and on which she always placed a spare napkin, her 
 short full petticoat of massive folds, and her close black velvet jacket. 
 Around the blazing wood fire were seated men, women, and children, evidently 
 travellers, wdiile the walls were hung with the black velvet conical hats of 
 Spain, and the woollen mantles worn by travellers of that country. 
 
 I spent six days in this picturesque village, visiting the Bioux Artiques, to 
 study the Pic du Midi, three times, a view of which heads this section ; but 
 in every direction there are abundant materials for the artist. I frequently 
 drew the shepherds, with their long-woolled sheep, amongst which three or 
 four goats are always kept, I was told, to furnish milk for the shepherds and 
 their dogs. Their bonnets of brown cloth, and general appearance, reminded 
 me much of the Scotch peasant, but the colouring was far richer, and the 
 frequent addition of a broad crimson sash contributed not a little to the effect 
 of the whole figure. During my frequent and solitary rambles I had a good 
 deal of chat with the peasants and hunters. I wanted, above all, to hear 
 about the bears from which the whole valley is named. I once found a 
 hunter who had killed a fine bear only three w 7 eeks before ; he said it was 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUR IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 323 
 
 quite fat, and that the fat was very valuable, as much as sixteen francs a 
 pound ; it was good for rheumatic pains, but he did not speak of its being 
 applied to the head. He had eaten the whole of the bear, and it was very- 
 good. I offered a sponge-cake to him and his companion ; he said lie 
 would eat it if I would assure him it would do him no harm. " Oh, no," 
 I said ; " on the contrary, dipped in a little of this good wine, it is not 
 at all bad," and so he found it. A bear, I ascertained, is more profitable 
 than a wolf, although the government gives a reward for the death of the 
 latter, but not for that of the bear ; the hunters also carry the wolf round 
 to the different farmers and levy contributions. I found the bear was 
 generally supposed to feed upon fruits and roots, as well as mutton and 
 beef, and I was also told that he always skins the animal before he eats 
 it, taking the skin off with his long claws most cleverly ; however, he 
 sometimes carries a cow right away. 
 
 One of my studies was a picturesque rock, which had fallen in such a 
 way as to make a good cavern, and which was inhabited by some shepherds ; 
 at night they always have a large tire, and if a bear or wolf come crawling 
 about after the sheep, the faithful dogs rush out, and the shepherd snatches 
 a blazing brand from the fire to fling at the intruder. I intend painting this 
 subject, and if you can imagine a beautiful moonlight night, with clouds 
 sailing across the moon, the firelight glancing on the frightened flock and 
 startled mules, the large dogs rushing after the rascal, and the shepherd 
 throwing his fiery weapon, you will have some idea of my picture. 
 
 But I was obliged to quit this charming place, to leave untouched many 
 a lovely scene, many magnificent pines and pleasing groups of figures, and 
 return to Les Eaux Chaudes, and afterwards to Les Eaux Bonnes. 
 
 This latter much frequented bathing-place is situated in a sort of cul- 
 de-sac, with high mountains on every side, above all which towers the 
 majestic Pic de Ger. The collection of hotels and lodging-houses with the 
 promenades, and above all the incessant whip-cracking of the fantastically 
 dressed equestrians, were not at all to my taste, and the table d'hote dinners 
 occurring just at sunset put the climax to my impatience, so I took my 
 leave with a guide and horse for Pierrefitte. 
 
 We passed the very picturesque Col de Tortes, and later in the day 
 another called Col de Saucede. At Pierrefitte I took a sketch of a very 
 
 v 2 
 
324 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 picturesque old church, and could plainly see that the country and valley 
 about St. Savin and Argelez abounded in beauty, but the weather in these 
 valleys was so oppressive, and the heat so intolerable, that after a study 
 or two I again turned my face to the mountains. In these hot scorchirg 
 valleys, irrigated for the sake of the maize, or sweltering in white vapour 
 after rain, about the greatest plague that an artist can have is that of insects, 
 for occupied as his hands are, and intent as he necessarily is on his work, 
 they inflict stings upon him which take days to get rid of. I thought I had 
 made acquaintance with all kinds before, but in the Pyrenees was yet another 
 
 in the shape of hundreds of small yellow flies, which remained apparently 
 motionless between my eyes and the white paper, harassing the sight ; I 
 thought they never settled upon me, but I found they had stung me all over 
 the face and eyes, causing most severe annoyance. As I was sitting thus 
 tormented, I saw a group pass, which in spite of my ill-humour made me 
 laugh ; it was a donkey in a cart, with a queer old man and his boy. It 
 appeared the poor brute had. like myself, suffered from this plague, for his 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUR IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 323 
 
 kind master had furnished him with a very respectable pair of trousers for his 
 fore legs, leaving him to protect his others with his tail. As it is customary 
 to put something in the pockets when first worn, he had most considerately 
 stuffed in one, a mouthful of hay. 
 
 After a very long clay's walk and sketching, I reached the well placed 
 mountain village of Cauterets. On arriving here I found that the landlord 
 at Pierrefitte had not forwarded my luggage as he had promised. 
 
 This was no small vexation, as can easily be imagined ; I therefore set 
 myself to write a terse and vigorous epistle in what I might call Duke of 
 Wellington French, and gave it into the hands of a returning coachman. 
 After a few minutes, passing through the yard again, I saw him to my 
 astonishment quietly perusing my letter, and intensely enjoying the contents. 
 "Comment le tiouvez vous," said I, " est-ce mal eorit?" "Mais non, 
 Monsieur, c'est fort, bien fort," replied he with the coolest impudence, not 
 at all discomposed at my sudden reappearance. I may add the letter had 
 the desired effect, my luggage arriving at ten o'clock that night. 
 
 The Hotel de France was perhaps the best at this much frequented place, 
 the salle-a-manger and other rooms overlooking a pretty shady garden, filled 
 with idlers sipping their coffee or smoking their cigars, while some lively 
 Spanish pedlars, with their showy rugs and scarfs, tried to tempt them to buy. 
 The fair invalids, or " poitrinaires," who use the waters, are most extravagant 
 in their costumes and crinolines, and their frequent changes of morning, 
 promenading, dining, and ball-dresses, made it quite evident to me that the 
 enormous round-topped cases with which they travel were not at all too 
 large for what they had to contain. Some of the riding costumes, indeed, 
 were so fanciful, that even without the Avhite linen masks which were worn 
 to protect the fair faces from the burning sun, they looked to me more like 
 masquerading dresses, than an out-of-door costume. The time consumed 
 at the table d'hote being more than two hours, I determined to lose no 
 more sunsets in this most unsatisfactory way, but to start by day-break 
 the next morning. 
 
 It is, I believe, supposed necessary for consumptive patients to eat 
 largely, and one lady apologized to a friend of mine for her voracious 
 appetite ; she was consumptive indeed as to entremets ; " Je mange beau- 
 coup, n'est ce pas, Monsieur ? Mais, mon Dieu. je suis poitrinaire ; " and a 
 
326 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 landlord of one of these hotels assured me in a plaintive tone, that the 
 continual drinking of the waters, and the bathing, made people so hungry, 
 that he could hardly provide enough. As I was suffering from long exposure 
 to the sun of the previous day, I resolved to take a guide with two horses to 
 the Lac de Gaube, one of the most charming excursions in the Pyrenees. The 
 guide would fain have made me take a third horse for himself, but to this I 
 objected, as it was but a short morning's ride; such a disgrace, however, do 
 these fellows consider it to be seen walking, that the last fifty yards before 
 reaching the Lac de Gaube he threw himself on the top of my luggage, at 
 the imminent risk of crushing my folios, in order to appear before the cabane 
 and arrive in proper style, cracking his ridiculously ornamented whip. On 
 another occasion I had engaged a stout fellow with his mule to carry my 
 luggage, which weighed rather over thirty pounds, when he very soon put 
 himself behind it, leaving me to trudge after him in the dust. Passing the 
 Cascade Cerizet, over which during the morning is a very beautiful rainbow, 
 the road winds amidst charming trees, and moss-grown rocks, until it reaches 
 the Pont d'Espagne, a wooden bridge, high above the stream, the road which 
 leads into Spain being carried over the Col de Marcadou, a pass abounding 
 in wild and savage scenery. The upper waterfall is here exceedingly beautiful, 
 and, when seen with the slanting rays of the evening sun across it, furnished 
 a fine subject for the artist. To reach the Lac de Gaube I was obliged to turn 
 back again to the Pont d'Espagne, and begin a steep and rugged ascent, 
 abounding in splendid bits for study. 
 
