m\ 
 
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THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, Knight 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 HIS DISCOURSES, IDLERS, 
 A JOURNEY TO FLANDERS AND HOLLAND, 
 i AND HIS COMMENTARY ON DU FRESNOY'S ART OF 
 PAINTING ; 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 
 
 %tt Recount flff tfa Sift and Wtiitinp of tfy SMtthor, 
 
 BY 
 
 EDMOND MALONE, Esq., 
 
 ONE OF HIS EXECUTORS. 
 
 JUprinteb fmm ^ast dbttion. 
 
 EDINBURGH: WILLIAM FORRESTER. 
 
 MDCCCLXVII. 
 
QUASI >'0N EA PR^ECIPIAM ALUS, QUJE MIH1 IPSI DESUNT. 
 
 Cicero 
 
TO 
 
 THE KING. 
 
 The regular progress of cultivated life is from necessaries to 
 accommodations, from accommodations to ornaments. By your 
 illustrious predecessors were established Marts for Manufactures 
 and Colleges for Science ; but for the arts of elegance, those arts 
 by which manufactures are embellished and science is refined, to 
 found an Academy was reserved for Your Majesty. 
 
 Had such patronage been without effect, there had been reason 
 to believe that Nature had, by some insurmountable impediment, 
 obstructed our proficiency ; but the annual improvement of the 
 Exhibitions which Your Majesty has been pleased to encourage, 
 shows that only encouragement had been wanting-. 
 
 To give advice to those who are contending for royal liberality, 
 has been for some years the duty of my station in the Academy ; 
 and these Discourses hope for Your Majesty's acceptance, as well- 
 intended endeavours to incite that emulation which your notice 
 has kindled, and direct those studies which your bounty has 
 rewarded. 
 
 May it please Your Majesty, 
 
 Your Majesty's most dutiful Servant, 
 And most faithful Subject, 
 
 [1778.] 
 
 JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2014 
 
 https://archive.org/details/worksofsirjoshuaOOreyn 
 
SOME ACCOUNT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LIFE AND WHITINGS 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 The author of the following admirable works having, for 
 near half a century, been well known to almost every person 
 in this country who had any pretensions to taste or literature, 
 to the present age an account of him, however brief, may seem 
 wholly unnecessary ; nor should the reader be detained, even 
 for a few minutes, from the pleasure which awaits him, but 
 that posterity, while they contemplate with delight and admi- 
 ration those productions of his pencil which place him on a 
 level with Titian and Vandyck, will naturally wish to know 
 something of the man as well as of the painter. 
 
 Joshua Reynolds was born at Ply mp ton, in Devonshire, 
 16th July 1723, the son of Samuel Reynolds and Theophila 
 Potter. He was on every side connected with the Church, 
 for both his father and grandfather were in holy orders, his 
 mother was the daughter of a clergyman, and his maternal 
 grandmother the daughter of the Rev. Mr Baker, an eminent 
 mathematician of the last century, of whom we have an ac- 
 count in the Biographia Britannica. His father's elder 
 brother, John, was also a clergyman, a Fellow of Eton Col- 
 lege, and Canon of St. Peter's, Exeter. 1 
 
 Mr Samuel Reynolds taught the grammar-school of Plymp- 
 ton, which could have afforded him but a moderate subsistence ; 
 
 1 This gentleman, who died in 1758, left his library, and the greater part of 
 his fortune, to Exeter College in Oxford. There is a mezzotinto print of him, 
 scraped by M £ Ardell, (from a portrait painted by his nephew, now in Eton Col- 
 lege,) which has erroneously been supposed to represent the father of the painter. 
 See Bromley's Catalogue of Engraved British Portraits, 4to. 1792, p. 280. 
 
 B 
 
ii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 nor was he enabled, by any ecclesiastical preferment, to pro- 
 vide for his numerous family, amounting to eleven children 
 in all, of whom Joshua was the tenth. Five, however, of 
 these children died in their infancy. His father had a notion, 1 
 that it might at some future period of life be an advantage to 
 a child to bear an uncommon christian name, which might 
 recommend him to the attention and kindness of some person 
 bearing the same name, who, if he should happen to have no 
 natural object of his care, might be led, even by so slight a 
 circumstance, to become a benefactor. Hence our author 
 derived the scriptural name of Joshua, which, though not 
 very uncommon, occurs less frequently than many others; 
 of this baptismal name, however, the Register of Plympton, 
 by some negligence or inaccuracy, has deprived him. 2 
 
 Under the tuition of Mr Reynolds he was for some time 
 instructed in the classics ; but at an early age his inclina- 
 tion for that art, of which he afterwards became so illustrious 
 a professor, began to display itself ; and his imperfect at- 
 tempts 3 at delineation were encouraged by his father, who 
 was himself fond of drawings, and had a small collection of 
 anatomical and other prints. The young artist's first essays 
 were made in copying several little things done by two of 
 his elder sisters, who had likewise a turn for the art ; and he 
 afterwards (as he himself informed me) eagerly copied such 
 prints as he met with among his father's books, particularly 
 those which were given in the translation of Plutarch's Lives, 
 published by Dryden, But his principal fund of imitation 
 
 1 From Dr. Percy, Lord Bishop of Dromore. 
 
 8 In the Register of Plympton, by which it appears that he was baptized on 
 the 30th of July, he is styled " Joseph, son of Samuel Reynolds, Clerk;" proba- 
 bly in consequence of the entry not being made at the time of the baptism. The 
 name, I suppose, was written originally on a slip of paper in an abbreviated 
 form — "Jos. son of Samuel Reynolds " — and was, at a subsequent period, entered 
 erroneously by the clergyman or clerk of the parish. 
 
 3 Lady Inchiquin has one of these very early essays ; a perspective view of a 
 book-case, under which his father has written — " Done by Joshua out of pure 
 idleness." It is on the back of a Latin exercise. Joshua's idleness was, his 
 preferring the employment of his pencil to that of the pen. 
 
SIB JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 iii 
 
 was Jacob Cats' Book of Emblems, which his great-grand- 
 mother by the father's side, a Dutch woman, had brought 
 with her from Holland. When he was but eight years old, 
 he read with great avidity and pleasure The Jesuit's Per- 
 spective, a book which happened to lie on the window-seat of 
 his father's parlour ; and made himself so completely master 
 of it, that he never afterwards had occasion to study any other 
 treatise on that subject. 1 He then attempted to draw the 
 School at Plympton, a building elevated on stone pillars ; 
 and he did it so well, that his father said, " Now this exem- 
 plifies what the author of the 6 Perspective' asserts in his 
 Preface, — that, by observing the rules laid down in his book, 
 a man may do wonders ; for this is wonderful," 2 From 
 these attempts he proceeded to draw likenesses of the friends 
 and relations of his family, with tolerable success. But 
 what most strongly confirmed him in his love of the art, 
 was Richardson's Treatise on Painting ; the perusal of which 
 so delighted and inflamed his mind, that Raffaelle appeared 
 to him superior to the most illustrious names of ancient or 
 modern time : a notion which he loved to indulge all the 
 rest of his life. 
 
 His propensity for this fascinating art growing daily more 
 manifest, his father thought fit to gratify his inclination ; and 
 when he was not much more than seventeen years of age, on 
 St. Luke's day, Oct. the 18th, 1740, he was placed as a pupil 
 under his countryman Mr Hudson, 3 who, though but an ordi- 
 
 1 From himself in 1786. 
 
 2 From the late James Boswell, Esq. to whom this little circumstance was 
 communicated by our author. 
 
 3 Thomas Hudson, who was the scholar and son-in-law of Richardson the 
 painter, was born in 1701. " He enjoyed," (says Lord Orford, Anecdotes Q' ? 
 Painting, iv. 122, 8to.) " for many years, the chief business of portrait-painting 
 in the capital, after the favourite artists, his master and Jervas, were gone oft 
 the stage ; though Vanloo first, and Liotard afterwards, for a few years diverted 
 the torrent of fashion from the established professor. Still the country gentlemen 
 were faithful to their compatriot, and were content with his honest similitudes, 
 and with the fair tied wigs, blue velvet coats, and white satin waistcoats, which 
 he bestowed liberally on his customers, and which, with complacency, they beheld 
 
iv SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 nary painter, was the most distinguished artist of that time. 
 After spending a few years in London, which he employed 
 in acquiring the rudiments of his art, on a disagreement 
 with his master about a very slight matter, he in 1743 re- 
 moved to Devonshire, where, as he told me, he passed about 
 three years in company from whom little improvement could 
 be got. When he recollected this period of his life, he always 
 spoke of it as so much time thrown away, (so far as related 
 to a knowledge of the world and of mankind,) of which he 
 ever afterwards lamented the loss. However, after some little 
 dissipation, he sat down seriously to the study and practice 
 of his art ; and he always considered the disagreement which 
 induced him to leave Mr Hudson as a very fortunate circum- 
 stance, since by this means he was led to deviate from the 
 tameness and insipidity of his master, and to form a manner 
 of his own. 
 
 While in this career, the first of his performances which 
 brought him into any considerable notice, was the portrait of 
 Captain Hamilton, father of the present Marquis of Abercorn, 
 which he painted so early as in the year 1746. 1 When at a 
 late period of his life he saw this portrait, he w 7 as surprised to 
 find it so well done ; and comparing it w 7 ith his later works, 
 with that modesty which always accompanies genius, lament- 
 ed that in such a series of years he should not have made a 
 greater progress in his art. 2 
 
 On Christmas-day, 1746, his father, a man highly respect- 
 
 multiplied in Faber's mezzotintos. The better taste introduced by Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds put an end to Hudson's reign, who had the good sense to resign the 
 throne soon after finishing his capital work, the family-piece of Charles Duke of 
 Marlborough." [About 1756.] He died, Jan. 26, 1779, aged 78. 
 
 1 It is now in the possession of the Marquis of Abercorn ; and there is a por- 
 trait of the same gentleman with his children around him, a small family-piece, 
 painted by young Reynolds about the same time, in the collection of Lord Eliot, 
 at Port Eliot in Cornwall. 
 
 2 He made the same observation on viewing the picture of a Boy reading, 
 which he also painted in 1746: an admirable piece, which was sold by auction, 
 among other of his works, in 1736, to Sir Henry Englefield, Bart, for thirty-five 
 guineas. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 V 
 
 ed in his native county, died ; and left our young painter to 
 raise, as he could, the fabric of his own fortune. After 
 spending a few more years in the practice of painting, partly 
 in London 1 and partly in Devonshire, where many of his 
 early essays yet remain, he became acquainted with George, 
 the third Lord Edgcumbe, and Captain (afterwards Lord) 
 Keppel, by each of whom he was warmly patronised ; and the 
 latter being appointed to the command of a small squadron 
 on the Mediterranean station, Mr Reynolds embraced the 
 opportunity which his kindness offered, and accompanied him 
 thitfier, sailing from Plymouth, May 11th, 1749. In the 
 course of their voyage (during which he had accommodations 
 in the Captain's own ship,) they touched at Lisbon, Cadiz, 
 Gibraltar, Algiers, and Minorca; and after spending about 
 two months in Portmahon, the principal town of that island, 
 in December he sailed to Leghorn, from which place he pro- 
 ceeded to Rome. 
 
 Among our author's loose papers, I have found some 
 detached and unconnected thoughts, written occasionally as 
 hints for a discourse on a new and singular plan, which he 
 appears, at a late period of his life, to have had it in contem- 
 plation to compose and deliver to the Academy, and which 
 he seems to have intended as a history of his mind, so far as 
 concerned his art, and of his progress, studies, and practice ; 
 together with a view of the advantages which he had enjoyed, 
 and the disadvantages he had laboured under, in the course 
 that he had run : a scheme from which, however liable it 
 might be to the ridicule of wits and scoffers, (a circumstance 
 of which, he says, he was perfectly aware,) he conceived the 
 students might derive some useful documents for the regulation 
 of their own conduct and practice. It is much to be regretted 
 that he did not live to compose such a discourse ; for, from 
 the hand of so great and candid an artist, it could not but have 
 been highly curious and instructive. One of these fragments 
 
 1 At this period he lived in St. Martin's Lane, which was then a favourite 
 residence of artists ; nearly opposite to May's Buildings. 
 
vi 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 relating to his feelings when he first went to Italy, every 
 reader will, I am confident, be pleased with its insertion. 
 
 " It has frequently happened, (says this great painter,) 
 as I was informed by the keeper of the Vatican, that many of 
 those whom he had conducted through the various apartments 
 of that edifice, when about to be dismissed, have asked for 
 the works of Raffaelle, and would not believe that they had 
 already passed through the rooms where they are preserved, 
 so little impression had these performances made on them. 
 One of the first painters now in France once told me, that 
 this circumstance happened to himself ; though he now 7 looks 
 on Raffaelle with that veneration which he deserves from all 
 painters and lovers of the art. I remember very well my 
 own disappointment, when I first visited the Vatican ; but on 
 confessing my feelings to a brother-student, of whose ingenu- 
 ousness I had a high opinion, he acknowledged that the works 
 of Raffaelle had the same effect on him, or rather that they 
 did not produce the effect which he expected. This was a 
 great relief to my mind ; and on inquiring further of other 
 students, I found that those persons only, who, from natural 
 imbecility, appeared to be incapable of ever relishing those 
 divine performances, made pretensions to instantaneous rap- 
 tures on first beholding them. In justice to myself, however, 
 I must add, that though* disappointed and mortified at not 
 finding myself enraptured with the works of this great master, 
 I did not for a moment conceive or suppose that the name of 
 Raffaelle, and those admirable paintings in particular, owed 
 their reputation to the ignorance and prejudice of mankind ; 
 on the contrary, my not relishing them as I w T as conscious I 
 ought to have done, was one of the most humiliating circum- 
 stances that ever happened to me. I found myself in the 
 midst of works executed upon principles with which I was 
 unacquainted : I felt my ignorance, and stood abashed. All 
 the indigested notions of painting which I had brought with 
 me from England, where the art was in the lowest state it 
 had ever been in, (it could not indeed be lower,) were to be 
 totally done away, and eradicated from my mind. It was 
 necessary, as it is expressed on a very solemn occasion, that 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, 
 
 vii 
 
 I should become as a little child. Notwithstanding my dis- 
 appointment, I proceeded to copy some of those excellent 
 works. I viewed them again and again ; I even affected to 
 feel their merit, and to admire them, more than I really did. 
 In a short time a new taste and new perceptions began to 
 dawn upon me ; and I was convinced that I had originally 
 formed a false opinion of the perfection of art, and that this 
 great painter was well entitled to the high rank which he 
 holds in the estimation of the world. The truth is, that if 
 these works had really been what I expected, they would 
 have contained beauties superficial and alluring, but by no 
 means such as would have entitled them to the great reputa- 
 tion which they have so long and so justly obtained. 
 
 " Having since that period frequently revolved this subject 
 in my mind, I am now clearly of opinion, that a relish for 
 the higher excellencies of art is an acquired taste, which no 
 man ever possessed without long cultivation, and great labour 
 and attention. On such occasions as that which I have men 
 tioned, we are often ashamed of our apparent dulness ; as if 
 it were to be expected that our minds, like tinder, should 
 instantly catch fire from the divine spark of RafFaelle's 
 genius. I flatter myself that now it would be so, and that 
 I have a just and lively perception of his great powers : but 
 let it be always remembered, that the excellence of his style 
 is not on the surface, but lies deep ; and at the first view is 
 seen but mistily. It is the florid style, which strikes at once, 
 and captivates the eye for a time, without ever satisfying the 
 judgment. Nor does painting in this respect differ from other 
 arts. A just poetical taste, and the acquisition of a nice 
 discriminative musical ear, are equally the work of time. 
 Even the eye, however perfect in itself, is often unable to 
 distinguish between the brilliancy of two diamonds ; though 
 the experienced jeweller will be amazed at its blindness ; not 
 considering that there was a time when he himself could not 
 have been able to pronounce which of the two was the most 
 perfect, and that his own power of discrimination was acquir- 
 ed by slow and imperceptible degrees. 
 
 " The man of true genius, instead of spending all his 
 
viii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 hours, as many artists do while they are at Rome, in mea- 
 suring statues and copying pictures, soon begins to think for 
 himself, and endeavours to do something like what he sees. 
 I consider general copying (he adds) as a delusive kind of 
 industry : the student satisfies himself with the appearance of 
 doing something ; he falls into the dangerous habit of imita- 
 ting without selecting, and of labouring without any deter- 
 minate object : as it requires no effort of the mind, he sleeps 
 over his work, and those powers of invention and disposition 
 which ought particularly to be called out and put in action, 
 lie torpid, and lose their energy for want of exercise. How 
 incapable of producing any thing of their own those are, 
 who have spent most of their time in making finished copies, 
 is an observation well known to all who are conversant with 
 our art." 1 We may be assured, therefore, that this great 
 painter did not fall into the error here pointed out ; — did not 
 long continue the practice of copying the great works 2 which 
 were at this period within his reach ; but rather employed his 
 time in examining and fixing in his mind their peculiar and 
 characteristic excellencies. Instead of copying the touches 
 of the great masters, he aspired to copy their conceptions. 
 " From contemplating the works of Titian, Correggio, &c." 
 (says he in another of his fragments,) " we derive this great 
 advantage ; we learn that certain niceties of expression are 
 capable of being executed, which otherwise we might consider 
 as beyond the reach of art : this inspires us with some degree 
 of confidence, and we are thus incited to endeavour at other 
 excellencies in the same line." 
 
 Some account of his particular practice and habits of 
 study, while he was in Italy, is, I know, much desired by 
 several artists of the present day ; but these I have no means 
 of investigating. The method which he followed when he 
 
 1 This observation occurs nearly in the same words in the first Discourse. 
 
 2 Of the few copies which he made while he was at Rome, two are now in 
 the possession of the Earl of Inchiquin, who married his niece, Miss Palmer ; 
 St. Michael, the archangel, slaying the Dragon, after Guido ; and the School of 
 Athens, from RafTaelle : both masterly performances. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 ix 
 
 was at Venice, in order to ascertain the principles on which 
 the great masters of colouring wrought, and to attain the true 
 management of light and shade, he has himself particularly 
 mentioned in a note on Du Fresnoy's Poem." 1 
 
 While he was in Italy, he occasionally indulged himself in 
 Caricatura, which was much in vogue at that time. Of pieces 
 of this description, the only one which I have seen of his hand, 
 is a large picture, 2 containing about twenty figures, being 
 all the English gentlemen of note who were then at Rome. 
 This caricatura, however, was not like the more modern pro- 
 ductions in that style, being done with the consent of the 
 gentlemen represented. It was a kind of picturesque travesty 
 of Raffaelle's School of Athens. 
 
 After an absence of near three years, he began to think of 
 returning home ; and a slight circumstance which he used to 
 mention, may serve to shew, that however great may have 
 been the delight which he derived from residence in a country 
 that Raffaelle and Michael Angelo had embellished by their 
 genius and their works, the prospect of revisiting his native 
 land was not unpleasing. When he was at Venice, in com- 
 pliment to the English gentlemen then residing there, the 
 manager of the opera one night ordered the band to play an 
 English ballad -tune. Happening to be the popular air which 
 was played or sung in almost every street, just at the time of 
 their leaving London, by suggesting to them that metropolis 
 with all its connexions and endearing circumstances, it im- 
 mediately brought tears into our author's eyes, as well as into 
 those of his countrymen who were present. 
 
