CHAPTER XII.

PEACE.

§ 1. Looking back over what I have written, I find that I have only now

the power of ending this work; it being time that it should end, but not

of "concluding" it; for it has led me into fields of infinite inquiry,

where it is only possible to break off with such imperfect result as

may, at any given moment, have been attained.

Full of far deeper reverence for Turner's art than I felt when this task

of his defence was undertaken (which may, perhaps, be evidenced by my

having associated no other names with his--but of the dead,--in my

speaking of him throughout this volume),[1] I am more in doubt

respecting the real use to mankind of that, or any other transcendent

art; incomprehensible as it must always be to the mass of men. Full of

far deeper love for what I remember of Turner himself, as I become

better capable of understanding it, I find myself more and more helpless

to explain his errors and his sins.

§ 2. His errors, I might say, simply. Perhaps, some day, people will

again begin to remember the force of the old Greek word for sin; and to

learn that all sin is in essence--"Missing the mark;" losing sight or

consciousness of heaven; and that this loss may be various in its guilt:

it cannot be judged by us. It is this of which the words are spoken so

sternly, "Judge not;" which words people always quote, I observe, when

they are called upon to "do judgment and justice." For it is truly a

pleasant thing to condemn men for their wanderings; but it is a bitter

thing to acknowledge a truth, or to take any bold share in working out

an equity. So that the habitual modern practical application of the

precept, "Judge not," is to avoid the trouble of pronouncing verdict, by

taking, of any matter, the pleasantest malicious view which first comes

to hand; and to obtain licence for our own convenient iniquities, by

being indulgent to those of others.

These two methods of obedience being just the two which are most

directly opposite to the law of mercy and truth.

§ 3. "Bind them about thy neck." I said, but now, that of an evil tree

men never gathered good fruit. And the lesson we have finally to learn

from Turner's life is broadly this, that all the power of it came of its

mercy and sincerity; all the failure of it, from its want of faith. It

has been asked of me, by several of his friends, that I should endeavor

to do some justice to his character, mistaken wholly by the world. If my

life is spared, I will. But that character is still, in many respects,

inexplicable to me; the materials within my reach are imperfect; and my

experience in the world not yet large enough to enable me to use them

justly. His life is to be written by a biographer, who will, I believe,

spare no pains in collecting the few scattered records which exist of a

career so uneventful and secluded. I will not anticipate the conclusions

of this writer; but if they appear to me just, will endeavor afterwards,

so far as may be in my power, to confirm and illustrate them; and, if

unjust, to show in what degree.

§ 4. Which, lest death or illness should forbid me, this only I declare

now of what I know respecting Turner's character. Much of his mind and

heart I do not know;--perhaps, never shall know. But this much I do; and

if there is anything in the previous course of this work to warrant

trust in me of any kind, let me be trusted when I tell you, that Turner

had a heart as intensely kind, and as nobly true, as ever God gave to

one of his creatures. I offer, as yet, no evidence in this matter. When

I _do_ give it, it shall be sifted and clear. Only this one fact I now

record joyfully and solemnly, that, having known Turner for ten years,

and that during the period of his life when the brightest qualities of

his mind were, in many respects, diminished, and when he was suffering

most from the evil-speaking of the world, I never heard him say one

depreciating word of living man, or man's work; I never saw him look an

unkind or blameful look; I never knew him let pass, without some

sorrowful remonstrance, or endeavor at mitigation, a blameful word

spoken by another.

Of no man but Turner, whom I have ever known, could I say this. And of

this kindness and truth[2] came, I repeat, all his highest power. And

all his failure and error, deep and strange, came of his faithlessness.

Faithlessness, or despair, the despair which has been shown already

(Vol. III., chap. xvi.) to be characteristic of this present century,

and most sorrowfully manifested in its greatest men; but existing in an

infinitely more fatal form in the lower and general mind, reacting upon

those who ought to be its teachers.

§ 5. The form which the infidelity of England, especially, has taken,

is one hitherto unheard of in human history. No nation ever before

declared boldly, by print and word of mouth, that its religion was good

for show, but "would not work." Over and over again it has happened that

nations have denied their gods, but they denied them bravely. The Greeks

in their decline jested at their religion, and frittered it away in

flatteries and fine arts; the French refused theirs fiercely, tore down

their altars and brake their carven images. The question about God with

both these nations was still, even in their decline, fairly put, though

falsely answered. "Either there is or is not a Supreme Ruler; we

consider of it, declare there is not, and proceed accordingly." But we

English have put the matter in an entirely new light: "There _is_ a

Supreme Ruler, no question of it, only He cannot rule. His orders won't

work. He will be quite satisfied with euphonious and respectful

repetition of them. Execution would be too dangerous under existing

circumstances, which He certainly never contemplated."

I had no conception of the absolute darkness which has covered the

national mind in this respect, until I began to come into collision with

persons engaged in the study of economical and political questions. The

entire naïveté and undisturbed imbecility with which I found them

declare that the laws of the Devil were the only practicable ones, and

that the laws of God were merely a form of poetical language, passed all

that I had ever before heard or read of mortal infidelity. I knew the

fool had often said in his heart, there was _no_ God; but to hear him

say clearly out with his lips, "There is a foolish God," was something

which my art studies had not prepared me for. The French had indeed, for

a considerable time, hinted much of the meaning in the delicate and

compassionate blasphemy of their phrase "_le bon Dieu_," but had never

ventured to put it into more precise terms.

6. Now this form of unbelief in God is connected with, and necessarily

productive of, a precisely equal unbelief in man.

Co-relative with the assertion, "There is a foolish God," is the

assertion, "There is a brutish man." "As no laws but those of the Devil

are practicable in the world, so no impulses but those of the brute"

(says the modern political economist) "are appealable to in the world."

Faith, generosity, honesty, zeal, and self-sacrifice are poetical

phrases. None of these things can, in reality, be counted upon; there is

no truth in man which can be used as a moving or productive power. All

motive force in him is essentially brutish, covetous, or contentious.

His power is only power of prey: otherwise than the spider, he cannot

design; otherwise than the tiger, he cannot feed. This is the modern

interpretation of that embarrassing article of the Creed, "the communion

of saints."

7. It has always seemed very strange to me, not indeed that this creed

should have been adopted, it being the entirely necessary consequence of

the previous fundamental article;--but that no one should ever seem to

have any misgivings about it;--that, practically, no one had _seen_ how

strong work _was_ done by man; how either for hire, or for hatred, it

never had been done; and that no amount of pay had ever made a good

soldier, a good teacher, a good artist, or a good workman. You pay your

soldiers and sailors so many pence a day, at which rated sum one will do

good fighting for you; another, bad fighting. Pay as you will, the

entire goodness of the fighting depends, always, on its being done for

nothing; or rather, less than nothing, in the expectation of no pay but

death. Examine the work of your spiritual teachers, and you will find

the statistical law respecting them is, "The less pay, the better work."

Examine also your writers and artists: for ten pounds you shall have a

Paradise Lost, and for a plate of figs, a Durer drawing; but for a

million of money sterling, neither. Examine your men of science: paid by

starvation, Kepler will discover the laws of the orbs of heaven for

you;--and, driven out to die in the street, Swammerdam shall discover

the laws of life for you--such hard terms do they make with you, these

brutish men, who can only be had for hire.

§ 8. Neither is good work ever done for hatred, any more than hire--but

for love only. For love of their country, or their leader, or their

duty, men fight steadily; but for massacre and plunder, feebly. Your

signal, "England expects every man to do his duty," they will answer;

your signal of black flag and death's head, they will not answer. And

verily they will answer it no more in commerce than in battle. The cross

bones will not make a good shop-sign, you will find ultimately, any more

than a good battle-standard. Not the cross bones, but the cross.

§ 9. Now the practical result of this infidelity in man, is the utter

ignorance of all the ways of getting his right work out of him. From a

given quantity of human power and intellect, to produce the least

possible result, is a problem solved, nearly with mathematical

precision, by the present methods of the nation's economical procedure.

The power and intellect are enormous. With the best soldiers, at present

existing, we survive in battle, and but survive, because, by help of

Providence, a man whom we have kept all his life in command of a company

forces his way at the age of seventy so far up as to obtain permission

to save us, and die, unthanked. With the shrewdest thinkers in the

world, we have not yet succeeded in arriving at any national conviction

respecting the uses of life. And with the best artistical material in

the world, we spend millions of money in raising a building for our

Houses of Talk, of the delightfulness and utility of which (perhaps

roughly classing the Talk and its tabernacle together), posterity will,

I believe, form no very grateful estimate;--while for sheer want of

bread, we brought the question to the balance of a hair, whether the

most earnest of our young painters should give up his art altogether,

and go to Australia,--or fight his way through all neglect and obloquy

to the painting of the Christ in the Temple.

§ 10. The marketing was indeed done in this case, as in all others, on

the usual terms. For the millions of money, we got a mouldering toy: for

the starvation, five years'work of the prime of a noble life. Yet

neither that picture, great as it is, nor any other of Hunt's, are the

best he could have done. They are the least he could have done. By no

expedient could we have repressed him more than he has been repressed;

by no abnegation received from him less than we have received.

My dear friend and teacher, Lowell, right as he is in almost everything,

is for once wrong in these lines, though with a noble wrongness:--

"Disappointment's dry and bitter root,

Envy's harsh berries, and the choking pool

Of the world's scorn, are the right mother-milk

To the tough hearts that pioneer their kind."

They are not so; love and trust are the only mother-milk of any man's

soul. So far as he is hated and mistrusted, his powers are destroyed. Do

not think that with impunity you can follow the eyeless fool, and shout

with the shouting charlatan; and that the men you thrust aside with gibe

and blow, are thus sneered and crushed into the best service they can do

you. I have told you they _will_ not serve you for pay. They _cannot_

serve you for scorn. Even from Balaam, money-lover though he be, no

useful prophecy is to be had for silver or gold. From Elisha, savior of

life though he be, no saving of life--even of children's, who "knew no

better,"--is to be got by the cry, Go up, thou bald-head. No man can

serve you either for purse or curse; neither kind of pay will answer. No

pay is, indeed, receivable by any true man; but power is receivable by

him, in the love and faith you give him. So far only as you give him

these can he serve you; that is the meaning of the question which his

Master asks always, "Believest thou that I am able?" And from every one

of His servants--to the end of time--if you give them the Capernaum

measure of faith, you shall have from them Capernaum measure of works,

and no more.

Do not think that I am irreverently comparing great and small things.

The system of the world is entirely one; small things and great are

alike part of one mighty whole. As the flower is gnawed by frost, so

every human heart is gnawed by faithlessness. And as surely,--as

irrevocably,--as the fruit-bud falls before the east wind, so fails the

power of the kindest human heart, if you meet it with poison.

§ 11. Now the condition of mind in which Turner did all his great work

was simply this: "What I do must be done rightly; but I know also that

no man now living in Europe cares to understand it; and the better I do

it, the less he will see the meaning of it." There never was yet, so far

as I can hear or read, isolation of a great spirit so utterly desolate.

Columbus had succeeded in making other hearts share his hope, before he

was put to hardest trial; and knew that, by help of Heaven, he could

finally show that he was right. Kepler and Galileo could demonstrate

their conclusions up to a certain point; so far as they felt they were

right, they were sure that after death their work would be acknowledged.

But Turner could demonstrate nothing of what he had done--saw no

security that after death he would be understood more than he had been

in life. Only another Turner could apprehend Turner. Such praise as he

received was poor and superficial; he regarded it far less than censure.