 The Lac de Gaube is reached in an hour; it is a lovely though lonely basin 
 of emerald tinted water. As this wild spot is nearly six thousand feet above 
 the sea, and consequently much cooler, I determined if possible to rest here 
 a night or two, and my first inquiry was about a bed in the little cabane. 
 This secured, I turned with pleasure to contemplate the exquisite mirror 
 at my feet. The sun was shining brightly, and the snowy peaks of the 
 magnificent Vignemale were reflected in its glassy waters. Every slight 
 breeze that glanced along its surface altered the colour and effect ; at times 
 the reflection was so complete that one could hardly distinguish the image 
 from the reality. I was never tired of studying the varied effects that 
 came over this lovely lake; encircled by magnificent mountains, reflected 
 in its pure depths, it reminded me of the constant changes in a beautiful 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUR IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 327 
 
 eye. It was indeed the eye of the whole picture, and although small, con- 
 tained much study for a painter. This fair spot was the scene of a 
 melancholy catastrophe some years ago. A young Englishman and his 
 hride, not married a month, were in the wretched little fishing-boat, and 
 by some accident in pushing off from the precipitous shores he fell in ; his 
 bride threw herself in after him, and both were drowned. The little tomb 
 on the shores of the lake is raised to their memory. I worked here for 
 six days, passing the early mornings close to the lake ; then breakfasting, 
 and descending to a magnificent cascade at the Pont d'Espagne, made, 
 drawings of both these points. All this study was not without its trials, 
 for frequently there were dense fogs, then thunderstorms every evening, and 
 excessive heat nearly all the time. I was struck by a coup de soled, and 
 suffered for two days with swelled face and inflamed eyes, living all the 
 time on the simplest of food and tea, which I always carry with me, and 
 use at night when sleepless. On one such night I heard a great rush of 
 horses past my window, which was close to the ground. I found on inquiry 
 that they had been disturbed by a bear, and that when this took place they 
 always came close to the cabane. How I wished I had been looking out 
 at the clear moon, and had seen picturesque Bruin prowling about. I was 
 now obliged by my arrangements to break up my camp, and descend again 
 to Cauterets, once more to mix with the lively, chatty invalids and other 
 visitors. This time their talk was all of " La Chasse," of which, like 
 many people that I had seen at the Lac de Gaube, they expressed the 
 greatest admiration. 
 
 This ardour for " La Chasse " makes them mighty hunters in imagi- 
 nation, and especially in costume. I had seen one of these tourists at 
 the Lac de Gaube, fully equipped ; he had a black velvet cap, with a 
 large peak, a heavy highly ornamented whip, with immense rosettes in 
 crimson tied over one shoulder, over the other a magnificent French horn, 
 on which to sound the onset or proclaim the victory, light yellow slippers, 
 with long scarlet ribbons bound and crossed like Malvolio's up the leg ; 
 I forget whether he had spurs, lint in general they are worn. On he rushed 
 tn the face of the fall, shouting, cracking his whip, and at last blowing 
 his horn ; but, alas ! there was no echo ! I often thought how much more 
 like children the French are than either the English or Spaniards Think 
 
328 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 of one of our quiet business men of the Alpine Qub dressed and acting 
 thus ! It is all explained by the honor of solitude the French always 
 express. 
 
 With this fervour for " La Chasse," they sometimes get taken in. Once 
 at Cauterets, when there had been great talk at the table d'hote about " La 
 Chasse a l'Ours," several had committed themselves to follow it up the 
 first opportunity, and " do or die." The ladies were particularly excited, 
 and entreated their husbands and friends not to hazard their lives in so 
 serious an encounter. Strange to say, as a party rode up the next day to 
 the Pic du Midi, they reported that they had seen a large bear on the 
 rocks above them, and a hunt was at once arranged, with abundance of 
 chasseurs guides and porters to carry provisions, and bring the bear 
 back. They had a grand day ; firing away, and blowing horns, and a 
 magnificent pic-nic lunch, but no bear was seen or found. It afterwards 
 leaked out that the bear was one of the hunters, dressed in a real bear's 
 skin, and this party was arranged by himself and comrades to put a little 
 money in their pockets, as they were rather dull. 
 
 From Cauterets I descended the valley again, and visited the picturesque 
 castle of Lourdes, formerly the property of the Black Prince, having been 
 yielded up to the English by the French king John, as part of his ransom. 
 Lord Elgin was also confined here, when he was returning from the East 
 in 1804. From Lourdes I went to Bagneres de Bigorre, a busy town and 
 great bathing place, having the reputation of being the most lively and 
 agreeable of the baths. It is situated in a valley, and, in my opinion, is. 
 exceedingly hot — far too hot to be agreeable in July. There is, however, 
 a cheerful and shaded promenade in the middle of the town, called the 
 " Coustous," with houses, shops, and cafes on each side, which is crowded 
 in the evening. The town is well watered by numerous canals and streams, 
 some of which turn paper, and others marble mills, this place being noted 
 for the many beautiful marbles obtained in the valley of Campan. Another 
 of the uses to which some of these canals are put, affords many a droll 
 sight ; horses, asses, and pigs repair to them twice a day, and after wading 
 knee deep are refreshed by water being thrown over their backs with a 
 wooden scoop ; this they enjoy exceedingly. 
 
 At Bigorre I had an agreeable change by meeting several people I knew, 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUR IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 329 
 
 and amongst others the very talented chemist and photographer, Mr. Maxwell 
 Lyte, who kindly gave me a number of his beautiful photographs of various 
 interesting points of the Pyrenees. With regard to these, I may say that, 
 far from thinking they interfere with an artist, I consider that they assist, 
 just as a map does, perhaps not much more, even when they are done with 
 such acknowledged skill : the best of them cannot convey the sentiment 
 of a picture — there is no light and shade, and above all no colour. 
 
 EAGNEIIES DE BIGORRE. 
 
 I cannot resist quoting here some remarks from Mr. Weld's work on the 
 Pyrenees. " Passing," he says, " amidst these glowing colours, I could not 
 help thinking how vapid are all representations, of the Pyrenees when colour 
 is discarded. Photography makes you acquainted with the outline of the 
 peaks, the swelling domes, the folds of the hills, and the curves of the 
 valleys ; but how short of the glowing reality are those monotonously brown 
 pictures ! Nature, everywhere adorned with harmonious lines, is gorgeously 
 arrayed in the Pyrenees, and scenes of beauty in those mountains can never 
 be adequately and truthfully represented without colour." 
 
330 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 An excursion is frequently made from Bagneres de Bigorre to the summit 
 of the Pic du Midi de Bigorre ; a fine mountain, from which is a magnificent 
 view, and also to the interesting mountain baths of Bareges, the waters of 
 which appear to be exceedingly efficacious. There the Government has two 
 large military hospitals for the cure of soldiers ; for it appears that gunshot 
 wounds are speedily healed by the use of these waters. 
 
 Luz is an interesting old town, with a very ancient church, which belonged 
 to the Templars, surrounded by a wall, with battlements. In this church a 
 portion was set apart for the proscribed race called Cagots, and I saw a small 
 door by which alone they were allowed to enter. You are aware, I dare say, 
 that the Cagot was a leper, and was not allowed communication with other 
 human beings. 
 
 Near Luz is St. Sauveur, a handsome bathing-place, perched on the side 
 of a hill, and noted for having been frequented by the Emperor and Empress. 
 A fine stone bridge has been presented to the inhabitants by the Emperor. 
 Over this bridge you enter the beautiful valley of the Gave de Gavarnie, 
 containing some of the finest scenery of the Pyrenees. Gedres, a village 
 half way, is charming, and would detain an artist a long time to study 
 all its beauties. Then "The Chaos," a short distance on, is exceedingly 
 interesting. It is a wonderful confusion of huge masses of rock, and looks 
 as though a mountain had tumbled to pieces. One fallen mass forms a 
 natural bridge, through which the river rushes and roars, and — 
 
 " Doth with his eternal motion make 
 A sound like thunder everlastingly." 
 
