Page images
PDF
EPUB

passions, thoughts, attempts, achievements, and aspirations of humanity, far transcends that of any landscape paintings. We might as well compare Wordsworth's studies of nature with Shakspeare's plays, as place Turner on a par with Raphael. Both are good, but the kind is different. We must look for excellence in each, and to weigh them in the scales against one another is mere nonsense. Besides, it must be remembered that at the present day we have no Raphaels or Shakspeares to distract attention from our Turners and Wordsworths. It is more honorable to produce original works of an excellence which has been never equalled in some narrow sphere of art, than to strive in vain for ever to ascend those heights which have been climbed before us by a race of giants. What we have to do, if we must follow out this line of criticism, is to compare the landscapes of our day with the figure pictures of our day, and to judge which style of art has, after its own kind, succeeded best. We have no hesitation in giving the palm to landscape painting; but, in order to appreciate its beauty, we require some special education, trained habits of attention, familiarity with nature, and knowledge of the difficulties of art. The painter strives to copy nature. With him ars est celare artem. And when he has produced some careful, temperate, and studied work, the uncultivated critic says: "Any one can imitate what he sees. I saw just such a landscape yesterday. Give me imagination, loftiness, and power" As very few people care for the beauty of poetry and music, there are few who really love nature. What most of us seek among the Alps is air and exercise and novelty; and very few indeed have eyes to see, or memories to recollect, the finest scenes which they have visited. Their impressions pass away from them, and nothing is left behind. It is natural that landscape painting should be tedious, unintelligible, and insignificant to critics of this class. But every one can appreciate figure painting. Here we have a story, a glimpse of life, something with which our own nature renders us familiar. Most men are dubious about mountains, trees, and the colors of the sky or sea, but every one thinks that he can judge a face. Is it pretty or ugly, rare or com

mon? What does it say? What is that man telling to the woman with the fan? To read expression is our daily task, and the outward gestures of the body we can interpret from experience; but to understand the significance of a landscape requires more natural susceptibility to form and color and composition-more interest in beauty for its own sake, and a truer love of art and nature. Therefore, though we believe that cultivated people take a genuine delight in landscape painting, it follows that the ignorant and those who have a smattering of knowledge gained from histories of art, quote the verdict of Sir Joshua Reynolds in dispraise of landscape, and exalt themselves by fancying their taste too lofty to admire its trivial charms. Setting aside the higher claims of landscape painting, the difficulties it meets and conquers may reasonably be adduced in its defence. The grandest things in nature must be painted from memory. Her effects are evanescent, and the impressions stamped by them upon the painter's mind must be so vivid as to remain there and to reproduce themselves, when wanted, with reality. This implies vast powers of memory, long study, and complete command over the materials of art. He who has the greatest knowledge of natural facts, and the most vigorous imagination, will succeed best. The figure painter can get more help from his models than the marine and landscape painter from his studies. The one can recur again and again to nature, the other has seen once, and sees no more, the phase of loveliness which first suggested to his mind the picture. We do not, of course, mean to deny that the difficulties of the artist who imagines some dramatic scene, and paints (as he must do) the passions of its characters from memory, are greater far.

Landscape painting in oil, which must be considered the highest branch of this art, has hardly had a fair chance of influencing the public during the past ten years. The tendency has been to swamp all other exhibitions of oil painting in the Royal Academy, while the space which the Royal Academy commands for its exhibitions remains the same. Before we proceed to consider the treatment which landscape painting there receives,