My own admiration of him was wild in enthusiasm, but it gave him no ray

of pleasure; he could not make me at that time understand his main

meanings; he loved me, but cared nothing for what I said, and was always

trying to hinder me from writing, because it gave pain to his fellow

artists. To the praise of other persons he gave not even the

acknowledgment of this sad affection; it passed by him as murmur of the

wind; and most justly, for not one of his own special powers was ever

perceived by the world. I have said in another place that all great

modern artists will own their obligation to him as a guide. They will;

but they are in error in this gratitude, as I was, when I quoted it as

a sign of their respect. Close analysis of the portions of modern art

founded on Turner has since shown me that in every case his imitators

misunderstood him:--that they caught merely at superficial brilliancies,

and never saw the real character of his mind or his work.

And at this day, while I write, the catalogue allowed to be sold at the

gates of the National Gallery for the instruction of the common people,

describes Calcott and Claude as the greater artists.

§ 12. To censure, on the other hand, Turner was acutely sensitive, owing

to his own natural kindness; he felt it, for himself, or for others, not

as criticism, but as cruelty. He knew that however little his higher

powers could be seen, he had at least done as much as ought to have

saved him from wanton insult; and the attacks upon him in his later

years were to him not merely contemptible in their ignorance, but

amazing in their ingratitude. "A man may be weak in his age," he said to

me once, at the time when he felt he was dying; "but you should not tell

him so."

§ 13. What Turner might have done for us, had he received help and love,

instead of disdain, I can hardly trust myself to imagine. Increasing

calmly in power and loveliness, his work would have formed one mighty

series of poems, each great as that which I have interpreted,--the

Hesperides; but becoming brighter and kinder as he advanced to happy

age. Soft as Correggio's, solemn as Titian's, the enchanted color would

have glowed, imperishable and pure; and the subtle thoughts risen into

loftiest teaching, helpful for centuries to come.

What we have asked from him, instead of this, and what received, we

know. But few of us yet know how true an image those darkening wrecks of

radiance give of the shadow which gained sway over his once pure and

noble soul.

§ 14. Not unresisted, nor touching the heart's core, nor any of the old

kindness and truth: yet festering work of the worm--inexplicable and

terrible, such as England, by her goodly gardening, leaves to infect her

earth-flowers.

So far as in it lay, this century has caused every one of its great men,

whose hearts were kindest, and whose spirits most perceptive of the work

of God, to die without hope:--Scott, Keats, Byron, Shelley, Turner.

Great England, of the Iron-heart now, not of the Lion-heart; for these

souls of her children an account may perhaps be one day required of her.

§ 15. She has not yet read often enough that old story of the

Samaritan's mercy. He whom he saved was going down from Jerusalem to

Jericho--to the accursed city (so the old Church used to understand it).

He should not have left Jerusalem; it was his own fault that he went out

into the desert, and fell among the thieves, and was left for dead.

Every one of these English children, in their day, took the desert

bypath as he did, and fell among fiends--took to making bread out of

stones at their bidding, and then died, torn and famished; careful

England, in her pure, priestly dress, passing by on the other side. So

far as we are concerned, that is the account _we_ have to give of

them.[3]

§ 16. So far as _they_ are concerned, I do not fear for them;--there

being one Priest who never passes by. The longer I live, the more

clearly I see how all souls are in His hand--the mean and the great.

Fallen on the earth in their baseness, or fading as the mist of morning

in their goodness; still in the hand of the potter as the clay, and in

the temple of their master as the cloud. It was not the mere bodily

death that He conquered--that death had no sting. It was this spiritual

death which He conquered, so that at last it should be swallowed

up--mark the word--not in life; but in victory. As the dead body shall

be raised to life, so also the defeated soul to victory, if only it has

been fighting on its Master's side, has made no covenant with death; nor

itself bowed its forehead for his seal. Blind from the prison-house,

maimed from the battle, or mad from the tombs, their souls shall surely

yet sit, astonished, at His feet who giveth peace.

§ 17. Who _giveth_ peace? Many a peace we have made and named for

ourselves, but the falsest is in that marvellous thought that we, of all

generations of the earth, only know the right; and that to us, at

last,--and us alone,--all the scheme of God, about the salvation of men,

has been shown. "This is the light in which _we_ are walking, Those vain

Greeks are gone down to their Persephone for ever--Egypt and Assyria,

Elam and her multitude,--uncircumcised, their graves are round about

them--Pathros and careless Ethiopia--filled with the slain. Rome, with

her thirsty sword, and poison wine, how did she walk in her darkness! We

only have no idolatries--ours are the seeing eyes; in our pure hands at

last, the seven-sealed book is laid; to our true tongues entrusted the

preaching of a perfect gospel. Who shall come after us? Is it not peace?

The poor Jew, Zimri, who slew his master, there is no peace for him:

but, for us? tiara on head, may we not look out of the windows of

heaven?"

§ 18. Another kind of peace I look for than this, though I hear it said

of me that I am hopeless.

I am not hopeless, though my hope may be as Veronese's, the dark-veiled.

Veiled, not because sorrowful, but because blind. I do not know what my

England desires, or how long she will choose to do as she is doing

now;--with her right hand casting away the souls of men, and with her

left the gifts of God.

In the prayers which she dictates to her children, she tells them to

fight against the world, the flesh, and the devil. Some day, perhaps, it

may also occur to her as desirable to tell those children what she means

by this. What is the world which they are to "fight with," and how does

it differ from the world which they are to "get on in"? The explanation

seems to me the more needful, because I do not, in the book we profess

to live by, find anything very distinct about fighting with the world. I

find something about fighting with the rulers of its darkness, and

something also about overcoming it; but it does not follow that this

conquest is to be by hostility, since evil may be overcome with good.

But I find it written very distinctly that God loved the world, and that

Christ is the light of it.

§ 19. What the much-used words, therefore, mean, I cannot tell. But

this, I believe, they _should_ mean. That there is, indeed, one world

which is full of care, and desire, and hatred: a world of war, of which

Christ is not the light, which indeed is without light, and has never

heard the great "Let there be." Which is, therefore, in truth, as yet no

world; but chaos, on the face of which, moving, the Spirit of God yet

causes men to hope that a world will come. The better one, they call it:

perhaps they might, more wisely, call it the real one. Also, I hear them

speak continually of going to it, rather than of its coming to them;

which, again, is strange, for in that prayer which they had straight

from the lips of the Light of the world, and which He apparently thought

sufficient prayer for them, there is not anything about going to another

world; only something of another government coming into this; or rather,

not another, but the only government,--that government which will

constitute it a world indeed. New heavens and new earth. Earth, no more

without form and void, but sown with fruit of righteousness. Firmament,

no more of passing cloud, but of cloud risen out of the crystal

sea--cloud in which, as He was once received up, so He shall again come

with power, and every eye shall see Him, and all kindreds of the earth

shall wail because of Him.

Kindreds of the earth, or tribes of it![4]--the "earth-begotten," the

Chaos children--children of this present world, with its desolate seas

and its Medusa clouds: the Dragon children, merciless: they who dealt as

clouds without water: serpent clouds, by whose sight men were turned

into stone;--the time must surely come for their wailing.

20. "Thy kingdom come," we are bid to ask then! But how shall it come?

With power and great glory, it is written; and yet not with observation,

it is also written. Strange kingdom! Yet its strangeness is renewed to

us with every dawn.

When the time comes for us to wake out of the world's sleep, why should

it be otherwise than out of the dreams of the night? Singing of birds,

first, broken and low, as, not to dying eyes, but eyes that wake to

life, "the casement slowly grows a glimmering square;" and then the

gray, and then the rose of dawn; and last the light, whose going forth

is to the ends of heaven.

This kingdom it is not in our power to bring; but it is, to receive.

Nay, it has come already, in part; but not received, because men love

chaos best; and the Night, with her daughters. That is still the only

question for us, as in the old Elias days, "If ye will receive it." With

pains it may be shut out still from many a dark place of cruelty; by

sloth it may be still unseen for many a glorious hour. But the pain of

shutting it out must grow greater and greater:--harder, every day, that

struggle of man with man in the abyss, and shorter wages for the fiend's

work. But it is still at our choice; the simoom-dragon may still be

served if we will, in the fiery desert, or else God walking in the

garden, at cool of day. Coolness now, not of Hesperus over Atlas,

stooped endurer of toil; but of Heosphorus over Sion, the joy of the

earth.[5] The choice is no vague or doubtful one. High on the desert

mountain, full descried, sits throned the tempter, with his old

promise--the kingdoms of this world, and the glory of them. He still

calls you to your labor, as Christ to your rest;--labor and sorrow, base

desire, and cruel hope. So far as you desire to possess, rather than to

give; so far as you look for power to command, instead of to bless; so

far as your own prosperity seems to you to issue out of contest or

rivalry, of any kind, with other men, or other nations; so long as the

hope before you is for supremacy instead of love; and your desire is to

be greatest, instead of least;--first, instead of last;--so long you are

serving the Lord of all that is last, and least;--the last enemy that

shall be destroyed--Death; and you shall have death's crown, with the

worm coiled in it; and death's wages with the worm feeding on them;

kindred of the earth shall you yourself become; saying to the grave,

"Thou art my father;" and to the worm, "Thou art my mother, and my

sister."

I leave you to judge, and to choose, between this labor, and the

bequeathed peace; this wages, and the gift of the Morning Star; this

obedience, and the doing of the will which shall enable you to claim

another kindred than of the earth, and to hear another voice than that

of the grave, saying, "My brother, and sister, and mother."

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is proper, however, for the reader to know, that the title

which I myself originally intended for this book was "_Turner and the

Ancients_;" nor did I purpose to refer in it to any other modern

painters than Turner. The title was changed; and the notes on other

living painters inserted in the first volume, in deference to the

advice of friends, probably wise; for unless the change had been

made, the book might never have been read at all. But, as far as I am

concerned, I regretted the change then, and regret it still.

[2] It may perhaps be necessary to explain one or two singular points

of Turner's character, not in defence of this statement, but to show

its meaning. In speaking of his truth, I use the word in a double

sense;--truth to himself, and to others.

Truth to himself; that is to say, the resolution to do his duty by

his art, and carry all work out as well as it could be done. Other

painters, for the most part, modify their work by some reference to

public taste, or measure out a certain quantity of it for a certain

price, or alter facts to show their power. Turner never did any of

these things. The thing the public asked of him he would do, but

whatever it was, only as _he_ thought it ought to be done. People did

not buy his large pictures; he, with avowed discontent, painted small

ones; but instead of taking advantage of the smaller size to give,

proportionally, less labor, he instantly changed his execution so as

to be able to put nearly as much work into his small drawings as into

his large ones, though he gave them for half the price. But his aim

was always to make the drawing as good as he could, or as the subject

deserved, irrespective of price. If he disliked his theme, he painted

it slightly, utterly disdainful of the purchaser's complaint. "The

purchaser must take his chance." If he liked his theme, he would give

three hundred guineas' worth of work for a hundred, and ask no

thanks. It is true, exceptionally, that he altered the engravings

from his designs, so as to meet the popular taste, but this was

because he knew the public could not be got otherwise to look at his

art at all. His own drawings the entire body of the nation repudiated

and despised: "the engravers could make something of them," they

said. Turner scornfully took them at their word. If that is what you

like, take it. I will not alter my own noble work one jot for you,

but these things you shall have to your minds;--try to use them, and

get beyond them. Sometimes, when an engraver came with a plate to be

touched, he would take a piece of white chalk in his right hand and

of black in his left: "Which will you have it done with?" The

engraver chose black or white, as he thought his plate weak or heavy.