 I sketched several views here, being particularly pleased with the rich 
 colour of the rocks, and the green lichen which covered them. Far above 
 all, in the distance, towered the wonderful Cirque de Gavarnie, with the 
 Breche de Roland, which I had so long wished to see. I established myself 
 in the little inn at Gavarnie, and immediately took a stroll to the Cirque, 
 distant about three miles. As it had rained hard for many hours, I found 
 all the torrents much swelled, and had great difficulty in reaching the foot 
 of this magnificent amphitheatre, down the walls of which dashed a water- 
 fall of 1,300 feet. There are many of these cirques in the Pyrenees, but 
 this is generally considered the grandest : the great height of the rocks, the 
 fine ledges of snow, with the strange and romantic Breche de Poland, make 
 
AX OUTLINE OF A TOUR IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 331 
 
 a combination of savage grandeur rarely equalled. The Breclie de Roland 
 is a gigantic cleft in the mountainous walls separating France from Spain, 
 and is reported to have been made by the brave Paladin Roland, with his 
 trusty blade "Durandal," to open a passage in pursuit of the Moors. It is 
 a rough and hazardous climb in early spring when there is much ice. 
 
 I stopped at Gavarnie several days studying, aided by the knowledge 
 which my friend Mr. Packe (who has published an excellent guide) possesses 
 of the country. We visited and sketched several times in the Val d'Ossone 
 and neighbourhood. My friend is very well known in the Pyrenees, but 
 his usual quarters are at Gavarnie, which he considers the point of greatest 
 interest My last point of study was Luchon and its neighbourhood, 
 approached by the charming valley D'Aure, and the Col called the Hour- 
 quette d'Aspin. Luchon is itself a beautiful little town, with very agreeable 
 gardens and promenades for the bathers : it was curious to see them issuing 
 forth in the early morning with gay hoods and long gray cloaks. In 
 August this place is always hot, lying as it does in a basin exposed to the 
 full glare of the sun, and I soon found it desirable to mount again to 
 a cooler atmosphere, and therefore ascended to Lac d'Oo, and sketched there 
 two days ; finding the sleeping accommodation very rough indeed, and other 
 things to match. I had intended climbing still higher, to the Lac Glace, 
 but after engaging a guide was prevented by a dense fog. I got, however, 
 a careful study of the Lac d'Oo, which is of a lovely green blue colour, and 
 on a fine day, the various shades occasioned by the reflections of the rocks, 
 the waterfalls, and delicate rays of sunlight along the surface, form a beautiful 
 picture. 
 
 One of the most charming walks from Luchon is to the Val de Lys ; after 
 half an hour you pass the picturesque border tower of Castel Vieilh, perched 
 on a projecting crag, and then crossing the river at Pont Ravi, leave the road 
 to the Port de Venasque, and enter the gorge, out of which the Lys rushes. 
 The whole of this little valley abounds in bits for the artist's pencil, and it 
 reminded me continually of Lymouth in Devonshire ; it expands into a 
 beautiful basin at last, and is there shut in by lofty mountains, forming 
 a magnificent cirque, the centre of which is finished by a cascade. Above 
 this is a gorge called the Trou d'Enfer ; from whence there is a fine Alpine 
 walk to Lac d'Oo. Here I was driven from sketching by the gathering 
 
332 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 clouds of a magnificent thunderstorm, the whole effect of which was so 
 fine that I did not the least regret the drenching I got before reaching 
 Luchon. My last study was now to be made, for my time was almost 
 gone, so I arranged with a lady and gentleman to visit the famous Port 
 de Venasque, get a glimpse of the Maladetta mountain, and just pass into 
 Spain. The night was stormy, and at four o'clock in the morning both 
 guides and landlord said it was not a safe day for ladies, at any rate; however, 
 as it was my last chance, and the weather after an hour or two appeared 
 better, I thought I would just stroll off alone. After a good fagging walk 
 the ascent to the Port began, and a hard climb it was ; I reached at last 
 a cavern, called the Trou des Chaudronniers thus named, because a party 
 of nine poor tinkers were here overwhelmed in the snow. The strong 
 gusty wind blew down upon me very heavily, and I had the greatest 
 difficulty in keeping my feet. In a recess of the mountain I came upon 
 a charming sight ; four little lakes or tarns, frozen over a great part of 
 the year, and still encumbered with many floating blocks of ice, although 
 the sun was shining fiercely. These little lakes were wonderful for colour, 
 one was purply black, another steel-gray, the others like sapphires, and 
 all encompassed by rocks of the richest yellow and roseate hues, reminding 
 me of precious jewels set in chased gold. 
 
 Standing in a niche of the rocks, to avoid being jerked into one of the 
 tarns by the gusts of wind, I could do nothing in the way of sketching ; 
 many times did I say to myself, " Now I am come so far must I not have 
 a sketch at all?" But the wind was imperative, threatening to blow not 
 only my folio, but myself, down the precipice ; so committing the scene 
 to the choicest corner of my memory, I left it for the last climb. Zig- 
 zaging my way up to the Port, or gigantic wedge-like opening, almost 
 another Breche de Ptoland, I could hear the wind roaring through it with 
 tremendous force. I threw myself against it, but was obliged to cling to 
 the rocks on the ground, or otherwise I should have been blown away 
 like a shred of paper. I had been warned indeed, that it was wild 
 weather on the mountains, but as it seemed tolerably quiet below, I did 
 not expect such a blast. I now realized the truth of the Pyrenean pro- 
 verb, " In the Port when the wind rages, the father waits not for his son 
 nor the son for his father," and, " He who has not been on the sea, or in 
 
An outline of a tour in the Pyrenees. 
 
 333 
 
 the Port, during a storm, knows not the power of God." Stooping and 
 creeping along, I got under the huge precipices, at least 200 feet high, 
 which I could touch on each side, but stay a moment I could not, nor 
 indeed could scarcely breathe, so I had to descend a little on the Spanish 
 side, and crouch down under the shelter of a mass of rocks. 
 
 Then I had time to take in the grand scene before me. There was the 
 enormous mountain, called, from its utterly barren and dreary air, and from 
 the desolation spread around it, "The Maladetta." Its summit and ridges 
 are covered with everlasting snow, with the exception of some gigantic black 
 peaks, which break through it; its glaciers hang down the shattered sides 
 until lost among deep ravines and gulfs. They seemed to me of a most 
 extraordinary colour, whether owing to their position, or to a dense cloud 
 and thunderstorm which overhung the whole. Lower down were scanty 
 and blasted pines, greatly adding to the miserable look of the whole. 
 Altogether it struck me as one of the wildest and most weird-like scenes 
 I had ever witnessed. .1 almost expected the witches to fly across on the 
 wings of the rapidly approaching storm. You may be sure I did not stay 
 to cut pencils or chalks, but dashed away with charcoal, chalk, or brush, 
 as they came to hand, or were blown away in turn ; at last down came the 
 livid storm and darkness, and I had to fly below, for I saw a cabane under 
 a fallen rock, and thought I descried smoke. Out rushed a huge Pyrenean 
 dog to devour me, but a man followed calling him off, and in I went to the 
 smugglers' cave. Over the fire crouched two bandits, eating some stew or 
 hash out of a red bowl ; the fire of wood on the ground, the various arms, 
 hats, and cloaks, hung on pegs stuck in the rock, made the whole very 
 picturesque. " Well," I thought, " I am fairly in for it, so I must make the 
 bsst of it." They proved, however, veiy civil, offering me some wine out 
 of their bottle ; but, as the drinking of this in trickling streams was almost 
 always sure to end in its squirting down my neck, I declined, preferring 
 a cup ; this, and a good cigar, which they accepted of me, made us firm 
 friends. 
 