it will be well to review rapidly the his- The exhibition proved a great help to tory of other establishments for the dis- young painters, especially to landscape play of pictures. The British Institution painters, and some of the finest landis so badly managed, that all our best scapes of late years have been exhibited in painters who are not Academicians have the Portland Gallery after their rejection ceased to send their pictures there. No by the British Institution and the Acadlaw, whatever, seems to regulate the emy. However, as the members and the hanging, whence it follows that the ex- exhibitors could not work well together, hibition has grown worse and worse. and the public did not patronize the exhiThose artists whose works are not of the bition, it expired. The failure of these varivulgar and flashy style which predomin- ous institutions has increased the pressure ates in the British Institution, are afraid of pictures on the Royal Academy, so to expose pictures refined in color, and that its want of space has been severely remarkable for no violent contrasts of felt, and in the bitterness of disappointlight and shadow, to the neighborhood ment the justice of its verdicts has been of coarse and gaudy paintings. Land- called in question. If success be a proof scapes are especially damaged by the of superiority, the Royal Academy stands "killing" contiguity of brilliant ad cap- still highest; nor are we prepared to join tandum pictures; for their effect depends in any blame which may be thrown upon upon their truth and subtlety of color. a society that has flourished indepenThis is not so much the case with figure dently for years, and has produced so subjects. Their greatest qualities may many noble and illustrious painters. Still, still be seen when the beauty of their it must be admitted, that landscape paintcoloring has partially been lost. But a ing suffers more than other styles of art fine landscape among bad pictures must from the small accommodation which be ruined. Turner used to say that his the rooms of the Academy afford. While drawings would be "killed" if exhibited figure pictures have still the chance of at the Water Color Exhibition. These being hung according to their merits, remarks may be applied with equal force landscapes are being gradually excluded to the Society of British Artists. This or placed in positions so unfavorable institution was founded with a royal as to render them invisible. charter, and regulations closely modelled upon those of the Royal Academy, to supply room for the pictures of those artists who, for want of space, could not exhibit on the walls of the Academy. Soon after its formation, the Academy, finding that it would be a formidable rival, psed a rule that no painter should be eligible to election as Associate who belonged to any society of artists. The working of this rule has brought the Society down to its present low level, and our best artists of established reputation, as well as the young rising men, have almost ceased to exhibit there. We must add, however, that the rule in question was last year rescinded in consequence of the Parliamentary Commission on the Royal Academy. Another exhibition of oil pictures at the Portland Gallery, in Regent Street, came to an end about two years ago. It was formed on the plan of exhibitors paying for hanging space, their pictures first being subjected to the approval of a committee. This scheme answered well for a time.

It is

better not to be exhibited at all than to be hoisted up beneath the skylight. Last year only four landscapes, by outsiders, were hung upon the line, excepting one or two little scraps a few inches long. The reason for this neglect must be sought, first, in the fact that figure pictures draw more shillings than landscapes do, for reasons which we have explained above; and, secondly, that a prejudice still clings against the style as being lower in the scale of art. We have already combatted this objection, but it is one which can not fail to have weight with judges trained in the traditions of high art. If we examine the list of Royal Academicians, we shall find that only two painters of pure landscapeCreswick and Cooke-have been elected during the last five-and-twenty years. It would be ridiculous to suppose that some effects should not proceed from these causes, though we do not mean to cast the least suspicion on the Royal Academy itself. Landscape is a new thing in the annals of art, and academies are prover

Water-color painting would suffer in itself without the stimulus of

bially conservative of rules, observances, in oils. authorities, and formulæ. But be this as it may, the combination emulation to achieve, as far as possible, of influences which we have endeavored to describe has proved most prejudicial to our school of landscape painters in oils. The younger men, feeling that they have no chance of showing what they can achieve, become dispirited, and paint small pictures to attract purchasers. The larger works on which they might have spent both energy and knowledge remain unpainted, because they know that, if produced, they are not likely to be hung. Several of our most promising landscape painters have abandoned oil for water color from the same despair. This can not but be looked upon as a misfortune, since, without depreciating water color, the greatest things are only possible in oils. Oil can represent everything better than water, except, perhaps, a very dark middle distance, and some effects of luminous haze. These effects have as yet been only imitated in oils with success by forcing strong colors and decided masses of dark upon the foreground, which is Linnell's method. The difficulty of getting air and space in oils is greater than in water colors, in so far as they are more dependent upon quality of coloring. Still, when the end has been achieved, success is glorious. In every other respect, the method of oil painting is far superior to any other. It affords scope for more downright and real imitation-for more labored and conscientious effort. Oil painters never fail to aim at, and accomplish, much more in their pictures than can fall within the province of the water-colorist. In order to test the truth of this remark, it is only necessary to visit the Old Water Color Exhibition after that of the Royal Academy. Then we feel how much smaller is the demand made upon our intelligence in the former than in the latter. Indeed, the very popularity of water colors depends upon the greater ease with which they can be understood, and also on the practical acquaintance with this method possessed by many persons. It would be a serious injury to art if our water-color school of landscape painting were to fail; but the injury will be far greater if this school absorb the colorists

the more perfect realization of the other method. Yet such an event may be anticipated with some show of reason, unless during the years to come more public justice is awarded to landscapes in oil, or unless the space for exhibition is extended.