Turner threw the other piece of chalk away, and would reconstruct the

plate, with the added lights or darks, in ten minutes. Nevertheless,

even this concession to false principles, so far as it had influence,

was injurious to him: he had better not have scorned the engravings,

but either done nothing with them, or done his best. His best, in a

certain way, he did, never sparing pains, if he thought the plate

worth it: some of his touched proofs are elaborate drawings.

Of his earnestness in his main work, enough, I should think, has been

already related in this book; but the following anecdote, which I

repeat here from my notes on the Turner Gallery, that there may be

less chance of its being lost, gives, in a few words, and those his

own, the spirit of his labor, as it possessed him throughout his

life. The anecdote was communicated to me in a letter by Mr.

Kingsley, late of Sidney College, Cambridge; whose words I give:--"I

had taken my mother and a cousin to see Turner's pictures; and, as my

mother knows nothing about art, I was taking her down the gallery to

look at the large Richmond Park, but as we were passing the

Sea-storm, she stopped before it, and I could hardly get her to look

at any other picture: and she told me a great deal more about it than

I had any notion of, though I had seen many sea-storms. She had been

in such a scene on the coast of Holland during the war. When, some

time afterwards, I thanked Turner for his permission for her to see

the pictures, I told him that he would not guess which had caught my

mother's fancy, and then named the picture; and he then said, 'I did

not paint it to be understood, but I wished to show what such a scene

was like: I got the sailors to lash me to the mast to observe it; I

was lashed for four hours, and I did not expect to escape, but I felt

bound to record it if I did. But no one had any business to like the

picture.' 'But,' said I, 'my mother once went through just such a

scene, and it brought it all back to her.' 'Is your mother a

painter?' 'No.' 'Then she ought to have been thinking of something

else.' These were nearly his words; I observed at the time, he used

'record' and 'painting,' as the title 'author' had struck me before."

He was true to others. No accusation had ever been brought forward

against Turner by his most envious enemies, of his breaking a

promise, or failing in an undertaken trust. His sense of justice was

strangely acute; it was like his sense of balance in color, and shone

continually in little crotchets of arrangement of price, or other

advantages, among the buyers of his pictures. For instance, one of my

friends had long desired to possess a picture which Turner would not

sell. It had been painted with a companion; which was sold, but this

reserved. After a considerable number of years had passed, Turner

consented to part with it. The price of canvases of its size having,

in the meantime, doubled, question arose as to what was then to be

its price. "Well," said Turner, "Mr. ---- had the companion for so

much. You must be on the same footing." This was in no desire to do

my friend a favor; but in mere instinct of equity. Had the price of

his pictures fallen, instead of risen in the meantime, Turner would

have said, "Mr. ---- paid so much, and so must you."

But the best proof to which I can refer in this character of his mind

is in the wonderful series of diagrams executed by him for his

lectures on perspective at the Royal Academy. I had heard it said

that these lectures were inefficient. Barely intelligible in

expression they might be; but the zealous care with which Turner

endeavored to do his duty, is proved by a series of large drawings,

exquisitely tinted, and often completely colored, all by his own

hand, of the most difficult perspective subjects; illustrating not

only directions of line, but effects of light, with a care and

completion which would put the work of any ordinary teacher to utter

shame. In teaching generally, he would neither waste his time nor

spare it; he would look over a student's drawing, at the

academy,--point to a defective part, make a scratch on the paper at

the side, saying nothing; if the student saw what was wanted, and did

it, Turner was delighted, and would go on with him, giving hint after

hint; but if the student could not follow, Turner left him. Such

experience as I have had in teaching, leads me more and more to

perceive that he was right. Explanations are wasted time. A man who

can see, understands a touch; a man who cannot, misunderstands an

oration.

One of the points in Turner which increased the general falseness of

impression respecting him was a curious dislike he had to _appear_

kind. Drawing, with one of his best friends, at the bridge of St.

Martin's, the friend got into great difficulty over a colored sketch.

Turner looked over him a little while, then said, in a grumbling

way--"I haven't got any paper I like; let me try yours." Receiving a

block book, he disappeared for an hour and a half. Returning, he

threw the book down, with a growl, saying--"I can't make anything of

your paper." There were three sketches on it, in three distinct

states of progress, showing the process of coloring from beginning to

end, and clearing up every difficulty which his friend had got into.

When he gave advice, also, it was apt to come in the form of a keen

question, or a quotation of some one else's opinion, rarely a

statement of his own. To the same person producing a sketch, which

had no special character: "What are you in _search_ of?" Note this

expression. Turner knew that passionate seeking only leads to

passionate finding. Sometimes, however, the advice would come with a

startling distinctness. A church spire having been left out in a

sketch of a town--"Why did you not put that in?" "I hadn't time."

"Then you should take a subject more suited to your capacity."

Many people would have gone away considering this an insult, whereas

it was only a sudden flash from Turner's earnest requirement of

wholeness or perfectness of conception. "Whatever you do, large or

small, do it wholly; take a slight subject if you will, but don't

leave things out." But the principal reason for Turner's having got

the reputation of always refusing advice was, that artists came to

him in a state of mind in which he knew they could not receive it.

Virtually, the entire conviction of the artists of his time

respecting him was, that he had got a secret, which he could tell, if

he liked, that would make them all Turners. They came to him with

this general formula of request clearly in their hearts, if not

definitely on their lips: "You know, Mr. Turner, we are all of us

quite as clever as you are, and could do all that very well, and we

should really like to do a little of it occasionally, only we haven't

quite your trick; there's something in it, of course, which you only

found out by accident, and it is very ill-natured and unkind of you

not to tell us how the thing is done; what do you rub your colors

over with, and where ought we to put in the black patches?" This was

the practical meaning of the artistical questioning of his day, to

which Turner very resolvedly made no answer. On the contrary, he took

great care that any tricks of execution he actually did use should

not be known.

His _practical_ answer to their questioning being as follows:--"You

are indeed, many of you, as clever as I am; but this, which you think

a secret, is only the result of sincerity and toil. If you have not

sense enough to see this without asking me, you have not sense enough

to believe me, if I tell you. True, I know some odd methods of

coloring. I have found them out for myself, and they suit me. They

would not suit you. They would do you no real good; and it would do

me much harm to have you mimicking my ways of work, without knowledge

of their meaning. If you want methods fit for you, find them out for

yourselves. If you cannot discover them, neither could you use them."

[3] It is strange that the last words Turner ever attached to a

picture should have been these:--

"The priest held the poisoned cup."

Compare the words of 1798 with those of 1850.

[4] Compare Matt. xxiv. 30.

[5] Ps. xlviii. 2.--This joy it is to receive and to give, because

its officers (governors of its acts) are to be Peace, and its

exactors (governors of its dealings), Righteousness.--Is. lx. 17.

THE END.

LOCAL INDEX

TO

MODERN PAINTERS.

Aiguille Blaitière, iv. 186, 188, 399;

Bouchard, iv. 39, 186, 200, 209-211;

de Chamouni, iv. 163, 183;

des Charmoz, iv. 177, 190, 191,192, 206;

du Gouté, iv. 206;

duMoine, iv. 189 (note);

du Plan, iv. 187;

Pourri (Chamouni), iv. 196, 214;

de Varens (Chamouni), iv. 161.

Aletsch glacier, ravine of, iv. 258.

Alps, angle buttress of the chain of Jungfrau and Gemmi, iv. 286.

Amiens, poplar groves of, iii. 181, iv. 348;

banks of the Somme at, iv. 10 (note).

Annecy, lake of, cliffs round, iv. 247.

Apennine, the Lombard, iii. plate 14.

Ardon (Valais), gorge of, iv. 152.

Beauvais, destruction of old houses at, ii. 6 (note).

Berne, scenery of lowland districts of, v. 83, iv. 132.

Bietschhorn, peak of, iv. 178.

Bolton Abbey (Yorkshire), iv. 249.

Breven (Chamouni), precipices of, iv. 229.

Calais, tower of, iv. 26.

Carrara mountains, peaks of, iv. 357;

quarries of, iv. 299.

Chamounix, beauty of pine-glades, v. 82. See Valley.

Chartres, cathedral, sculpture on, v. 35.

Cluse, valley of, iv. 144.

Col d'Anterne, iv. 124.

Col de Ferret, iv. 124.

Cormayeur, valley of, iv. 176.

Cumberland, hills of, iv. 91.

Cyrene, scenery of, v. 300.

Dart, banks of, iv. 297.

Dent de Morcles (Valais), peaks of, iv. 160.

Dent du Midi de Bex, structure of, iv. 241.

Derbyshire, limestone hills of, iv. 100.

Derwent, banks of, iv. 297.

Eiger (Grindelwald), position of, iv. 166.

Engelberg, Hill of Angels, v. 86.

Faïdo, pass of (St. Gothard), iv. 21.

Finster-Aarhorn (Bernese Alps), peak of, iv. 164, 178.

Florence, destruction of old streets and frescoes in, ii. 7 (note).

France, scenery and valleys of, i. 129, 250; iv. 297, 344.

Fribourg, district surrounding, iv. 132;

towers of, iv. 32.

Geneva, restorations in, ii. 6 (note).

Goldau, valley of, iv. 312.

Grande Jorasse (Col de Ferret), position of, iv. 166.

Grindelwald valley, iv. 164.

Highland valley, described, v. 206.

Il Resegone (Comasque chain of Alps), structure, iv. 153.

Jedburgh, rocks near, iv. 131.

Jura, crags of, iv. 152, 157.

Lago Maggiore, effect of, destroyed by quarries, iv. 120.

Langholme, rocks near, iv. 131.

Lauterbrunnen Cliffs, structure of, iv. 149.

Loire, description of its course, v. 164.

Lucca, San Michele, mosaics on, i. 105;

tomb in Cathedral of, ii. 70.

Lucerne, wooden bridges at, iv. 325, 375;

lake, shores of, the mountain-temple, v. 85, 87.

Matlock, via Gellia, v. 207.

Matterhorn (Mont Cervin), structure of, iv. 160, 181, 237, 260;

from Zermatt, iv. 232, 238;

from Riffelhorn, iv. 235.

Milan, sculpture in cathedral, ii. 206.

Montanvert, view from, iv. 178.

Montagne de la Côte, crests of, iv. 206, 208, 212, 282; v. 121.

Montagne de Taconay, iv. 206, 208, 213, 282; v. 131.

Montagne de Tacondy (Chamouni), ridges of, i. 298.

Montagne de Vergi, iv. 247.

Mont Blanc, arrangement of beds in chain of, iv. 174 (note), 394.

Monte Rosa, iv. 165.

Mont Pilate, v. 124; iv. 227.

Monte Viso, peak of, iv. 178.

Niagara, channel of, iv. 95.

Normandy, hills of, iv. 353.

Nuremberg, description of, v. 232-235.

Oxford, Queen's College, front of, i. 104.

Pélerins Cascade (Valley of Chamouni), iv. 282.

Pisa, destruction of works of art in, ii. 6 (note);

mountain scenery round, iv. 357.

Petit Salève, iv. 161.

Rhone, valley of, iv. 95.

Rheinfelden (Switzerland), description of, v. 335 (note).

Riffelhorn, precipices of, iv. 234.

Rochers des Fys (Col d'Anterne), cliff of, iv. 241.

Rome, pursuit of art in, i. 4;

Temple of Antoninus and Faustus, griffin on, iii. 100.