 I found they had seen my friend Mr. Packe, as he had travelled into 
 Spain by the Port more than once. Having obtained some directions from 
 them as to another Port or pass back again, I started on my return. T suc- 
 ceeded in finding the Col, but when just at the summit I was again overtaken 
 
334 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 by the storm, and most unfortunately lost my way in the darkness and uproar. 
 I went on and on, descending a most perilous path into one of the wildest of 
 valleys, sometimes having to cross torrents, which every moment became 
 wider owing to the rain. At last I encountered herds of mules grazing, and 
 these made me suspect I was again in Spain, but still I went on, and plunged 
 into a dense forest. I now began to think seriously that I should have 
 to sleep in it, and come into much closer contact with bears than I wished ; 
 neither house nor sign of habitation could I see. Greatly to my relief, I met 
 a young peasant driving a cow ; asking him where I was, I had the satisfac- 
 tion of hearing that I had quite mistaken my way, and that I was in Spain, 
 and had no chance of seeing Luchon that night, or indeed any town or 
 place. "Where are you going, then, my good fellow?" "Up into the 
 mountain with this cow, to sleep under a rock, and there I shall kindle a good 
 fire, and you had better come with me." " No," said I, " rather tie your cow 
 to this old withered pine, and show me the way to some house or cabane." 
 "Oh, no!" said he, "that would scarcely do, since at the root of that tree 
 a cow as good as mine was killed and devoured by a huge bear only two 
 nights ago, and her skin was taken off as well as a butcher could have done 
 it," " Oh, ho ! if that is the case, turn back again with me and I will repay 
 you." "Well," said the youth, "I do know of a hermitage about an hour off, 
 where they might let you sleep." As night was fast approaching I trudged 
 contentedly along with him and his cow, wading across streams without any 
 ceremony ; and at last, like the valiant Black Knight in " Ivanhoe," we did 
 come to a cabane beside a ruined chapel, and there the good woman made a 
 mess of French beans and potatoes, and by good luck some one had a trout, 
 so that I did not go supperless to the bed that they prepared for me in haste. 
 Before my supper was finished every one within reach had come in, and 
 two Spanish douaniers sat down with me, inquiring into my adventures. 
 They took a friendly glass of wine, and smoked some cigars, which for- 
 tunately I had purchased of the smugglers, and we passed a pleasant hour, 
 telling of most romantic encounters with bears, wolves, banditti, smugglers, 
 &c. &c. all of which I must beg you to imagine, for I have no more time 
 to describe than I had to draw them. Feeling myself intensely sleepy and 
 tired, I just threw myself on the bed, and slept soundly until called by 
 the landlady at three o'clock in the morning. Although quite dark, we 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUK IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 335 
 
 were obliged to get up, for we had before us a fatiguing climb over a 
 Col, and a long walk back again into France, in order to save a place I 
 bad secured, and paid for, in a diligence. My guide and bis sister 
 accompanied me to Luchon ; she was a very pretty Spanish girl, di'essed 
 in a black velvet jacket, blue gown tucked up, and scarlet petticoat, cane 
 sandals on her feet, and a bright orange handkerchief on her head. Merrily 
 did she and her brother bound over the rocks, and up the crags, tasking 
 all my powers to keep up with them ; after five hours and a half we 
 reached Luchon ; — the diligence gone just a quarter of an hour ; gentle- 
 man's name had been called over and he had been reported absent. Great 
 outcry and rejoicing arose when I showed myself at the hotel : landlord in 
 ecstasy, table d'hote friends much delighted. 
 
 The guides were recalled who had received orders to go and search the 
 crevasses in the glaciers for me ; so, having received congratulations all round, 
 and calmed down a little, I went up to my bedroom to change my travel- 
 stained dress. Here another scene awaited me, for on the bed, which had been 
 turned down in the most inviting manner, was my night shirt expanded, with 
 arms outstretched in desponding attitude, slippers, candle, and matches all 
 at hand for the recreant wanderer. In rushed the chambermaid : " Oh ! 
 Monsieur, combien j'ai souffert pour vous ! Ou avez vous passe le nuit? 
 Mais vraiment ! vous n'avez pas tombe dans une crevasse done, pas meme 
 casse" la jambe ; que je suis charmee de vous voir." Taking all this as it was 
 meant, I slipped my parting bonne main into her hand, and bequeathed 
 to her my boots, which had suffered in the sole almost as much as my 
 sympathising chambermaid. Having taken some breakfast, I was so fortu- 
 nate to secure the last place in another diligence, and, travelling day and 
 night through Paris, arrived safely in London. 
 
 , I am often asked by friends who have not visited the Pyrenees to compare 
 them with Switzerland ; but I fear by doing so I should run great risk of 
 offending those of my friends who are said to be " Amoureux des Pyrenees," 
 and those who certainly are " Amoureux des Alpes." 
 
 They should not be compared, for each has heauties of its own, and even 
 after so many years' study of the Alps I confess myself greatly delighted 
 with the Pyrenees. My first impression was, that the forms were not so 
 wild and striking; hut there are ample charms and graces in the colour to 
 
33b 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 compensate ; and if there is not so much snow, nor the wild and extra- 
 ordinary glacier, there is greater variety of trees and shrubs, and these, 
 with their autumnal tints, must add greatly to the beauty of the landscape. 
 There is indeed something fatiguing and monotonous in the incessant fir 
 all through Switzerland, but it is not so in the Pyrenees, for from the 
 valleys to the summits in these southern countries, the shrubs and trees 
 are constantly changing, giving to the general aspect far richer colour and 
 more varied forms. Thus the beech and birch are very abundant about 
 Les Eaux Chaudes and Les Eaux Bonnes, and in addition to these, we find 
 some smaller trees and shrubs, well known for their great beauty and 
 richness of colour, such as the mountain ash, with its clusters of scarlet 
 berries, the elder of two kinds, one with scarlet berries, the other with 
 white blossoms, such as is common in England. The shrub that affects 
 the lines and colour of the hill-side the most, is undoubtedly the box ( 
 which here grows almost large enough to be called a tree. After these 
 in importance, come the hazel, the alder, and wild clematis, with a great 
 variety of plants and flowers, forming in spring a perfect delight to an 
 enthusiastic botanist like Mr. Packe. 
 
 Perhaps one is not so much struck by sudden transitions from highly 
 cultivated meadows to forests and rocks, as in Switzerland ; but there is 
 more picturesque wildness throughout. There is also more variety, for 
 many of the trees and shrubs are deciduous, and the consequence is that 
 there is more appearance of life ; for it is well known that birds do not 
 like, or will not inhabit, forests of trees that do not shed their leaves, pre- 
 ferring foliage that admits the light, and bushes that are placed on the 
 sunny sides of hills. 
 
 One of my chief objects in visiting the Pyrenees was to obtain more 
 variety of colour in combination with mountain effects than is found in 
 Switzerland, where the atmosphere is so pure and clear that the landscape 
 does not harmonize well. In the Pyrenees, where there is more mist and 
 hazy warmth of colour, this difficulty vanishes. Owing to the almost 
 entire absence of snow and ice, the whole picture is more in harmony, for 
 although snowy summits add to the wildness of the subject, they are not 
 easy to make into harmonious pictures; and although blue glaciers de- 
 scending into the valleys add to its singularity, they increase the difficulty 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUH IN THE PYRENEES. 3ol 
 
 of representation. Most persons have a great preference for pictures with 
 rich and warm colouring, and subjects for these can be more frequently 
 found in the Pyrenees than in Switzerland 
 
 Now I must take the privilege of an old campaigner amongst the 
 mountains to say a few words to my young friends on the preservation of 
 their full walking powers whilst in the Pyrenees. I have mentioned to 
 you that T was surprised to encounter no pedestrians nor any guides walking, 
 every one throwing himself on horseback as often as possible, and very lew 
 indeed going further than a, carriage would roll or a horse could climb. 
 At Les Manx Bonnes, I found a guide to walk with me over the Col de 
 Porte and Col de Saucede to Pierrefitte ; but he assured me that he and 
 another were the only two who would undertake a walking expedition, 
 although there were a hundred who rode. '"None could do it," he said, 
 " in that climate," and at first I attributed this to the great desire of these 
 gasconading fellows to show off with the ladies, exhibit their finery, and 
 crack their detestable whips. It was always enough to excite my spleen 
 to see how they dashed past a poor pedestrian like myself, and threw the 
 dust in his eyes, or entered with great eclat into the villages, creating a 
 sensation amongst the idlers at the hotels, the guides being always on 
 horseback. 
 