 On his arrival in London in 1752, 3 he very soon attracted 
 the public notice ; and not long afterwards the whole-length 
 portrait which he painted of his friend and patron, Admiral 
 
 1 See Note XXXIX on Du Fresnoy's Poem. 
 
 2 In the collection of Joseph Henry, Esq. of Straffan, in the County of Kil- 
 dare, in Ireland. 
 
 3 On his return from Italy, he hired a large house in Newport Street, now 
 divided into two houses. Here he continued to dwell till the year 1761, when he 
 removed to Leicester Fields. 
 
 C 
 
X 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT Ot 
 
 Keppel, exhibited such powers, that he was not only univer- 
 sally acknowledged to be at the head of his profession, but to 
 be the greatest painter that England had seen since Vandyck. 
 The whole interval between the time of Charles the First, and 
 the conclusion of the reign of George the Second, though distin- 
 guished by the performances of Lei y, Riley, and Kneller, seemed 
 to be annihilated ; and the only question was, whether the new 
 painter, or Vandyck, were the more excellent. For several 
 years before the period we are now speaking of, the painters of 
 portraits contented themselves with exhibiting as correct a 
 resemblance as they could ; but seem not to have thought, or 
 had not the power, of enlivening the canvass by giving a 
 kind of historic air to their pictures. Mr Reynolds very soon 
 saw how much animation might be obtained by deviating 
 from the insipid manner of his immediate predecessors ; 1 
 hence in many of his portraits, particularly when combined 
 in family groups, we find much of the variety and spirit of a 
 higher species of art. Instead of confining himself to mere 
 likeness, in which however he was eminently happy, he dived, 
 I as it were, into the mind, and habits, and manners, of those 
 who sat to him ; 2 and accordingly the majority of his por- 
 traits are so appropriate and characteristic, that the many 
 illustrious persons whom he has delineated, will be almost as 
 well known to posterity, as if they had seen and conversed 
 with them. 
 
 Very soon after his return from Italy, his acquaintance 
 with Dr. Johnson commenced ; and their intimacy continued 
 uninterrupted to the time of Johnson's death. Happening to 
 
 meet with the Life of Savage in Devonshire, which, though 
 published some years before, was then new to him, he began 
 
 1 Dahl, Richardson, Jervas, Thornhill, Hudson, Slaughter, &c. 
 
 2 The various portraits of Mr Garrick, those of Dr. Johnson, Dr. Robinson 
 Archbishop of Armagh, Lord Camden, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr Burke, Mr Mason, 
 Mr Foote, Mr Sterne, Mr Fox, Mr Sheridan, Mr Gibbon, Dr. Markham Arch- 
 bishop of York, Lord Mansfield, Lord Thurlow, Lord Heathfield, the execrable 
 Duke of Orleans, Lord Richard Cavendish, Mr Andrew Stewart, Mr Pott, Mr 
 Boswell, Mr Windham, and Mr Cholmondeley, are eminent instances of the 
 truth of this observation. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 to read it (as Mr Boswell has informed us) " while he was 
 standing with his arm leaning against a chimney-piece. It 
 seized his attention so strongly, that not being able to lay 
 down the book till he had finished it, when he attempted to 
 move, he found his arm totally benumbed." 3 Being then 
 unacquainted with the author, he must naturally have had a 
 strong desire to see and converse with that extraordinary 
 man ; and, as the same writer relates, he about this time was 
 introduced to him. " When Johnson lived in Castle- Street, 
 Cavendish- Square, he used frequently to visit two ladies who 
 lived opposite to him, (Mr Reynolds,) 2 the Miss Cotterells, 
 daughters of Admiral CotterelL Reynolds used also to visit 
 there, and thus they met. Mr Reynolds, as I have observed 
 above, had, from the first reading of his Life of Savage, con- 
 ceived a very high admiration of Johnson's powers of writing. 
 His conversation no less delighted him, and he cultivated his 
 acquaintance with the laudable zeal of one who was am- 
 bitious of general improvement. Sir Joshua indeed was lucky 
 enough at their first meeting to make a remark, which was 
 so much above the common-place style of conversation, that 
 Johnson at once perceived that Reynolds had the habit of 
 thinking for himself. The ladies were regretting the death 
 of a friend, to whom they owed great obligations ; upon 
 which Reynolds observed, — " You have, however, the com- 
 fort of being relieved from the burthen of gratitude." They 
 were shocked a little at this alleviating suggestion, as too sel- 
 fish ; but Johnson defended it in his clear and forcible manner, 
 and was much pleased with the mind, the fair view of 
 human nature, which it exhibited, like some of the Reflec- 
 tions of Rochefaucault. The consequence was, that he went 
 home with Reynolds, and supped with him. 
 
 " Sir Joshua told me a pleasant characteristical anecdote 
 of Johnson, about the time of their first acquaintance. When 
 they were one evening together at the Miss Cotterells, the. 
 
 Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson, i. 144. 
 
 2 In Newport-street. 
 
xii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 then Duchess of Argyle and another lady of high rank, came 
 in. Johnson, thinking that the Miss Cotterells were too much 
 engrossed by them, and that he and his friend were neglected, 
 as low company of whom they were somewhat ashamed, grew 
 angry ; and resolving to shock their supposed pride, by mak- 
 ing their great visitors imagine they were low indeed, he 
 addressed himself in a loud tone to Mr Reynolds, saying, 
 ' How much do you think you and I could get in a week, if 
 we were to work as hard as we could V as if they had been 
 common mechanics." 1 
 
 How much he profited by his acquaintance with this excel- 
 lent and extraordinary man, he intended to have particularly 
 mentioned in the Discourse which, as I have already observed, 
 he had it in contemplation to compose. " I remember (says 
 he,) Mr Burke, speaking of the essays of Sir Francis Bacon, 
 said, he thought them the best of his works. Dr Johnson was 
 of opinion, ' that their excellence and their value consisted in 
 being the observations of a strong mind operating upon life ; 
 and in consequence you find there, what you seldom find in 
 other books.' It is this kind of excellence which gives a 
 value to the performances of artists also. It is the thoughts 
 expressed in the works of Michael Angelo, Correggio, Raf- 
 faeile, Parmegiano, and perhaps some of the old Gothic mas- 
 ters, and not the inventions of Pietro da Cortona, Carlo 
 Maratti, Luca Giordano, and others that I might mention, 
 which we seek after with avidity. From the former we learn 
 to think originally. May I presume to introduce myself on 
 this occasion, and even to mention, as an instance of the 
 truth of what I have remarked, the very Discourses which I 
 have had the honour of delivering from this place. What- 
 ever merit they have, must be imputed, in a great measure, 
 to the education which I may be said to have had under 
 
 1 Life of Johnson, i. 217. Johnson, however, continued to live in intimacy 
 with these ladies, whom he frequently mentions in his letters to Baretti. In that 
 dated Dec. 11, 1762, he says, " Miss Cotterell is still with Mrs Porter: Miss 
 Charlotte is married to Dean Lewis, and has three children," ibid. p. 341. The 
 elder of these ladies visited him not long before bis death. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xiii 
 
 Dr Johnson. I do not mean to say, though it certainly 
 would be to the credit of these Discourses, if I could say it 
 with truth, that he contributed even a single sentiment to 
 them ; but he qualified my mind to think justly. No man 
 had, like him, the faculty of teaching inferior minds the art 
 of thinking. Perhaps other men might have equal know- 
 ledge ; but few were so communicative. His great pleasure 
 was to talk to those who looked up to him. It was here he 
 exhibited his wonderful powers. In mixed company, and 
 frequently in company that ought to have looked up to him, 
 many, thinking they had a character for learning to support, 
 considered it as beneath them to enlist in the train of his 
 auditors ; and to such persons he certainly did not appear 
 to advantage, being often impetuous and overbearing. The 
 desire of shining in conversationfwas in him indeed a predo- 
 minant passion ; and if it must be attributed to vanity, let 
 it at the same time be recollected, that it produced that lo- 
 quaciousness from which his more intimate friends derived 
 considerable advantage. The observations which he made 
 on poetry, on life, and on every thing about us, I applied to 
 our art ; with what success others must judge. Perhaps an 
 artist in his studies should pursue the same conduct ; and 
 instead of patching up a particular work on the narrow plan 
 of imitation, rather endeavour to acquire the art and power 
 of thinking. On this subject I have often spoken ; but it 
 cannot be too often repeated, that the general power of com- 
 position may be acquired ; and when acquired, the artist 
 may then lawfully take hints from his predecessors. In re- 
 ality indeed it appears to me, that a man must begin by -the 
 study of others. Thus, Bacon became a great thinker, by 
 first entering into and making himself master of the thoughts 
 of other men." 
 
 In consequence of his connection with Dr Johnson, he, in 
 1759, furnished that writer with three Essays on the subject 
 of painting, which appeared in the Idler, and were, I believe, 
 our author's first literary performance. 
 
 But though he derived great advantage and instruction from 
 this very distinguished writer, with whom he lived in uninter- 
 
xiv 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 rupted intimacy for thirty years, Johnson was not his original 
 preceptor in the art of thinking, as has been suggested to me 
 by our common friend, the late ever-to-be-lamented Mr Burke ; 
 whose death, which happened a few months after the first edi- 
 tion of these works, would at any time have been a grievous 
 loss to his country, but at the present distressful and momen- 
 tous period, is an irreparable calamity to the whole civilized 
 world. " I find," (said this sagacious and profound observer, 
 whose approbation and whose remarks are so interwoven, that 
 I cannot avail myself of the latter without the former,) " I 
 find but one thing material which you have omitted in the 
 life of our inestimable friend. You state very properly how 
 much he owed to the writings and conversation of Johnson ; 
 and nothing shews more the greatness of Sir Joshua's parts 
 than his taking advantage of both, and making some applica- 
 tion of them to his profession, when Johnson neither understood, 
 nor desired to understand, any thing of painting, and had no 
 distinct idea of its nomenclature, even in those parts which 
 had got most into use in common life. But though Johnson 
 had done much to enlarge and strengthen his habit of think- 
 ing, Sir Joshua did not owe his first rudiments of speculation 
 to him. He has always told me, that he owed his first dis- 
 position to generalize, and to view things in the abstract, to old 
 Mr Mudge, Prebendary of Exeter, and brother to the celebrated 
 mechanic of that name. I have myself seen Mr Mudge the 
 clergyman, at Sir Joshua's house. He was a learned and 
 venerable old man ; and, as I thought, very much conversant 
 in the Platonic Philosophy, and very fond of that method of 
 philosophizing. He had been originally a dissenting minister : 
 a description which at that time bred very considerable men, 
 both among those who adhered to it, and those who left it. 
 He had entirely cured himself of the unpleasant narrowness 
 which, in the early part of his life, had distinguished those 
 gentlemen, and was perfectly free from the ten times more 
 dangerous enlargement which has been since then their general 
 characteristic. Sir Joshua Reynolds had always a great love 
 for the whole of that family, and took a great interest in what- 
 ever related to them. His acquaintance with the Mudges 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 XV 
 
 ought to be reckoned among the earliest of his literary con- 
 nections. It was from him that I first got a view of the few 
 that have been published of Mr Mudge's Sermons ; and on 
 conversing afterwards with Mr Mudge, I found great traces 
 of Sir Joshua Reynolds in him, and, if I may say so, much 
 of the manner of the master." 1 
 
 1 Letter from the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, to the Editor, dated Bath, 
 May 4, 1797. 
 
 Our author's early friend and instructor died April 3, 1769, and his memory 
 was honoured by the following characteristic encomium, written by Dr Johnson, 
 and inserted May 2, (under the article of Deaths,) in the London Chronicle : 
 
 " The Reverend Mr Zachariah Mudge, Prebendary of Exeter, and Vicar of 
 St Andrew's in Plymouth : a man equally eminent for his virtues and abilities, 
 and at once beloved as a companion, and reverenced as a pastor. He had that 
 general curiosity to which no kind of knowledge is indifferent or superfluous, and 
 that general benevolence by which no order of men is hated or despised. 
 
 " His principles both of thought and action were great and comprehensive. By 
 a solicitous examination of objections, and judicious comparison of opposite argu- 
 ments, he attained what enquiry never gives but to industry and perspicuity, a 
 firm and unshaken settlement of conviction. But his firmness was without aspe- 
 rity ; for, knowing with how much difficulty truth was sometimes found, he did 
 not wonder that many missed it. 
 
 " The general course of his life was determined by his profession : he studied 
 the sacred volumes in the original languages; with what diligence and success, 
 his Notes upon the Psalms give sufficient evidence. He once endeavoured to add 
 the knowledge of Arabic to that of Hebrew ; but finding his thoughts too much 
 diverted, from other studies, after some time desisted from his purpose. 
 
 " His discharge of parochial duties was exemplary. How his sermons were 
 composed, may be learned from the excellent volume which he has given to the 
 public; but how they were delivered, can be known only to those that heard them; 
 for as he appeared in the pulpit, words will not easily describe him. His delivery, 
 though unconstrained, was not negligent, and though forcible, was not turbulent ; 
 disdaining anxious nicety of emphasis, and laboured artifice of action, it captivated 
 the hearer by its natural dignity, it roused the sluggish and fixed the volatile, and 
 detained the mind upon the subject, without directing it to the speaker. 
 
 " The grandeur and solemnity of the preacher did not intrude upon his general 
 behaviour ; at the table of his friends he was a companion communicative and 
 attentive, of unaffected manners, of manly cheerfulness, willing to please, and easy 
 to be pleased. His acquaintance was universally solicited, and his presence ob- 
 structed no enjoyment which religion did not forbid. Though studious, he was 
 popular ; though inflexible, he was candid ; and though metaphysical, yet ortho- 
 dox." 
 
 Mr Mudge's sermons, which have been so highly and justly praised, were pub- 
 lished in one volume, in 1739. 
 
xvi 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 To mark the gradual progress of our illustrious painter's 
 reputation from year to year, is not the object of the present 
 memoir ; but the era of the establishment of that Academy 
 which gave rise to the following Discoueses, forming a 
 memorable epoch in the history of the Arts, may justly claim 
 particular notice. 
 
 The Painters of Great Britain, from about the year 1750, 1 
 with a view of promoting their art by painting from living 
 models, associated together in a kind of Academy in St Mar- 
 tin's Lane, which they supported by annual subscription. 
 Their efforts, however, were not very successful till ten years 
 afterwards; 2 when, in imitation of foreign Academies, they 
 formed a scheme of an annual exhibition of their works, 
 which, it was supposed, would be a probable means of at- 
 tracting the public attention. In this speculation they were 
 not disappointed ; and having thus secured a firmer footing, 
 they afterwards (Jan. 26, 1765,) obtained a royal charter of 
 incorporation. 3 Not long after their incorporation, how- 
 ever, the Artists who were not incorporated, conceiving some 
 jealousy against this body, resolved no longer to submit to 
 their regulations, and to undertake an Exhibition of their 
 own ; which was continued for a few years with no great 
 success. To compose these jarring interests, and to give 
 
 1 The first effort towards an Institution of this kind in the present century, 
 was made in 1724, when Sir James Thornhill opened an Academy for Drawing 
 at his house in Covent-garden. He had before proposed to Lord Halifax to 
 obtain the foundation of a Royal Academy, to be built at the upper end of the 
 Mews, with apartments for the Professors, &c. See Walpole's Anecdotes of 
 Painting, iv. 45. 
 
 2 Their first Exhibition was in the year 1760. " The Artists (says Dr 
 Johnson in a letter to Joseph Baretti, dated London, June 10, 1761,) have 
 instituted a yearly Exhibition of pictures and statues, in imitation, as I am told, 
 of foreign Academies. This year was the second Exhibition. They please 
 themselves much with the multitude of spectators, and imagine that the English 
 School will rise in reputation." BoswelPs Life of Johnson, i. 328. 
 
 3 The principal artists from whom this scheme originated, were Mr Moser, 
 Mr Wilson, Mr Penny, Mr Hay man, Mr West, Mr Sandby, Mr Stubbs, and 
 Mr (afterwards Sir William) Chambers ; whose ready access to his Majesty, in 
 consequence of his official situation, facilitated and gave efficacy to his exertions. 
 
SIB JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 XV 11 
 
 permanent dignity to a new establishment, his Majesty, in 
 Dec. 1768, 1 was pleased to institute a Royal Academy of 
 Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, composed of " the 
 ablest and most respectable Artists resident in Great Bri- 
 tain;" 2 and Mr Reynolds, holding unquestionably the first 
 rank in his profession, was nominated their President, Soon 
 afterwards he received the honour of knighthood. 
 
 It was no part of the prescribed duty of his office to read 
 lectures to the Academy ; but our author voluntarily imposed 
 this task upon himself, for the reasons which he has assigned 
 in his fifteenth Discourse : " If prizes were to be given, it ap- 
 peared not only proper, but almost indispensably necessary, 
 that something should be said by the President on the delivery 
 of those prizes ; and the President for his own credit would 
 wish to say something more than mere words of compliment ; 
 which, by being frequently repeated, would soon become flat 
 and uninteresting, and by being uttered to many, would at 
 last become a distinction to none : I thought, therefore, if I 
 were to preface this compliment with some instructive obser- 
 
 1 An Academy had been constituted under the royal patronage in 1767 ; 
 but the plan was more confined, and the Institution was supported by an Annual 
 Subscription. The new Royal Establishment instituted in 1768, which still sub- 
 sists, was to be supported by the produce of an Annual Exhibition ; and the 
 deficiency (if any) was to be supplied out of his Majesty's privy purse. For a 
 few years the infant institution required the aid of his Majesty's bounty ; who, at 
 various times, was pleased to advance for its support above £5000. The Exhibi- 
 tions, however, becoming annually more profitable, in a short time were more 
 than adequate to support the establishment ; in consequence of which the 
 Academy have now a considerable property in the Stocks, part of which they 
 have lately appropriated to create a fund for decayed artists. From 1769 to 
 1780 the Exhibitions produced, at an average, about £1500 annually ; from 1780 
 to 1796, about £2500. The receipts in 1780, when the Academy exhibited their 
 works for the first time at Somerset-Place, amounted to more than £3000, and 
 those of 1796 exceeded the sum produced by the Exhibition of 1780 ; being the 
 year of the greatest receipt from the first institution of the Academy. 
 
 2 The two principal objects of this Institution, as stated by the Artists in a 
 Petition to his Majesty, November 28, 1768, were, 1. "the establishment of a 
 well-regulated School or Academy of Design, for the use of Students in the 
 Arts ; and 2. an Annual Exhibition open to all Artists of distinguished merit, 
 where they might offer their performances to public inspection, and acquire that 
 degree of reputation and encouragement which they should be deemed to deserve.'* 
 
 D 
 
xviii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 vations on the art, when we crowned merit in the artists whom 
 we rewarded, I might do something to animate and guide them 
 in their future attempts." Such was the laudable motive 
 which produced the fifteen Discourses, pronounced by our 
 author between the 2nd of January 1769, and the 10th of 
 December 1790 : ! a work which contains such a body of just 
 
 1 In the first year the President delivered two Discourses; in the three years 
 following, a Discourse annually; afterwards, only every second year, with the 
 exception of that spoken on the removal of the Royal Academy to Somerset 
 Place. 
 
