The landscapes by Rembrandt, unhappily few in number, possess the strong mark of truth for which his works are so strikingly fascinating. They are chiefly small, the largest not exceeding three feet. One of his best is in the collection of the Marquis of Lansdowne, representing a mill seen under the influence of an uncertain twilight; the warm light of the western sky sheds its lustre on the sails of the mill, which stands on high ground; but the other portions of the picture are of dark half-tint, except a reflection of the light on the water towards the foreground. It was exhibited in the British Gallery, in 1815, and attracted great attention. Another picture peculiar to the genius of Rembrandt is in the collection of Sir Richard Colt Hoare, Bart.; it represents a night scene on the skirts of a wood, with a group of figures seated round a fire, the red gleam of which is reflected in a stream that flows along the foreground. A few cattle are partially seen in the obscure portions of the picture, with a peasant passing with a lantern. Other smaller works are in the collections of Sir Robert Peel, Samuel Rogers, Esq., Sir Abraham Hume, and the Marquis of Hertford. His largest picture of this class was formerly in the Louvre, and is now in the public gallery at Hesse-Cassel. In the landscapes of Rembrandt we meet with the same breadth, and hues of a deep tone, without being black or heavy; they are also painted with a full pencil, and rich juicy vehicle. Rembrandt, like Titian, Rubens, and others who were historical painters, seizes upon the great characteristics of nature without entering into the painful fidelity of topographical littleness; the same generalizing principles pervade every variety of subject. Fuseli, speaking of portrait painting as mere likenesses, adds—"To portrait painting thus circumstanced, we subjoin, as the last branch of uninteresting subjects, that kind of landscape which is entirely occupied with the tame delineation of a given spot—an enumeration of hill and dale, clumps of trees, shrubs, water, meadows, cottages, and houses—what is commonly called views. These, if not assisted by nature, dictated by taste, or chosen for character, may delight the owner of the acres they enclose, the inhabitants of the spot, perhaps the antiquary or the traveller, but to any other eye, they are little more than topography. The landscape of Titian, of Mola, of Salvator, of the Poussins, Claude, Rubens, Elsheimer, Rembrandt, and Wilson, spurns all relation with this kind of map-work. To them nature disclosed her bosom in the varied light of rising, meridian, and setting suns—in twilight, night, and dawn."