Rouen, destruction of mediæval architecture in, ii. 6 (note).

Saddleback (Cumberland), i. 298.

Sallenche, plain of the Arve at, i. 273;

walk near, iii. 136.

Savoy, valleys of, iv. 125.

Salisbury Crags (Edinburgh), structure of, iv. 149.

Schauffhausen, fall of, i. 349; v. 325.

Schreckhorn (Bernese Alps), iv. 164.

Scotland, hills of, iv. 91, 125.

Sion (Valais), description of (mountain gloom), iv. 338-341.

Switzerland, character of, how destroyed by foreigners, iv. 374;

railways, v. 325.

Taconay, Tacondy. See Montagne.

Tees, banks of, iv. 297.

Thames, description of, v. 288.

Tours, destruction of mediæval buildings in, ii. 6 (note).

Trient, valley of (mountain gloom), iv. 259, 318.

Twickenham, meadows of, v. 293.

Underwalden, pine hills of, v. 87.

Valais, canton, iv. 165;

fairies' hollow in, v. 82.

Valley of Chamouni, iv. 177, 375;

formation of, iv. 165;

how spoiled by quarries, iv. 121;

of Cluse, iv. 144;

of Cormayer, iv. 176;

of Grindewald, iv. 166;

of Frütigen (Canton of Berne), v. 86.

Venice, in the eighteenth century, i. 110;

modern restorations in, ii. 8 (note);

Quay of the Rialto, market scene on, i. 343;

St. Mark's, mosaics on, i. 343;

described, v. 286. See Topical Index.

Verona, griffin on cathedral of, iii. 100;

San Zeno, sculpture on arch in, v. 46.

Villeneuve, mountains of, iv. 246, 287.

Vosges, crags of, iv. 152.

Wales, hills of, iv. 125.

Weisshorn, peak of, 178.

Wetterhorn (Grindelwald), iv. 166, 178.

Wharfe (Yorkshire), shores of, iv. 250, 297.

Yorkshire, limestone hills of, iv. 100, 246; v. 293.

Zermatt, valley of, chapel in, iv. 325.

Zmutt Glacier, iv. 236.

INDEX TO PAINTERS AND PICTURES

REFERRED TO IN "MODERN PAINTERS."

Angelico da Fiesole, angel choirs of, ii. 224;

attained the highest beauty, ii. 136;

cramped by traditional treatment, ii. 178;

decoration of, ii. 219;

distances of, iv. 355;

finish of, ii. 82, iii. 122;

his hatred of fog, iv. 55;

influence of hills upon, iv. 355;

introduction of portraiture in pictures by, ii. 120, iii. 33;

his purity of life, iii. 72;

spiritual beauty of, iii. 33;

treatment of Passion subjects by, ii. 129;

unison of expressional with pictorial power in, iii. 29;

contrast between, and Wouvermans, v. 283;

contrast between, and Salvator, v. 283;

Pictures referred to--

Annunciation, ii. 174;

Crucifixion, i. 82, ii. 220;

Infant Christ, ii. 222;

Last Judgment, i. 85;

Last Judgment and Paradise, ii. 224, iii. 57;

Spirits in Prison at the Feet of Christ, fresco in St. Mark's, ii.

56 (note);

St. Dominic of Fiesole, ii. 56;

Vita di Christo, ii. 219.

Art-Union, Christian Vanquishing Apollyon (ideal stones), iv. 307.

Bandinelli, Cacus, ii. 184;

Hercules, ii. 184.

Bartolomeo, introduction of portraiture by, ii. 120.

Bartolomeo, Fra. Pictures referred to--

Last Judgment, ii. 182;

St. Stephen, ii. 224.

Basaiti, Marco, open skies of, i. 84. Picture--St. Stephen, ii. 224.

Bellini, Gentile, architecture of the Renaissance style, i. 103, 107;

introduction of portraiture in pictures, ii. 120.

Bellini, Giovanni, finish of, ii. 83;

hatred of fog, iv. 56;

introduction of portraiture in pictures, ii. 129;

landscape of, i. 85, iv. 38;

luminous skies of, ii. 44;

unison of expressional and pictorial power in, iii. 29;

use of mountain distances, iv. 355;

refinement and gradation, i. 85.

Pictures referred to--

Madonna at Milan, i. 85;

San Francesco della Vigna at Venice, i. 85;

St. Christopher, ii. 120;

St. Jerome, ii. 216;

St. Jerome in the Church of San. Chrysostome, i. 85.

Berghem, landscape, Dulwich Gallery, i. 37, iii. 126, v. 282.

Blacklock, drawing of the inferior hills, i. 307.

Blake, Illustrations of the Book of Job, iii. 98.

Bonifazio, Camp of Israel, iii. 318;

what subjects treated by, v. 221.

Both, failures of, i. 197, v. 315.

Bronzino, base grotesque, iii. 98.

Pictures referred to--

Christ Visiting the Spirits in Prison, ii. 56.

Buonarotti, Michael Angelo, anatomy interfering with the divinity of

figures, ii. 221;

conception of human form, ii. 124, 126;

completion of detail, iii. 122;

finish of, ii. 83;

influence of mountains upon, iv. 358;

use of symbol, ii. 215;

repose in, ii. 69 (note);

impetuous execution of, ii. 187 (note);

expression of inspiration by, ii. 214.

Pictures referred to--

Bacchus, ii. 186 (note);

Daniel, i. 62;

Jonah, ii. 204;

Last Judgment, ii. 181, 183;

Night and Day, ii. 203, iii. 96;

Pietà of Florence, ii. 185;

Pietà of Genoa, ii. 83;

Plague of the Fiery Serpents, ii. 69 (note);

St. Matthew, ii. 185;

Twilight i. 33;

Vaults of Sistine Chapel, i. 30-33.

Callcott, Trent, i. 189.

Canaletto, false treatment of water, i. 341;

mannerism of, i. 111;

painting in the Palazzo Manfrini, i. 200;

Venice, as seen by, i. 111;

works of, v. 195.

Canova, unimaginative work of, ii. 184;

Perseus, i. 62.

Caracci, The, landscape of, iii. 317, iv. 75;

use of base models of portraiture by, ii. 120.

Caravaggio, vulgarity of, iii. 257;

perpetual seeking for horror and ugliness, ii. 137;

a worshipper of the depraved, iii. 33.

Carpaccio, Vittor, delineation of architecture by, i. 107;

luminous skies of, ii 44;

painting of St. Mark's Church, i. 108.

Castagno, Andrea del, rocks of, iii. 239.

Cattermole, G., foliage of, i. 406;

Fall of the Clyde, i. 116;

Glendearg, i. 116.

Claude, summary of his qualities, v. 244;

painting of sunlight by, iii. 318, v. 315;

feeling of the beauty of form, i. 76, iii. 318, v. 244;

narrowness of, contrasted with vastness of nature, i. 77;

aërial effects of, iii. 318, v. 244;

sincerity of purpose of, iii. 317, v. 244;

never forgot himself, i. 77, v. 244;

true painting of afternoon sunshine, iii. 321, v. 245, 315;

effeminate softness of, v. 244;

landscape of, iii. 318, i. xxxviii. preface, v. 244;

seas of, i. 77, 345, v. 244, 245;

skies of, i. 208, 227;

tenderness of perception in, iii. 318;

transition from Ghirlandajo to, iv. 1;

absence of imagination in, ii. 158;

waterfalls of, i. 300;

treatment of rocks by, iv. 253, 308, iii. 322;

tree drawing of, iii. 118, 333;

absurdities of conception, iii. 321;

deficiency in foreground, i. 179, 399;

distances of, i. 278;

perspective of, i. 409.

Pictures referred to--

Morning, in National Gallery (Cephalus and Procris), i. 317;

Enchanted Castle, i. 208;

Campagna at Rome, i. xl. preface;

Il Mulino, i. xxxix. preface, v. 245, ii. 149;

Landscape, No. 241, Dulwich Gallery, i. 208;

Landscape, No. 244, Dulwich Gallery, i. 284;

Landscape in Uffizii Gallery, i. 339;

Seaport, St. Ursula, No. 30, National Gallery, i. 208;

Queen of Sheba, No. 14, National Gallery, i. 409;

Italian Seaport, No. 5, National Gallery, i. 230;

Seaport, No. 14, National Gallery, i. 22;

Marriage of Isaac and Rebecca, i. 176, 194, 208, 278, 388;

Moses at the Burning Bush, iii. 320;

Narcissus, i. 388;

Pisa, iv. 1;

St. George and the Dragon, v. 246;

Worship of the Golden Calf, v. 246;

Sinon before Priam, i. 169, 279;

Liber Veritatis, No. 5, iv. 308;

Liber V., No. 86, iv. 220;

L. V., No. 91, iv. 253, 254;

L. V., No. 140, iii. 117;

L. V., No. 145, iii. 321;

L. V., No. 180, iii. 321.

Conegilano, Cima da, entire realization of foreground painting, iii. 128;

painting in church of the Madonna dell' Orto, i. 82.

Constable, landscape of, iii. 126;

simplicity and earnestness of, i. 94;

aspen drawing of, iv. 78;

Helmingham Park, Suffolk, iii. 119;

Lock on the Stour, iii. 118;

foliage of, i. 406, iii. 119;

landscape of, iv. 38.

Correggio, choice of background, iii. 316;

painting of flesh by, iii. 97;

leaf drawing of, v. 35;

power of, to paint rain-clouds, v. 136 (note);

love of physical beauty, iii. 33;

morbid gradation, ii. 47;

morbid sentimentalism, ii. 174;

mystery of, iv. 62;

sensuality of, ii. 125, 136;

sidelong grace of, iii. 28;

tenderness of, iii. 42.

Pictures referred to--

Antiope, iii. 63, v. 36, 90, 136;

Charioted Diana, ii. 126;

Madonna of the Incoronazione, ii. 125;

St. Catherine of the Giorno, ii. 126.

Cox, David, drawings of, i. xliii. preface, i. 96;

foliage of, i. 406;

rain-clouds of, i. 248;

skies of, in water-color, i. 257;

sunset on distant hills, i. 96.

Creswick, tree-painting of, i. 397.

Pictures referred to--

Nut-brown Maid, i. 397;

Weald of Kent, i. 407.

Cruikshank, G., iv., 387; Noah Claypole ("Oliver Twist"), v. 266.

Cuyp, principal master of pastoral landscape, v. 194;

tone of, i. 150;

no sense of beauty, i. 76;

sky of, i. 215, 225, 209;

cattle painting of, v. 259;

sunlight of, v. 254, 315;

water of, i. 346;

foliage of, v. 35, 37;

and Rubens, v, 249, 260.

Pictures referred to--

Hilly Landscape, in Dulwich Gallery, No. 169, i. 150, 209;

Landscape, in National Gallery, No. 53, i. 150, v. 37;

Waterloo etchings, i. 92;

Landscape, Dulwich Gallery, No, 83, i. 340, No. 163, v. 37.

Dannaeker, Ariadne, iii. 65.

Dighton, W. E., Hayfield in a Shower, ii. 229;

Haymeadow Corner, ii. 229.

Dolci, Carlo, finish for finish's sake, iii. 113;

softness and smoothness, iii. 113;

St. Peter, ii. 204.

Domenichino, angels of, ii. 222;

landscape of, iii. 317;

Madonna del Rosario, and Martyrdom of St. Agnes, both utterly

hateful, i. 88, ii. 222.

Drummond, Banditti on the Watch, ii. 230.