 Previous to the publication of the first edition of these works, a wandering 
 rumour had reached me, that the Discourses delivered Tby our author were not 
 written by himself, but by his friend Dr. Johnson. This notion appearing to me 
 too ridiculous and absurd to be gravely confuted, I took no notice of it; leaving 
 those who were weak enough to give credit to such an opinion to reconcile it 
 with the account given by our author himself in a former page, in which, while 
 he acknowledges how much he had profited by the conversation and instruction 
 of that extraordinary man, who " had qualified his mind to think justly," he at the 
 same time informs us, that Johnson had not contributed even a single sentiment 
 to his Discourses. 
 
 A new hypothesis, however, has been lately suggested: and among many other 
 statements concerning the late Mr Burke, which I know to be erroneous, we 
 have been confidently told that they were written by that gentleman. 
 
 The readers of poetry are not to learn, that a similar tale has been told of some 
 of our celebrated English poets. According to some, Denham did not write his 
 admired Cooper's Hill; and with a certain species of critics, our great moral 
 poet tells us, 
 
 " r — — most authors steal their works, or buy; 
 
 " Garth did not write his own Dispensary. 
 Such insinuations, however agreeable to the envious and malignant, who may give 
 them a temporary currency, can have but little weight with the judicious and 
 ingenuous part of mankind, and therefore, in general, merit only silent contempt. 
 But that Mr Burke was the author of all such parts of these Discourses as do not 
 relate to Painting and Sculpture, (what these are, the discoverer of this pretended 
 secret has not informed us,) has lately been so peremptorily asserted, and so par- 
 ticular an appeal has been made on this occasion to their editor, that 1 think it 
 my duty to confute this injurious calumny, lest posterity should be deceived and 
 misled by the minuteness of uncontradicted misrepresentation, delivered to the 
 world with all the confidence of truth. Fortunately I am able to give a more 
 decisive testimony on this subject, than could reasonably be expected from any 
 one man concerning the writings of another. 
 
 To the question then, whether I have not found among my late friend's papers 
 several of his discourses in the hand-writing of Mr Burke, or of some other un- 
 named person, I answer, that I never saw any of his Discourses in the hand- 
 writing of that illustrious statesman, or of any other person whatsoever, except 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xix 
 
 criticism on an extremely difficult subject, clothed in such 
 perspicuous, elegant, and nervous language, that it is no ex- 
 aggerated panegyric to assert, that it will last as long as the 
 English tongue, and contribute, no less than the productions 
 of his pencil, to render his name immortal. 1 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds ; and secondly, 1 say, that I am as firmly persuaded that the 
 whole body of these admirable works was composed by Sir Joshua Reynolds, as 
 I am certain that at this moment I am employing my pen in vindication of his 
 fame. I do not mean to assert, that he did not avail himself of the judgment of 
 his critical friends, to render them as perfect as he could ; or that he was above 
 receiving from them that species of literary assistance which every candid liter- 
 ary man is willing to receive, and which even that transcendent genius, Mr 
 Burke, in some instances did not disdain to accept. Of the early Discourses, 
 therefore, I have no doubt that some were submitted to Dr. Johnson, and some 
 to Mr Burke, for their examination and revision ; and probably each of those 
 persons suggested to their author some minute verbal improvements. Four of 
 the latter Discourses, in his own hand-writing, and warm from the brain, the 
 author did me the honour to submit to my perusal ; and with great freedom I 
 suggested to him some verbal alterations, and some new arrangements, in each 
 of them, which he very readily adopted. Of one I well remember he gave me 
 the general outline in conversation, as we returned together from an excursion to 
 the country, and before it was yet committed to paper. He soon afterwards 
 composed that Discourse conformably to the plan which he had crayoned out, and 
 sent it to me for such remarks on the language of it as should occur to me. 
 When he wrote his last Discourse, I was not in London; and that Discourse, I 
 know, was submitted to the critical examination of another friend, and that friend 
 was not Mr Burke. Such was the mighty aid that our author received from 
 those whom he honoured with his confidence and esteem ! 
 
 The reader has before him the testimony of Sir Joshua Reynolds himself, as far 
 as this calumny relates to Dr. Johnson; he has the decisive testimony of Mr 
 Burke, both in the passage already quoted and in a further extract from one of 
 his letters to the editor, which will be found in a subsequent page; and, if such 
 high authorities can admit of any additional confirmation, he has (whatever it 
 may be worth) the testimony of the editor also. Let this plain tale, therefore, 
 for ever seal up the lips of those who have presumed most unjustly to sully and 
 depreciate the literary reputation of a man, who is acknowledged, by the unani- 
 mous voice of his contemporaries, to have been a signal ornament of the age in 
 which he lived ; who was not less profound in the theory than excellent in the 
 practice of his art; and whose admirable works, of each kind, will transmit his 
 name with unfading lustre to the latest posterity. 
 
 1 Some years after the publication of the first seven of the Discourses, the 
 Author had the honour to receive from the late Empress of Russia, a gold box 
 with a basso relievo of her Imperial Majesty in the lid, set round with diamonds ; 
 accompanied with a note within, written with her own hand, containing these 
 words: " Pour le Chevalier Reynolds, en temoignage du contentment quej'ai res- 
 
XX 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 To the fame of the Academy the President, from its first 
 institution, contributed not a little, by exhibiting every year 
 a considerable number of his admirable performances ; 1 and 
 he so highly respected Mr Moser, to whose unwearied endea- 
 vours he conceived this excellent Institution in a great degree 
 owed its establishment, that, on his death in 1783, he honoured 
 his memory by a public testimonial, which probably appeared 
 in some newspaper of the day, and so well deserves a more 
 permanent repository, that I shall give it a place below. 2 
 
 What were the methods by which this great painter attain- 
 ed to such consummate excellence in his profession, it is now, 
 I fear, too late to inquire ; yet, as I find among his papers a 
 few slight hints upon this subject, in which he speaks of his 
 merits and defects with that candour which strongly marked 
 his character, though they are only detached thoughts, and 
 did not receive his final revision and correction, I am unwil- 
 ling to suppress them. 
 
 sentie a la lecture de ses excellens Discours sur la Peinture" Before he received 
 this mark of her Imperial Majesty's favour, he had been commissioned to paint an 
 Historical Picture for her, on any subject that he thought fit. The subject which 
 he chose was, The Infant Hercules strangling the Serpents. For this picture., 
 which is now at St. Petersburg!!, his Executors received from her Imperial Ma- 
 jesty fifteen hundred guineas. 
 
 The first seven of the Discourses have been translated into French, and I be- 
 lieve into Italian ; and doubtless a complete translation of all our author's works, 
 in each of those languages, will soon appear. 
 
 1 Between 1769 and 1790, inclusive, he exhibited at the Royal Academy, 
 two hundred and forty-four pictures ; at the Exhibitions previous to the institu- 
 tion of the Academy, between 1760 and 1768, twenty-five. Total 269. In the 
 whole of this period, the year 1767 was the only one in which he exhibited 
 nothing. 
 
 2 I know not where this eulogy originally appeared ; probably, however, it 
 was published in some of the daily papers. It is now printed from a copy in our 
 author's hand-writing : — ■ 
 
 Jan. 24, 1783. 
 
 " Yesterday, died at his apartments in Somerset-Place, George Michael Moser, 
 Keeper of the Royal Academy ; aged seventy-eight years. He was a native of 
 Switzerland, but came to England very young, to follow the profession of a 
 Chaser in gold, in which art he has been always considered as holding the first 
 rank. But his skill was not confined to this alone ; he possessed a universal 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xxi 
 
 " Not having the advantage of an early academical educa- 
 tion, I never had the facility of drawing the naked figure, 
 which an artist ought to have. It appeared to me too late, 
 when I went to Italy and began to feel my own deficiencies. 
 
 knowledge in all the branches of painting and sculpture, which perfectly qualified 
 him for the place that he held in the Academy, the business of which principally 
 consists in superintending and instructing the Students who draw or model from 
 the antique figures. 
 
 " His private character deserves a more ample testimony than this transient 
 memorial. Few have passed a more inoffensive or perhaps a more happy life ; 
 if happiness or the enjoyment of life consists in having the mind always occupied, 
 always intent upon some useful art, by which fame and distinction may be 
 acquired. Mr Moser's whole attention was absorbed either in the practice, or 
 something that related to the advancement, of art. He may truly be said in 
 every sense to have been the father of the present race of Artists ; for long be- 
 fore the Royal Academy was Established, he presided over the little Societies 
 which met first in Salisbury Court, and afterwards in St Martin's Lane, where 
 they drew from living models. Perhaps nothing that can be said will more 
 strongly imply his amiable disposition, than that all the different Societies with 
 which he has been connected, have always turned their eyes upon him for their 
 Treasurer and chief Manager ; when perhaps they would not have contentedly 
 submitted to any other authority. His early society was composed of men whose 
 names are well known in the world ; such as Hogarth, Rysbrach, Roubiliac, 
 Wills, Ellis, Vanderbank, &c. 
 
 " Though he had out-lived all the companions of his youth, he might to the 
 last have boasted of a succession equally numerous : for all that knew him were 
 his friends. 
 
 " When he was appointed Keeper of the Royal Academy, his conduct was 
 exemplary, and worthy to be imitated by whoever shall succeed him in that 
 office. As he loved the employment of teaching, he could not fail of discharging 
 that duty with diligence. By the propriety of his conduct he united the love 
 and respect of the Students : he kept order in the Academy, and made himself 
 respected, without the austerity or importance of office; all noise and tumult 
 immediately ceased on his appearance ; at the same time there was nothing for- 
 bidding in his manner, which might restrain the pupils from freely applying to 
 him for advice or assistance. 
 
 " All this excellence had a firm foundation; he was a man of sincere and 
 ardent piety, and has left an illustrious example of the exactness with which the 
 subordinate duties may be expected to be discharged by him, whose first care is 
 to please God. 
 
 " He has left one daughter behind him, who has distinguished herself by the 
 admirable manner in which she paints and composes Pieces of Flowers, of which 
 many samples have been seen in the Exhibitions. She has had the honour of 
 being much employed in this way by their Majesties, and for her extraordinary 
 merit has been received into the Royal Academy. 
 
xxii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 to endeavour to acquire that readiness of invention which I 
 observed others to possess. I consoled myself, however, by 
 remarking, that these ready inventors are extremely apt to 
 acquiesce in imperfection ; and that if I had not their facility, 
 I should for this very reason be more likely to avoid the 
 defect which too often accompanies it : a trite and common- 
 place mode of invention. How difficult it is for the artist 
 who possesses this facility, to guard against carelessness and 
 common-place invention, is well known, and in a kindred art 
 Metastasio is an eminent instance ; who always complained 
 of the great difficulty he found in attaining correctness in 
 consequence of having been in his youth an Improvisator e. — 
 Having this defect constantly in my mind, I never was con- 
 tented with common-place attitudes 1 or inventions of any 
 kind. 
 
 " I considered myself as playing a great game, and, instead 
 of beginning to save money, I laid it out faster than I got it, 
 in purchasing the best examples of art that could be procured ; 
 for I even borrowed money for this purpose. The possessing 
 portraits by Titian, Vandyck, Rembrandt, &c. I considered 
 as the best kind of w T ealth. By studying carefully the works 
 of great masters, this advantage is obtained ; we find that 
 certain niceties of expression are capable of being executed, 
 which otherwise we might suppose beyond the reach of art. 
 This gives us a confidence in ourselves ; and we are thus incited 
 to endeavour at not only the same happiness of execution, but 
 
 1 Our great artist's excellence in this respect has been highly extolled by the 
 late Lord Orford ; 
 
 " How painting has rekindled from its embers, (says that lively and ingenious 
 writer,) the works of many living artists demonstrate. The prints after the 
 works of Sir Joshua Reynolds have spread his fame to Italy, where they have 
 not at present [1780] a single painter that can pretend to rival an imagination 
 so fertile, that the attitudes of his portraits are as various as those of history. 
 In what age were paternal despair and the horrors of death pronounced with 
 more expressive accents than in his picture of Count Ugolino \ When was infan- 
 tine loveliness, or embryo-passions, touched with sweeter truth, than in his 
 portraits of Miss Price and the baby Jupiter?"—" The exuberance of his inven- 
 tion (the same writer observes, in a note,) will be the grammar of future painters 
 of portraits." Anecdotes of Painting, &c. vol. iv. Advertisement. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xxiii 
 
 also at other congenial excellencies. Study indeed consists 
 in learning to see nature, and maj^ be called the art of using 
 other men's minds. By this kind of contemplation and exer- 
 cise we are taught to think in their way, and sometimes to 
 attain their excellence. Thus, for instance, if I had never 
 seen any of the works of Correggio, I should never perhaps 
 have remarked in nature the expression which I find in one 
 of his pieces ; or, if I had remarked it, I might have thought 
 it too difficult or perhaps impossible to be executed. 
 
 44 My success, and continual improvement in my art, (if I 
 may be allowed that expression,) may be ascribed in a good 
 measure to a principle which I will boldly recommend to 
 imitation ; I mean a principle of honesty ; which in this, as 
 in all other instances, is, according to the vulgar proverb, 
 certainly the best policy : I always endeavoured to do my 
 best. Great or vulgar, good subjects or bad, all had nature; 
 by the exact representation of which, or even by the endea- 
 vour to give such a representation, the painter cannot but 
 improve in his art. 
 
 44 My principal labour was employed on the whole to- 
 gether ; 1 and I was never weary of changing, and trying 
 different modes and different effects. I had always some 
 scheme in my mind, and a perpetual desire to advance. By 
 constantly endeavouring to do my best, I acquired a power 
 
 1 This also, if I recollect riglit, is said to have been the principal object of 
 Correggio ; and, however toilsome, is in various places strongly recommended 
 by our author. " A steady attention to the general effect, (as he has observed 
 in his fourteenth Discourse,) takes up more time, and is much more laborious to 
 the mind, than any mode of high finishing, or smoothness, without such atten- 
 tion. " 
 
 Again in the eleventh Discourse : 
 
 " There is nothing in our art which enforces such continued exertion and cir- 
 cumspection, as an attention to the general effect of the whole. It requires 
 much study and much practice ; it requires the painter's entire mind ; whereas 
 the parts may be finishing by nice touches, while his mind is engaged on other 
 matters : he may even hear a play or a novel read, without much disturbance. 
 The artist who flatters his own indolence, will continually find himself evading 
 this active exertion, and applying his thoughts to the ease and laziness of highly 
 finishing the parts ; producing at last what Cowley calls — " laborious effects 
 of idleness. " 
 
xxiv 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 of doing that with spontaneous facility, which at first was 
 the effort of my whole mind ; and my reward was threefold : 
 the satisfaction resulting from acting on this just principle, 
 improvement in my art, and the pleasure . derived from a 
 constant pursuit after excellence. 
 
 " 1 was always willing to believe that my uncertainty of 
 proceeding in my works, that is, my never being sure of my 
 hand, and my frequent alterations, arose from a refined 
 taste, which could not acquiesce in any thing short of a high 
 degree of excellence. I had not an opportunity of being 
 early initiated in the principles of colouring : no man indeed 
 could teach me. If I have never settled with respect to 
 colouring, let it at the same time be remembered, that my 
 unsteadiness in this respect proceeded from an inordinate de- 
 sire to possess every kind of excellence that I saw in the 
 works of others ; without considering that there is in co- 
 louring, as in style, excellencies which are incompatible with 
 each other : however, this pursuit, or indeed any similar 
 pursuit, prevents the artist from being tired of his art. We 
 all know how often those masters who sought after colour- 
 ing, changed their manner ; whilst others, merely from not 
 seeing various modes, acquiesced all their lives in that with 
 which they set out. On the contrary, I tried every effect 
 of colour, and by leaving out every colour in its turn, 
 showed every colour that I could do without it. As I alter- 
 nately left out every colour, I tried every new colour ; and 
 often ? as is well known, failed. The former practice, I am 
 aware, may be compared by those whose first object is ridi- 
 cule, to that of the poet mentioned in the Spectator, who, in 
 a poem of twenty-four books, contrived in each book to leave 
 out a letter. But I was influenced by no such idle or foolish 
 affectation. My fickleness in the mode of colouring arose from 
 an eager desire to attain the highest excellence. 1 This is 
 
 1 Our author was so anxious to discover the method used by the Venetian 
 Painters, that he destroyed some valuable ancient pictures by rubbing out the 
 various layers of colour, in order to investigate and ascertain it. 
 
 Shortly before the first edition of these works was published, some hopes were 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 XXV 
 
 the only merit I can assume to myself from my conduct in 
 that respect." 
 
 Thus ingenuously and modestly has this great painter 
 spoken of himself in the few fragments which I have found 
 on this interesting subject. On the last topic he might with 
 great truth have added, that he not only always aspired to 
 attain the highest excellence of colouring, but that in very 
 many instances he did attain it; there being no one particular 
 in which he left his contemporaries so far behind him, as the 
 
 entertained that the process employed by the great colourists of former times 
 had been preserved ; and I was furnished by an eminent artist with an account 
 of the manner in which it had been discovered. Among the manuscript papers 
 of Captain Morley, who had travelled into Italy in the beginning of the present 
 century, was found one supposed to contain the process of colouring used by Ti- 
 tian, the Bassans, and other masters of the Venetian school ; which appeared to 
 several of our principal artists and connoisseurs so likely to be genuine, that 
 they gave the possessor of these papers a' valuable consideration for the secret 
 that they contained, which was communicated to them under an obligation not 
 to divulge it. As far, however, as it has hitherto been tried, this process has 
 not, I conceive, answered the expectations that were previously entertained 
 concerning it. 
 
 After the gross and unparalleled imposition practised on the public in the year 
 1795, by means of forged Manuscripts under the name of Shakspeare, (the fa- 
 brication of which, though detected, found a puny, but perfectly homogeneous 
 champion, whose mortified vanity prompted him to abet and countenance that 
 silly fiction, by confident and groundless assertions, false quotations, and argu- 
 ments still more flimsy and absurd than the imposture itself,) after such a de- 
 ception, it was not at all surprising that the cautious inquirer should have been 
 slow in giving credit to any new discovery of ancient manuscripts : but the 
 cases were extremely different ; for whether the process of colouring said to be 
 discovered was the genuine method of the Venetian school, or at least one simi- 
 lar in its effects, was a matter of experiment, and easily ascertained. Some ex- 
 periments have accordingly been made, and, it seems, with no great success. 
 However ancient therefore these documents may be, they hitherto appear to 
 be of little value. 
 
 It is highly probable that the great colourists of former times used certain 
 methods in mixing and laying on their colours, which they did not communicate 
 to others, or at least did not set down in writing ; their scholars contenting 
 themselves with as much of the practice of their masters as inspection and close 
 observation would give them ; and that by being thus confined to oral tradition, 
 the mode which they followed has been lost. Our great painter, however, had 
 undoubtedly attained a part of the ancient process used in the Venetian School ; 
 and by various methods of his own invention, produced a similar, though perhaps 
 not quite so brilliant an effect of colour. 
 
