button to main menu  Gents Mag 1843 part 2 p.465

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Gentleman's Magazine 1843 part 2 p.465
but you will not destroy its angles. And if you watch a tree in the wildest storm, you will find that, though all its boughs are bending, none lose their character, but the utmost shoots and sapling spray. Hence Gaspar Poussin, by his bad drawing, does not make his storm strong but his tree weak; he does not make his gust violent, but his boughs of India-rubber," &c.
After comparing the superior truth of Turner is his delineation of trees, and that of other modern artists, as Harding and Creswick, and showing how amid intricacy they have marked and preserved nature's unity and harmony of shade, the perfect repose and quiet resulting from the whole, he goes on to say,
"Now it is here that Hobbima and Both fail. They can paint oak leafage faithfully, but do not know where to stop, and by doing too much lose the truth of all, - lose the very truth of detail at which they aim, for all their minute work only gives two leaves to nature's twenty. They are evidently incapable of even thinking of a tree, much more of drawing it, except leaf by leaf; they have no notion or sense of simplicity, mass, or obscurity, and when they come to distance, where it is totally impossible that leaves should be separately seen, yet being incapable of conceiving or rendering the grand and quiet forms of truth, they are reduced to paint their bushes with dots and touches expressive of leaves three feet broad each. Nevertheless there is a genuine aim in their works, and their failure is rather to be attributed to ignorance of art, than to such want of sense for nature as we find in Claude* or Poussin; and when they come close home, we sometimes receive from them fine passages of mechanical truth," &c.
In one of his concluding chapters the author concentrates his remarks on the truth of his favourite artist Turner, whose works he has delighted to illustrate, and to whose genius he has laboured to raise a monument of glory, composed of the ruins of his predecessors, and of those false shrines which he considers to have been so unworthily frequented by worshippers.
"The difference in the accuracy of the lines of the Torso in the Vatican, (the Maestro of M. Angelo,) from those in one of M. Angelo's finest works, could perhaps scarcely be appreciated by any eye or feeling undisciplined by the most perfect and practical anotomical knowledge. It rests on points of such traceless and refined delicacy, that, though we feel them in the result, we cannot follow them in the details. Yet they are such and so great as to place the Torso alone in art, solitary and supreme, while the finest of M. Angelo's works, considered with respect to truth alone, are said to be only on a level with antiques of the second class, under vthe Apollo and the Venus, that is, two classes or grades below the Torso. But suppose the best sculptor in the world, possessing the most entire appreciation of the excellence of the Torso, were to sit down pen in hand, to try and tell us wherein the peculiar truth of each line consisted? could any words that he could use make us feel the hairs-breadth of depth and distance on which all depends? or end in anything more than bare assertions of the inferiority of this line to that, which, if we did not perceive for ourselves, no explanation could ever illustarte to us? He might as well endeavour to explain to us by words some taste or other subject of sense of which we had no experience. And so it is of all truths of the highest order; they are separated from those of average precision by points of extreme delicacy, which none but the cultivated eye can in the least feel, and to express which all words are absolutely meaningless and useless. Consequently, in all that I have been saying of the truth of artists, I have been able to point out only coarse, broad, and explicable matters: I have been perfectly unable to express (and indeed I have made no endeavour to express) the finely-drawn and distinguished truth in which all the real excellence of art consists. All those truths which I have been able to explain and demonstrate in Turner are such as any artist of ordiinary powers of observation
* The author owns that the foliage of Claude in his middle distances is the finest and truest parts of his pictures, and on the whole affords the best examples of good drawing to be found in ancient art, though he says that it is false in colour, and has not boughs enough amongst it.
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