This brings us round again to the chief point of difficulty, the narrow room of the Academy. With their present accommodation the utmost desire to do justice would fail. What we want in England are halls as large as those of the new Pinacothek at Munich, or of the Brera at Milan, where pictures, good, bad, and indifferent, are hung with philosophical respect for the proverbially tender feelings of the artist world. At a time when the South Kensington Museum is drawing large sums from the nation, it would scarcely be but fair to place a wider ground for exhibition at the disposal of an institution which has done so much and has received so little. The National Gallery is overcrowded. The Academy requires more space. Burlington House is still unoccupied, except by a scientific society, which could not be unfavorable to the arts. But whether in a year or two our native talent will be better able to display itself, is still an unsettled question.

Cornhill Magazine.
THE WINDS.

O wild raving west winds . . . .
Oh! where do ye rise from, and where do ye die?

THE question which is put in these lines is one which has posed the ingenuity of all who have ever thought on it; and though theories have repeatedly been propounded to answer it, yet one and all fail, and we again recur to the words of Him who knew all things and said, “The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth."

However, though we can not assign exactly the source whence the winds rise or the goal to which they tend, the labors of meteorologists have been so far suc

cessful as to enable us to understand the causes of the great currents of air, and even to map out the winds which prevail at different seasons in the various quarters of the globe. The problem which has thus been solved is one vastly more simple than that of saying why the wind changes on any particular day, or at what spot on the earth's surface a particular current begins or ends. Were these questions solved, there would be an end to all uncertainty about weather. There need be no fear that the farmer would lose his crops owing to the change of weather, if the advent of every shower had been foretold by an unerring guide, and the precise day of the break in the weather predicted weeks and months before. This is the point on which weather-prophets-"astro-meteorologists" they call themselves now-adays still venture their predictions, undismayed by their reported and glaring failures. It has been well remarked that not one of these prophets foretold the dry weather which lasted for so many weeks during the last summer; yet, even at the present day, there are people who look to the almanacks to see what weather is to be expected at a given date; and even the prophecies of "Old Moore" find, or used to find within a very few years, an ample credence. In fact, if we are to believe the opinions propounded by the positive philosophers of the present day, we must admit that it is absurd to place any limits on the possibility of predicting natural phenomena, inasmuch as all operations of nature obey fixed and unalterable laws, which are all discoverable by the unaided mind of man.

ourselves as far as possible to well-known and recorded facts, bringing in each case the best evidence which we can adduce to support the theories which may be broached.

What then, our readers will ask, is the cause of the winds? The simple answer is the Sun. Let us see, now, how the indefatigable agent, who appears to do almost everything on the surface of the earth, from painting pictures to driving steam-engines, as George Stephenson used to maintain that he did, is able to raise the wind.

The rea

If you light a fire in a room, and afterwards stop up every chink by which air can gain access to the fire, except the chimney, the fire will go out in a short time. Again, if a lamp is burning on the table, and you stop up the chimney at the top, the lamp will go out at once. The reason of this is that the flame, in each case, attracts the air, and if either the supply of air is cut off below, or its escape above is checked, the flame can not go on burning. This explanation, however, does not bear to be pushed too far. son that the fire goes out if the supply of air is cut off is, that the flame, so to speak, feeds on air; while the sun can not be said, in any sense, to be dependent on the earth's atmosphere for the fuel for his fire. We have chosen the illustration of the flame, because the facts are so well known. If, instead of a lamp in the middle of a room, we were to hang up a large mass of iron, heated, we should find that currents of air set in from all sides, rose up above it, and spread out when they reached the ceiling, descending again along the walls. The existence of these True science, we may venture to say, currents may be easily proved by sprinkis more modest than these gentlemen ling a handful of fine chaff about in the would have us to think it; and though in room. What is the reason of the circuthe particular branch of knowledge of lation thus produced? The iron, unless which we are now treating, daily prophe- it be extremely hot, as it is when melted cies (or "forecasts," as Admiral Fitzroy is careful to call them,) of weather appear in newspapers, yet these are not announced dogmatically, and no attempt is made in them to foretell weather for more than forty-eight hours in advance. We are not going to discuss the question of storms and storm-signals at present, so we shall proceed to the subject in handthe ordinary wind-currents of the earth; and in speaking of these shall confine