 E 
 
xxvi 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 richness and mellowness of his tints, when his colours were 
 successful and permanent. 1 Had he chosen to walk in the 
 
 1 The set of pictures which he painted as designs for the window of New 
 College Chapel, are eminent and brilliant instances of the truth of this observa- 
 tion. However high expectation may have been raised by Mr Warton's very 
 elegant verses on this subject, it will be fully gratified by the view of these ad- 
 mirable pieces. They now form an admirable decoration of that apartment, 
 which formerly was appropriated to the exhibition of the various works of this 
 great master, after they were dismissed from his painting -room. 
 - As the west window of New College Chapel, decorated as it now is, will long 
 continue to add to this great Painter's reputation, his own observations on this 
 subject may not be unacceptable to the numerous visitors who shall hereafter be 
 induced to view it. The original scheme, it appears, was, to distribute the vari- 
 ous figures in different places in the Chapel, but this plan was abandoned, as it 
 should seem, on our author's suggestion ; and on his suggestion also, the stone- 
 work of the window was altered, so as to admit one large compartment for paint- 
 ings in the centre : an alteration in effecting which the gentleman to whom Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds addressed two letters on this occasion, who was then a Fellow 
 of New College, was actively instrumental. From these letters, which were 
 obligingly communicated to me by Ozias Humphry, Esq. R.A., I subjoin the 
 following extracts, in confirmation of what has been now stated. 
 
 Leicester Fields, Dec. 27, 1777. 
 
 " I am extremely glad to hear the Society have determined to place all our 
 works together in the west window, to make one complete whole, instead of being 
 distributed in different parts of the Chapel. In my conversation with Mr Jervais 
 about it, he thought it might be possible to change the stone-work of the window, 
 so as to make a principal predominant space in the centre, without which it will 
 be difficult to produce a great effect. As Mr Jervais is now at Oxford, I need 
 add no more ; I have already expressed to him how much I wished this altera- 
 tion might be practicable." 
 
 In a subsequent letter {Jan. 9th, 1778,) he says, — " Supposing this scheme to 
 take place, [the alteration above proposed,] my idea is, to paint in the great space 
 in the centre, Christ in the Manger, on the principle that Correggio has done it, in 
 the famous picture called the N&tte : making all the light proceed from Christ. 
 These tricks of the art, as they may be called, seem to be more properly adapted 
 to glass painting, than any other kind. This middle space will be filled with the 
 Virgin, Christ, Joseph, and Angels ; the two smaller spaces on each side 1 shall 
 fill with the Shepherds coming to worship; and the seven divisions below with 
 the figures of Faith, Hope, and Charity, and the four Cardinal Virtues; which 
 will make a proper rustic base or foundation for the support of the Christian 
 Religion. Upon the whole it appears to me, that chance has presented to us 
 materials so well adapted to our purpose, that if we had the whole window of 
 our own invention and contrivance, we should not probably have succeeded 
 better." 
 
 The original picture of the nativity, a copy of which occupies the middle co- 
 partment of this window, is in the collection of the Duke of Rutland. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xxvii 
 
 common beaten path, he could have found no difficulty in 
 following the ordinary method pursued by much inferior 
 artists ; by deviating from it, he attained that grace which 
 sheds a lustre on far the greater part of his works, 1 
 
 Though the landscapes which he nas given in the back- 
 ground of many of his portraits are eminently beautiful, he 
 seldom exercised his hand in regular landscape-painting ; his 
 only works of this description, that I know of, being one in 
 the collection of Sir Brooke Boothby, Bart., another in that 
 of Lord Pelham at Stanmer, and the third, a View from 
 Richmond Hill, in the collection of the Earl of Inchiquin. 
 A few more may perhaps be found in other collections. But 
 in the historical department he took a wider range ; and, by 
 his successful exertions in that higher branch of his art, he 
 has not only enriched various cabinets at home, but extended 
 the fame of the English School to foreign countries. 2 
 
 During the brilliant career which he ran, 3 his profession 
 did not permit him often to make excursions from town. In 
 the summer, however, he at different periods visited the seats 
 of the Duke of Marlborough, Lord Boringdon, Lord Eliot, 
 Lord Ossory, Lord Palmerston, Mr Burke, and other friends ; 4 
 
 1 A notion prevails concerning this great painter, that in the majority of his 
 works the colours have entirely faded and perished; but this is by no means the 
 case: for the greater part of his pictures have preserved their original hue, and 
 are in perfect preservation. Those which have failed, have been mentioned again 
 and again, and thus have been multiplied in the imaginations of connoisseurs. — 
 Nor should it be forgotten, that the pictures of other considerable painters have 
 not been more durable than his. As many perished pictures of Gainsborough, I 
 have been informed, may be found in cabinets, as of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Even 
 the great colourists of antiquity were not entirely free from this defect. Several 
 pictures of Titian and Vandyck, it is well known, have wholly lost that brilliancy 
 which, without doubt, they once possessed. 
 
 2 For a list of his most important pieces, see the end of this Memoir. 
 
 3 In a letter to Mr Barretti, June 10, 1761, Dr. Johnson says — " Reynolds 
 is without a rival, and continues to add thousands to thousands." Writing a few 
 months afterwards to the same person, he says — " Mr Reynolds gets six thou- 
 sand a-year V 
 
 4 In 1762 he spent some weeks in his native county, Devonshire, accompanied 
 by Dr. Johnson. Of this visit, during which they were entertained at the seats 
 of many noblemen and gentlemen in the West of England, Mr Boswell has 
 given a particular account in his Life of Johnson, i. 344. 8vo. 
 
xxviii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 and occasionally spent a few days at Ms villa on Richmond 
 Hill ; but he had very little relish for a country-life, and was 
 always glad to return to London, to which he was not less 
 attached than Dr. Johnson: with him, justly considering 
 that metropolis as the 'head-quarters of intellectual society. 
 In July 1781, in order to view the most celebrated produc- 
 tions of the Flemish and Dutch Schools, in company with 
 his friend Mr Metcalfe, he made a tour to the Netherlands and 
 Holland, and the fruit of his travel was a very pleasing ac- 
 count of their journey, 1 containing remarks on the pictures 
 preserved in the various churches and cabinets that he visited ; 
 to which he has subjoined a masterly character of Rubens. 
 His critical observations on the many excellent pieces that he 
 viewed at Antwerp and Brussels, in the Dusseldorp Gallery, 
 and at Amsterdam, which are now for the first time given to 
 the world, have, since his death, acquired an additional value; 
 for by the baleful success and ravages of the French plunder- 
 ers, who since that period have desolated Europe, many of 
 the most celebrated works of the Flemish School in the 
 Netherlands (for I will not gratify our English republicans 
 by calling it Belgium) have been either destroyed or carried 
 away to that " oppeobeious den of shame," which it is to 
 be hoped no polished Englishman will ever visit. Many of 
 the pictures of Rubens being to be sold in 1783, in conse- 
 quence of certain religious houses being suppressed by the 
 Emperor, he again in that year visited Antwerp and Brussels, 
 and devoted several days to contemplating the productions of 
 that great painter. 2 On his return from his first tour, his 
 
 1 Of this work Mr Burke thus writes, in the letter already quoted :— 
 
 " I have read over not only that Life, [the account of our author prefixed to 
 the first edition,] but some part of the Discourses, with an unusual sort of plea- 
 sure; partly because, being faded a little in my memory, they have a sort of 
 appearance of novelty; partly by reviving recollections mixed with melancholy 
 and satisfaction. The Flemish Journal I had never seen before. You trace 
 in that, every where, the spirit of the Discourses, supported by new examples. 
 He is always the same man; the same philosophical, the same artist-like critic, 
 the same sagacious observer, with the same minuteness, without the smallest 
 degree of trifling." 
 
 2 On viewing the pictures of Rubens a second time, they appeared much less 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xxix 
 
 own pieces (as he remarked to Mr Metcalfe) seemed to Mm 
 to want force ; and the portraits which he painted between 
 that period and 1789, it is observable, have still more anima- 
 tion, energy, and brilliancy of colouring, than his former 
 works. 
 
 In the same year (1783) the late Mr Mason having finished 
 his elegant translation of Du Fresnoy's Art of Painting, our 
 author enriched that work with a very ample and ingenious 
 Commentary, which, together with the Poem to which it re- 
 lates, is now T published with his Discourses ; Mr Mason 
 having' obligingly permitted his translation to be printed in 
 this collection of his friend's works. The Annotations, indeed, 
 without the poem, would not be intelligible. " The Dis- 
 courses," as their author has observed, 1 "having scarce 
 any relation to the mechanical part of the art, 2 these Notes 
 may be considered as in some measure supplying that defi- 
 ciency ;" and we may with truth add, that these two works 
 comprise the whole science and practice of painting. 
 
 On the death of Mr Ramsay in the following year, our 
 author (11th August 1784) was sworn principal painter in 
 ordinary to his Majesty ; which ofiice he possessed to his 
 death : and two months afterwards, on St Luke's Day, he w T as 
 
 brilliant than they had done on the former inspection. He could not for some 
 time account for this circumstance; but when he recollected that when he first 
 saw them, he had his note-book in his hand, for the purpose of writing down 
 short remarks, he perceived what had occasioned their now making a less impres- 
 sion in this respect than they had done formerly. By the eye passing immediate- 
 ly from the white paper to the picture, the colours derived uncommon richness 
 and warmth. For want of this foil, they afterwards appeared comparatively 
 cold. 
 
 This little circumstance was communicated to me by Sir George Beaumont, 
 whose good taste and skill discovered that in the two groups mentioned in a 
 former page, our author had Paul Veronese in view; which, on the remark being 
 made, he said was the case. 
 
 1 In a loose fragment. 
 
 2 A few practical instructions are given in the eighth and twelfth Discourses ; 
 and in the former towards the conclusion, some of the means are pointed out, by 
 which the Venetian painters produced such great effect in their pictures. Perhaps 
 some useful hints also may be discovered by the Student, dispersed in the other 
 Discourses. 
 
XXX 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 presented with the freedom of the Painters' Company, an 
 honour which, though to him of little value, he received with 
 his usual complacency and politeness. 
 
 As posterity may be curious to know what were the prices 
 paid at various periods to this great painter for his works, it 
 may not perhaps be thought too minute to add, that about 
 the year 1755, his price for a three-quarters, or as it is 
 popularly called, a head, was but twelve guineas ; in the be- 
 ginning of 1758, twenty guineas ; soon after 1760, twenty-five 
 guineas ; in 1770, thirty-five guineas ; and in 1781, fifty 
 guineas ; which continued to be the price till he ceased to 
 paint The price of a half-length during this latter period, 
 was one hundred guineas ; and for a whole-length two hun- 
 dred guineas were paid. 1 From a paper which I transcribed 
 some years ago in the Lord Chamberlain's Office, from an 
 office-book which formerly belonged to Philip, Earl of Pem- 
 broke and Montgomery, it appears that Vandyck in 1632 
 received but twenty-five pounds for a whole-length picture of 
 Charles the First ; for a half-length of the Queen, twenty 
 pounds ; and " for one great piece of his Majesty, the Queen, 
 and their children, one hundred pounds :" which, however, 
 considering the change in the value of money and the modes 
 of life, may be estimated as equal to three hundred pounds at 
 this day. 
 
 The personal character of Sir Joshua Reynolds is well 
 known to many of his surviving friends and admirers ; but it 
 would be great injustice to him, and an unpardonable inatten- 
 tion to posterity, not to give in this place a slight sketch of 
 his manners, habits, and endowments. He was in stature 
 rather under the middle size ; of a florid complexion, and a 
 lively and pleasing aspect; well made, and extremely active. 2 
 
 1 His pupils were Giuseppe Marclii, wlio accompanied him from Italy; Mr 
 Beech, Mr Baron, Mr Berridge, Mr Parry, (son to the celebrated player on the 
 harp,) Mr Gill, Mr Dusine, Mr Northcote, R.A., Mr Doughty, and Mr Score. 
 
 -' The last portrait which he painted of himself, (with spectacles,) in 1788, is 
 extremely like him, and exhibits him exactly as he appeared in his latter days, 
 in domestic life. It is a three-quarters, in the collection of the Earl of Inchiquin ; 
 and his Grace the Duke of Leeds has a duplicate of it. There is a portrait of 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xxxi 
 
 His appearance at first sight impressed the spectator with the 
 idea of a well-born and well-bred English gentleman. With 
 an uncommon equability of temper, which, however, never 
 degenerated into insipidity or apathy, he possessed a constant 
 
 him by himself in the dining room of the Society of Dilettanti, in Pall Mall, a 
 three-quarters also ; he is dressed in a loose robe, and has his own hair. Another, 
 (in which he holds his hand to his ear, to aid the sound,) painted for Mr Thrale 
 about 1775, is in possession of Mrs Piozzi. Another (a half-length,) is in the 
 Royal Academy, with a cap, and the gown of a Doctor of the Civil Law ; which 
 honour he received from the University of Oxford, July 9, 1773. In this picture 
 is introduced the bust of Michael Angelo, on whom he pronounced so high an 
 encomium in his last Discourse. Another in the same dress, a three-quarters, is 
 at Belvoir Castle ; and a third in the same dress, is in the gallery of the Great 
 Duke at Florence. Another portrait of him is preserved in the Town Hall at 
 Plympton, also painted and presented by himself; in this picture a red gown is 
 thrown carelessly about him, and he is without a cap. One nearly resembling 
 this, and painted before it, is at Taplow Court. We have another portrait of our 
 author in the dress of a Shepherd, with Mr Jervais the Glass Painter, in one 
 of the pictures painted as designs for the great window of New College Chapel, 
 in Oxford : and Mr Farington, R. A. has a portrait of him, by himself, as a 
 painter, with a canvass, easel, &c. before him. Another portrait of him, by him- 
 self, is in possession of Robert Lovel Gwatkin, Esq. of Killiow, in Cornwall. 
 Lord Inchiquin has two portraits of our author when young, one when he was 
 about thirty years old, in his own hair ; the other younger, (in the manner of 
 Rembrandt,) in his own hair also, with his great-coat and hat on. Another 
 youthful portrait, done before he went to Italy, is said to be in the possession 
 of Thomas Lane, Esq. of Coffleat in Devonshire. 
 
 There is also a portrait of him, painted by C. G. Stuart, an American, about 
 the year 1784, in the possession of Mr Alderman Boy dell; another by Zaffaiiii, 
 in a picture representing all the artists of the Academy, about. the year 1770, in 
 the King's Collection ; and not long before his death, when he was much indis- 
 posed, he sat to Mr Breda, a Swedish painter, whose performance appeared a 
 few years ago in the Exhibition. 
 
 Soon after Gainsborough settled in London, Sir Joshua Reynolds thought him- 
 self bound in civility to pay him a visit. That painter, however, (as our author 
 told me,) took not the least notice of him for several years ; but at length called 
 on him, and requested him to sit for his picture. Sir Joshua complied, and sat 
 once to that artist ; but being soon afterwards taken ill, he was obliged to go to 
 Bath for his health. On his return to London perfectly restored, he sent Gains- 
 borough word that he had returned, to which Gainsborough, who was extremely 
 capricious, only replied, that he was glad to hear that Sir Joshua Reynolds was 
 well ; and he never afterwards desired Sir Joshua to sit, nor had any other inter- 
 course with him, till Gainsborough was dying, when he sent to request to see 
 him, and thanked him for the very liberal and favourable manner in which he had 
 always spoken of his works ; a circumstance which our author has thought worth 
 recording in his Fourteenth Discourse. The capricious conduct of Gainsborough 
 
xxxii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 flow of spirits, which rendered him at all times a most pleasing 
 companion; always cheerful, and ready to be amused with 
 whatever was going forward, and from an ardent thirst of 
 knowledge, anxious to obtain information on every subject 
 that was presented to his mind. In conversation, his manner 
 was perfectly natural, simple, and unassuming. Though he 
 had occasionally dipped into many books, not having had 
 time for regular and systematic study, some topics which had 
 been long discussed and settled, were new to him ; and hence 
 merely by the vigour of his excellent understanding, he often 
 suggested ingenious theories, and formed just conclusions, 
 which had already been deduced by the laborious disquisitions 
 of others. Finding bow little time he could spare from his 
 
 did not prevent our author from purchasing from him his well known picture of a 
 girl tending pigs, for which one hundred guineas were paid. 
 
 A marble bust of Sir Joshua Reynolds by Cirachi, an Italian Sculptor, is in 
 possession of the Earl of Inchiquin ; and another bust, modelled from the life, in 
 terra cotta, more like than the marble bust, which was done from it, was sold by 
 auction by Greenwood, in 1792. I have a medallion modelled in was by Mount- 
 stephen, which is a very faithful representation of this great painter, in his usual 
 evening dress. It was done in 1790, when he was in his sixty-seventh year. 
 
 The Engravings that have been made from his various portraits are, 1. By V. 
 Green, in Mezzotinto, from the picture in the Academy. 2. By J. Collyer, from 
 the same ; a small oval. 3. By James Watson, in Mezzotinto, from the picture 
 belonging to the Society of Dilettanti. 4. By C. Townly, from the picture in the 
 Gallery at Florence. 5. By I. K. Sherwin, from the same picture. 6. By R. 
 Earlom, from Zaffanii's picture of the Academy. 7. By Pariset, from a drawing 
 by Falconet. 8. By Facius, from the window in New College Chapel. 9. 
 Another, when young, his hand shading his forehead ; by S. W. Reynolds, from 
 the picture in Mr Lane's possession. 10. By Caroline Kirkley; from Mr Gwat- 
 kin's picture. 11. That prefixed to the present edition of his works; engraved 
 by Caroline Watson, from the portrait in the collection of Lord Inchiquin. There 
 
 is, I believe, a copy of this by T. Holloway. 12. By , from Mr Breda's 
 
 picture. 
 
 The tricks which are often practised with engraved copper-plates, are well 
 known. At the time the person so justly execrated, and branded with the name 
 of The Monster, made such noise, the dealers in articles of this kind were very 
 desirous of some representation of him ; but not being able suddenly to procure 
 one, they made an old plate, which had been engraved for a magazine, and with 
 the aid of the name subjoined was intended to pass for the portrait of our author, 
 serve their purpose. As the print had no resemblance to Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 and had indeed a most formidable appearance, by striking out the original in- 
 scription, and substituting The Monster, it did very well. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xxxiii 
 
 profession, for the purpose of acquiring general knowledge 
 from books, he very early and wisely resolved to partake as 
 much as possible of the society of all the ingenious and learned 
 men of his own time ; 1 in consequence of which, and of his 
 cheerful and convivial habits, his table 2 for above thirty 
 years exhibited an assemblage of all the talents of Great 
 Britain and Ireland ; there being, daring that period, scarce 
 a person in the three kingdoms distinguished for his attain- 
 ments in literature or the arts, or for his exertions at the bar, 
 in the senate, or the field, who was not occasionally found 
 there. The pleasure and instruction which he derived from 
 such company induced him, in conjunction with Dr. Johnson, 
 to establish what has been called the Literary Club, 
 though its members have never assumed that denomination ; 
 a society which has now (1809) subsisted for more than forty 
 years, and can boast of having had enrolled among them many 
 of the most celebrated characters of the present century. 3 
 
 1 He has strongly recommended the same practice to other artists, in his 
 Seventh Discourse, p. 191. 
 
 2 The nodes caenceque Deum enjoyed at his table, (as Mr Boswell, in the 
 Dedication prefixed to his most instructive and entertaining Life of Dr. Johnson, 
 has justly described the symposium of our author,) will be long remembered by 
 those who had the happiness to partake of them ; but the remembrance must 
 always be accompanied with regret, when it is considered that the death of their 
 amiable and illustrious host has left a chasm in society, and that no such common 
 centre of union for the accomplished and the learned now exists, or is likely soon 
 to exist, in London. I remember on one occasion to have sat down at Sir Joshua 
 Reynold's table with fifteen persons, eleven or twelve of whom had made a dis- 
 tinguished figure in the world. 
 