 I began, however, after two or three long walks in these steamy valleys, 
 to find it very different from the Alps, where four or five hours' climbing, 
 pumping tin; fresh mountain air into one's lungs, invigorates instead of 
 fatiguing. In the Pyrenees it is impossible to walk with the same comfort; 
 the digestion becomes disordered by the heat, and the system is not braced 
 by the air, when it blows across the arid plains of Spain. It is almost 
 essential to an artist to be on foot ; he is more at liberty to move about, 
 to climb a rock, or turn right or left, away from the beaten track, in order 
 to choose the best point of view for his subject ; in fact, it is only by this 
 mode of examination or study that he becomes well acquainted with the 
 details. 
 
 An accomplished writer has lately stated so fully the advantages of 
 a pedestrian tour, that I am tempted to quote Ins words. " After all, there 
 is no way of seeing even the least portion of Nature like visiting it on 
 font. Horseback has its unquestionable advantages, but it has its draw- 
 
 z 
 
338 
 
 DRAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 backs. 'I came because my horse would come,' is true of many a rider 
 besides John Gilpin; but the negative proposition, ' 1 couldn't conic because 
 my horse couldn't,' must be true of all. What a magnificent view over 
 both sides of the coast that rock must command, which is but ten paces 
 above you, but shuts out all the promontories which your eye longs to 
 trace out ! But you are on horseback, and there is the trouble of alighting, 
 tying up your horse, and remounting; and so you leave it unvisited. On 
 yonder bank of olives, you see a strange bright flower ; what is it ? Between 
 the chinks of the wall, which bound your path, springs some unknown fern- 
 like growth ; can it be the Asplenium septentrionale, hitherto only pictured 
 in books, or mythically reported as inhabiting Borrowdale ? These questions 
 must remain unanswered ; the terrace your horse could not approach, the 
 wall, he in all probability, would not on any persuasion. And so the 
 horseman, if he is also a sketcher and a naturalist, misses much that Mould 
 delight him, and makes his mountain way amidst many regrets." It is 
 equally important to draw in the early morning, when the effects of light 
 and shade are the most charming, and when the coolness of the mountain 
 air enables one to study without so much fatigue ; the evening is also 
 valuable to the artist, as the warm glowing tints, at that time, melt the 
 landscape into a whole picture, with the most harmonizing effect. Under 
 these temptations to use the best or cooler times for his study, the artist 
 is often induced to walk in the middle of the day, when of course it is 
 hottest, and, I need not tell you, prejudicial to health. I arranged, as much 
 as possible, to stop for the night up in the little cabanes or posadas to 
 avoid this loss of time, and thus sometimes remained for four or five days 
 in very solitary places ; for after the whip crackers have departed there 
 is often a most charming solitude and poetical effect, accompanied of course 
 with rather rough living and lodging. 
 
 Doubtless the most agreeable and healthful time to visit the Pyrenees 
 would be the winter or early spring, when also there would be more snow 
 on the mountains, the absence of which greatly diminishes their grandeur. 
 Again, the Pyrenees are subject, during the month of July more particularly, 
 to dense fogs ; and while they lasted, my walks under the trees or by the 
 banks of the Gave were very depressing. One could now and then, when 
 the fog lifted itself, just catch a glimpse of the summit of the mountains, 
 
AN OUTLINE OF A TOUK IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 339 
 
 but not long enough to make any sketch. There was consequently no effect 
 — no distance, no light and shadow ; the air was motionless and sad, not 
 even a morsel of blue sky to be seen. A bird would spring from a group 
 of bushes, or sing a few notes, and suddenly stop as if sorrowful. It 
 made me ask, " Is this the joyous south, or foggy England ? " — the country, 
 as the French say, of fogs and melancholy. However, with the next 
 morning came a brilliant sun; one could see the mountains again, and 
 penetrate all along the valley, could mark the solitary cloud sleeping in 
 some crevasse, or watch the more rainy clouds rolling themselves about the 
 base of the mountain, and then vanishing : all this was charming. After 
 the gloom — the whole chain seeming to stretch itself, and bask i'n the 
 glorious sunshine, — a pale white light spread from one side of the horizon 
 to the other, and the heart dilated in the contemplation of the immensity 
 of space : — 
 
 " When a soft and purple mist 
 Like a vaporous amethyst, 
 Or an air dissolved star 
 Mingling light and fragrance far, 
 From the curved horizon's bound 
 To the point of heaven's profound, 
 Fills the overflowing sky, 
 And the plains that silent lie 
 Underneath." 
 
 Thus I beg to take my leave of you, and hope I have not drawn too 
 long an Outline of a Tour in the Pyrenees. 
 
 PYRENEAN PEASANT. 
 
MEANS AND ACCESSORIES. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 N concluding this Work I must say a few words, from a purely practical 
 
 J- point of view, on some of the difficulties experienced when studying 
 Nature, especially as the foregoing instruction has been principally addressed 
 to amateurs and young artists rather than to those who by daily intercourse 
 with the Schools of Art in London and elsewhere have already acquired the 
 necessary information. 
 
 The time has long gone by when the painter of Nature was content to 
 make his notes on the backs of letters or in writing, with a few hasty 
 scratches to assist his memory ; the study of Nature has become so much 
 more lengthened, earnest, and accurate, that some moveable shelter has been 
 found necessary in order to render the student independent in his choice 
 of a spot from whence to make his sketch. 
 
 During the summer months, and where varied and slighter study is 
 required, nothing is better for this purpose than the sketching umbrella, 
 made of brown holland, for this will not affect the tone of the paper by any 
 transmitted colour ; it should also be as light and portable as the requisite 
 serviceable size will allow. This, screwed on to its lengthened pike, and 
 sometimes pinned down with guy ropes to render it still more steady, can 
 be planted firmly in the ground, and enables the student to remain undis- 
 turbed when his position is invaded by the sun, and keeps him dry in many 
 a passing shower. But when longer sittings and closer stud}' are required, 
 
CONCLUSION. 341 
 
 when the mountain side, the grand but chilling glacier, or even the damp 
 forest glade is the scene of labour, the tent or moveable wooden hut is 
 necessary; for constant study at all times of the day, and during all seasons 
 of the year, is killing work without adequate shelter from the changes of 
 weather. There is indeed something in the mere name of a tent that seems 
 to indicate a dweller with Nature, a soldier of Art ready for warfare with 
 the elements, pitching his camp on the very spot for action. Against the 
 tent it has been urged that its form is not convenient, for the artist requires 
 l-Diini for his picture to stand up before him, and thus the light is too much 
 reduced by the canvas, and certainly the moveable square hut is preferable, 
 and is really very comfortable, if a finished picture has to lie painted on 
 the spot, These huts are made so that the whole may be taken to pieces 
 and transported in a fight cart ; and, as they are furnished with one or 
 two large plate-glass windows -with good shutters, they can be locked up at 
 night and left quite secure. A little stove and a. warm rug or carpet adds 
 greatly to the comfort during the sharp keen winds of the early spring, or 
 when the artist has been tempted by the rich tints of the woods to lengthen 
 his stay far into the autumn, while doubtless the winter snow is likely to 
 be painted more patiently under such advantages. 
 
 The most portable seat is a three-legged stool, but this is not by any 
 means too luxurious. I prefer an air cushion or shawl thrown on a rock 
 or hank, unless when sketching in or near a town ; the fold-up stool is, 
 however, much more comfortable and 1 tetter for ladies. There is also a very 
 convenient stool and easel combined, called after Pvne ; but it is he aw, and 
 almost necessitates a lad to carry it. 
 
 As to paper, it should be thick and well stretched on a light board, or 
 the well-known block of several sheets saves trouble and is very compact. 
 
