eral effect, or whole
together, I have often imagined that this unfinished manner contributed
even to that striking resemblance for which his portraits are so
remarkable."

IV

THE CLOSE OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

Not until the year of Gainsborough's death, 1788, was there born another
landscape painter. This was JOHN CROME, and he too came from the east of
England, nearest to Holland, being born in Norfolk, the neighbouring
county to Gainsborough's native Suffolk. Within ten years more, two
still greater landscapists were born, also in the east, Constable in
Essex, still closer to Sudbury, and Turner in London.

John Crome--Old Crome, as he is usually called to distinguish him from
his less distinguished son, John Bernay Crome--was born at Norwich, and
had to support himself most of his life by teaching drawing, not to
professional pupils unfortunately; but incidentally he founded "The
Norwich School" of landscape painters, who loyally carried forward the
traditions he had inculcated. But having to spend his time as a
drawing-master, he was not free like the old Dutch painters to put out
pictures when and as often as he would, and his work in oils is
therefore comparatively scarce. The three examples at the National
Gallery are typical of his varied powers, _The Slate Quarries_,
_Household Heath_, and _Porringland Oak_ are all of them masterpieces.

JOHN SELL COTMAN, born in 1782, was, after Crome, the most considerable
of the Norwich School. He, too, was compelled to earn a livelihood by
being a drawing-master, for there was not as yet a sufficient market,
nor for some time later, for landscape pictures, to support existence,
however humble. Cotman devoted much of his energies to water-colours,
and he is better known in this branch of the art than in painting; that
is the only excuse for the National Gallery in having purchased as his
the very inferior picture called _A Galliot in a Gale_. The other
example, _Wherries on the Yare_, is more worthy of him, though it by no
means exhibits all his wonderful power and fascination.

In GEORGE MORLAND (1763-1804) we have something more and something less
than a landscape painter. Landscape to him was not what it was to
Wilson, Gainsborough or Crome,--the only end in view; nor was it merely
a background for his subjects. But, as it generally happened, it was
both. To Morland, the landscape and the figures were one and the same
thing. Out of the fulness of his he