 3 As Sir Joshua Reynolds was the first proposer, and, in conjunction with Dr. 
 Johnson, founder of this Club, a short account of it may not be here improper. 
 It was founded in the year 1764 ; and the original scheme was, that it should con- 
 sist of only twelve members, and that they should be men of such talents, and 
 so well known to each other, that any two of them, if they should not happen to 
 be joined by more, might be good company to each other. 
 
 The original members were, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, Mr Burke, Dr. 
 Nugent, Mr Langton, Mr Antony Chamier, Sir John Hawkins, the Hon. Topham 
 Beauclerk, and Dr. Goldsmith. Mr Samuel Dyer, Sir Robert Chambers, and Dr. 
 Percy, now Lord Bishop of Dromore, were soon afterwards elected. They at 
 first met once a-week, on Monday evening, at the Turk's Head in Gerrard Street. 
 In 1772, the Club still consisted of only twelve members. On its enlargement in 
 March 1773, two new members were added; the Earl of Charlemont, and Mr 
 
 F 
 
xxxiv 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 In the fifteen years during which I had the pleasure of 
 living with our author on terms of great intimacy and friend- 
 ship, he appeared to me the happiest man I have ever known. 
 Indeed he acknowledged to a friend in his last illness, that he 
 had been fortunate and happy beyond the common lot of 
 humanity. The dissipated, the needy, and the industrious, 
 are apt to imagine, that the idle and the rich are the chosen 
 favourites of heaven, and that they alone possess what all 
 mankind are equally anxious to attain : but, supposing always 
 a decent competence, the genuine source of happiness is vir- 
 tuous employment, pursued with ardour, and regulated by our 
 own choice. Sir Joshua Reynolds was constantly employed 
 in a lucrative profession, the study and practice of which 
 
 Garrick ; and not long afterwards several other members were chosen. About 
 the year 1775, instead of supping together once a-week, they resolved to dine 
 together once a-fortnight during the sitting of Parliament ; and on that footing 
 this Society (which has gradually been increased to thirty-five members, and can 
 never exceed forty) still subsists. They now meet at the Thatched House in St. 
 James's Street. 
 
 The total number of persons who have been members of this Club, is seventy- 
 four. Of these the following forty-two are dead : Sir J. Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, 
 Mr Burke, Dr. Nugent, Mr Chamier, Mr Langton, Mr Beauclerk, Sir John 
 Hawkins, Mr Dyer, Dr. Goldsmith, Sir Robert Chambers, Lord Charlemont, Mr 
 Garrick, John Dunning Lord Ashburton, Dr. Adam Smith, Mr Colman, Dr. Ship- 
 ley Bishop of St Asaph, Mr Vesey, Mr Thomas Warton, Mr Gibbon, Dr. Hinch- 
 liffe Bishop of Peterborough, Sir William Jones, Mr Richard Burke, junior, Mr 
 Boswell, the Marquis of Bath, Dr. Warren, the Rev. Dr. Farmer, the Duke of 
 Leeds, Lord Lucan, Mr Steevens, Dr. Joseph Warton, Lord Palmerston, Dr. 
 Fordyce, Dr Marlay Bishop of Waterford, Sir William Hamilton, Edward 
 Lord Eliot, Lord Macartney, Dr. Barnard Bishop of Limerick, Mr Charles 
 Fox, Dr. Horsley Bishop of St. Asaph, Dr. Douglas Bishop of Salisbury, and 
 Dr. French Laurence. 
 
 The present members [March 8, 1809] are, Dr. Percy Bishop of Dromore, Sir 
 Charles Bunbury, Mr Sheridan, Lord Ossory, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr Windham, 
 Sir William Scott, Lord Spencer, Dr. Burney, Mr Courtenay, Sir Charles 
 Blagden, Major Rennel, the Hon. Frederick North, Mr Canning, Mr Marsden, 
 Mr Frere, Mr Thomas Grenville, Dr. Vincent Dean of Westminster, Mr William 
 Lock, Mr George Ellis, Lord Minto, Sir William Grant Master of the Rolls, Sir 
 George Staunton, Mr Charles Wilkins, Mr Drummond, Dr. Vaughan, Sir Henry 
 Englefield, Lord Holland, Lord Aberdeen, Mr Hatchett, Mr Charles Vaughan, 
 and the writer of this account. They are all placed in the order of their election, 
 except the person last mentioned, who had the honour to be chosen a member 
 in 1782. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 afforded him inexhaustible entertainment, and left him not 
 one idle or languid hour; and he enjoyed as much fame as 
 the most ambitious candidate for popular approbation could 
 desire. That he should have been unconscious of the very 
 high rank that he held in the public estimation, and of the 
 extraordinary excellence which he had attained in his art, 
 was not to be expected ; but he never shewed any such con- 
 sciousness, and was as perfectly free from vanity and ostenta- 
 tion, as he was from artifice or affectation of any kind. His 
 ardent love of truth, in which respect he was a zealous disciple 
 of Dr. Johnson, and his strong antipathy to all false preten- 
 sions, and to any thing indirect, artificial, or affected, formed 
 a striking part of his character ; and were indeed, if I do not 
 greatly deceive and flatter myself, the congenial sentiments 
 which principally operated in attaching him to the person to 
 whose province it has fallen to pay this slight tribute to his 
 memory. While engaged in his painting room, he had the 
 pleasure of seeing and conversing with all the beautiful, 1 
 accomplished, and illustrious characters of his time ; and 
 when not employed in his art, his hours were generally 
 passed in the most pleasing and enlightened society that 
 London could produce. His mind was never torpid; but 
 always at work on some topic or other. He had a strong 
 turn and relish for humour, in all its various forms, and very 
 quickly saw the weak sides of things. Of the numerous 
 characters which presented themselves to him in the mixed 
 companies in which he lived, he was a nice and sagacious 
 observer, as I have had frequent occasion to remark; 2 and 
 I have found among his papers some very ingenious, though 
 unfinished, observations on the manners and habits of two 
 very eminent men of his acquaintance. He delighted much 
 in marking the dawning traits of the youthful mind, and the 
 
 1 He had painted, as lie once observed to me, two generations of the beauties 
 of England. 
 
 2 In confirmation of this remark, I may produce the testimony of Dr. Johnson, 
 who said to Mr Boswell, in 1780, that " he knew no man who had passed through 
 life with more observation than Sir Joshua Reynolds." Life of Johnson, 2d 
 Edit. III. 252. 
 
XXXVI 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 actions and bodily movements of young persons ; a circum- 
 stance which probably enabled him to portray children with 
 such exquisite happiness and truth. It was one of his fa- 
 vourite maxims, that all the gestures of children are graceful, 
 and that the reign of distortion and unnatural attitude com- 
 mences with the introduction of the dancing master. 
 
 Though from the time of his returning from Italy he was 
 very deaf* 1 he contrived, by aid of an ear- trumpet, 2 to partake 
 of the conversation of his friends with great facility and ad- 
 dress \ and such was the serenity of his temper, that what he 
 did not hear, he never troubled those with whom he conversed 
 to repeat. To this gentle composure of mind Goldsmith al- 
 luded, when in describing Sir Joshua Reynolds he employed 
 the epithet bland, a word eminently happy, and characteristic 
 of his easy and placid manners; 5 but taking into our con- 
 sideration at once the soundness of his understanding, and the 
 mildness and suavity of his deportment, perhaps Horace's 
 description of the amiable friend of the younger Scipio, — the 
 
 1 His deafness was originally occasioned Tby a cold that he caught in the 
 Vatican, hy painting for a long time near a stove, by which the damp vapours of 
 that edifice were attracted, and affected his head. When in company with only 
 one person, he heard very well, without the aid of a trumpet. 
 
 2 Le Sage, the celebrated author of Gilblas, (as Mr Spence mentions in his 
 Anecdotes,) though very deaf, enjoyed the conversation of his friends by the same 
 means, (the aid of a cornette,) and was a very pleasing companion. 
 
 3 See Retaliation, a poem by Dr. Goldsmith, in which he has drawn the 
 characters of several of his friends, in the form of epitaphs to be placed on their 
 tombs : — 
 
 ' ; Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind.. 
 " He has not left a wiser or better behind ; 
 " His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; 
 " His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; 
 " Still born to improve us in every part, 
 " His pencil our faces, his manners our heart : 
 " To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, — 
 " When they judg'd without skill, he was still hard of hearing ; 
 " When they talk'd of their Raffaelles, Correggios, and stuff, 
 " He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff." 
 * * * * * * 
 
 These were the last lines the author wrote. He had written half a line more 
 of this character, when he was seized with the nervous fever which carried him 
 in a few days to the grave. He intended to have concluded with his own char- 
 acter. 
 
SIE JOSHUA EEYNOLDS. 
 
 xxxvii 
 
 mitis sapientia Lseli, 1 may convey to posterity a more perfect 
 idea of our illustrious painter, than the unfinished delineation 
 of his poetical friend, to which I allude. 
 
 If our author was not much inclined to exchange the ani- 
 
 1 Even the classical reader may not perhaps immediately recollect in how 
 many points these two celebrated persons resemble each other. Each of them 
 certainly had some qualifications, to which the other had no pretensions ; as 
 Lselius knew nothing of painting, so our author had no claim either to the char- 
 acter of a military commander, or a distinguished orator. But the qualities which 
 they possessed in common, are so numerous, as fully to justify the present juxta- 
 position. 
 
 The portrait of Lselius has been drawn by Mr Melmoth, with his usual fidelity. 
 " He seems (says that very elegant writer) to have united in his character, 
 whether considered in a moral, a civil, or a philosophical view, all those talents 
 of the mind and qualities of the heart, that could justly recommend him to the 
 general esteem of his own times, and transmit his name with honour to posterity 
 There was a politeness and affability in his address, a sprightliness and vivacity 
 in his conversation, together with a constant equality in his temper, that wonder- 
 fully recommended him to all those with whom he had any connection ; insomuch 
 that what was observed of Socrates, was equally remarked in Lselius, that he 
 always appeared with a serene and placid countenance. 
 
 " To the advantages of these captivating manners, were added the ornaments 
 of a most cultivated and improved understanding : he was not only one of the 
 finest gentlemen, but of the first orators, and the most elegant scholars of the age. 
 Lselius and Scipio indeed, united as they were by genius and talents, no less than 
 by esteem and affection, equally conspired in refining the taste, and encouraging 
 the literature of their countrymen. They were the patrons, after having been the 
 disciples, of Pansetius and Polybius ; and both the philosopher and the historian 
 had the honour and happiness of constantly sharing with them those hours that 
 were not devoted to the public service. But the severer muses did not entirely 
 engross those intervals of leisure, which these illustrious friends occasionally 
 snatched from the great business of the state : Terence and Lucilius were fre- 
 quently admitted into these parties, where wit and wisdom jointly conspired to 
 render the conversation at once both lively and instructive." — Ljelius, or an Essay 
 on Friendship, &c. Remarks, p. 168. 
 
 The ingenious writer then proceeds to consider this celebrated person in a 
 political light ; but as it is not here necessary to place him in this point of view, 
 I do not transcribe that part of his encomium. He has not quoted the authorities 
 on which this representation is founded ; I shall therefore add here such passages 
 (principally from Cicero) as I suppose he had in contemplation, which may serve 
 farther to illustrate the character in question. 
 
 " Erat in C. Lselio multa hilaritas ; in ejus familiari Scipione ambitio major, 
 vita tristior." De Off. i. 30. 
 
 " in rebus prosperis, et ad voluntatem nostram fluentibus, superbiam, 
 
 fastidium, arrogantiamque magnopere fugiamus : nam ut adversas res, sic secu^ 1 
 
xxxviii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 mated scenes of the metropolis, for the quiet and retirement 
 of the country, yet when he was there, (and indeed in other 
 situations, when not engaged in grave employments, (he was 
 as playful as either Leelius or his illustrious friend, and would 
 
 immoderate ferre, levitatis est ; prceclaraque est cequabililas in omni vita, et idem 
 semper vultus, eademque frons ; ut de Socrate, item de C. L^lio accepimus. Ibid. 
 
 i. 26. 
 
 " Hujusmodi Scipio ille fuit, quern non poenitebat facere idem quod tu ; habere 
 eruditissimum hominem et pene divinum, [Panaetium] domi; cujus oratione et 
 prseceptis, quanquam erant eadem ista quae te delectant, tamen asperior non est 
 factus, sed (ut accepi a senibus) lenissimus. Quis vero C. L^lio comior? quis 
 jucundior, eodem ex studio isto? quis illo gravior? sapientior!" Orat. pro 
 Murena, 31. 
 
 " Ex hoc esse hunc numero, quern patres nostri viderunt, divinum hominem 
 Africanum ; ex hoc C. L^elium, L. Furium, moderatissimos homines et continentis- 
 swos." Pro. Arch. 7. 
 
 " Viriatus Lusitanus, cui quidem etiam exercitus nostri imperatoresque 
 
 cesserunt ; quern C. L^elius, is qui sapiens usurpatur, prsetor fregit, et comminuit, 
 ferocitatemque ejus ita repressit, ut facile bellum reliquis traderet." De Off. 
 
 ii. 11. 
 
 " Similemne putas C. L^elii unum consulatum fuisse, et eum quidem cum 
 repulsa, (si cum sapiens et bonus vir, qualis ille fuit, suffrages prssteritur, non 
 populus a bono consule potius quam ille a vano populo repulsam fert,) sed tamen 
 utrum malles te, si potestas esset, semel, ut L^elium, consulem, an ut Cinnam, 
 quater? Tuscul. v. 19. 
 
 " Quando enim me in hunc locum deduxit oratio, docebo, meliora me didicisse 
 de colendis diis immortalibus jure pontificio, et majorum more, capedunculis iis 
 quas Numa nobis reliquit, de quibus in ilia aureola oratiuncula dicit L^elius, 
 quam rationibus Stoicorum." De Nat. Deor. iii. 17. 
 
 " itaque quos ingenio, quos studio, quos doctrina prceditos vident, quo- 
 
 rumque mtam constantem et probatam, ut Catonis, L/Elii, Scipionis, aliorumque 
 plurium, viderentur eos esse quales se ipsi velint." Top. 20. 
 
 " Saspe ex socero meo audivi, quum is diceret, socerum suum Laelium semper 
 fere cum Scipione solitum rusticari, eosque incredibiliter requerascere esse solitos, 
 quum rus ex urbe, tanquam e vinculis, evolavissent. Non audeo dicere de talibus 
 viris, sed tamen ita solet narrare Scsevola, conchas eos et umbilicos ad Cajetam 
 et ad Laurentum legere consuesse, et ad omnem animi remissionem ludumque 
 descendere." De Orat. ii. 6. 
 
 An old Scholiast on Horace goes still further, and informs us, that these two 
 great men sometimes indulged themselves in the same kind of boyish playfulness 
 which has been recorded of the flagitious Cromwell and one of his fellow -regicides : 
 " Scipio Africanus et L^elius feruntur tarn fuisse familiares et amici Lucilio, ut 
 qnodam tempore Lselio circum lectos triclinii fugienti Lucilius superveniens, eum 
 obtorta mappa, quasi feriturus, sequeretur." 
 
 " Memoria teneo, Smyrna; me ex P. Rutilio Rufo audisse, quum diceret adoles- 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xxxix 
 
 as readily have gathered pebbles on the sea-shore ; and though 
 he was not an orator, if his studies and pursuits had originally 
 led him to a popular profession, and he had been obliged to 
 address a public assembly, it is clear from his manners and 
 his writings, that, in the character of his eloquence, he would 
 have resembled the perspicuous and elegant Lselius, rather 
 than the severe and vehement Galba. For the rest, the con- 
 formity is greater than at the first view may be supposed. 
 As Lselius was the disciple and protector of Pansetius, and the 
 patron and companion of Lucilius, Sir Joshua Reynolds was 
 the scholar and friend of Johnson, and the friend and bene- 
 factor of Goldsmith. What the illustrious Scipio was to 
 Lrelius, the all-knowing and all-accomplished Burke was to 
 Reynolds. For the pleadings and aureola oratiuncula of the 
 amiable Roman, we have the luminous, I had almost said 
 the golden Discourses of our author. As Lselius, admired 
 and respected as he was, was repulsed from the consulate, Sir 
 
 centulo se accidisse, ut ex Senatus-consulto P. Scipio et D. Brutus, ut opinor, 
 consules, de re atroci magnaque qusererent. Nam quum in silva Sila. facta csodes 
 esset, notique homines interfecti ; insimulareturque familia, partim etiam liberi 
 societatis ejus, quae picarias de P. Cornelio, L. Mummio, censoribus, redemisset ; 
 decreyisse senatum, ut de ea. re cognoscerent et statuerent consules : causam pro 
 publicanis accurate, ut semper solitus esset, eleganterque dixisse Lselium. Quum 
 consules, re audita amplius de consilii sententia pronuntiavissent, paucis inter- 
 positis diebus, iterum Lselium multo diligentius meliusque dixisse ; iterumque eodem 
 modo a consulibus rem esse prolatem. Turn Lselium, quum eum socii domum 
 reduxissent, egissentque gratias, et ne defatigaretur oravissent, locutum esse ita ; 
 se quse fecisset, honoris eorum causa, studiose, accurateque fecisse ; sed se arbitrari 
 causam illam a Ser. Galba, quod is in dicendo fortior acriorque esset, gravius et 
 vehementius posse defendi. Itaque auctoritate C. Lselii publicanos causam detulisse 
 ad Galbam." — After informing us that Galba pleaded this cause with great spirit 
 and vigour, and obtained a decision in favour of his clients, Cicero adds — " Ex 
 hac Rutiliana, narratione suspicari licet, quum duse summse sint in oratore laudes, 
 una subtiliter disputandi, ad docendum ; altera graviter agendi, ad animos audien- 
 tium permovendos ; multoque plus proficiat is qui inflammet judicem, quam ille 
 qui doceat ; elegantiam in Lselio, vim in Galba fuisse." Brut. xxii. 
 
 From the foregoing passages, which I have collected with a view to illustrate 
 the character of Lselius, (though some of them may seem not perfectly applicable 
 to the present purpose,) a very competent notion of this celebrated person may 
 be formed ; and I trust that the comparison of these two characters will not 
 appear, like many of Plutarch's, forced and constrained into parallelism, 
 
xl 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Joshua Reynolds, in consequence of an unhappy misunder- 
 standing, was forced for a short time to relinquish the Pre- 
 sedency of the Academy, In public estimation, in uniform 
 success in life, in moderation in prosperity, in the applause 
 and admiration of contemporaries, in simplicity of manners 
 and playfulness of humour, in good sense and elegant attain- 
 ments, in modesty and equability of temper, in undeviating 
 integrity, in respect for received and long-established opinions, 
 in serenity, cheerfulness, and urbanity, the resemblance must 
 be allowed to be uncommonly striking and exact. 
 
