to or from Brighton; how at Redhill he saw this effect; how he treasured the memory of it until the coach reached its destination, and how "immediately on alighting," he made this sketch of one wild moment snatched from Nature. ====================================================================== PLATE VII.--SALISBURY CATHEDRAL FROM THE BISHOP'S GARDEN. Victoria and Albert Museum. In the interval between the painting of "The Hay Wain" (1821) and its exhibition in Paris (1824), Constable produced "Salisbury Cathedral from the Bishop's Garden," wherein he attempted to represent the glitter of sunlight by spots of pure pigment, which his friends called "Constable's snow." [Illustration: PLATE VII.--SALISBURY CATHEDRAL FROM THE BISHOP'S GARDEN.] ====================================================================== It was this constant study of Nature that distinguished Constable from those of his academic predecessors and contemporaries who studied only the works of other painters. It was in this solitary communion with Nature that Constable showed the originality of his genius. How thorough he was. He was not content to note only what his eyes saw, but he also observed and recorded the time of day and the direction of the wind. "Twenty of Constable's studies of skies made during this season (1822) are in my possession," says Leslie, "and there is but one among them in which a vestige of landscape is introduced. They are painted in oil, on large sheets of thick paper, and all dated, with the time of day, the direction of the wind, and other memoranda on their backs. On one, for instance, is written: 'Fifth of September 1822. Ten o'clock morning, looking south-east, brisk wind at west. Very bright and fresh, grey clouds running fast over a yellow bed, about half-way in the sky.'" That is the real Constable speaking, the Constable who had "found himself." But we are never wholly emancipated from tradition, and knowing the difficulties of his craft he retained his admiration for the great ones among his predecessors. In 1824, he wrote: "I looked into Angerstein's the other day; how paramount is Claude..." Maybe. But Claude had to be left alone. Constable knew that in his heart, and, as he advanced in wisdom, art at second-hand held him less and less, and art at first hand, which is Nature, more and more. He learnt to rely upon his eyes and the cunning of his hand. And when he "thanked Heaven he had no imagination," there was more in that utterance than appears on the surface. CHAPTER V HIS PICTURES