 I he moist colour-box, either in pans or in tubes to be squeezed out on 
 a palette, is of course the best ; even oil painters are tempted to adopt it 
 by its superior ease and freedom from the trouble of setting and unsetting 
 the palette. I well remember the first year I painted in oil from Nature, 
 often forgetting, in my fatigue after a long day's work, to unset my palette 
 and wash my brushes ; and when in bed, having to rouse myself, get up, 
 and do it, well knowing the misery that would result from its being neglected. 
 Then in the morning, what a weary hour it took to prepare a good palette 
 
:U2 D HAWING FROM NATURE. 
 
 of tints for a fine day's work ; how vexatious to find it impossible to proceed 
 because the paint was not dry ! No wonder water-colour has its converts, for 
 sketching at least. But even water-colours want looking at the night before, 
 to see that they are in good working order, as one would at a gun or a 
 fishing-rod and tackle, but this takes only a few minutes. 
 
 The water bottle should be filled with boiled water before starting, for 
 one may find oneself in many a situation where not a drop of any kind 
 is to lie got. On the Corner Grat one day I had foolishly forgotten mine; 
 but, as there was plenty of snow, and the sun shone fiercely, as it some- 
 times does, I managed, by means of the black cover of a sketch-book, to 
 get a supply melted. 
 
 A little dissolved gum, a few drawing pins, a bottle of white, a small 
 note-book, &c, make nearly all that is required ; and, though deprecating the 
 reduction of sketches to a very small size, I should advise the student, by 
 a wise and careful selection, to limit the number of his materials, and thus 
 save himself much inconvenience when travelling. 
 
 In conclusion, I can only say that I have endeavoured to trace, in the 
 foregoing pages, the way in which the study of Drawing should lie com- 
 menced, ami the method by which it has been taught for twenty-five years 
 in Rugby School and London, ami 1 trust that, although the best instruction 
 that an artist can give must always hi' with his hand and voice, as supplying 
 at tin 1 moment both example and precept, yet there may he much conveyed 
 in a work throughout which there shall he found abundance of examples 
 and clear directions for study. 
 
 In a former work, called " Landscape Painting in Water Colours," this 
 plan was followed, and as the public has stamped its approval, by a very 
 large and continued demand, I have felt encouraged to spend far greater 
 time in rendering this more elementary work a fit instructor to those who 
 have not always the advantage of a master, and as an aid to many in public' 
 schools, who have not so much time to give to the study of Drawing. 
 
 To ensure success, however, it will be necessary on the part of the student 
 to practise in private diligently and earnestly, with full concentration of 
 thought and powers, and in public schools that the masters should honestly 
 give the study a chance, in proportion to its acknowledged importance in 
 a liberal education. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Abei.e, silvery foliage of, 52. 
 Abinger common, 227. 
 Acacia, graceful foliage of, 82. 
 Acanthus, Callimachus the Corinthian, and 
 the, 99. 
 
 Accommodation, rough, unsuitable for quiet 
 study, 300. 
 
 Aiguille de Charmoz, extraordinary form of 
 
 the, 297. 
 Alder, associated with water, 61. 
 
 American Maple, glorious colours of, 43. 
 An Alpine Sketching Tour, 284. 
 Alp, definition of the term, 204. 
 Alpine Cattle, worth drawing, 265. 
 Club, advantages of the, 287. 
 
 Applctree, artistic groups in orchards, 86. 
 Arete, description of an. 276. 
 Art of Lithography, the, 199. 
 reality of, 284. 
 
 Artist, thoughts of the, while sketching, 224. 
 Artistic effect, power to seize, to be cultiva- 
 ted, 296. 
 Ash, favourite haunts of, 23. 
 
 foliage, practice for, 25. 
 
 useful in composition, 24. 
 
 Aspen, characteristics of, 51. 
 
 Athletic sports, excellent for study of figure, 
 
 Avalanche, the, destructive power of, 268. 
 Avon, the, and Dr. Arnold, 153. 
 
 Background, arrangement of, 177. 
 
 Bagneres de Bigorre, charming but hot situa- 
 tion of, 328. 
 
 Ban Forest, the, why so called, 269. 
 
 Barbison, and the students "f the "Maison 
 Ganne," 245. 
 
 Barn-door, the farmer's ornaments for, 152. 
 Bathing costumes and appetite of invalids at 
 
 Bayonne, picturesque markets at, 313. 
 Bear, value of, in Pyrenees, 323. 
 Beech, autumn tints of, 31. 
 conflicting opinions on, 30. 
 
 Belvedere, solitude at the, 256." 
 Bergschrund, difficulties occasioned by a. 276. 
 Bettws-y-Coed, tine effects to be studied at, 
 
 Biarritz, characteristic bathing on the beach 
 at, 314. 
 
 Bindweed, graceful form of leaf and (lower, 116. 
 Birch, delicate foliage of, 37. 
 
 i„ Highlands, 38. 
 
 Black board or Diagrams, use of, 170. 
 
 Poplar, flickering light on, 53. 
 
 Blackthorn, earliness of blossom, 00. 
 Bonheur, Mdlle Rosa, residence near Fon- 
 
 tainebleau, 247. 
 Bordeaux, and its wines, 309. 
 Box, formerly more abundant in England, 98. 
 Brakes or Bracken, 140. 
 
 Bramble, common, picturesque growth and 
 colour of, 119. 
 
 Branched Bur-reed, useful in varying fore- 
 ground. 162. 
 
 Breche de Poland, savage grandeur of the, 330. 
 
 Brooklime, 161. 
 
 Broom, value to the artist of, 136. 
 Brown Pink, a mis-nomer, 190. 
 Brush, handling of the, 205. 
 
 necessary practice with, 17. 
 
 Bryony, (black) distinctions from " red ber- 
 ried," 113. 
 
 (red berried) excellent practice for 
 
 pupil. Ill 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Bulrush, handsome clubbed spikes of, 165. 
 Burdock, careful study of outline, 120. 
 
 Casts, advantages derived from drawing from, 
 
 Cedar, majestic beauty of. 77. 
 Chalet, the, described, 266. 
 Chalk, on the management of. 217. 
 Chasse, La, devotion of the French to, 327. 
 Cheminee, slide in descending from a, 277. 
 Cherrytree, brilliant autumn tint of leaves, 
 85. 
 
 Chinese White, misuse of. 194. 
 
 Chromo -lithography, explanation of process, 
 
 203. , 
 Cirque de Cavarnie, magnificent amphitheatre 
 
 of the, 330. 
 Cirques, peculiar to the Pyrenees, 318. 
 Clematis, perfumed blossom of the, 113. 
 Cloudland, effects in, 298. 
 Cobalt, employed for aerial effects, 194. 
 Colour, examination of, by prism, 187. 
 
 intensified by moisture, 291. 
 
 made visible by light, 186. 
 
 proportion of the different lays in 
 
 prismatic spectrum, 190. 
 
 tertiaiy, how to produce clear, 189. 
 
 washes and tints of, 191. 
 
 Colours, affinities and tendencies of, to be 
 
 examined, 188. 
 
 harmonic arrangement of, 197. 
 
 indiscriminate mixing of, to be avoided, 
 
 188. 
 
 the primary, 187. 
 
 primitive, proportion in landscape of 
 
 the, 192. 
 
 the secondary, 187. 
 
 the tertiary, predominance in Nature 
 
 of, 187. 
 
 Coltsfoot, fine shape of leaves, 127. 
 Comfrey, well suited for foregrounds, 161. 
 Common, Abinger, 133. 
 
 studies to be found on the, 138. 
 
 Companion, choice of, important in sketching 
 
 tour, 207. 
 CVaclusion, 340. 
 
 Cupving, only preliminary to study of the 
 real, 176. 
 
 Corn Bluebottle, lovely blue of the, 151. 
 Corncockle, 151. 
 
 Corn, (Wheat, Oats, and Barley, ) distinctive 
 
 attributes of, 150. 
 Cornfields, beautiful combination of colour in, 
 
 150. 
 
 Cottage, ornamental creepers of the, 93. 
 
 I Cottage Garden, the, 94. 
 
 Homes, picturesque adjuncts of, 91. 
 
 variety of subjects in, 90. 
 
 I Torch, the, 92. 
 
 Couloir, definition of the term, 278. 
 
 Dr. Tyndall's adventure in passing 
 
 Cox, David, and the suggestive style, 219. 
 Cretins, 254. 
 
 Crevasse, danger experienced by Mr. Reilly in 
 
 Criticism, advantages of, 285. 
 Cube, twelve-inch, an excellent model, 173. 
 Cuckoo Pint, brilliant leaves and berries of, 
 141. 
 