 If it should be asked, — amidst so many excellent and amia- 
 ble qualities, were there no failings ? — I wish to answer the 
 inquiry in the words of Mr Burke, who, on a paper (blotted 
 with his tears) which has been transmitted to me while these 
 sheets were passing through the press, has written — " I do 
 not know a fault or weakness of his that he did not convert 
 into something that bordered on a virtue, instead of pushing 
 it to the confines of a vice." 1 
 
 The detail of his domestic day, however minute or trifling 
 
 1 While I was employed in drawing up an account of our author's life, I 
 requested Mr Burke to communicate to me his thoughts on the subject ; but he 
 was then so ill, that he was able only to set down two or three hints, to be after- 
 wards enlarged on ; one of which is that given above. In this paper (which was 
 not found till the former part of these sheets were worked off at the press,) he 
 has noticed our author's disposition to generalize, and his early admiration of Mr 
 Mudge, which makes part of the subject of his subsequent letter, from which an 
 extract has been given in a former page ; but as the observation, as it appears in 
 this fragment, has somewhat of a different shape and colouring, I subjoin it, that 
 no particle of so great a writer may be lost. 
 
 " He was a great generalizes and was fond of reducing every thing to one 
 system, more perhaps than the variety of principles which operate in the human 
 mind and in every human work, will properly endure. But this disposition to 
 abstractions, to generalizing and classification, is the great glory of the human 
 mind, that indeed which most distinguishes man from other animals ; and is the 
 source of every thing that can be called science. I believe his early acquaintance 
 with Mr Mudge of Exeter, a very learned and thinking man, and much inclined 
 to philosophize in the spirit of the Platonists, disposed him to this habit. He 
 certainly by that means liberalized in a high degree the theory of his own art ; 
 and if he had been more methodically instituted in the early part of life, and had 
 possessed more leisure for study and reflection, he would in my opinion have pur- 
 sued this method with great success." 
 
SIK JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 Xli 
 
 it may appear at present, will, I am confident, at a future 
 period not be unacceptable. He usually rose about eight 
 o'clock, breakfasted at nine, and was in his painting-room 
 before ten. Here he generally employed an hour on some 
 study, or on the subordinate parts of whatever portrait hap- 
 pened to be in hand ; and from eleven, the following five 
 hours were devoted to those who sat for their pictures : with 
 occasionally short intervals, during which he sometimes admit- 
 ted the visit of a friend. Such was his love of his art, and 
 such his ardour to excel, that he often declared he had, dur- 
 ing the greater part of his life, laboured as hard with his 
 pencil, as any mechanic working at his trade for bread. 1 
 About two days in the week, during the winter, he dined 
 abroad ; once, and sometimes oftener, he had company at 
 home by invitation ; and during the remainder of the week 
 he dined with his family, frequently with the addition of two 
 or three friends. It must not be understood that the days of 
 every week were thus regularly distributed by a fixed plan ; 
 but this was the general course. Id the evenings, when not 
 engaged by the Academy, or in some public or private as- 
 sembly, or at the theatre, he was fond of collecting a few 
 friends at home, and joining in a party at whist, which was 
 his favourite game. In consequence of being acquainted with 
 a great variety of persons, he frequently collected a company 
 of seven or eight at dinner, in the morning of the day on 
 which they met : as the greater part of his friends were men 
 well known in the world, they seldom found themselves unac- 
 quainted with each other ; and these extemporaneous enter- 
 tainments were often productive of greater conviviality than 
 more formal and premeditated invitations. The marked char- 
 acter of his table, I think, was, that though there was always 
 an abundant supply of those elegancies which the season af- 
 
 1 An observation made by Dr. Johnson on Pope, is extremely applicable to 
 our author, when employed in his painting-room. " He was one of those few 
 whose labour is their pleasure : he was never elevated into negligence, nor wea- 
 ried to impatience ; he never passed a fault uncorrected by indifference, nor 
 quitted it by despair. He laboured his works, first to gain reputation, and after- 
 wards to keep it." — Lives of the Poets, iv. 163. 
 
 Q 
 
xlii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 forded, the variety of the courses, the excellence of the dishes, 
 or the flavour of the Burgundy, made the least part of the 
 conversation : though the appetite was gratified by the usual 
 delicacies, and the glass imperceptibly and without solicitation 
 was cheerfully circulated, every thing of this kind appeared 
 secondary and subordinate ; and there seemed to be a gene- 
 ral, though tacit, agreement among the guests, that mind 
 should predominate over body ; that the honours of the turtle 
 and the haunch should give place to the feast of wit, and that 
 for a redundant flow of wine the flow of soul should be sub- 
 stituted. Of a table thus constituted, with such a host and 
 such guests, who would not wish to participate ? 
 
 To enumerate all the eulogies which have been made on 
 our author, would exceed the limits that I have prescribed to 
 myself in this short narrative ; but I ought not to omit the 
 testimony borne to his worth by Dr. Johnson, who declared 
 him to be " the most invulnerable man he knew ; whom, if 
 he should quarrel with him, he should find the most difficult 
 how to abuse." 1 Johnson's well-known and rigid adherence 
 to truth on all occasions, gives this encomium great addi- 
 tional value. 
 
 He has, however, one claim to praise, which I think it my 
 duty particularly to mention, because otherwise his merit in 
 this respect might perhaps be unknown to future ages : I 
 mean the praise to which he is entitled for the rectitude of 
 his judgment concerning those pernicious doctrines that were 
 made the basis of that Revolution which took place in France 
 not long before his death. Before the publication of Mr 
 Burke's Reflections on that subject, 2 he had been fa- 
 voured with a perusal of that incomparable work, and was 
 lavish in his encomiums upon it. He was indeed never weary 
 of expressing his admiration of the profound sagacity which 
 saw, in their embryo state, all the evils with which this coun- 
 try was threatened by that tremendous convulsion ; he well 
 knew how eagerly all the wild and erroneous principles of 
 
 1 Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson ; — Dedication. 
 2 October 1790. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xliii 
 
 government, attempted to be established by the pretended 
 philosophers of France, would be cherished and enforced by 
 those turbulent and unruly spirits among us, whom no King 
 could govern, nor no God could please ; 1 and long before 
 that book was written, frequently avowed his contempt of 
 those " Adam-wits," who set at nought the accumulated wis- 
 dom of ages, and on all occasions are desirous of beginning 
 the world anew. He did not live to see the accomplishment 
 of almost every one of the predictions of the prophetic and 
 philosophical work alluded to : happily for himself he did not 
 live to participate of the gloom which now saddens every vir- 
 tuous bosom, in consequence of all the civilized States of 
 Europe being shaken to their foundations by those u troub- 
 lers of the poor world's peace" whom Divine Providence has 
 been pleased to make the scourge of human kind. Gloomy 
 as our prospect is, (on this account alone, 2 ) and great as 
 is the danger with which we are threatened, (I mean internally, 
 for as to external violence we are fully equal to any force 
 
 1 How justly may we apply the immediately following lines of the same 
 great poet, to those demagogues among us, who, since the era above mentioned, 
 have not only on all occasions gratuitously pleaded the cause of the enemies of 
 their country with the zeal of fee'd advocates, but by every other mode in- 
 cessantly endeavoured to debase and assimilate this free and happy country to 
 the model of the ferocious and enslaved Republic of France ! 
 
 " These Adam-wits, too fortunately free, 
 
 " Began to dream they wanted liberty ; 
 
 " And when no rule, no precedent was found 
 
 " Of men, by laws less circumscribed and bound, 
 
 " They led their wild desires to woods and caves, 
 
 " And thought that all but savages were slaves." 
 
 2 I say, on this account alone, because, in all other respects England, is at 
 present in an unparalleled state of wealth and prosperity, though there is a 
 temporary distress occasioned by the want of the ordinary circulating medium of 
 commerce. It appears from authentic and indisputable documents, that the 
 trade of England, from 1784 to the present time, has doubled ; and that our Ex- 
 ports in the year 1796 amounted to thirty millions ; and it is well known that 
 the rate of the purchase of land, contrary to the experience of all former wars, 
 continues nearly as high as it was in the time of the most profound peace. These 
 facts ought to be sounded from one end of England to the other, and furnish 
 a complete answer to all the seditious declamations that have been, or shall 
 be, made on the subject. 
 
 [The foregoing observations, as well as those in the text, were made in the 
 year 1797. J 
 
xliv 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 which our assailants can bring against us,) I still cherish a 
 hope that the cloud which hangs over us will be dispersed, 
 and that we have stamina sufficiently strong to resist the 
 pestilential contagion suspended in our atmosphere ; and my 
 confidence is founded on the good sense and firmness of my 
 countrymen ; of whom far the greater part, justly valuing 
 the blessings which they enjoy, will not lightly hazard their 
 loss ; and rather than suffer the smallest part of their in- 
 estimable Constitution to be changed, or any one of those 
 detestable principles to take root in this soil, which our do- 
 mestic and foreign enemies with such mischievous industry 
 have endeavoured to propagate, will, I trust, risk every thing 
 that is most dear to man. To be fully apprised of our danger, 
 and to shew that we are resolved firmly to meet it, may prove 
 our best security. If, however, at last we must fall, let us fall 
 beneath the ruins of that fabric which has been erected by 
 the wisdom and treasure of our ancestors, and which they 
 generously cemented with their blood. 
 
 For a very long period Sir Joshua .Reynolds enjoyed an 
 uninterrupted state of good health, to which his custom of 
 painting, standing, (a practice which, I believe, he first in- 
 troduced,) may be supposed in some degree to have contri- 
 buted ; at least by this means he escaped those disorders which 
 are incident to a sedentary life. He was, indeed, in the year 
 1782, distressed for a short time by a slight paralytic affection ; 
 which, however, made so little impression on him, that in a 
 few weeks he was perfectly restored, and never afterwards 
 suffered any inconvenience from that malady. But in July 
 1789, when he had very nearly finished the portrait of Lacly 
 Beauchamp, (now Marchioness of Hertford,) the last female 
 portrait he ever painted, 1 he for the first time perceived his 
 sight so much affected, that he found it difficult to proceed ; 
 
 1 The last two portraits of gentlemen that he painted, were those of the 
 Right Honourable William Windham, and George J. Cholmondeley, Esq. and 
 they are generally thought to be as finely executed as any he ever painted. In 
 this respect he differed from Titian, whose latter productions are esteemed much 
 inferior to his former works. He afterwards attempted to finish the portrait of 
 Lord Macartney, for which that nobleman had sat some time before ; but he 
 found himself unable to proceed. 
 
SJK JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xlv 
 
 and in a few months afterwards, in spite of the aid of the 
 most skilful oculists, he was entirely deprived of the sight of 
 his left eye. After some struggles, lest his remaining eye 
 should be also affected, he determined to paint no more ; a 
 resolution which to him was a very serious misfortune, since 
 he was thus deprived of an employment that afforded him 
 constant amusement, and which he loved much more for its 
 own sake than on account of the great emolument with which 
 the practice of his art was attended. Still, however, he re- 
 tained his usual spirits, was amused by reading, or hearing 
 others read to him, and partook of the society of his friends 
 with the same pleasure as formerly ; J but in October 1791, 
 having strong apprehensions that a tumour, accompanied with 
 an inflammation, 2 which took place over the eye that had 
 perished, might affect the other also, he became somewhat 
 dejected. Meanwhile he laboured under a much more dan- 
 gerous disease, which deprived him both of his wonted spirits 
 and his appetite, though he was wholly unable to explain to 
 his physicians the nature or seat of his disorder. During 
 this period of great affliction to all his friends, his malady 
 was by many supposed to be imaginary ; and it was conceiv- 
 ed that, if he would but exert himself, he could shake it off. 
 This instance, however, may serve to shew, that the patient 
 best knows what he suffers, and that few long complain of 
 bodily ailments without an adequate cause ; for at length 
 (but not till about a fortnight before his death) the seat 
 of his disorder was found to be in his liver, of which the 
 inordinate growth, as it afterwards appeared, 3 had incom- 
 
 1 Early in September 1791 he was in such health and spirits, that in our 
 return to town from Mr Burke's seat, near Beaconsfield, we left his carriage at 
 the Inn at Hayes, and walked five miles on the road, in a warm day, without his 
 complaining of any fatigue. He had at that time, though above sixty-eight 
 years of age, the appearance of a man not much beyond fifty, and seemed as 
 likely to live for ten or fifteen years, as any of his younger friends. 
 
 2 This inflammation, after various applications having been tried in vain, was 
 found to have been occasioned by extravasated blood; and had no connection 
 with the optic nerves. 
 
 3 On his body being opened, his liver, which ought to have weighed about 
 five pounds, was found to have increased to an extraordinary size, weighing 
 nearly eleven pounds. It was also somewhat schirrous. 
 
xlvi 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 moded all the functions of life ; and of this disease, which he 
 bore with the greatest fortitude and patience, he died, after a 
 confinement of near three months, at his house in Leicester- 
 Fields, on Thursday evening, Feb. 23, 1792. 
 
 He seemed from the beginning of his illness to have had a 
 presentiment of the fatal termination with which it was finally 
 attended ; and therefore considered all those symptoms as de- 
 lusive on which the ardent wishes of his friends led them to 
 found a hope of his recovery. He however continued to use 
 all the means of restoration proposed by his physicians, and 
 for some time to converse daily with his intimate acquaintance ; 
 and when he was at length obliged to confine himself to his 
 bed, awaited the hour of his dissolution (as was observed by 
 one of his friends soon after his death) with an equanimity 
 rarely shewn by the most celebrated Christian philosophers. 
 On Saturday, the 3rd of March, his remains were interred 
 in the crypt of the cathedral of St. Paul, near the tomb of Sir 
 Christopher Wren, with every honour that could be shewn to 
 genius and to worth by a grateful and enlightened nation : a 
 great number of the most distinguished persons attending the 
 funeral ceremony, and his pall being borne up by three Dukes, 
 two Marquisses, and five other noblemen. 1 
 
 1 The following account of the ceremonial was written by a friend the day- 
 after the funeral, and published in several of the Newspapers. 
 
 " On Saturday last, at half an hour after three o'clock, was interred the body 
 of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Knt. Doctor of Laws in the Universities of Oxford and 
 Dublin, Principal Painter to his Majesty, President of the Royal Academy of 
 Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, Fellow of the Royal Society, and Fellow 
 of the Society of Antiquaries. 
 
 " He was interred in the vast crypt of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, next 
 to the body of Dr Newton, late Bishop of Bristol, himself an eminent critic in 
 Poetry and Painting, and close by the tomb of the famous Sir Christopher Wren, 
 the architect of that great edifice. 
 
 " The body was conveyed on the preceding night to the Royal Academy, ac- 
 cording to the express orders of his Majesty, by a condescension highly honour- 
 able to the memory of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and gratifying to the wishes of that 
 Society of eminent Artists. It lay that night, and until the beginning of the 
 funeral procession, in state, in the Model Room of the Academy. 
 
 " The company who attended the funeral assembled in the Library and Council 
 Chamber ; the Royal Academy in the Exhibition Room. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xlvii 
 
 Though his friend Dr Johnson was buried in Westminster 
 Abbey, and it had been determined to erect a monument to 
 
 " The company consisted of a great number of the most distinguished persons, 
 who were emulous in their desire of paying the last honours to the remains of 
 him, whose life had been distinguished by the exertions of the highest talents, and 
 the exercise of every virtue that can make a man respected and beloved. Many 
 more were prevented by illness, and unexpected and unavoidable occasions, 
 which they much regretted, from attending. 
 
 " Never was a public solemnity conducted with more order, decorum, and 
 dignity. The procession set out at half an hour after twelve o'clock. The hearse 
 arrived at the great western gate of St. Paul's, about a quarter after two, and 
 was there met by the Dignitaries of the Church, and by the Gentlemen of the 
 Choir, who chaunted the proper Psalms, whilst the procession moved to the en- 
 trance of the choir, where was performed, in a superior manner, the full choir 
 evening service, together with the famous Anthem of Dr Boyce ; the body re- 
 maining during the whole time in the centre of the choir. 
 
 " The Chief Mourner and Gentlemen of the Academy, as of the family, were 
 placed by the Body. The Chief Mourner in a chair at the head ; the two at- 
 tendants at the feet ; the Pall Bearers and Executors in the seats on the decanal 
 side ; the other Noblemen and Gentlemen on the cantorial side. The Bishop of 
 London was in his proper place, as were the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs. 
 
 " After the service, the body was conveyed into the crypt, and placed imme- 
 diately beneath the perforated brass plate, under the centre of the dome. Dr 
 Jefferies, Canon Residentiary, with the other Canons, and the whole Choir, came 
 under the dome ; the grave digger attending in the middle with a shovel of mould, 
 which at the proper time was thrown through the aperture of the plate, on the 
 coffin. The funeral service was chaunted and accompanied on the organ in a 
 grand and affecting manner. When the funeral service was ended, the Chief 
 Mourners and Executors went into the crypt, and attended the corpse to the 
 grave, which was dug under the pavement. 
 
 " The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs honoured the procession by coming to Somerset 
 Place, where an officer's guard of thirty men was placed at the great court gate. 
 After the procession had passed through Temple Bar, the gates were shut by 
 order of the Lord Mayor, to prevent any interruption from carriages passing to 
 or from the City. 
 
 " The spectators, both in the church and in the street, were innumerable. 
 The shops were shut, the windows of every house were filled, and the people in 
 the streets, who seemed to share in the general sorrow, beheld the whole with 
 respect and silence. 
 
 The Order of the Procession was as follows : — 
 
 The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, and City Marshals. 
 
 The undertaker and ten conductors, on horseback. 
 
 A lid with plumes of feathers. 
 
 The hearse with six horses. 
 
 Ten pall-bearers, viz. 
 
 The Duke of Dorset, Lord High Steward of his Majesty's Household. 
 
xlviii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 him there, so desirous was Sir Joshua Reynolds that St. 
 Paul's should be decorated by Sculpture, which he thought 
 
 Duke of Leeds. 
 Duke of Portland. 
 Marquis Townshend. 
 Marquis of Abercorn. 
 Earl of Carlisle. 
 Earl of Inchiquin. 
 Earl of Upper Ossory. 
 Lord Viscount Palmerston. 
 Lord Eliot. 
 
 Robert Lovel Gwatkin, Esq. Chief Mourner. 
 
 Two Attendants of the Family. 
 
 The Rt. Hon. Edmund Burke, j 
 
 Edmond Malone, Esq. > Executors. 
 
 Philip Metcalfe, Esq. ) 
 
 The Royal Academicians, and Students. 
 
 Bennet Langton, Esq. (Professor of ancient literature,) James Boswell, Esq. 
 
 (Secretary for foreign correspondence.) 
 The Archbishop of York. The Marquis of Buckingham. 
 Earl of Fife. Earl of Carysfort. 
 Lord St. Asaph. Lord Bishop of London. 
 Lord Fortesque. Lord Somers. 
 Lord Lucan. The Dean of Norwich. 
 Right Hon. W. Windham. Sir Abraham Hume, Bt. 
 Sir George Beaumont, Bt. Sir Thomas Dundas, Bt. 
 Sir Charles Bunbury, Bt. Sir William Forbes, Bt. 
 Dr George Fordyce. Dr Ash. 
 Dr Broklesby. Dr Blagden. 
 Sir William Scott, M.P. George Rose, Esq. M.P. 
 John Rollo, Esq. M.P. William Weddell, Esq. M.P. 
 Reginald Pole Carew, Esq. M.P. Richard Clarke, Esq. 
 Mat. Montagu, Esq. M.P. Rd. P. Knight, Esq. M.P. 
 Dudley North, Esq. M.P. Charles Townly, Esq. 
 Abel Moysey, Esq. John Cleveland, Esq. M.P. 
 John Thomas Batt, Esq. Welbore Ellis Agar, Esq. 
 Colonel Gwyn. Captain Pole. 
 Dr. Laurence. William Seward, Esq. 
 
