have seen this
effect at Kandersteg.

_Dutilleux._

CXCI

In your letter you wish me to give you my opinion of your picture. I
should have liked it better if you had made it more of a whole--that is,
the trees stronger, the sky running from them in shadow up to the
opposite corner; that might have produced what, I think, it wanted, and
have made it much less a two-picture effect.... I cannot let your sky go
off without some observation. I think the character of your clouds too
affected, that is, too much of some of our modern painters, who mistake
some of our great masters; because they sometimes put in some of those
round characters of clouds, they must do the same; but if you look at
any of their skies, they either assist in the composition or make some
figure in the picture--nay, sometimes play the first fiddle....

Breadth must be attended to if you paint; but a muscle, give it breadth.
Your doing the same by the sky, making parts broad and of a good shape,
that they may come in with your composition, forming one grand plan of
light and shade--this must always please a good eye and keep the
attention of the spectator, and give delight to every one.

Trifles in nature must be overlooked that we may have our feelings
raised by seeing the whole picture at a glance, not knowing how or why
we are so charmed. I have written you a long rigmarole story about
giving dignity to whatever you paint--I fear so long that I should be
scarcely able to understand what I mean myself. You will, I hope, take
the will for the deed.

_Old Crome._

CXCII

I am most anxious to get into my London painting-room, for I do not
consider myself at work unless I am before a six-foot canvas. I have
done a good deal of skying, for I am determined to conquer all
difficulties, and that among the rest. And now, talking of skies, it is
amusing to us to see how admirably you fight my battles; you certainly
take the best possible ground for getting your friend out of a scrape
(the example of the Old Masters). That landscape painter who does not
make his skies a very material part of his composition neglects to avail
himself of one of his greatest aids. Sir Joshua Reynolds, speaking of
the landscapes of Titian, of Salvator, and of Claude, says: "Even their
_skies_ seem to sympathise with their subjects." I have often been
advised to consider my sky as "_a white sheet thrown behind the
objects_." Certainly, if the sky is obtrusive, as mine a