The subjects for a landscape painter are as unlimited in extent as they are interesting from the variety of character every object is capable of assuming, whether grave or cheerful, brilliant or gloomy. We have the infinitely va ried appearance of water, for instance, whether reflecting on its glassy surface all the beauties of surrounding na ture, or raging and chafing against opposing rocks, whe ther bounding from the cliff with turmoil, or kissing in si lence the flowery bank that meets its embrace. Again, we have the spreading lake, or the dark pool, and the wide expanse of ocean in all its changing forms. The nature of our sccnery is uniformly soothing and beautiful, whe ther it be a scene of fresh smiling meadows or tufted fo vest ; extensive plains covered with harvest, and busy trade ; town; rolling their smoke, or the wild mountains of the D.Zirth melting into vapour, instead of the cutting line of clear distance under an Italian sky. The ever-changing and partial lights of our varied sky, with its magnificent canopy of rolling clouds, folding into new forms of ele gance as we gaze upon them, blending their rich tints in every possible gradation ; from the dark thunder cloud to the gilded beams of our setting sun, offer inexhaustible food for a painter's eye. And yet, how surprising it is to observe, that, in no part of landscape painting is manner ism so prevalent as in the sky ! Such is the uniformity of some painters, that they seem to have looked to heaven but once in their lives, and dress up every picture in the same artificial garb; while the inexhaustibly varied beauty of our insular sky invites their study, and offers a ready field for the exercise of taste, in form, colour, grouping, and blending of tints, in the most fascinating richness. The sky is, moreover, the key note, which ought to regu late the whole harmony of a picture, depending upon that law in nature, so difficult of imitation, and yet so obvious, of a reciprocal communication of light and colour, from every object in nature to all within the sphere of its ac tion. Painting can but approximate to all the niceties, combinations, and intricacies, of direct and reflected light, involving the contrasted obscurities of these objects, or parts of objects, least exposed to it, and modified by the almost imperceptible gradation of intensity as it recedes from the eye. When we add to this, the infinite inter change of tints, affecting every object in nature, which may be said altogether to elude common observation, and not to be easily detected, in all their niceties, by those most familiar with the study; we shall be less disposed to underrate the merits and difficulties of landscape paint ing.
One of the greatest landscape painters of the present age, Mr. Turner, seems to have grappled so vigorously with this important desideratum in the art, that much may be expected from his sstem of study and acute ob servation. So far as he has gone, eminent success has at tended his footsteps ; and, aided by the discoveries daily making in the mysteries of light, his scrutinizing genius seems to tremble on the verge of some new discovery in colour, which may prove of the first importance to the art. His idea has been taken up by others, and the rivalry of so many men of genius is likely to work out something more definite, on the subject of light and colour, than our ideas have hitherto attained ; something to furnish a guid ing clue to the infinite modifications which as yet perplex the intense observer of the effects of nature. The diffi culty arises from the want of some plain guiding princi ple ; for in this, as in every thing else, the laws of nature are uniform and constant, were we capable of applying the rule; but, bewildered in the immeasurable intricacies and variety, all we can at present do, is to hazard a sort of re semblance. Turner has struck out a new route, by the singular mixture of prismatic colours, with which he re presents sky and water ; the idea is singularly acute and philosophical, if we consider the optical properties of the changing surface of the water. So long as we are engag
ed with direct light, it is comparatively simple. We may interpose objects, so as dexterously to intercept the light where we wish it to fall, and thus produce an effect gene rally harmonious; but exactness in the minuter parts,. strictly conformable to the laws of physics, seems, as yet, beyond our reach. We can but approximate, or take ad vantage of a fortunate chance, as very different and unex pected results often arise from the combinations of colours, and the blending of light and shade. No one could, a pri ori, expect the neutral tint of water to result from combirt ing the distinct and brilliant colours of the prism, upon the modifications of which, however, depend all the indescrib ably varied hues of that element.
The requisites of a skilful landscape are many ; and not the least indispensable, is the preservation of a due pro portion betwixt the figures, trees, and various objects of which it consists ; the figures ought to have a meaning, and appear at home. Poussin excelled in this particular, by giving such interest and nobleness to his accompanying figures, that he made the landscape seem to accompany them.
Another important feature is that of the trees, in the execution of which there is much difference in the modes of different painters. Some entirely sacrifice detail to ge neral character, while others consider distinct leafing as in all cases indispensable. If we take nature for our guide, this circumstance ought to be regulated by distance alone, and the power of vision. Trees have a general character, governed by the usual disposition of their growth, produc ing a certain cast of form. This, at some distance, is all by which we can judge of their kind, and the circumstance, united to the tone of colour, which ought to guide the painter. But when we approach within the sphere of dis tinctly seeing the foliage, it ought doubtless to be attend ed to, however much, in the general view of a picture, we may seem insensible to such details ; and aware of nothing beyond the general mass, until we exclusively direct our attention to that individual object. These details produce no distraction in nature ; as little ought they to do so in a picture : on the contrary, when, after the first general view, we come to examine a picture more closely, the il lusion becomes readily disenchanted, if we find an hazy and indefinite mass where we expected to see the animat ing play of foliage. Not that we would wish to find the microscopic laboriousness of some of the Dutch and Ger man landscape painters, whose trees are painted with the most fatiguing accuracy, peopled with little birds, whose plumage is designed with the minute precision of a natu ralist; but we require the power of discerning, with the same facility we can in nature, the distinctive features of the individual tree intended. It is not enough that we should paint the cedar of its sombre hue; it must be une quivocally a cedar, and not a fir or holly tree; in short, the characteristic touch of each species ought not to be less marked than its appropriate colour or mode of growth. The great difficulty in tree painting depends upon a dex terous management of these requisites, which is, unfortu nately, not easily accomplished without disturbing the re pose by spottiness, or tormenting the eyes by such intri cacies as some of Ruysdale's and Swancvelt's otherwise beautiful forest scenery present. It is an easy matter to throw in, with grace and dexterity, the general massing and prominent characters of trees, leaving to the imagina tion the more difficult task of detail; for a sketch this suits admirably, and constitutes one of its greatest charms, but it will not do for a finished picture, and destroys the merit of many of our modern productions.