 James Martin, Esq. ■ Drew, Esq. 
 
 Edward Jerningham, Esq. William Vachel, Esq. 
 Richard Burke, Esq. Thomas Coutts, Esq. 
 John Julius Angerstein, Esq. Edward Gwatkin, Esq. 
 Charles Burney, Esq. John Hunter, Esq. 
 
 William Cruikshank, Esq. • Home, Esq. 
 
 John Philip Kemble, Esq. Joseph Hickey, Esq. 
 Mr Alderman Boydell. John Devaynes, Esq. 
 Mr Poggi. Mr Breda. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, 
 
 xlix 
 
 would be highly beneficial to the arts, 1 that he prevailed 
 on those who were associated with him in the management of 
 Johnson's monument, 2 to consent that it should be placed 
 in that cathedral ; in which, I know, some of them reluctantly 
 acquiesced. In consequence of the ardour which he express- 
 ed on this subject, it was thought proper to deposit his body 
 in the crypt of that magnificent church; which indeed had 
 another claim also to the remains of this great Painter, for in 
 the same ground (though the ancient building constructed 
 upon it has given place to another edifice) was interred, in 
 the middle of the last century, his great predecessor, Sir An- 
 tony Vandyck. 
 
 By his last Will, which was made on the 5th of November 
 preceding his death, he bequeathed the greater part of his 
 fortune to his niece, Miss Palmer, now Dowager Marchioness 
 of Thomond ; ten thousand pounds in the funds to her younger 
 sister, Mrs Gwatkin, the wife of Robert Lovel Gwatkin, Esq. 
 of Killiow, in the county of Cornwall ; a considerable legacy 
 to his friend, the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, with whom he 
 had lived in great intimacy for more than thirty years ; and 
 various memorials to other friends. 3 
 
 " The company were conveyed in forty-two mourning coaches ; and forty-nine 
 coaches belonging to the Noblemen and Gentlemen attended empty." 
 
 To each of the gentlemen who attended on this occasion, was presented a print 
 engraved by Bartolozzi, representing a female clasping an urn ; accompanied by 
 the Genius of Painting, holding in one hand an extinguished torch, and pointing 
 with the other to a sarcophagus, on the tablet of which is written — 
 Succedet fama, vivusque per ora feretur. 
 
 1 He wished that St. Paul's should be decorated by Paintings as well as 
 Sculpture, and has enlarged on this subject in his " Journey to Flanders." A 
 scheme of this kind was proposed about the year 1774, and warmly espoused 
 by our Author ; but it was prevented from being carried into execution by Dr. 
 Terrick, then Bishop of London. Since that time, monuments, under certain 
 regulations, have been admitted. 
 
 2 Sir William Scott, Mr Burke, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr Windham, Mr Met- 
 calfe, Mr Boswell, Mr Malone. 
 
 3 To the Earl of Upper-Ossory, any picture of his own painting, remaining 
 undisposed of at his death, that his lordship should choose. 
 
 H 
 
I 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 To the brief enumeration that has been given of the various 
 qualities which rendered him at once so distinguished an or- 
 nament and so valuable a member of society, it is almost 
 needless to add, that the death of this great Painter and most 
 amiable man, was not less a private loss than a public mis- 
 fortune ; and that however that loss may have been deplored 
 by his numerous friends, by none of them was it more deeply 
 felt than by him on whom the office of transmitting to posterity 
 this imperfect memorial of his talents and his virtues has 
 devolved. 
 
 Its imperfection, however, will, I trust, be amply compen- 
 sated by the following characteristic eulogy, in which the 
 hand of the great master and the affectionate friend is so 
 visible, that it is scarcely necessary to inform the reader that 
 it was written by Mr Burke, not many hours after the melan- 
 choly event which it commemorates, had taken place : 
 # # # # * ^ 
 
 To Lord Palmerston, " the second choice." 
 
 To Sir Abraham Hume, Bart. " the choice of his Claude Lorraines." 
 To Sir George Beaumont, Bart, his " Sebastian Bourdon, — the Return of the 
 Ark." 
 
 To the Duke of Portland, "the Angel Contemplation, — the upper part of the 
 Nativity." 
 
 To Edmond Malone, Philip Metcalfe, James Boswell, Esqrs. and Sir William 
 Scott, [now Judge of the Court of Admiralty,] £200 each, to be laid out, if they 
 should think proper, in the purchase of some picture at the sale of his Collection, 
 f* to be kept for his sake." 
 
 To the Reverend William Mason, " the Miniature of Milton, by Cooper." 
 
 To Richard Burke, junior, Esq. " his Cromwell, by Cooper." 
 
 To Mrs Bunbury, " her son's picture j" and to Mrs Gwyn, " her own picture 
 with a turban." 
 
 To his nephew, William Johnston, Esq. of Calcutta, " his watch," &c. 
 
 To his old servant, Ralph Kirkley, (who had lived with him twenty-nine 
 years,) " one thousand pounds." 
 
 Of this Will, he appointed Mr Burke, Mr Metcalfe, and the present writer, 
 Executors. 
 
 In March 1795, his fine Collection of Pictures by the Ancient Masters, was 
 sold by Auction for £10,319 : 2s : 6d ; and in April 1796, various historical 
 and fancy-pieces of his own painting, together with some unclaimed portraits, 
 were sold for £4505 : 18s. His very valuable Collection of Drawings and Prints 
 has been since disposed of. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 li 
 
 " His illness was long, but borne with a mild and cheerful 
 fortitude, without the least mixture of any thing irritable, or 
 querulous, agreeably to the placid and even tenour of his 
 whole life. He had, from the beginning of his malady, a dis- 
 tinct view of his dissolution ; and he contemplated it with that 
 entire composure, which nothing but the innocence, integrity, 
 and usefulness of his life, and an unaffected submission to the 
 will of Providence, could bestow. In this situation he had 
 every consolation from family tenderness, which his own kind- 
 ness had indeed well deserved, 
 
 " Sir Joshua Reynolds was, on very many accounts, one 
 of the most memorable men of his time. He was the first 
 Englishman who added the praise of the elegant arts to the 
 other glories of his country. In taste, in grace, in facility, in 
 happy invention, and in the richness and harmony of colour- 
 ing, he was equal to the great masters of the renowned ages. 
 In Portrait he went beyond them ; for he communicated to 
 that description of the art, in which English artists are the 
 most engaged, a variety, a fancy, and a dignity derived from 
 the higher branches, which even those who professed them in 
 a superior manner did not always preserve, when they deli- 
 neated individual nature. His Portraits remind the spectator 
 of the invention of history, and the amenity of landscape. 
 In painting portraits, he appeared not to be raised upon that 
 platform, but to descend to it from a higher sphere. His 
 paintings illustrate his lessons, and his lessons seem to be de- 
 rived from his paintings. 
 
 " He possessed the theory as perfectly as the practice of 
 his art. To be such a painter, he was a profound and pene- 
 trating philosopher. 
 
 " In full affluence of foreign and domestic fame, admired 
 by the expert in art, and by the learned in science, courted 
 by the great, caressed by Sovereign Powers, and celebra- 
 ted by distinguished poets, 1 his native humility, modesty, 
 
 1 Goldsmith, Mason, T. Warton, &c. — The encomiums on our author in prose, 
 are not less numerous. When the Discourses were mentioned in a former page, 
 
lii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 and candour, never forsook him, even on surprise or provo- 
 cation ; nor was the least degree of arrogance or assumption 
 visible to the most scrutinizing eye, in any part of his conduct 
 or discourse. 
 
 " His talents of every kind, powerful from nature, and not 
 meanly cultivated by letters, his social virtues in all the rela- 
 tions and all the habitudes of life, rendered him the centre 
 of a very great and unparalleled variety of agreeable societies, 
 which will be dissipated by his death. He had too much 
 merit not to excite some jealousy, too much innocence to 
 provoke any enmity. The loss of no man of his time can be 
 felt with more sincere, general, and unmixed sorrow. 
 54 hail! and farewell ! " 
 
 Foley Place, March 8, 180.9. 
 First published in 1797. 
 
 I did not recollect that they have been very highly commended by my learned 
 and ingenious friend, Dr. Joseph Warton, one of the few yet left among us, of 
 those who began to be distinguished in the middle of the present century, soon 
 after the death of Pope, and may now therefore be considered as the ultimi Ro~ 
 manorum. The praise of so judicious a critic being too valuable to be omitted, 
 I shall introduce it here : 
 
 " One cannot forbear reflecting on the great progress the Art of Painting has 
 made in this country, since the time that Jervais was thought worthy of this 
 panegyric: (Pope's Epistle to that Painter in 1716: ) a progress, that, we trust, 
 will daily increase, if due attention be paid to the incomparable Discourses that 
 have been delivered at the Royal Academy; which Discourses contain more solid 
 instruction on that subject, than, I verily think, can be found in any language. 
 The precepts are philosophically founded on truth and nature, and illustrated 
 with the most proper and pertinent examples. The characters are drawn with a 
 precision and distinctness, that we look for in vain in Felibien, De Piles, and 
 even Vasari, or Pliny himself. Nothing, for example, can be more just and ele- 
 gant, as well as profound and scientific, than the comparison between Michael 
 Angelo and Raflaelle in the fifth of these Discourses. Michael Angelo is plainly 
 the hero of Sir Joshua Reynolds, for the same reason that Homer by every great 
 mind is preferred to Virgil." Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope, ii. 394. 
 
 [The foregoing note having been written in 1797, Dr Warton is spoken of as 
 " yet living." He died February 23, 1800.] 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 liii 
 
 LIST OF PRINCIPAL HISTORICAL PIECES. 
 
 The most considerable of his Historical and Miscellaneous Pieces are the 
 following ; to which, for the sake of posterity, I have adjoined the prices paid for 
 them, and the purchasers' names, where I could discover them. 
 
 Subjects. Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 Garrick, between Tragedy and Comedy, 300 Gs. The Earl of Halifax. Since 
 
 his death, sold to Mr An- 
 gerstein, for 250 Guineas. 
 
 Thais [Emily Pott,] 
 
 100 .... 
 
 Hon. Mr Greville. 
 
 Cleopatra dissolving the Pearl, [Kitty 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Venus, chiding Cupid for learning Arith- 
 
 
 
 
 100 
 
 The Earl of Charlemont. 
 
 Another, — the same subject, 
 
 100 
 
 Sir B. Boothby, Bart. 
 
 
 35 ... . 
 
 . John Crewe, Esq. 
 
 A Shepherd Boy, 
 
 50 
 
 Lord Irwin. 
 
 
 400 
 
 The Duke of Dorset, 
 
 
 . 
 
 ... Do. 
 
 
 75 
 
 Do. 
 
 
 70... 
 
 .. Do. 
 
 
 350... . 
 
 ,. Do. 
 
 A Boy with a Drawing in his hand 
 
 50 , 
 
 ,. Do. 
 
 
 
 .. Do. 
 
 
 
 .. Do. 
 
 
 
 .. Do. 
 
 A Boy with a child on his back, and cab- 
 
 
 
 bage-nets in his hand, 
 
 
 .. Do. 
 
 The Comic Muse, [Mrs Abington,] , 
 
 
 .. Do. 
 
 A Bacchante, [Mile. Baccelli,] 
 
 
 .. Do. 
 
 
 
 .. Do, 
 
 The calling of Samuel, 
 
 50 .., 
 
 Do. 
 
 
 75;... 
 
 . . Earl of Darnley. 
 
 Mr and Mrs Garrick, sitting on a garden- 
 
 
 
 seat; Mr Garrick reading to her, , 
 
 150 . 
 
 , The Hon. T. Fitzmaurice. 
 
 
 50 
 
 Count D'Ademar. 
 
 
 50 ... 
 
 Earl of Aylesford. 
 
 
 50 
 
 Do. 
 
 A Landscape, 
 
 50 .. 
 
 Sir B. Boothby, Bart. 
 
 The Marchioness Townsend, Mrs Gar- 
 
 
 
 diner, and Hon. Mrs Beresford, deco- 
 
 
 
 rating the statue of Hymen 
 
 450... 
 
 ... Viscount Mountjoy, 
 
liv 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Subjects. Trices. Purchasers. 
 
 Hope nursing Love, ... Lord Holland. 
 
 Another, — the same subject, ... The Earl of Inchiquin. 
 
 Another, — the same subject, 150 Gs. Henry Hope, Esq. 
 
 A Strawberry Girl, 50 Earl of Carrysfort. 
 
 A Nymph, [Mrs Hartly] and young 
 
 Bacchus, i ... Do. 
 
 The Snake in the Grass. [This has been 
 
 called Love untying the zone of Beauty,] 200 Do. 
 
 Another, A present.Henry Hope, Esq. 
 
 Another, 100 Prince Potemkin. 
 
 The Continence of Scipio, 500...... Do. 
 
 The Nativity, [a design for the window of 
 
 New College Chapel in Oxford,] 1200 The Duke of Rutland. 
 
 The infant Jupiter, ]00 Do. 
 
 An old man reading a ballad, . ... Do. 
 
 The Calling of Samuel...... 100 Do. 
 
 A Boy praying 50 ..... . Sent to France by Mr Cha- 
 
 mier, in 1778. 
 
 The Death of Dido, 200 Mr Bryant. 
 
 The Theory of Painting,. ... In the Royal Academy. 
 
 Another, . . . . The Earl of Inchiquin. 
 
 A Shepherd Boy......... ... Do. 
 
 A Shepherdess with a lamb, ■ ... Do. 
 
 A Girl with a kitten, • ... Do, 
 
 A Girl with a muff, ■ ... Do. 
 
 Cselia lamenting the death of her sparrow, 
 
 [Mrs Collyer,] ... 
 
 L'Allegro [Mrs Hale ;] several figures in 
 
 the back-ground, ... Lord Harewood. 
 
 Robinetta, [The Hon. Mrs Tollemache,] ... ■ 
 
 Diana, [Lady Napier,].. ... • 
 
 Diana, [The Duchess of Manchester,]... ... The Duke of Manchester. 
 
 Master Wynne, as St. John, .... • 
 
 Master Crewe, as Hen. VIII, ... John Crewe, Esq. 
 
 Master Herbert, in the character of 
 
 Bacchus, 75 Lord Portchester. 
 
 Juno, [Lady Blake,]..... ... • 
 
 Hebe, [Miss Meyer, a whole-length figure 
 
 on a half-length canvas,] . , . 
 
 Melancholy, [Miss Jones,] ... ■ 
 
 Young Hannibal, [a boy in armour,] ■ . . . • 
 
 Francis, Duke of Bedford, as St. George ; 
 
 with his brothers, Lord John, and Lord 
 
 William Russell, 1 • •• 1 
 
 The Fortune-teller, [Lady Charlotte and 
 
 Lord H. Spencer,] ... The Duke of Marlborough. 
 
 Miranda, [The Hon. Mrs Tollemache] and 
 
 Caliban, •■• 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS 
 
 lv 
 
 Subjects. Pkicbs. Purchasers. 
 
 St. Agnes, [Mrs Quarington,] 50 Gs. R. P. Knight, Esq. 
 
 The Triumph of Truth, [Dr Beattie, with 
 Two figures representing Truth and 
 
 Falsehood,] • ... Dr Beattie. 
 
 A Boy laughing 50 — Bromwell, Esq. 
 
 Ariadne, 35...... W. Lock, Esq. 
 
 Dionysius, Areopagita, ■ ... - 
 
 The Captive. [This has been called, the 
 
 Banished Lord, and Cartouche,] 80 Charles Long, Esq. 
 
 The calling of Samuel, ... Do* 
 
 Lady Sarah Bunbury, sacrificing to the 
 
 Graces, ■ ... Sir C. Bunbury, Bart. 
 
 The infant Moses in the Bulrushes, 125 The Duke of Leeds. 
 
 Edwin, 55...... Do. 
 
 A child with Angels............ ... Do. 
 
 The Virgin and Child, [This picture was 
 
 not quite finished,]... » 65 Mr J. Bannister. 
 
 The Angel contemplating the cross ; being 
 
 the upper part of the Nativity.......... ... Bequeathed to the Duke of 
 
 Portland. 
 
 The four Cardinal Virtues, Justice, Pru- 
 dence, Temperance, and Fortitude ; and 
 Faith, Hope, and Charity; Designs for 
 the Window of New College, Oxford, 
 
 painted by Mr Jervais, — ■— 
 
 A Bacchante, 50 
 
 Another, 75. 
 
 A Holy Family, 500. 
 
 Tuccia, the Vestal Virgin, > 300 
 
 The Gleaners, [Mrs Macklin, her daugh- 
 ter, and Miss Potts,] 300 
 
 St. John, . 150 
 
 St. Cecilia, [Mrs Sheridan, and two daugh- 
 ters of Coote Purdon, Esq.,] 150 
 
 Two Groups, in the manner of Paul 
 Veronese ; one containing the portraits 
 of the Duke of Leeds, Lord Dundas, 
 Constantine Lord Mulgrave, Lord Sea- 
 forth, the Hon. C. Greville, Charles 
 Crowle, Esq., and the Right Hon. Sir 
 Joseph Banks, Bart. ; the other, those 
 of Sir W. Hamilton, Sir W. W. Wynne, 
 Bart., Richard Thompson, Esq., Sir 
 
 John Taylor, Payne Galway, Esq. 
 
 John Smyth, Esq., and Spencer Stan- 
 hope, Esq — 
 
 The Earl of Inchiquin. 
 Sir W. Hamilton. 
 The Earl of Lauderdale. 
 Mr Macklin, Print-seller. 
 
 Afterwards sold to L. 
 
 Gwydir for 700 guineas. 
 Mr Macklin. 
 
 Do. 
 
 — Willet, Esq. 
 
 R. B. Sheridan, Esq. 
 
 Society of Dilettanti. 
 
lvi 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 Subjects. 
 
 A Boy with a port-folio 
 
 A Studious boy 
 
 A Pouting girl 
 
 The family of George Duke of Marl- 
 borough, 
 
 Circe, 
 
 The Children in the Wood, 
 
 A Girl leaning on a pedestal, 
 
 The Infant Academy, 
 
 Venus, 
 
 Una, from Spencer, [Miss Beauclerk,] . . . 
 
 King Lear, 
 
 Heads of Angels, a study, from a daugh- 
 ter of Lord William Gordon,.. 
 
 Cardinal Beaufort,. 
 
 Robin Goodfellow, 
 
 The Cauldron-Scene in Macbeth, 
 
 Resignation from Goldsmith's Deserted 
 Village, 
 
 Venus, and a boy piping, 
 
 Mrs Siddons, in the character of the 
 Tragic Muse, 
 
 The Infant Hercules in the Cradle, [A 
 single figure, painted before the large 
 picture,] 
 
 Hercules strangling the serpents, 
 
 Cupid and Psyche, 
 
 Cymon and Iphigenia, [This was the last 
 fancy-picture painted by Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds,] 
 
 50 Gs. Earl of Warwick. 
 
 ... G. Hardinge, Esq. 
 
 ... Do. 
 
 700 The Duke of Marlborough. 
 
 35 Sir C. Bunbury, Bart. 
 
 50 Lord Palmerston. 
 
 75 Do. 
 
 ... Do. by bequest. 
 
 ... The Earl of Upper- Ossory, 
 
 by bequest. 
 
 ... The Earl of Inchiquin. 
 
 ... Do. 
 
