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his day he says that it is 'simply an enumeration of hill and dale；
stumps of trees； shrubs； water； meadows； cottages and houses；
little more than topography； a kind of pictorial map…work； in which
rainbows； showers； mists； haloes； large beams shooting through
rifted clouds； storms； starlight； all the most valued materials of
the real painter； are not。' He had a thorough dislike of what is
obvious or commonplace in art； and while he was charmed to
entertain Wilkie at dinner； he cared as little for Sir David's
pictures as he did for Mr。 Crabbe's poems。 With the imitative and
realistic tendencies of his day he had no sympathy and he tells us
frankly that his great admiration for Fuseli was largely due to the
fact that the little Swiss did not consider it necessary that an
artist should paint only what he sees。 The qualities that he
sought for in a picture were composition； beauty and dignity of
line； richness of colour； and imaginative power。 Upon the other
hand； he was not a doctrinaire。 'I hold that no work of art can be
tried otherwise than by laws deduced from itself： whether or not
it be consistent with itself is the question。' This is one of his
excellent aphorisms。 And in criticising painters so different as
Landseer and Martin； Stothard and Etty； he shows that； to use a
phrase now classical； he is trying 'to see the object as in itself
it really is。'
However； as I pointed out before； he never feels quite at his ease
in his criticisms of contemporary work。 'The present；' he says；
'is about as agreeable a confusion to me as Ariosto on the first
perusal。 。 。 。 Modern things dazzle me。 I must look at them
through Time's telescope。 Elia complains that to him the merit of
a MS。 poem is uncertain； 〃print；〃 as he excellently says； 〃settles
it。〃 Fifty years' toning does the same thing to a picture。' He is
happier when he is writing about Watteau and Lancret； about Rubens
and Giorgione； about Rembrandt； Corregio； and Michael Angelo；
happiest of all when he is writing about Greek things。 What is
Gothic touched him very little； but classical art and the art of
the Renaissance were always dear to him。 He saw what our English
school could gain from a study of Greek models； and never wearies
of pointing out to the young student the artistic possibilities
that lie dormant in Hellenic marbles and Hellenic methods of work。
In his judgments on the great Italian Masters； says De Quincey；
'there seemed a tone of sincerity and of native sensibility； as in
one who spoke for himself； and was not merely a copier from books。'
The highest praise that we can give to him is that he tried to
revive style as a conscious tradition。 But he saw that no amount
of art lectures or art congresses； or 'plans for advancing the fine
arts；' will ever produce this result。 The people； he says very
wisely； and in the true spirit of Toynbee Hall； must always have
'the best models constantly before their eyes。'
As is to be expected from one who was a painter； he is often
extremely technical in his art criticisms。 Of Tintoret's 'St。
George delivering the Egyptian Princess from the Dragon；' he
remarks：…
The robe of Sabra； warmly glazed with Prussian blue； is relieved
from the pale greenish background by a vermilion scarf； and the
full hues of both are beautifully echoed； as it were； in a lower
key by the purple…lake coloured stuffs and bluish iron armour of
the saint； besides an ample balance to the vivid azure drapery on
the foreground in the indigo shades of the wild wood surrounding
the castle。
And elsewhere he talks learnedly of 'a delicate Schiavone； various
as a tulip…bed； with rich broken tints；' of 'a glowing portrait；
remarkable for MORBIDEZZA； by the scarce Moroni；' and of another
picture being 'pulpy in the carnations。'
But； as a rule； he deals with his impressions of the work as an
artistic whole； and tries to translate those impressions into
words； to give； as it were； the literary equivalent for the
imaginative and mental effect。 He was one of the first to develop
what has been called the art…literature of the nineteenth century；
that form of literature which has found in Mr。 Ruskin and Mr。
Browning； its two most perfect exponents。 His description of
Lancret's REPAS ITALIEN； in which 'a dark…haired girl； 〃amorous of
mischief；〃 lies on the daisy…powdered grass；' is in some respects
very charming。 Here is his account of 'The Crucifixion；' by
Rembrandt。 It is extremely characteristic of his style：…
Darkness … sooty； portentous darkness … shrouds the whole scene：
only above the accursed wood； as if through a horrid rift in the
murky ceiling； a rainy deluge … 'sleety…flaw； discoloured water' …
streams down amain； spreading a grisly spectral light； even more
horrible than that palpable night。 Already the Earth pants thick
and fast！ the darkened Cross trembles！ the winds are dropt … the
air is stagnant … a muttering rumble growls underneath their feet；
and some of that miserable crowd begin to fly down the hill。 The
horses snuff the coming terror； and become unmanageable through
fear。 The moment rapidly approaches when； nearly torn asunder by
His own weight； fainting with loss of blood； which now runs in
narrower rivulets from His slit veins； His temples and breast
drowned in sweat； and His black tongue parched with the fiery
death…fever； Jesus cries； 'I thirst。' The deadly vinegar is
elevated to Him。
His head sinks； and the sacred corpse 'swings senseless of the
cross。' A sheet of vermilion flame shoots sheer through the air
and vanishes； the rocks of Carmel and Lebanon cleave asunder； the
sea rolls on high from the sands its black weltering waves。 Earth
yawns； and the graves give up their dwellers。 The dead and the
living are mingled together in unnatural conjunction and hurry
through the holy city。 New prodigies await them there。 The veil
of the temple … the unpierceable veil … is rent asunder from top to
bottom； and that dreaded recess containing the Hebrew mysteries …
the fatal ark with the tables and seven…branched candelabrum … is
disclosed by the light of unearthly flames to the God…deserted
multitude。
Rembrandt never painted this sketch； and he was quite right。 It
would have lost nearly all its charms in losing that perplexing
veil of indistinctness which affords such ample range wherein the
doubting imagination may speculate。 At present it is like a thing
in another world。 A dark gulf is betwixt us。 It is not tangible
by the body。 We can only approach it in the spirit。
In this passage； written； the author tells us； 'in awe and
reverence；' there is much that is terrible； and very much that is
quite horrible； but it is not without a certain crude form of
power； or； at any rate； a certain crude violence of words； a
quality which this age should highly appreciate； as it is its chief
defect。 It is pleasanter； however； to pass to this description of