ithout ridicule, when we
adopt the character of the landscape, and that too in all its parts, to
the historical or poetical representation. This is a very difficult
adventure, and requires a mind thrown back two thousand years, like that
of Nicolo Poussin, to achieve it. In the picture alluded to, the first
idea that presents itself is that of wonder, at seeing a figure in so
uncommon a situation as that in which Apollo is placed: for the clouds
on which he kneels have not the appearance of being able to support
him--they have neither the substance nor the form fit for the receptacle
of a human figure, and they do not possess, in any respect, that
romantic character which is appropriated to such an object, and which
alone can harmonize with poetical stories." We presume Reynolds alludes
to the best of the two Niobes by Wilson--that in the National Gallery.
The other is villanously faulty as a composition, where loaf is piled
upon loaf for rock and castle, and the tree is common and hedge-grown,
for the purpose of making gates; but the other would have been a fine
picture, not of the historical class--the parts are all common, the
little blown about underwood is totally deficient in all form and
character--rocks and trees, and they do not, as in a former
discourse--Reynolds had laid down that they should--sympathize with the
subject; then, as to the substance of the cloud, he is right--it is not
voluminous, it is mere vapour. In the received adoption of clouds as
supporting figures, they are, at least, pillowy, capacious, and
round--here it is quite otherwise; and Sir Joshua might well call it a
little Apollo, with that immense cloud above him, which is in fact too
much a portrait of a cloud, too peculiar, too edgy, for any subject
where the sky is not to be all in all. We do not say it is not fine and
grand, and what you please; but it is not subordinate, it casts its
lightning as from its own natural power, there was no need of a god's
assistance.

"Nec Deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus;"

and the action does not take place in a "prepared" landscape. There is
nothing to take us back to a fabled age. Reynolds is not unjust to
Wilson's merits, for he calls it, notwithstanding this defect, "a very
admirable picture;" which picture will, we suspect, in a few years lose
its principal charm, if it has not lost it; the colour is sadly
changing, there is now little aerial in the sky. It is said of Wilson,
that he r