Durer, Albert, and Salvator, v. 230, 240;

deficiency in perception of the beautiful, iv. 332;

education of, v. 231-232;

mind of, how shown, v. 284;

decision of, iv. 79, ii. 227;

tree-drawing, v. 67;

finish of, iii. 42, 122;

gloomily minute, i. 90;

hatred of fog, iv. 56;

drawing of crests, iv. 201;

love of sea, v. 234.

Pictures referred to--

Dragon of the Apocalypse, iv. 217;

Fall of Lucifer, iv. 201;

The Cannon, v. 234;

Knight and Death, iii. 93, v. 235, 237;

Melancholia, iv. 48, iii. 96, v. 235, 238;

Root of Apple-tree in Adam and Eve, iii. 116, v. 65;

St. Hubert, v. 97, 234;

St. Jerome, v. 234.

Etty, richness and play of color of, ii. 203;

Morning Prayer, ii. 229;

Still Life, ii. 229;

St. John, ii. 229.

Eyck, Van, deficiency in perception of the beautiful, iv. 333.

Fielding, Copley, faithful rendering of nature, i. 97;

feeling in the drawing of inferior mountains, i. 307;

foliage of, i. 406;

water of, i. 348;

moorland foreground, i. 188;

use of crude color, i. 98;

love of mist, iv. 75;

rain-clouds of, i. 248;

sea of, i. 351;

truth of, i. 248. Picture referred to--Bolton Abbey, i. 100.

Flaxman, Alpine stones, iv. 308;

Pool of Envy (in his Dante), iv. 308.

Francia, architecture of the Renaissance style, i. 103;

finish of, iii. 122;

treatment of the open sky, ii. 43;

Madonnas of, ii. 224;

Nativity, iii. 48.

Gaddi, Taddeo, treatment of the open sky, ii. 43.

Gainsborough, color of, i. 93;

execution of i. xxii. preface;

aërial distances of, i. 93;

imperfect treatment of details, i. 82.

Ghiberti, Lorenzo, leaf-moulding and bas-reliefs of, v. 35.

Ghirlandajo, architecture of the Renaissance style, i. 103;

introduction of portraiture in pictures, ii. 120;

reality of conception, iii. 59;

rocks of, iii. 239, 314;

symmetrical arrangement of pictures, ii. 74;

treatment of the open sky, ii. 44;

quaintness of landscape, iii. 322;

garlanded backgrounds of, v. 90.

Pictures referred to--

Adoration of the Magi, iii. 312;

Baptism of Christ, iii. 313;

Pisa, iv. 1.

Giorgione, boyhood of, v. 287-297;

perfect intellect of, v. 285;

landscape of, i. 86;

luminous sky of, ii, 44;

modesty of, ii. 123, 124;

one of the few who has painted leaves, v. 35;

frescoes of, v. 284, 337;

sacrifice of form to color by, ii. 202;

two figures, or the Fondaco de'Tedeschi, i. 110;

one of the seven supreme colorists, v. 318 (note).

Giotto, cramped by traditional treatment, ii. 178;

decoration of, ii. 220;

influence of hills upon, iv. 357;

introduction of portraiture in pictures, ii. 120;

landscape of, ii. 217;

power in detail, iii. 57;

reality of conception, iii. 57;

symmetrical arrangement in pictures, ii. 73;

treatment of the open sky, ii. 44;

unison of expressional and pictorial power in detail, iii. 29;

use of mountain distances, iv. 354.

Pictures referred to--

Baptism of Christ, ii. 176;

Charity, iii. 97;

Crucifixion and Arena frescoes, ii. 129;

Sacrifice for the Friedes, i. 88.

Gozzoli Benozzo, landscape of, ii. 217;

love of simple domestic incident, iii. 28;

reality of conception, iii. 57;

treatment of the open sky, ii. 44.

Guercino, Hagar, ii. 129.

Guido, sensuality, ii. 125, 136;

use of base models for portraiture, ii. 120.

Picture--

Susannah and the Elders, ii. 126.

Harding, J. D., aspen drawing of, iv. 78;

execution of, i. 179, 403, iv. 78;

chiaroscuro of, i. 179, 405;

distance of, i. 189;

foliage, i. 387, 401;

trees of, v. 61 (note), i. 387;

rocks of, i. 313;

water of, i. 350.

Pictures referred to--

Chamouni, i. 287;

Sunrise on the Swiss Alps, i. 102.

Hemling, finish of, iii. 122.

Hobbima, niggling of, v. 36, 37;

distances of, i. 202;

failures of, i. 202, 398;

landscape in Dulwich Gallery, v. 36.

Holbein, best northern art represented by, v. 209-231;

the most accurate portrait painter, v. 322;

Dance of Death, iii. 93;

glorious severity of, ii. 123;

cared not for flowers, v. 90.

Hooghe, De, quiet painting of, v. 282.

Hunt, Holman, finish of, i. 416 (note).

Pictures referred to--

Awakened Conscience, iii. 90;

Claudio and Isabella, iii. 27;

Light of the World, iii. 29, 40, 57, 76, 340, iv. 61 (note);

Christ in the Temple, v. 347.

Hunt, William, anecdote of, iii. 86;

Farmer's Girl, iii. 82;

foliage of, i. 407;

great ideality in treatment of still-life, ii. 203.

Landseer, E., more a natural historian than a painter, ii. 203 (note);

animal painting of, v. 257;

Dog of, ii. 202;

Old Cover Hack, deficiency of color, ii. 226;

Random Shot, ii. 226;

Shepherd's Chief Mourner, i. 9, 30;

Ladies' Pets, imperfect grass drawing, v. 98;

Low Life, v. 266.

Laurati, treatment of the open sky, ii. 44.

Lawrence, Sir Thomas, Satan of, ii. 209.

Lewis, John, climax of water-color drawing, i. 85;

success in seizing Spanish character, i, 124.

Linnell, cumuli of, i. 244 (note).

Picture referred to--

Eve of the Deluge, ii. 225.

Lippi, Filippino, heads of, ii. 220;

Tribute Money, iii. 314.

Mantegna, Andrea, painting of stones by, iv. 302;

decoration of, ii. 220.

Masaccio, painting of vital truth from vital present, iii. 90;

introduction of portraiture into pictures, ii. 120;

mountain scenery of, i. 95, iv. 299;

Deliverance of Peter, ii. 222;

Tribute Money, i. 85, 95, iii. 314.

Memmi, Simone, abstract of the Duomo at Florence, at Santa Maria

Novella, i. 103;

introduction of portraiture in pictures, ii. 120.

Millais, Huguenot, iii. 90.

Mino da Fiesole, truth and tenderness of, ii. 184;

two statues by, ii. 201.

Mulready, Pictures by--

the Butt, perfect color, ii. 227;

Burchell and Sophia, ii. 227;

Choosing of the Wedding Gown, ii. 227;

Gravel Pit, ii. 228.

Murillo, painting of, ii. 83.

Nesfield, treatment of water by, i. 349.

Orcagna, influence of hills upon, iv. 358;

intense solemnity and energy of, iii. 28;

unison of expressional and pictorial power in detail of, iii. 28;

Inferno, ii. 128;

Last Judgment, ii. 181, iii. 57;

Madonna, ii. 201;

Triumph of Death, iii. 57, 95.

Perugino, decoration of, ii. 220;

finish of, ii. 83;

formalities of, iii. 122, 315;

hatred of fog, iv. 56;

landscape of, ii. 218;

mountain distances of, iv. 355;

right use of gold by, i. 109;

rationalism of, how affecting his works, v. 205;

sea of, i. 346;

expression of, inspiration by, ii. 223.

Pictures referred to--

Annunciation, ii. 44;

Assumption of the Virgin, ii. 44;

Michael the Archangel, ii. 223;

Nativity, iii. 48;

Portrait of Himself, ii. 136;

Queen-Virgin, iii. 52;

St. Maddelena at Florence, i. 346.

Pickersgill, Contest of Beauty, ii. 229.

Pinturicchio, finish of, ii. 83;

Madonnas of, ii. 224.

Pisellino, Filippo, rocks of, iii. 239.

Potter, Paul, Landscape, in Grosvenor Gallery, ii. 226;

Landscape, No. 176, Dulwich Gallery, i. 340;

foliage of, compared with Hobbima's and Ruysdael's, v. 35;

best Dutch painter of cattle, v. 254.

Poussin, Gaspar, foliage of, i. 386-395;

distance of, i. 202;

narrowness of, contrasted with vastness of nature, i. 179;

mannerism of, i. 90, ii. 45, iv. 38;

perception of moral truth, i. 76;

skies of, i. 227, 231;

want of imagination, ii. 158;

false sublimity, iv. 245.

Pictures referred to--

Chimborazo, i. 208;

Destruction of Niobe's Children, in Dulwich Gallery, i. 294;

Dido and Æneas, i. 257, 391, ii. 159;

La Riccia, i. 386, 155, ii. 159;

Mont Blanc, i. 208;

Sacrifice of Isaac, i. 195, 208, 230, ii. 159.

Poussin, Nicolas, and Claude, v. 241-248;

principal master of classical landscape, v. 194, 247;

peculiarities of, v. 247;

compared with Claude and Titian, v. 247;

characteristics of works by, v. 247;

want of sensibility in, v. 247;

landscape of, v. 247; trees of, i. 401;

landscape of, composed on right principles, i. 90, iii. 323, ii. 159.

Pictures referred to--

The Plague, v. 248;

Death of Polydectes, v. 248;

Triumph of David, v. 248;

The Deluge, v. 248;

Apollo, ii. 207;

Deluge (Louvre), i. 345, iv. 244;

Landscape, No. 260, Dulwich Gallery, i. 144;

Landscape, No. 212, Dulwich Gallery, i. 231;

Phocion, i. 144, 159, 178, 258;

Triumph of Flora, iii. 323.

Procaccini, Camillo.

Picture referred to--

Martyrdom (Milan), ii. 129.

Prout, Samuel, master of noble picturesque, iv. 13;

influence on modern art by works of, i. 103;

excellent composition and color of, i. 112, 114;

expression of the crumbling character of stone, i. 96, 112, 114.

Pictures referred to--

Brussels, i. 113;

Cologne, i. 113;

Flemish Hotel de Ville, i. 115;

Gothic Well at Ratisbon, i. 114;

Italy and Switzerland, i. 113;

Louvain, i. 113;

Nuremberg, i. 113;

Sion, i. 113;

Sketches in Flanders and Germany, i. 113;

Spire of Calais, iv. 13;

Tours, i. 113.

Punch, instance of modern grotesque from, iv. 388.

Pyne, J. B. drawing of, i. 314.

Raffaelle, chiaroscuro of, iv. 47;

completion of detail by, i. 82, iii. 122;

finish of, ii. 83;

instances of leaf drawing by, v. 35;

conventionalism of branches by, v. 38;

his hatred of fog, iii. 126, iv. 56;

influence of hills upon, iv. 357;

influenced by Masaccio, iii. 315;

introduction of portraiture in pictures by, ii. 120;

composition of, v. 182;

lofty disdain of color in drawings of, v. 320 (note);

landscape of, ii. 217;

mountain distance of, iv. 355;

subtle gradation of sky, ii. 47, 48;

symbolism of, iii. 96.

