of a trunk whose singularity was not striking. A detach'd stone gave me the idea of a rock; I exposed it to the sun in the point of view that best agreed with my design, gave it in my mind a proportionable larger extent, and then discover'd the most brilliant effects in the clare obscure, the demitints, and the reflections. But when, in this manner, we investigate our subjects in nature, we shou'd take care not to let them lead us away by their singularity. Let us seek for the beautiful and noble in the forms, and manage with taste those that are merely fantastic. It is the idea of a noble simplicity in nature that must moderate a flight that wou'd carry the artist to a taste for the marvellous, to exaggeration, perhaps even to chimeras; and lead him away from that probability in which the truth of imitation consists.

With regard to the manner in which I executed my studies, they were not finished drawings, nor mere sketches. The more interesting any part of my subject appear'd, the more I finish'd it at the first attempt.

There are painters who content themselves with making, in haste, a mere sketch of a finish'd picture that nature presents them, and lay it aside to be finish'd at leisure. What is the consequence? Their accustomed manner takes place of the idea too lightly impress'd on the mind; the characteristic of the object disappears, and is lost. What can supply this? Neither the magic of the colouring, nor the effects of the clare obscure; they may

amuse for a moment, but the critical eye will search for the true and natural, and, finding it not, will turn away from the work with disdain.

But when I wou'd have used my studies, made after nature, in the invention of a whole, I found myself embarrassed and intimidated. I fell into factitious details which wou'd not agree with the simplicity and truth of those parts I had taken from nature. I cou'd not find in my landscapes the great, the noble, the harmonious, and the striking effect of the whole. I was, therefore, obliged to have recourse to those masters who appear'd to me to excel in composition.

EVERDINGHEN, whom I have not yet mentioned, frequently presented me with that rural simplicity, which pleases even in those countries where reigns the greatest variety. In his works I found impetuous torrents, rocks broken and cover'd with the thickest brambles, and rustic spots, where poverty finds a happy retreat in the most simple cottage. Though his bold and spirited touches were capable of inspiring me, I did not think that he was the only one whose example I should follow. It even appear'd to me not unprofitable to have learnt, before imitating him, to paint rocks in a better style. DIETRICHT taught me. The pieces he has composed of this kind are such, that one wou'd say they are EVERDINGHEN'S; but he has surpass'd himself.

SWANEFELD, in his turn, offer'd me the dignity of ideas. I admired the prodigious effect of his ex

ecution, and that of his reflected lights, which dart in so striking a manner on the large masses of shades. SALVATOR ROSA often attracted me by the warmth and fury of his genius. RUBENS, by the boldness of his compositions, by the brilliancy of his colours, and by the choice of his subjects. But the two POUSSINS, and CLAUD LORRAIN, at last possess'd me entirely. It was in their works that I found dignity and truth united. Not a simple and servile imitation of nature, but a choice of the most sublime and interesting beauty. A poetic genius united in the two POUSSINS all that is great, all that is noble. They transport us to those times for which history, and especially poetry, fill us with veneration; into those countries where nature is not savage, but surprising in her variety; where, under the most happy sky, every plant acquires its utmost perfection. The buildings that adorn the pictures of those celebrated artists are in the true taste of the antique architecture. The figures have a noble air, and a firm attitude. It is thus the GREEKS and ROMANS appear to us, when our imagination, render'd enthusiastic by their great actions, transports itself to the ages of their prosperity and glory. Repose and amenity reign throughout all the countries the pencil of LORRAIN has created. The mere view of his pictures excites that sweet emotion, those delicious sensations that a well-chosen prospect has the power to produce in the mind. His fields are rich without confusion, and variegated without disorder; every object pre

sents the idea of peace and prosperity; we continually behold a happy soil that pours its bounteous gifts on the inhabitants; a sky serene and bright, under which all things spring forth, and all things flourish.

Not content to fill my mind with the principles and beauties that the works of these great masters of the art presented me, I endeavour'd to draw from my memory, the principal parts that had struck me in these beautiful models. I sometimes copy'd one of their works, and I preserve these essays, as they bring to my mind the route I took, and the guides that conducted me to it. By forming this method, I have acquired the useful habit of tracing, in order to remember them the better, the compositions and plans of those works that have particularly engaged my attention. Perhaps this labour may be thought superfluous, as the engravings made after those beautiful pictures contain their exact representations. But the pains I have taken in copying them myself has imprinted a more durable idea on my mind. How many collections of prints and drawings resemble those large libraries, whose possessors reap not the least advantage from them!

I found, however, that when I apply'd myself too long in meditating on the masters I had chosen, a too great timidity. When I wou'd invent, overcharg'd, so to say, with the great ideas of the celebrated artists, I felt my weakness, and humbled by my want of strength, I perceiv'd how difficult it

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was to equal them. I observ'd how much a too continued imitation weakens the flight of fancy. Of this the celebrated FREY is an instance; and the greatest part of engravers confirm this observation. In reality, their own compositions are in general the most indifferent part of their works. Incessantly employed in expressing the ideas of others, and obliged to copy them with the most scrupulous exactitude, that boldness, that warmth of imagination, without which there can be no invention, is either enfeebled, or totally lost. Startled by these reflections, I abandon'd my originals, I left my guides, and deliver'd myself up to my own ideas. I prescrib'd myself subjects, and laid down problems for my solution, and I thus endeavour'd to find out what might best agree with my feeble talents. I remark'd what I found most difficult, and discover'd to what studies I must for the future apply my greatest attention. Then the difficulties began to disappear. My courage encreased. I perceiv'd that my imagination was extended by perseverance. Wretched are the artists and poets who are the servile copiers of their models; they resemble the shadow that follows the body in its most trifling movements. I took care, however, not to forsake the practice of copying from nature, a sketch, or memorandum of any thing singular, striking, or agreeable. Constantly furnish'd with the necessary apparatus, and always attentive to every object that occurr'd, I was not asham'd to retire a moment in order to fill my tablets. A pic