re, it is bad;
but if it is evaded, as mine are not, it is worse; it must and always
shall with me make an effectual part of the composition. It will be
difficult to name a class of landscape in which the sky is not the
keynote, the standard of scale, and the chief organ of sentiment. You
may conceive, then, what a "white sheet" would do for me, impressed as I
am with these notions, and they cannot be erroneous. The sky is the
source of light in nature, and governs everything; even our common
observations on the weather of every day are altogether suggested by it.
The difficulty of skies in painting is very great, both as to
composition and execution; because, with all their brilliancy, they
ought not to come forward, or, indeed, be hardly thought of any more
than extreme distances are; but this does not apply to phenomena or
accidental effects of sky, because they always attract particularly. I
may say all this to you, though _you_ do not want to be told that I know
very well what I am about, and that my skies have not been neglected,
though they have often failed in execution, no doubt, from an
over-anxiety about them which will alone destroy that easy appearance
which nature always has in all her movements.

_Constable._

CXCIII

He was looking at a seventy-four gun ship, which lay in the shadow under
Saltash. The ship seemed one dark mass.

"I told you that would be the effect," said Turner, referring to some
previous conversation. "Now, as you perceive, it is all shade!"

"Yes, I perceive it; and yet the ports are there."

"We can only take what is visible--no matter what may be there. There
are people in the ship; we don't see them through the planks."

_Turner._

CXCIV

Looked out for landscapes this evening; but although all around one is
lovely, how little of it will work up into a picture! that is, without
great additions and alterations, which is a work of too much time to
suit my purpose just now. I want little subjects that will paint off at
once. How despairing it is to view the loveliness of nature towards
sunset, and know the impossibility of imitating it!--at least in a
satisfactory manner, as one could do, would it only remain so long
enough. Then one feels the want of a life's study, such as Turner
devoted to landscape; and even then what a botch is any attempt to
render it! What wonderful effects I have seen this evening in the
hay-fields! The warmth of the uncut grass, the greeny gre