Pictures referred to--

Baldacchino, ii. 44;

Charge to Peter, iii. 53, 315;

Draught of Fishes, i. preface, xxx., ii. 204;

Holy Family--Tribune of the Uffizii, iii. 313;

Madonna della Sediola, ii. 44, iii. 51;

Madonna dell' Impannata, ii. 44;

Madonna del Cardellino, ii. 44;

Madonna di San Sisto, iii. 56;

Massacre of the Innocents, ii. 130, 179;

Michael the Archangel, ii. 223;

Moses at the Burning Bush, iii. 115;

Nativity, iii. 341;

St. Catherine, i. preface, xxxi., i. 34, 139, ii. 98, 224;

St. Cecilia, ii. 136, 218, iii. 15, 54;

St. John of the Tribune, ii. 44;

School of Athens, iii. 26;

Transfiguration, iii. 54 (note).

Rembrandt, landscape of, i. 192;

chiaroscuro of, iii. 35, iv. 42-47;

etchings of, i. 405 (note);

vulgarity of, iii. 257.

Pictures referred to--

Presentation of Christ in the Temple, ii. 42;

Spotted Shell, ii. 203;

Painting of himself and his wife, v. 252.

Rethel, A.

Pictures referred to--

Death the Avenger, iii. 98;

Death the Friend, iii. 98.

Retsch.

Pictures referred to--

Illustrations to Schiller's Fight of the Dragon, ii. 171.

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, swiftest of painters, v. 191;

influence of early life of, on painting of, v. 289;

lectures quoted, i. 7, 44, iii. 4;

tenderness of, iv. 67 (note).

Picture referred to--

Charity, iii. 97.

Roberts, David, architectural drawing of, i. 118;

drawings of the Holy Land, i. 118;

hieroglyphics of the Egyptian temples, i. 119;

Roslin Chapel, i. 120.

Robson G., mountain scenery of, i. 95, iii. 325.

Rosa, Salvator, and Albert Durer, v. 230-240;

landscape of, i. 390;

characteristics of, v. 237, 285;

how influenced by Calabrian scenery, v. 236;

of what capable, v. 236;

death, how regarded by, v. 237;

contrast between, and Angelico, v. 285;

leaf branches of, compared with Durer's, v. 67, 68;

example of tree bough of, v. 45;

education of, v. 235, 236;

fallacies of contrast with early artists, v. 46;

narrowness of, contrasted with freedom and vastness of nature, i. 77;

perpetual seeking for horror and ugliness, ii. 128, 137, v. 46-67;

skies of, i. 227, 230;

vicious execution of, i. 39, ii. 83;

vigorous imagination of, ii. 159;

vulgarity of, iii. 33, iii. 317, 257.

Pictures referred to--

Apollo and Sibyl, v. 79;

Umana Fragilita, v. 237;

Baptism of Christ, ii. 176 (note);

Battles by, ii. 127;

Diogenes, ii. 159;

finding of Oedipus, iii. 115, v. 65;

Landscape, No. 220, Dulwich Gallery, i. 231, 240, 294, 312;

Landscape, No. 159, Dulwich Gallery, i. 254;

Sea-piece (Pitti Palace), i. 345;

Peace burning the arms of War, i. 390;

St. Jerome, ii. 159;

Temptation of St. Anthony, ii. 45, (note);

Mercury and the Woodman (National Gallery), i, 157.

Rubens and Cuyp, v. 249-260;

color of, i. 169;

landscape of, i. 91, 220, iii. 182, 318;

leaf drawing of, v. 35;

flowers of, v. 90;

realistic temper of, iii. 97;

symbolism of, iii. 96;

treatment of light, ii. 41, i. 165;

want of feeling for grace and mystery, iv. 14;

characteristics of, v. 251;

religion of, v. 252;

delight in martyrdoms, v. 251;

painting of dogs and horses by, v. 257, 258;

descriptions of his own pictures by, v. 252;

imitation of sunlight by, v. 315 (note);

hunts by, v. 258.

Pictures referred to--

Adoration of the Magi, i. 37;

Battle of the Amazons, v. 251;

Landscape, No. 175, Dulwich Gallery, iv. 15;

His Family, v. 252;

Waggoner, iii. 114;

Landscapes in Pitti Palace, i. 91;

Sunset behind a Tournament, iii. 318.

Ruysdael.

Pictures referred to--

Running and Falling Water, i. 325, 344;

Sea-piece, i. 344.

Schöngauer, Martin, joy in ugliness, iv. 329;

missal drawing of, iv. 329.

Snyders, painting of dogs by, v. 257.

Spagnoletto, vicious execution of, ii. 83.

Stanfield, Clarkson, architectural drawing of, i. 121;

boats of, i. 122;

chiaroscuro of, i. 281;

clouds of, i. 224, 243;

a realistic painter, i. 121, iv. 57 (note);

knowledge and power of, i. 353.

Pictures referred to--

Amalfi, ii. 228;

Borromean Islands, with St. Gothard in the distance, i. 282;

Botallack Mine (coast scenery), i. 313;

Brittany, near Dol, iv. 7;

Castle of Ischia, i. 122;

Doge's Palace at Venice, i. 122;

East Cliff, Hastings, i. 313;

Magra, ii. 228;

Rocks of Suli, i. 307;

Wreck on the Coast of Holland, i. 121.

Taylor, Frederick, drawings of, power of swift execution, i. 35, 257.

Teniers, scenery of, v. 253;

painter of low subjects, v. 256.

Pictures referred to--Landscape, No. 139,

Dulwich Gallery, i. 315.

Tintoret, coloring of, iii. 42;

delicacy of, iii. 38;

painting of vital truth from the vital present, iii. 90;

use of concentrically-grouped leaves by, ii. 73;

imagination, ii. 158, 159, 173, 180;

inadequacy of landscapes by, i. 78;

influence of hills upon, iv. 358;

intensity of imagination of, ii. 173, iv. 66;

introduction of portraiture in pictures, ii. 120;

luminous sky of, ii. 44;

modesty of, ii. 123;

neglectful of flower-beauty, v. 90;

mystery about the pencilling of, ii. 64;

no sympathy with the humor of the world, iv. 13;

painter of space, i. 87;

realistic temper of, iii. 97;

sacrifice of form to color by, ii. 201;

slightness and earnest haste of, ii. 82 (note), 187 (note);

symbolism of, iii. 96.

Pictures referred to--

Agony in the Garden, ii. 159;

Adoration of the Magi, iii. 78, 122, iv. 66;

Annunciation, ii. 174;

Baptism, ii. 176;

Cain and Abel, i. 399(note);

Crucifixion, ii. 178, 183, iii. 72, v. 197, 221;

Doge Loredano before the Madonna, ii. 204;

Entombment, ii. 174, iii. 316;

Fall of Adam, i. 80 (note);

Flight into Egypt, ii. 159, 202;

Golden Calf, ii. 207;

Last Judgment, ii. 181;

picture in Church of Madonna dell' Orto, i. 109;

Massacre of the Innocents, ii. 130, 179, 183;

Murder of Abel, i. 391;

Paradise, i. 338, iv. 66, v. 221, 229;

Plague of Fiery Serpents, ii. 183;

St. Francis, ii. 207;

Temptation, ii. 159, 189.

Titian, tone of, i. 148;

tree drawing of, i. 392;

want of foreshortening, v. 71;

bough drawing of, i. 392;

good leaf drawing, v. 35;

distant branches of, v. 38;

drawing of crests by, iv. 218;

color in the shadows of, iv. 47;

mind of, v. 226, 227;

imagination of, ii. 159;

master of heroic landscape, v. 194;

landscape of, i. 78, iii. 316;

influence of hills upon, iv. 358;

introduction of portraiture in pictures, ii. 120;

home of, v. 287, 288;

modesty of, ii. 123;

mystery about the pencilling of, iv. 62;

partial want of sense of beauty, ii. 136;

prefers jewels and fans to flowers, v. 90;

right conception of the human form, ii. 123, v. 228;

sacrifice of form to color by, ii. 202;

color of, v. 317, 318;

stones of, iv. 304, 305;

trees of, i. 392, ii. 73.

Pictures referred to--

Assumption, iv. 202 (note), v. 221, 229, 251, 312;

Bacchus and Ariadne, i. 83, 148, iii. 122, v. 89;

Death of Abel, i. 80 (note);

Entombment, iii. 122;

Europa (Dulwich Gallery), i. 148; Faith, i. 109;

Holy Family, v. 133 (note);

Madonna and Child, v. 170;

Madonna with St. Peter and St. George, v. 170;

Flagellation, ii. 44;

Magdalen (Pitti Palace), ii. 125, v. 226, 338 (note);

Marriage of St. Catherine, i. 91;

Portrait of Lavinia, v. 90, preface, viii.;

Older Lavinia, preface, viii.;

St. Francis receiving the Stigmata, i. 214 (note);

St. Jerome, i. 86, ii. 159;

St. John, ii. 120;

San Pietro Martire, ii. 159, 207;

Supper at Emmaus, iii. 19, 122;

Venus, iii. 63;

Notomie, v. 338.

Turner, William, of Oxford, mountain drawings, i. 305.

Turner, Joseph Mallord William, character of, v. 340, 342, 348;

affection of, for humble scenery, iv. 248, 249;

architectural drawing of, i. 109, 199;

his notion of "Eris" or "Discord," v. 308, 309;

admiration of, for Vandevelde, i. 328;

boyhood of, v. 288, 297;

chiaroscuro of, i. 134, 143, 148, 281, 366, iv. 40-55;

only painter of sun-color, v. 315;

painter of "the Rose and the Cankerworm," v. 324;

his subjection of color to chiaroscuro, i. 171;

color of, i. 134, 151, 157, 160, 166, 169, 171, ii. 202, iii. 236

(note), iv. 40, v. 319 (note);

composition of, iv. 27, 303;

curvature of, i. 125, iii. 118, iv. 192, 293;

tree drawing of, i. 394, v. 38, 65, 69, 72;

drawing of banks by, iv. 293, 297;

discovery of scarlet shadow by, v. 316, 317, 319;

drawing of cliffs by, iv. 246;

drawing of crests by, iv. 220, 222, 225;

drawing of figures by, i. 189;

drawing of reflections by, i. 151, 359, 361, 379;

drawing of leaves by, v. 38, 99;

drawing of water by, i. 355, 382;

exceeding refinement of truth in, i. 411;

education of, iii. 309, v. 299 (note);

execution of, v. 38;

ruin of his pictures by decay of pigments, i. 136 (note);

gradation of, i. 259;

superiority of intellect in, i. 29;

expression of weight in water by, i. 367, 376;

expression of infinite redundance by, iv. 291;

aspects, iii. 279, 307;

first great landscape painter, iii. 279, v. 325;

form sacrificed to color, ii. 201;

head of Pre-Raphaelitism, iv. 61;

master of contemplative landscape, v. 194;

work of, in first period, v. 297;

infinity of, i. 239, 282, iv. 287;

influence of Yorkshire scenery upon, i. 125, iv. 246, 296, 300, 309;

his love of stones and rocks, iii. 314, iv. 24;

love of rounded hills, iv. 246;

master of the science of aspects, 305;

mystery of, i. 198,257, 413, iv. 34, 61, v. 33;

painting of French and Swiss landscape by, i. 129;

spirit of pines not entered into by, v. 80, 81;

flowers not often painted by, v. 92;

painting of distant expanses of water by, i. 365;

rendering of Italian character by, i. 130;

skies of, i. 138, 201, 236, 237;

storm-clouds, how regarded by, v. 142;

study of clouds, by, i. 221, 236, 242, 250, 261, v. 118;

study of old masters by, iii. 322;

sketches of, v. 183, 184, 333, 334, (note), v. preface, v. vi.;

system of tone of, i. 143, 152, 363;

treatment of foregrounds by, i. 319, v. 98;

treatment of picturesque by, iv. 7-15;

treatment of snow mountains by, iv. 240;

memoranda of, v. 185, 187, 335 (note);

topography of, iv. 16-33;

unity of, i. 320;

views of Italy by, i. 132;

memory of, iv. 27, 30;

ideal conception of, i. 388;

endurance of ugliness by, v. 283, 289;

inventive imagination of, dependent on mental vision and truth of

impression, iv. 21-24, 308;

lessons to be learnt from Liber Studiorum, v. 332, 333;

life of, v. 341;

death of, v. 349.

