He stands, however, somewhat apart from French
painting in general, I think. There is less style, more sentiment, more
poetry in his landscapes than in those of his countrymen who are to be
compared with him. Beyond what is admirable in them there is something
attaching as well. He drew and engraved a good deal, as well as painted.
He did not concentrate his powers enough, perhaps, to make as signal and
definite a mark as otherwise he might have done. He is a shade
desultory, and too spontaneous to be systematic. One must be systematic
to reach the highest point, even in the least material spheres. But
never have the grave and solemn aspects of landscape found a sweeter and
serener spirit to interpret them. In some of his pictures there is a
truly religious feeling. His frankness recalls Constable's, but it is
more distinguished in being more spiritual. He has not Diaz's elegance,
nor Corot's witchery, nor Rousseau's power, but nature is more
mysteriously, more mystically significant to him, and sets a deeper
chord vibrating within him.
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