 Cypress, description ot, 76. 
 
 Dandelion, useful in introducing yellow, 129. 
 
 Date Palm, on the Coast of Genoa, 80. 
 
 Drawing, character indicated by, 285. 
 
 freehand, definition of, 169. 
 
 from Nature in Public Schools, 167. 
 
 from the flat and Nature, 169. 
 
 practical use of, 168. 
 
 true aim of, 168. 
 
 i Dog-rose, two varieties of common, 115. 
 
 Dogs, Great St. Bernard, 260. 
 
 undesirable travelling companions, 301. 
 
 ' Door, an open, a useful study of perspective, 
 172. 
 
 Dutch Pictures, skilful arrangement of effect 
 | in, 286. 
 
 Eagle Rock, Glen Sligaehaii, Sky, 207. 
 \ Eaux Bonnes, Pes, gay company at, 323. 
 
 Chaudes, Les, hot springs at, 318. 
 
 Education, Dr. Temple on, 1. 
 ' Effects, retentive memory to be cultivated for, 
 111. 
 
 Elder, homely character of, useful to artists, 
 83. 
 
 Elm, character of, 26. 
 ■ groups well, 27. 
 
 Emerald Green, only to be used in illumi- 
 nation, 196. 
 Evelyn Woods, the, 231. 
 I Eye, position of, influencing direction of all 
 
 Faithfulness in description and delineation, 
 
 261. 
 
 Fee, Valley of, romantic wildness of the, 254. 
 Per du Cheval, magnificent rocks near the, 
 262. 
 
 Ferns, an effective foreground, 140. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 C45 
 
 Ferns, the hard and male, 141. 
 Figtree, handsome in Southern Europe, 86. 
 Figures, hints on sketching, 184. 
 Five minutes' solitude with a glass of water, 
 193. 
 
 Flies, annoyance of, while sketching, 324. 
 Flowers, white, tints for, 117. 
 Flowering-rush, colour and elegance of, 157. 
 Foliage, calendar of autumnal tints of, 64. 
 
 touches for, 14. 
 
 Fon, devastation caused by the, 267. 
 Forest of Fontainebleau, 241. 
 scarcity of water and 
 
 animal life in, 244. 
 Forest on fire, exciting beauty of a, 299. 
 Foxglove, favourite of the artist, 113. 
 ■ varied opinions on colour of the, 
 
 114. 
 
 Frog concert, deafening uproar of a, 312. 
 Furze, or Gorse, where to be introduced with 
 effect, 137. 
 
 Gainsborough, and rustic figures, 94. 
 Gave d'Ossau, charming surroundings of the, 
 320. 
 
 Gemmi, accident on the, 294. 
 Gilbert, John, and illustrative art, 221. 
 Glacier des Bossons, discovery of remains in 
 the, 274. 
 
 poetical description of a, by Professor 
 
 Forbes, 271. 
 
 rivers, colour of, 254. 
 
 tables, formation of, 274. 
 
 Glaciers, colour of, 270. 
 
 Goats, annoyance occasioned by, 291. 
 
 Gourd, gorgeous blossom and fine foliage of, 
 
 99. 
 
 Grande Itoute, at Fontainebleau, 242. 
 Grass, colours to be used when drawing, 147. 
 ■ difference of colour between young 
 
 corn and, 147. 
 
 on the manner of representing, 144. 
 
 Great St. Bernard, Hospice of the, 259. 
 Greater Plantain, description of, 128. 
 Groups, in colour, hints for making, 176. 
 
 of still life, with accessories, 1 77. 
 
 Guelder Rose, downy foliage of the, 115. 
 Gunpowder mills, first English, at Wotton, 
 
 237. 
 
 Hall, the ruined, mi. 
 
 * varied aspects of, 105. 
 
 Hammer, Abinger, derivation of the name, 
 237. 
 
 Ekud, exercised before attempting Nature, 9. 
 
 Hand, command of, to be acquired early, 181. 
 
 mastery over, 13. 
 
 Handling, acquired by copying, 2. 
 
 Harding, J. D., masteily handling of foliage 
 
 and rock, 220. ' 
 Harebell, delicate grace of the, 135. 
 Hart's-tongue, favourite haunts of the. 162. 
 Hart-y-Corrie, study in, 208. 
 Harvest-home, subjects for the artist in, 151. 
 Hawthorn, charming associations with, 65. 
 Hay, colour of, at various stages, 148. 
 Hayfields, artistic groups to be found in, 148. 
 Hazel, used for charcoal, 59. 
 
 coppices, 58. 
 
 Heath, cross-leaved, 134. 
 
 the, favourite studying ground oi 
 
 artist, 131. 
 
 ■ purple or line-leaved, beautiful colour 
 
 of, 134. 
 Heaths, Surrey, 132. 
 
 Height, how to represent, in mountains, 252. 
 Hemlock, elegant in form, 129. 
 Herb Robert, delicate beauty of, 142. 
 Holly, beautiful evergreen, 96. 
 
 foliage and berries of, 97. 
 
 Honeysuckle, connected with rustic porches, 
 &c,110. 
 
 Hop-garden, picturesque subjects to be foun 1 
 
 in, 109. 
 Hop, graceful foliage of, 108 
 Horizontal, the, or governing line, 182. 
 Hornbeam, similarity to beech, 33. 
 Horse-chestnut, blossom of, 49. 
 
 massive foliage of, 48. 
 
 Hunt, Win. great in the management o£ 
 
 colour, 219. 
 Hyacinth, wild, affecting colour of banks, 120. 
 
 Ice, pure blue colour of, 270. 
 
 Ice caves, beautiful transparent blue colour 
 
 Indian red, qualities of, 196. 
 Indigo, out of place in the sky, 195. 
 Influence of some of the modern painters, on 
 
 the, 211. 
 Introduction, 1. 
 
 Iris, water, locality to find, 159. 
 
 Ivy, picturesque when least luxuriant, 100. 
 
 Junipers, magnificent size of, at Fontaine- 
 bleau, 243. 
 
 Laburnum, beauty in Scotland of, 95. 
 Lac de Gaube, varied and lovely colour of the. 
 326. 
 
346 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Lac d'Oo, lovely green-blue colour of the, 331. 
 Landes, Les, interesting phenomena of, 310. 
 Landseer, Sir Edwin, first-rate for animal 
 
 expression, 214. 
 Lane and hedge plants, 106. 
 Lanes, charms of country, 121. 
 
 studies to he found in, 107. 
 
 Larch, peculiarities of the, 75. 
 
 plantations of, 73. 
 
 Lavender, on the coast of Genoa, 139. 
 
 Lecture, length of, to a class, 100. 
 
 Leech, John, faithful delineation united to 
 
 grace and humour, 215. 
 Leith and Holmbury Hills, 228. 
 Light and shade, management of, 182. 
 Lilac, varied colour of the, 96. 
 Lily (white garden), how to draw and colour, 
 
 117. 
 
 Lime, beauty of blossom, 34. 
 
 general appearance of, 33. 
 
 sometimes mistaken for plane, 36. 
 
 Ling, or heather, how to study, 135. 
 Lithography, a chemical art, 202. 
 
 discovery of, 200. 
 
 explanation of process, 201. 
 
 — the best means of showing the 
 artist's touch, 203. 
 
 use of examples in, 12. 
 
 value to the artist of, 199. 
 
 Loch Coruisk, savage beauty of, 209. 
 Lombardy pojslar, conical form of, 50. 
 
 Maggiore, Lago di, aerial effect at, 257. 
 Maladetta, savage desolation of the, 333. 
 Mallow, handsome leaves of the, 118. 
 Maple, variety of autumnal tints of, 63. ' 
 Marjelen See, romantic glacier forms at the. 
 294. 
 
 Market place, excellent for study of costume, 
 124. 
 
 Matterhorn, late fearful accident on the, 283. 
 
 roseate glow on the, 289. 
 
 the, effects of dawn and sunset, 
 
 251. 
 
 the Italian side of the, 258. 
 