Pictures referred to--

Æsacus and Hesparie, i. 394;

Acro-Corinth, i. 221;

Alnwick, i. 127, 269;

Ancient Italy, i. 131;

Apollo and Sibyl, v. 331;

Arona with St. Gothard, i. 262;

Assos, i. 201 (note);

Avenue of Brienne, i. 178;

Babylon, i. 236;

Bamborough, i. 375;

Bay of Baiæ, i. 132, 324, iii. 311, v. 98, 323;

Bedford, i. 127;

Ben Lomond, i. 258;

Bethlehem, i. 242;

Bingen, i. 268;

Blenheim, i. 268;

Bolton Abbey, i. 394, iii. 118, iv. 249;

Bonneville in Savoy, i. 133;

Boy of Egremont, i. 372;

Buckfastleigh, i. 267, iv. 14;

Building of Carthage, i. 29, 136, 147, 162, 171, iii. 311;

Burning of Parliament House, i. 269;

Cærlaverock, i. 202 (note), 264;

Calais, i. 269;

Calder Bridge, i. 183;

Caldron Snout Fall, i. 268;

Caliglula's Bridge, i. 131, v. 331;

Canale della Guidecco, i. 362;

Carew Castle, i. 268;

Carthages, the two, i. 131, v. 337;

Castle Upnor, i. 267, 359;

Chain Bridge over the Tees, i. 368, 394;

Château de la Belle Gabrielle, i. 394, v. 61;

Château of Prince Albert, i. 357;

Cicero's Villa, i. 131, 136, 146, 147;

Cliff from Bolton Abbey, iii. 321;

Constance, i. 367;

Corinth, i. 267;

Coventry, i. 254, 268;

Cowes, i. 268, 363, 365;

Crossing the Brook, i. 131, 170, 394;

Daphne and Leucippus, i. 200, 201 (note), 293, 300, iv. 291, v. 98;

Dartmouth (river scenery), i. 212;

Dartmouth Cove (Southern Coast), i. 394;

Dazio Grande, i. 372;

Departure of Regulus, i. 131;

Devenport, with the Dockyards, i. 159 (note), 366;

Dragon of the Hesperides, iii. 97, v. 306, 311;

Drawing of the spot where Harold fell, ii. 200;

Drawings of the rivers of France, i. 129;

Drawings of Swiss Scenery, i. 129;

Drawing of the Chain of the Alps of the Superga above Turin, iii.

125;

Drawing of Mount Pilate, iv. 227, 298;

Dudley, i. 173 (note), 269;

Durham, i. 267, 394;

Dunbar, i. 376;

Dunstaffnage, i. 231, 285;

Ely, i. 410;

Eton College, i. 127;

Faïdo, Pass of, iv. 21, 222;

Fall of Carthage, i. 146, 171;

Fall of Schaffhausen, v. 167, 325 (note);

Flight into Egypt, i. 242;

Fire at Sea, v. 189 (note);

Folkestone, i. 242, 268;

Fort Augustus, i. 305;

Fountain of Fallacy, i. 131;

Fowey Harbor, i. 267, 376, v. 142 (note);

Florence, i. 132;

Glencoe, i. 285;

Goldau (a recent drawing) i. 264 (note);

Goldau, i. 367, iv. 312, v. 337 (note);

Golden Bough, iv. 291;

Gosport, i. 257;

Great Yarmouth, i. 383 (note);

Hannibal passing the Alps, i. 130;

Hampton Court, i. 178;

Hero and Leander, i. 131, 177, 242, 375, 409, v. 188 (note);

Holy Isle, iii. 310;

Illustration to the Antiquary, i. 264;

Inverary, v. 65;

Isola Bella, iii. 125;

Ivy Bridge, i. 133, iii. 121;

Jason, ii. 171;

Juliet and her Nurse, i. 135, 137 (note), 269;

Junction of the Greta and Tees, i. 372, iv. 309;

Kenilworth, i. 268;

Killie-Crankie, i. 371;

Kilgarren, i. 127;

Kirby Lonsdale Churchyard, i. 267, 394, iv. 14, 315;

Lancaster Sands, i. 340;

Land's End, i. 251 (note), 253, 352, 376, 377;

Laugharne, i. 376;

Llanberis, i. 93, 268, v. 320 (note) (English series);

Llanthony Abbey, i. 127, 173 (note), 251, 321, 371;

Long Ship's Lighthouse, i. 253;

Lowestoft, i. 267, 352, 383 (note);

Lucerne, iv. 227;

"Male Bolge"(of the Splugen and St. Gothard), iv. 315;

Malvern, i. 268;

Marly, i. 80, 399;

Mercury and Argus, i. 145, 167, 172 (note), 198, 221, 318, 324,

372, v. 62;

Modern Italy, i. 132, 172 (note), iv. 291;

Morecambe Bay, i. 258;

Mount Lebanon, i. 293;

Murano, view of, i. 138;

Napoleon, i. 151, 162, 163, 170, 221, 268, 310, v. 118, 330 (note);

Napoleon at St. Helena, iv. 314;

Narcissus and Echo, v. 299;

Nemi, i. 268;

Nottingham, i. 268, 359, iv. 29;

Oakhampton, i. 127, 258, 267, 400;

Oberwesel, i. 268, 305;

Orford, Suffolk, i. 267;

Ostend, i. 380;

Palestrina, i. 132;

Pas de Calais, i. 339, 380;

Penmaen Mawr, i. 323;

Picture of the Deluge, i. 346;

Pools of Solomon, i. 237, 268, v. 116;

Port Ruysdael, i. 380;

Pyramid of Caius Cestius, i. 269;

Python, v. 315, 316;

Rape of Proserpine, i. 131;

Rheinfels, v. 335 (note);

Rhymer's Glen, i. 371;

Richmond (Middlesex), i. 268;

Richmond (Yorkshire), i. 261, iv. 14, v. 93;

Rome from the Forum, i. 136, v. 359;

Salisbury, v. 144;

Saltash, i. 268, 359;

San Benedetto, looking toward Fusina, i. 362, 138, v. 118;

Scarborough, iii. 121;

Shores of Wharfe, iv. 248;

Shylock, i. 221, 268;

Sketches in National Gallery, v. 182, 183;

Sketches in Switzerland, i. 138;

Slave Ship, i. 135, 137 (note), 146, 151, 170, 261, 268, ii. 209,

iv. 314, v. 142, 336;

Snowstorm, i. 130, 170, 352, v. 342 (note);

St. Gothard, iv. 27, 292, 300;

St. Herbert's Isle, i. 269;

St. Michael's Mount, i. 261, 263;

Stonehenge, i. 260, 268, v. 143 (English series);

Study (Block of Gniess at Chamouni), iii. 125;

Study (Pæstum) v. 145;

Sun of Venice going to Sea, i. 138, 361;

Swiss Fribourg, iii. 125;

Tantallon Castle, i. 377;

Tees (Upper Fall of), i. 319, 323, 367, iv. 309;

Tees (Lower Fall of), i. 322, 371;

Temptation on the Mountain (Illustration to Milton), ii. 210;

Temple of Jupiter, i. 131, iii. 310;

Temple of Minerva, v. 145;

Tenth Plague of Egypt, i. 130, v. 295 (note), 299;

The Old Téméraire, i. 135, iv. 314, v. 118, 290;

Tivoli, i. 132;

Towers of Héve, i. 269;

Trafalgar, v. 290;

Trematon Castle, i. 268;

Ulleswater, i. 322, 258, iv. 300;

Ulysses and Polypheme, iv. 314, v. 336 (note);

various vignettes, i. 267;

Venices, i. 109, 268, v. 337, 338;

Walhalla, i. 136 (note);

Wall Tower of a Swiss Town, iv. 71;

Warwick, i. 268, 394;

Waterloo, i. 261, 269;

Whitby, iii. 310;

Wilderness of Engedi, i. 201 (note), 269;

Winchelsea (English series), i. 172 (note), 268;

Windsor, from Eton, i. 127;

Wycliffe, near Rokeby, iv. 309.

Finden's Bible Series:--

Babylon, i. 236;

Bethlehem, i. 242;

Mount Lebanon, i. 293, v. 145;

Sinai, v. 145;

Pyramids of Egypt, i. 242;

Pool of Solomon, i. 237, v. 116;

Fifth Plague of Egypt, i. 130, v. 299.

Illustrations to Campbell:--

Hohenlinden, i. 267;

Second Vignette, i. 258;

The Andes, i. 277;

Vignette to the Beech-tree's Petition, i. 177;

Vignette to Last Man, i. 264.

Illustrations to Rogers' "Italy:"--

Amalfi, i. 239;

Aosta, i. 277;

Battle of Marengo, i. 273, 285;

Farewell, i. 285;

Lake of Albano, i. 268;

Lake of Como, i. 238;

Lake of Geneva, i. 238, 267;

Lake of Lucerne, i. 263, 367;

Perugia, i. 174;

Piacenza, i. 268, 296;

Pæstum, i. 260, 268;

Second Vignette, i. 264, 372;

The Great St. Bernard, i. 263;

Vignette to St. Maurice, i. 263, 263 (note), v. 127.

Illustrations to Rogers' "Poems:"

Bridge of Sighs, i. 269;

Datur Hora Quieti, i. 145, 268, v. 167;

Garden opposite title-page, i. 177;

Jacqueline, i. 277, ii. 210;

Loch Lomond, i. 365;

Rialto, i. 242, 269;

Sunset behind Willows, i. 147;

Sunrise, i. 212;

Sunrise on the Sea, i. 222, 263;

the Alps at Daybreak, i. 223, 264, 267, 276;

Vignette to Human Life, i. 267;

Vignette to Slowly along the Evening Sky, i. 217;

Vignette to the Second Part of Jacqueline, ii. 210;

Villa of Galileo, i. 132;

Voyage of Columbus, i. 242, 267, ii. 201.

Illustrations to Scott:--

Armstrong's Tower, i. 178;

Chiefswood Cottage, i. 394;

Derwentwater, i. 365;

Dryburgh, i. 366;

Dunstaffnage, i. 261, 285;

Glencoe, i. 285, 293;

Loch Archray, i. 285;

Loch Coriskin, i. 252, 292, iv. 220;

Loch Katrine, i. 298, 365;

Melrose, i. 336;

Skiddaw, i. 267, 305.