by Mr. Bessemer's process, does not re-
quire the air in order to keep up its heat;
and, in fact, the constant supply of fresh
air cools it, as the metal gives away its
own heat to the air as fast as the particles
of the latter come in contact with it.
Why, then, do the currents arise?
cause the air, when heated, expands or
gets lighter, and rises, leaving an empty
space, or vacuum, where it was before.
Then the surrounding cold air being elas-

Be

tic, forces itself into the open space, and climates. During the day the island begets heated in its turn.

From this we can see that there will be a constant tendency in the air to flow towards that point on the earth's surface where the temperature is highest-or, all other things being equal, to that point where the sun may be at that moment in the zenith. Accordingly, if the earth's surface were either entirely dry land, or entirely water, and the sun were continually in the plane of the equator, we should expect to find the directon of the great wind-currents permanent and unchanged throughout the year. The true state of the case is, however, that these conditions are very far from being fulfilled. Every one knows that the sun is not always immediately over the equator, but that he is at the tropic of Cancer in June, and at the tropic of Capricorn in December, passing the equator twice every year at the equinoxes. Here, then, we have one cause which disturbs the regular flow of the wind-currents. The effect of this is materially increased by the extremely arbitrary way in which the dry land has been distributed over the globe. The Northern hemisphere contains the whole of Europe, Asia, and North America, the greater part of Africa, and a portion of South America; while in the Southern hemisphere we only find the remaining portions of the two last-named continents, with Australia and some of the large islands in its vicinity. Accordingly, during our summer there is a much greater area of dry land exposed to the nearly vertical rays of the sun than is the case during our winter.

Let us see for a moment how this cause acts in modifying the direction of the wind-currents. We shall find it easier to make this intelligible if we take an illustration from observed facts. It takes about five times as much heat to raise a ton weight of water through a certain range of temperature, as it does to produce the same effect in the case of a ton of rock. Again, the tendency of a surface of dry land to give out heat, and consequently to warm the air above it, and cause it to rise, is very much greater than that of a surface of water of equal area. Hence we can at once see the cause of the local winds which are felt every day in calm weather in islands situated in hot

[ocr errors]

comes very hot, and thus what the French call a "courant ascendant" is set in operation. The air above the land gets hot and rises, while the colder air which is on the sea all round it flows in to fill its place, and is felt as a cool sea-breeze. During the night these conditions are exactly reversed; the land can no longer get any heat from the sun, as he has set, while it is still nearly as liberal in parting with its acquired heat as it was before. Accordingly, it soon becomes cooler than the sea in its neighborhood; and the air, instead of rising up over it, sinks down upon it, and flows out to sea, producing a land-wind.

These conditions are, apparently, nearly exactly fulfilled in the region of the monsoons, with the exception that the change of wind takes place at intervals of six months, and not every twelve hours. In this district-which extends over the southern portion of Asia and the Indian Ocean-the wind for half the year blows from one point, and for the other half from that which is directly opposite. The winds are North-east and South-west in Hindustan; and in Java, at the other side of the equator, they are South-east and North-west. The cause of the winds-monsoons they are called, from an Arabic word, mausim, meaning season-is not quite so easily explained as that of the ordinary land and sea breezes to which we have just referred. Their origin is to be sought for in the temperate zone, and not between the tropics. The reason of this is. that the districts towards which the air is sucked in are not those which are absolutely hottest, but those where the rarefaction of the air is greatest. When the air becomes lighter it is said to be rarefied, and this rarefaction ought apparently to be greatest where the temperature is highest. This would be the case if the air were the only constituent of our atmosphere. There is, however, a very important disturbing agent to be taken into consideration, viz. aqueous vapor. There is always, when it is not actually raining, a quantity of water rising from the surface of the sea and from every exposed water-surface, and mingling with the air. This water is perfectly invisible: as it is in the form of

« PreviousContinue »