 Mattmarksee, the, desolate scenery of, 255. 
 Meadow grasses and field flowers, 143. 
 
 sweet, fine warm tint of blossoms, 
 
 159. 
 
 Means and accessories in sketching, 340. 
 Mill pond, the, charms of, 163. 
 Models, rustic, 174. 
 
 Mont Blanc, magnificent panorama around, 
 297. 
 
 Monte Rosa, by moonlight, 289. 
 
 j Moonlight, on the Lake of Lucerne, 289. 
 
 I Moraine, the, description of, 272. 
 
 . Morgue, the, at the Great St. Bernard, 261. 
 
 Moulins, how produced, 275. 
 
 Mountain ash, perfection of, in Highlands, SI. 
 
 tarns, in the Pyrenees, exquisite 
 
 colouring of, 332. 
 I Mulberry, rounded form of, 86. 
 
 Mullen, resemblance of leaves to foxglove, 
 118. 
 
 Mulready, Wm. devotion to art, and skilful 
 manipulation of, 216. 
 
 Nettle, gray colouring of, 127. 
 Nightshade (woody), brilliant berries of, ]14. 
 Note-book, use of, to student, 1 83. 
 j Notes, various ways of taking, 248. 
 
 Oak, colour of foliage, 21. 
 
 Gilpin and Evelyn on the, 19. 
 
 precedence of, 18. 
 
 the, at Fontainebleau, 242. 
 
 ! Oaks, remarkable, 20. 
 Observation, difficulty of accurate and sus- 
 tained, 286. 
 
 | Newton and Faraday's remarks 
 
 on, 286. 
 Old Manor Farm, the, 225. 
 Olive, peculiarities of, 86. 
 Orta, Lagod', sketching in a boat on the, 257. 
 Osier, places to study, 57. 
 Ottleys, Les, Channel Islands, singular masses 
 
 of rock, 210. 
 Outline, correct, highly important, 1S2. 
 of a Tour in the Pyrenees, 307. 
 
 Painter, versus Peak-climber, 264. 
 Parts, study of, 9. 
 
 Pau, magnificent view from the terrace at, 315. 
 
 Pear-tree, resemblance to Elm, 85. 
 
 Perspective, definition of, 171. 
 
 Photography, Mr. Weld on, 329. 
 j often incorrect, 239. 
 
 Pictorial effect, highly important, 286. 
 
 Picture, divided interest in, 250. 
 
 Plane, distinctions from Sycamore, 45. 
 ; peeling bark of, 44. 
 
 Plants, climbing, varied direction of, 112. 
 I fragile, hints on study of, 116. 
 
 Point of sight, meaning of term, 173. 
 
 Pont d'Espagne, wild scenery around the, 326. 
 
 Poppy, colour of, useful to artist, 151. 
 
 Port, another word for Col, 317. 
 
 de Venasque, fearful wind in the, 332. 
 
 Practice, elementary, 8. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 347 
 
 Primrose, useful in introducing light in 
 
 Tnasses, 120. 
 Privet, common, useful for hedges, 99. 
 Prout, Samuel, vigorous architectural drawing 
 
 of, 218. 
 
 Prussian Blue, useful in depicting water, 196. 
 Pyrenean Shepherds, picturesque costume of, 
 
 322. 
 
 Pyrenees and Alps, compared and contrasted, 
 335. 
 
 colouring of the, 336. 
 
 Spanish side of, 334. 
 
 versus Alps, 308. 
 
 wall-like form of the, 317. 
 
 Reed, common, graceful feather of the, 105. 
 Remains, ancient Punish and Saxon, around 
 
 Leith Hill, 229. 
 Reminiscences of the Vacation, 248. 
 Riffel, the, panorama from, 252. 
 Rivers, Pyrenean, great beauty of colour of, 
 
 319. 
 
 Roadside, the, fruitful in figures and in- 
 cidents, 123. 
 
 Rock, broken fragment, an excellent study, 204. 
 
 Rocks, on the characteristics of, 205. 
 
 on the study of, 204. 
 
 Roofs, importance of, 91. 
 
 Rookery, the, felling trees at, 235. 
 
 Roping, Alpine authorities on, 282. 
 
 Rosenlaui, glacier of, lovely blue colour of 
 the, 292. 
 
 Route de Chailly, Fontainebleau, 243. 
 Rushes, common, 165. 
 
 Sandbank, varied colour of, 125. 
 Scabious found among corn, 151. 
 Scotch Fir, colour of bark and foliage, 71. 
 
 picturesque beauty of, 69. 
 
 Selection, essential, 5. 
 
 Seracs, meaning and derivation of the term, 
 283. 
 
 Service, the, description of, 25. 
 Shrubs and Garden Hedges, 95. 
 Sketch, difficulties of first, 4. 
 
 — value of a, 302. 
 
 Sketches, pleasure to be derived from, 249. 
 Smugglers near Port Venasque, 333. 
 Snow, artistically viewed, 206. 
 
 bridges, aid afforded by, 282. 
 
 storms on the St. Theodulc, 253. 
 
 Spanish Chestnut, among the Alps and Pyre- 
 nees, 47. 
 
 majesty of, 46. 
 
 Spectre of the Mountains at Murren, 293. 
 
 I Spruce Fir, picturesque only in decay, 72. 
 
 Stable at Gabas, picturesque interior of, 320. 
 I Stampedo, travellers', in Switzerland, 249. 
 
 St. Nicholas, valley of, and Harding's picture, 
 
 25 °- 
 
 Stonecrop, on rustic buildings, 93. 
 
 Stone Pine, perfection of, in Italy, 67. 
 
 Stream, the, and its borders, 153. 
 
 Streams, our northern, beauties of, 158. 
 
 Student to attempt easy subjects at first, 297. 
 
 Subject, general treatment of, 285. 
 
 Sunset, effects on the Monch and Kigher, 288, 
 
 effects, on the study of, 316. 
 
 Switzerland, varied natural phenomena of, 296. 
 Sycamore, autumnal tints of, 42. 
 
 thick shade of, 41. 
 
 Sylva Evelyn's country, 223. 
 
 his life and times, 232. 
 
 Teaching of various kinds, 211. 
 
 Teazel, handsome form of, 126. 
 
 Tent or hut, necessary for prolonged study, 300. 
 
 Thames, the, picturesque bits on, 155. 
 
 Thistle, musk, description of, 139. 
 
 Thyme, wild, colour of, sometimes affecting 
 
 pictures, 139. 
 Tints, form of, important, 17. 
 Toad-flax, colour of, 128. 
 
 Tourmentes or Whirlwinds, remarkable speed 
 of, 268. 
 
 Trees, individual character of, 10. 
 
 to be studied in various localities, 241. 
 
 Turner, impetus given to Landscape Art by, 
 214. 
 
 our greatest landscape-painter, 212. 
 
 Turner's style, the four phases of, 213. 
 
 Use of water-colours in rainting, on the, 186. 
 
 Val Anzasca, adventure in the, 302. 
 Vine, chief of beautiful climbers, 87. 
 
 colour of foliage, 88. 
 
 Vipers Bugloss, peculiarities of, 128. 
 
 Walk, artist's, limited, 2S8. 
 Walnut, characteristics of, 39. 
 Water-Arrowhead, characteristic foliage of, 
 157. 
 
 Water-colour drawing, definition of, 190. 
 Water Dock, handsome in appearance, 1 62. 
 
 Figwort, 161. 
 
 Hemlock, 162. 
 
 ■ Lily, fine blossoms of, 160. 
 
 ■ yellow, 161. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Water Plantain, description of, 157. 
 Wayside, studies by the, 130. 
 Weeping Willow, rendering of foliage, 50. 
 Willow, common, colour and touch for, 55. 
 
 picturesque in age, 53. 
 
 Willow-herb, great hairy, lovely in woods or 
 marshes, 158. 
 
 Woodlaud Source, the, 230. 
 
 Wych Elm, resemblance to Beech, 28. 
 
 Yew, longevity of the, 78. 
 
 Zermatt, picturesque subjects at, 252. 
 Zmutt, Valley of, 253. 
 
 E. CLAY, SON, AND TAYLOR. PRINTERS) BREAD STREET HILL, LONDON. 
 
GETTY RESEARCH INSTITUTE 
 
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