Liber Studiorum:--

Æsacus and Hesperie, i. 130, 400 (note), ii. 162;

Ben Arthur, i. 126, iv. 308, 309;

Blair Athol, i. 394;

Cephalus and Procris, i. 394, 400 (note), ii. 160, 207, iii. 317,

v. 334;

Chartreuse, i. 127, 394, iii. 317;

Chepstow, v. 333;

Domestic subjects of L. S., i. 127;

Dunstan borough, v. 333;

Foliage of L. S., i. 128;

Garden of Hesperides, iii. 310, v. 310;

Gate of Winchelsea Wall, v. 330;

Raglan, v. 333;

Rape of Europa, v. 334;

Via Mala, v. 336 (note), iv. 259;

Isis, v. 171, 172;

Hedging and Ditching, i. 127, 394, v. 333;

Jason, i. 130, ii. 171, 199, iii. 317;

Juvenile Tricks, i. 394;

Lauffenbourg, i. 128, iii. 327, v. 170;

Little Devil's Bridge, i. 127, iv. 27;

Lianberis, i. 258;

Mer de Glace, i. 126, 287, iv. 191;

Mill near Grande Chartreuse, iv. 259, v. 333;

Morpeth Tower, v. 333;

Mont St. Gothard, i. 127, 311 (note);

Peat Bog, iii. 317, v. 333;

Rivaulx choir, v. 333;

Rizpah, i. 130, iii. 317, iv. 14, v. 295, 334;

Solway Moss, iii. 317;

Source of Avernon, iv. 308, v. 80;

Study of the Lock, iv. 7, v. 332;

Young Anglers, v. 333;

Water Mill, v. 333.

Rivers of France, i. 129;

Amboise, i. 184, 269;

Amboise (the Château), i. 184;

Beaugency, i. 184;

Blois, i. 183;

Blois (Château de), i. 183, 202, 269;

Caudebec, i. 269, 302, 366;

Château Gaillard, i. 183;

Clairmont, i. 269, 303;

Confluence of the Seine and Marne, i. 364;

Drawings of, i. 130;

Havre, i. 224;

Honfleur, i. 304;

Jumièges, i. 250, 364;

La Chaise de Gargantua, i. 364;

Loire, i. 363;

Mantes, i. 269;

Mauves, i. 303;

Montjan, i. 269;

Orleans, i. 183;

Quilleboeuf, i. 377, 170;

Reitz, near Saumur, v. 164, 165;

Rouen, i. 410, v. 118;

Rouen, from St. Catherine's Hill, i. 240, 366;

St. Denis, i. 264, 269;

St. Julien, i. 184, 269;

The Lantern of St. Cloud, i. 268;

Troyes, i. 269;

Tours, i. 184, 269;

Vernon, i. 364.

Yorkshire Series:--

Aske Hall, i. 394, v. 70;

Brignall Church, i. 394;

Hardraw Fall, iv. 309;

Ingleborough, iv. 249;

Greta, iv. 14, 248;

Junction of the Greta and Tees, i. 322, 372, iv. 309;

Kirkby Lonsdale, i. 267, 394, iv. 14, 313;

Richmond, i. 261, iv. 14, v. 38;

Richmond Castle, iii. 230;

Tees (Upper Fall of), i. 319, 323, 367, iv. 309;

Zurich, i. 367.

Uccello, Paul, Battle of Sant' Egidio, National Gallery, v. 5, 281.

Uwin's Vineyard Scene in the South of France, ii. 229.

Vandevelde, reflection of, i. 359;

waves of, iii. 324;

Vessels Becalmed, No. 113, Dulwich Gallery, i. 340.

Vandyke, flowers of, v. 90;

delicacy of, v. 275 (note).

Pictures--

Portrait of King Charles' Children, v. 90;

the Knight, v. 273 (note).

Veronese, Paul, chiaroscuro of, iii. 35, iv. 41, 47;

color in the shadows of, iv. 47;

delicacy of, iii. 38;

influence of hills upon, iv. 350;

love of physical beauty, iii. 33;

mystery about the pencilling of, iv. 61;

no sympathy with the tragedy and horror of the world, iv. 14;

sincerity of manner, iii. 41;

symbolism of, iii. 96;

treatment of the open sky, ii. 44;

tree drawing of, v. 67;

foreground of, v. 90;

religion of, (love casting out fear), v. 222;

animal painting, compared with Landseer's, ii. 202;

Pictures--

Entombment, ii. 44;

Magdalen washing the feet of Christ, iii. 19, 30;

Marriage in Cana, iii. 122, iv. 66, v. 196, 220, 221;

two fresco figures at Venice, i. 110;

Supper at Emmaus, iii. 30, 60;

Queen of Sheba, v. preface, vii. 224;

Family of Veronese, v. 222, 224;

Holy Family v. 225;

Veronica, v. 226;

Europa, v. 90, 170;

Triumph of Venice, v. 170;

Family of Darius, National Gallery, v. 189.

Vinci, Leonardo da, chiaroscuro of, iv. 47 (and note);

completion of detail by, iii. 122;

drapery of, iv. 48;

finish of, ii. 84, iii. 261;

hatred of fog, iv. 56;

introduction of portraiture in pictures, ii. 120;

influence of hills upon, iv. 356;

landscape of, i. 88;

love of beauty, iii. 41;

rocks of, iii. 239;

system of contrast of masses, iv. 42.

Pictures--

Angel, ii. 176;

Cenacolo, ii. 215;

Holy Family (Louvre), i. 88;

Last Supper, iii. 26, 341;

St. Anne, iv. 302, iii. 122.

Wallis, snow scenes of, i. 286 (note).

Wouvermans, leaves of, v. 33;

landscape of, v. 195;

vulgarity of, v. 278, 281;

contrast between, and Angelico, v. 283.

Pictures referred to--

Landscape, with hunting party, v. 278;

Battle piece, with bridge, v. 280.

Zeuxis, picture of Centaur, v. 258.

TOPICAL INDEX.

Abstraction necessary, when realization is impossible, ii. 206.

Æsthetic faculty, defined, ii. 12, 16.

Age, the present, mechanical impulse of, iii. 301, 302;

spirit of, iii. 302, 303;

our greatest men nearly all unbelievers, iii. 253, 264;

levity of, ii. 170.

See Modern.

Aiguilles, structure of, iv. 174;

contours of, iv. 178, 190;

curved cleavage of, iv. 186, 192, 193, 210-214;

angular forms of, iv. 179, 191;

how influencing the earth, iv. 193;

Dez Charmoz, sharp horn of, iv. 177;

Blaitière, curves of, iv. 185-188;

of Chamouni, sculpture of, 160, 182.

See Local Index.

Alps, Tyrolese, v. 216;

aërialness of, at great distances, i. 277;

gentians on, v. 89;

roses on, v. 99;

pines on, iv. 290, v. 86;

ancient glaciers of, iv. 169;

color of, iii. 233;

influence of, on Swiss character, iv. 356, v. 83;

general structure of, iv. 164;

higher, impossible to paint snow mountains, iv. 240;

precipices of, iv. 260, 261;

suggestive of Paradise, iv. 346;

sunrise in, i. 264.

See Mountains.

Anatomy, development of, admissible only in subordination to laws of

beauty, ii. 221;

not to be substituted for apparent aspect, iv. 187.

Animals, proportion in, ii. 58 (note), 64;

moral functions of, ii. 94, 95, 97;

lower ideal form of, ii. 104;

noble qualities of, v. 203.

Animal Painting, of the Dutch school, v. 254, 258;

of the Venetian, 255, 258;

of the moderns, v. 257, 273.

Architecture, influence of bad, on artists, iii. 311;

value of signs of age in, i. 104, 106;

importance of chiaroscuro in rendering of, i. 106, 107;

early painting of, how deficient, i. 103;

how regarded by the author, v. 197;

Renaissance chiefly expressive of pride, iii. 63;

lower than sculpture or painting, the idea of utility being dominant,

ii. 10 (note);

and trees, coincidences between, v. 19;

of Nuremberg, v. 232;

Venetian, v. 295.

Art, definition of greatness in, i. 8, 11, iii. 3-10, 39;

imitative, noble or ignoble according to its purpose, iii. 20, 202;

practical, ii. 8;

theoretic, ii. 8;

profane, iii. 61;

ideality of, ii. 110;

in what sense useful, ii. 3, 4;

perfection of, in what consisting, i. 357;

first aim of, the representation of facts, i. 45, 46;

highest aim of, the expression of thought, i. 45, 46;

truth, a just criterion of, i. 48;

doubt as to the use of, iii. 19;

laws of, how regarded by imaginative and unimaginative painters, ii.

155;

neglect of works of, ii. 6, 8 (note);

nobleness of, in what consisting, iii. 21, 22;

noble, right minuteness of, v. 175;

meaning of "style," different selection of particular truths to be

indicated, i. 95;

bad, evil effects of the habitual use of, iv. 334;

love of, the only effective patronage, ii. 3;

sacred, general influence of, iii. 55;

misuse of, in religious services, iii. 59, 60;

religious, of Italy, abstract, iii. 48, 58, v. 219;

religious, of Venice, Naturalistic, iii. 78, v. 214, 226;

Christian, divisible into two great masses, symbolic and imitative,

iii. 203;

Christian, opposed to pagan, ii. 222, 223;

"Christian," denied, the flesh, v. 203;

high, consists in the truthful presentation of the maximum of beauty,

iii. 34;

high, modern ideal of, iii. 65;

highest, purely imaginative, iii. 39;

highest, dependent on sympathy, iv. 9;

highest, chiaroscuro necessary in, i. 79;

modern, fatal influence of the sensuality of, iii. 65;

allegorical, iii. 95;

essays on, by the author, distinctive character of, v. preface, x. v.

196;

influence of climate on, v. 133;

influence of scenery on, v. 214, 232, 235, 287;

Venetian, v. 188, 214, 226;

classical defined, v. 242;

Angelican, iii. 50-57, v. 282;

Greek, v. 209;

Dutch, v. 277.

See Painting, Painters.

Art, Great, definition of, i. 8-11, iii. 3, 10, 41;

characteristics of, i. 305, iii. 26-41, 88, v. 158, 175, 178, 202;

not to be taught, iii. 43, 141;

the expression of the spirits of great men, iii. 43, v. 179;

represents something seen and believed, iii. 80;

sets forth the true nature and authority of freedom, v. 203;

relation of, to man, v. 203.

See Style.

Artists, danger of spirit of choice to, ii. 26;

right aim of, i. 425, 426, iii. 19;

their duty in youth, to begin as patient realists, i. 423;

choice of subject by, ii. 188, iii. 27, 28, iii. 35, iv. 290, iv. 18

(note);

should paint what they love, ii. 217;

mainly divided into two classes, i. 74, 315;

necessity of singleness of aim in, i. 423, 424, v. 179.

See Painters.

Artists, Great, characteristics of, i. 8, 123, 327, ii. 42, iii. 26-41;

forgetfulness of self in, i. 84;

proof of real imagination in, i. 306;

calmness of, v. 191;

delight in symbolism, iii. 93;

qualities of, v. 191;

keenness of sight in, iv. 188;

sympathy of, with nature, ii. 90, iii. 177, iv. 13, 70, ii. 92;

with humanity, iv. 9, 11, 13, iii. 63, ii. 169, v. 198, 203;

live wholly in their own age, iii. 90.

Artists, Religious, ii. 174, 176, 180, 216, iii. 48-60, iv. 355;

imaginative and unimaginative, distinction between, ii. 154, 156;

history of the Bible has yet to be painted, iii. 58.

Asceticism, ii. 114, three forms of, v. 325.

Association, of two kinds, accidental and rational, ii. 33, 34;

unconscious influence of, ii. 34;

power of, iii. 17, ii. 45, v. 216;

charm of, by whom felt, iii. 292, 309;

influence of, on enjoyment of landscape, iii. 289.

Bacon, master of the science of essence, iii. 307;

compared with Pascal, iv. 361.

Banks, formation of, iv. 262;

curvature of, iv. 262, 278, 282;

luxuriant vegetation of, iv. 125.