 100. Lord W. Gordon. 
 
 500 Mr Alderman Boydell. 
 
 100 Do. 
 
 £1000... Do. 
 
 . . . The Earl of Inchiquin. 
 
 250 Gs. J. J. Angerstein, Esq. 
 
 700 N. Desenfans, Esq. 
 
 150 Earl Fitzwilliam. 
 
 1500 Empress of Russia. 
 
 250...... Charles Long, Esq. 
 
 — . . . The Earl of Inchiquin. 
 
DISCOURSES 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ROYAL ACADEMY. 
 
TO THE 
 
 MEMBERS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 That you have ordered the publication of this Discourse, 
 is not only very flattering to me, as it implies your approbation of 
 the method of study which I have recommended, but likewise, as 
 this method receives from that act such an additional weight and 
 authority, as demands from the Students that deference and 
 respect, which can be due only to the united sense of so consider- 
 able a Body of Artists. 
 
 I am, 
 
 With the greatest esteem and respect, 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 Your most humble and obedient Servant, 
 JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DISCOURSE I. — The advantages proceeding from the Institution of a Royal 
 Academy. — Hints offered to the consideration of the Professors and 
 Visitors ; that an implicit obedience to the Rules of Art be exacted from 
 the Young Students ; that a premature disposition to a masterly dexterity 
 be repressed ; that diligence be constantly recommended, and (that it may 
 be effectual) directed to its proper object. . . . Page 9 
 
 DISCOURSE II. — The course and order of study. — The different stages of Art. 
 — Much copying discountenanced. — The Artist, at all times and in all 
 places, should be employed in laying up materials for the exercise of his 
 art. . . . . . . 14 
 
 DISCOURSE III.— The great _ leading principles of the Grand Style.— Of 
 Beauty. — The genuine habits of Nature to be distinguished from those of 
 Fashion. . . . . . . . 22 
 
 DISCOURSE IV. — General Ideas the presiding principle which regulates every 
 part of Art; Invention, Expression, Colouring, and Drapery. — Two distinct 
 Styles in History-Painting, the Grand and the Ornamental. — The Schools 
 in which each is to be found. — The Composite Style — The Style formed on 
 local customs and habits, or a partial view of Nature. . . 30 
 
 DISCOURSE V. — Circumspection required in endeavouring to unite contrary 
 Excellencies. — The expression of a Mixed Passion not to be attempted. — 
 Examples of those who excelled in the Great Style, Raffaelle, Michael 
 Angelo. — Those two extraordinary men compared with each other. — The 
 Characteristical Style ; Salvator Rosa mentioned as an example of that 
 Style, and opposed to Carlo Maratti. — Sketch of the Characters of Poussin 
 and Rubens. — These two Painters entirely dissimilar, but consistent with 
 themselves. — This consistency required in all parts of the Art. . 41 
 
 DISCOURSE VI. — Imitation. — Genius begins where Rules end. — Invention, 
 acquired by being conversant with the Inventions of others. — The true 
 method of Imitating.— Borrowing, how far allowable. — Something to be 
 gathered from every School. ..... 50 
 
 DISCOURSE VII.— The reality of a Standard of Taste, as well as of Corporeal 
 Beauty. Beside this immutable truth, there are secondary truths, which 
 are variable, both requiring the attention of the Artist, in proportion to 
 their stability or their influence. .... 63 
 
 DISCOURSE VIII.— The Principles of Art, whether Poetry or Painting, have 
 their foundation in the mind, such as Novelty, Variety, and Contrast ; 
 these in their excess become defects. — Simplicity. — Its excess disagreeable. 
 Rules not to be always observed in their literal sense ; sufficient to pre- 
 serve the spirit of the law. — Observations on the Prize Pictures. 80 
 
 DISCOURSE IX. — On the removal of the Royal Academy to Somerset Place.— 
 The advantages to society from cultivating intellectual pleasure. 93 
 
 DISCOURSE X. — Sculpture. — Has but one style. — Its objects, form, and cha- 
 racter. — Ineffectual attempts of the modern Sculptors to improve the Art. — 
 111 effects of modern dress in Sculpture. . . ... 95 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DISCOURSE XI. — Genius. — Consists principally in the comprehension of a 
 whole ; in taking General Ideas only. . . . Page 104 
 
 DISCOURSE XII. — Particular methods of study of little consequence. — Little 
 of the Art can be taught. — Love of method often a love of idleness. — Pittori 
 hnprovisatori apt to be careless and incorrect ; seldom original and striking. 
 This proceeds from their not studying the Works of other Masters. 113 
 
 DISCOURSE XIII. — Art not merely Imitation, but under the direction of the 
 imagination. — In what manner Poetry, Painting, Acting, Gardening, and 
 Architecture depart from Nature. . . . . 125 
 
 DISCOURSE XIV. — Character of Gainsborough ; his Excellencies and De- 
 fects. . . . . , . . .135 
 
 DISCOURSE XV. The President takes leave of the Academy.— A Review of 
 the Discourses. — The study of the Works of Michael Angelo recom- 
 mended. V ... . . \. 145 
 
 THREE LETTERS TO THE IDLER— 
 
 The Idler, No. 76. p. 159. No. 79, p. 161. No. 82, . 163 
 
 A JOURNEY TO FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. . . .167 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING, by C. A. Du Fresnoy, Translated into English 
 Verse by the Rev. William Mason. . . . . 219 
 
 Annotations on Du Fresnoy's Poem. . . . 267 
 
 Appendix, containing Du Fresnoy's Sentiments on the principal Painters 
 of the two last ages. ..... 303 
 
 Preface to Mr Dryden's Translation, containing a Parallel between 
 Poetry and Painting. . . . . . 313 
 
 CHRONOLOGICAL LIST of Painters, with Short Characters, and an 
 Account of their respective Births and Deaths. . . . 341 
 
 ALPHABETICAL LIST of Painters, referring to the former. . 361 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. . . . . . .365 
 
 
 
 
 Errata. 
 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Line 
 
 For 
 
 Read 
 
 Page 
 
 Line 
 
 For 
 
 Read 
 
 16 
 
 15 
 
 effect 
 
 affect. 
 
 217-218 
 
 Head 
 
 Denmark 
 
 Flanders. 
 
 35 
 
 41 
 
 Vasaro 
 
 Vasari. 
 
 243 
 
 note 
 
 p. 43 
 
 p. 267. 
 
 68 
 
 1 
 
 their 
 
 into their. 
 
 264 
 
 38 
 
 musorum 
 
 musarum. 
 
 83 
 
 2 
 
 stop 
 
 stops. 
 
 286 
 
 last 
 
 principle 
 
 principal. 
 
 89 
 
 31 
 
 Mantega 
 
 Mantegna. 
 
 301 
 
 I 
 
 Beatiful 
 
 Beautiful. 
 
 93 
 
 22 
 
 mortality 
 
 morality. 
 
 308 
 
 27 
 
 production 
 
 his productions 
 
DISCOURSE I. 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE 
 
 OPENING OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, JANUARY 2, 1769. 
 
 The advantages proceeding from the institution of a Royal Academy. — Hints 
 offered to the consideration of the Professors and Visitors ; — That an implicit 
 obedience to the rules of art be exacted from the young students ; — That a pre- 
 mature disposition to a masterly dexterity be repressed ; — That diligence be 
 constantly recommended, and ( that it may be effectual ) directed to its proper 
 object. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 An Academy, in which the Polite Arts"may be regularly cultivated, is at last 
 opened among us by Royal Munificence. This must appear an event in the high- 
 est degree interesting, not only to the Artists, but to the whole nation. 
 
 It is indeed difficult to give any other reason, why an empire like that of Bri- 
 tain should so long have wanted an ornament so suitable to its greatness, than 
 that slow progression of things, which naturally makes elegance and refinement 
 the last effect of opulence and power. 
 
 An Institution like this has often been recommended upon considerations 
 merely mercantile ; but an Academy, founded upon such principles, can never 
 effect even its own narrow purposes. If it has an origin no higher, no taste can 
 ever be formed in manufactures ; but if the higher Arts of Design flourish, these 
 inferior ends will be answered of course. 
 
 We are happy in having a Prince, who has conceived the design of such an 
 institution, according to its true dignity ; and who promotes the Arts, as the 
 head of a great, a learned, a polite, and a commercial nation ; and I can now 
 congratulate you, Gentlemen, on the accomplishment of your long and ardent 
 wishes. 
 
 The numberless and ineffectual consultations which I have had with many in 
 this assembly, to form plans and concert schemes for an Academy, afford a suf- 
 ficient proof of the impossibility of succeeding but by the influence of Majesty. 
 But there have, perhaps, been times, when even the influence of Majesty would 
 have been ineffectual ; and it is pleasing to reflect, that we are thus embodied, 
 when every circumstance seems to concur from which honour and prosperity can 
 probably arise. 
 
 There are, at this time, a greater number of excellent artists than were ever 
 known before at one period in this nation ; there is a general desire among our 
 Nobility to be distinguished as lovers and judges of the Arts ; there is a greater 
 superfluity of wealth among the people to reward the professors ; and, above all, 
 we are patronized by a Monarch, who, knowing the value of science and of ele- 
 
 K 
 
10 
 
 THE FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 gance, thinks every art worthy of his notice, that tends to soften and humanize 
 the mind. 
 
 After so much has been done by His Majesty, it will be wholly our fault if 
 our progress is not in some degree correspondent to the wisdom and generosity 
 of the Institution : let us shew our gratitude in our diligence, that, though our 
 merit may not answer his expectations, yet, at least, our industry may deserve 
 his protection. 
 
 But whatever may be our proportion of success, of this we may be sure, that 
 the present Institution will at least contribute to advance our knowledge of the 
 Arts, and bring us nearer to that ideal excellence, which it is the lot of genius 
 always to contemplate and never to attain. 
 
 The principal advantage of an Academy is, that, besides furnishing able men 
 to direct the Student, it will be a repository for the great examples of the Art. 
 These are the materials on which Genius is to work, and without which the 
 strongest intellect may be fruitlessly or deviously employed. By studying these 
 authentic models, that idea of excellence, which is the result of the accumulated 
 experience of past ages, may be at once acquired ; and the tardy and obstructed 
 progress of our predecessors may teach us a shorter and easier way. The Student 
 receives, at one glance, the principles which many Artists have spent their whole 
 lives in ascertaining ; and, satisfied with their effect, is spared the painful in- 
 vestigation by which they came to be known and fixed. How many men of 
 great natural abilities have been lost to this nation, for want of these advantages ! 
 They never had an opportunity of seeing those masterly efforts of genius, which 
 at once kindle the whole soul, and force it into sudden and irresistible approba- 
 tion. 
 
 Raffaelle, it is true, had not the advantage of studying in an Academy ; but 
 all Rome, and the works of Michael Angelo in particular, were to him an Aca- 
 demy. On the sight of the Capella Sistina, he immediately from a dry, Gothic, 
 and even insipid manner, which attends to the minute accidental discriminations 
 of particular and individual objects, assumed that grand style of painting, which 
 improves partial representation by the general and invariable ideas of nature. 
 
 Every seminary of learning may be said to be surrounded with an atmosphere 
 of floating knowledge, where every mind may imbibe somewhat congenial to its 
 own original conceptions. Knowledge, thus obtained, has always something more 
 popular and useful than that which is forced upon the mind by private precepts 
 or solitary meditation. Besides, it is generally found, that a youth more easily 
 receives instruction from the companions of his studies, whose minds are nearly 
 on a level with his own, than from those who are much his superiors ; and it is 
 from his equals only that he catches the fire of emulation. 
 
 One advantage, I will venture to affirm, we shall have in our Academy, which 
 no other nation can boast. We shall have nothing to unlearn. To this praise 
 the present race of Artists have a just claim. As far as they have yet proceeded, 
 they are right. With us the exertions of genius will henceforward be directed 
 to their proper objects. It will not be as it has been in other schools, where lie 
 that travelled fastest, only wandered farthest from the right way. 
 
 Impressed, as I am, therefore, with such a favourable opinion of my associates 
 in this undertaking, it would ill become me to dictate to any of them. But as 
 these Institutions have so often failed in other nations; and as it is natural to 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 11 
 
 think with regret, how much might have been done, I must take leave to offer a 
 few hints, by which those errors may be rectified, and those defects supplied. 
 These the Professors and Visitors may reject or adopt as they shall think proper. 
 
 I would chiefly recommend, that an implicit obedience to the Rules of Art, as 
 established by the practice of the great Masters, should be exacted from the 
 young Students. That those models, which have passed through the approba- 
 tion of ages, should be considered by them as perfect and infallible guides ; as 
 subjects for their imitation, not their criticism. 
 
 I am confident, that this is the only efficacious method of making a progress in 
 the Arts ; and that he who sets out with doubting, will find life finished before 
 he becomes master of the rudiments. For it may be laid down as a maxim, that 
 he who begins by presuming on his own sense, has ended his studies as soon as 
 he has commenced them. Every opportunity, therefore, should be taken to dis- 
 countenance that false and vulgar opinion, that rules are the fetters of genius ; 
 they are fetters only to men of no genius ; as that armour, which upon the strong 
 is an ornament and a defence, upon the weak and mis-shapen becomes a load, and 
 cripples the body which it was made to protect. 
 
 How much liberty may be taken to break through those rules, and, as the 
 Poet expresses it, 
 
 " To snatch a grace beyond the reach of art," 
 may be a subsequent consideration, when the pupils become masters themselves. 
 It is then, when their genius has received its utmost improvement, that rules 
 may possibly be dispensed with. But let us not destroy the scaffold, until we 
 have raised the building. 
 
 The Directors ought more particularly to watch over the genius of those 
 Students, who, being more advanced, are arrived at that critical period of study, 
 on the nice management of which their future turn of taste depends. At that 
 age it is natural for them to be more captivated with what is brilliant, than with 
 what is solid, and to prefer splendid negligence to painful and humiliating ex- 
 actness. 
 
 A facility in composing, — a lively, and what is called a masterly, handling of 
 the chalk or pencil, are, it must be confessed, captivating qualities to young 
 minds, and become of course the objects of their ambition. They endeavour to 
 imitate those dazzling excellencies, which they will find no great labour in at- 
 taining. After much time spent in these frivolous pursuits, the difficulty will be 
 to retreat ; but it will be then too late ; and there is scarce an instance of re- 
 turn to scrupulous labour, after the mind has been debauched and deceived by 
 this fallacious mastery. 
 
 By this useless industry they are excluded from all power of advancing in real 
 excellence. Whilst boys, they are arrived at their utmost perfection ; they have 
 taken the shadow for the substance ; and make the mechanical facility the chief 
 excellence of the art, which is only an ornament, and of the merit of which few 
 but painters themselves are judges. 
 
 This seems to me to be one of the most dangerous sources of corruption ; and 
 I speak of it from experience, not as an error which may possibly happen, but 
 which has actually infected all foreign Academies. The Directors were probably 
 pleased with this premature dexterity in their pupils, and praised their despatch 
 at the expense of their correctness. 
 
12 
 
 THE FlItST DISCOURSE. 
 
 But young men have not only this frivolous ambition of being thought master* 
 of execution, inciting them on one hand, but also their natural sloth tempting 
 them on the other. They are terrified at the prospect before them, of the toil 
 required to attain exactness. The impetuosity of youth is disgusted at the slow 
 approaches of a regular seige, and desires, from mere impatience of labour, to 
 take the citadel by storm. They wish to find some shorter path to excellence, 
 and hope to obtain the reward of eminence by other means than those which 
 the indispensable rules of art have prescribed. They must therefore be told 
 again and again, that labour is the only price of solid fame, and that whatever 
 their force of genius may be, there is no easy method of becoming a good Painter. 
 
 When we read the lives of the most eminent Painters, every page informs us, 
 that no part of their time was spent in dissipation. Even an increase of fame 
 served only to augment their industry. To be convinced with what persevering 
 assiduity they pursued their studies, we need only reflect on their method of pro- 
 ceeding in their most celebrated works. When they conceived a subject, they 
 first made a variety of sketches ; then a finished drawing of the whole ; after 
 that a more correct drawing of every separate part, — heads, hands, feet, and 
 pieces of drapery ; they then painted the picture, and after all re-touched it 
 from the life. The pictures, thus wrought with such pains, now appear like the 
 effect of enchantment, and as if some mighty Genius had struck them off at a 
 blow. 
 
 But, whilst diligence is thus recommended to the Students, the Visitors will 
 take care that their diligence be effectual ; that it be well directed, and employ- 
 ed on the proper object. A Student is not always advancing because he is em- 
 ployed ; he must apply his strength to that part of the art where the real diffi- 
 culties lie ; to that part which distinguishes it as a liberal art ; and not by mis- 
 taken industry lose his time in that which is merely ornamental. The Students, 
 instead of vying with each other which shall have the readiest hand, should be 
 taught to contend who shall have the purest and most correct out-line ; instead 
 of striving which shall produce the brightest tint, or, curiously trifling, shall 
 give the gloss of stuffs, so as to appear real, let their ambition be directed to 
 contend, which shall dispose his drapery in the most graceful folds, which shall 
 give the most grace and dignity to the human figure. 
 
 I must beg leave to submit one thing more to the consideration of the Visitors, 
 which appears to me a matter of very great consequence, and the omission of 
 which I think a principal defect in the method of education pursued in all the 
 Academies I have ever visited. The error I mean is, that the Students never 
 draw exactly from the living models which they have before them. It is not 
 indeed their intention ; nor are they directed to do it. Their drawings resemble 
 the model only in the attitude. They change the form according to their vague 
 and uncertain ideas of beauty, and make a drawing rather of what they think 
 the figure ought to be, than of what it appears. I have thought this the obstacle 
 that has stopped the progress of many young men of real genius ; and I very 
 much doubt, whether a habit of drawing correctly what we see, will not give a 
 proportionable power of drawing correctly what we imagine. He who endeavours 
 to copy nicely the figure before him, not only acquires a habit of exactness and 
 precision, but is continually advancing in his knowledge of the human figure ; 
 and though he seems to superficial observers to make slower progress, he will 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 13 
 
 be found at last capable of adding (without running into capricious wildness) 
 that grace and beauty, which is necessary to be given to his more finished works, 
 and which cannot be got by the moderns, as it was not acquired by the ancients, 
 but by an attentive and well compared study of the human form. 
 
 What I think ought to enforce this method is, that it has been the practice 
 (as may be seen by their drawings) of the great Masters in the art. I will mention 
 a drawing of Raffaelle, The Dispute of the Sacrament, the print of which, by 
 Count Cailus, is in every hand. It appears, that he made his sketch from one 
 model ; and the habit he had of drawing exactly from the form before him, ap- 
 pears by his making all the figures with the same cap, such as his model then 
 happened to wear : so servile a copyist was this great man, even at a time when 
 he was allowed to be at his highest pitch of excellence. 
 
 I have seen also Academy figures by Annibale Caracci, though he was often 
 sufficiently licentious in his finished works, drawn with all the peculiarities of an 
 individual model. 
 
 This scrupulous exactness is so contrary to the practice of the Academies, that 
 it is not without great deference that I beg leave to recommend it to the con- 
 sideration of the Visitors ; and submit to them, whether the neglect of this method 
 is not one of the reasons why Students so often disappoint expectation, and, 
 being more than boys at sixteen, become less than men at thirty. 
 
 In short, the method I recommend can only be detrimental where there are 
 but few living forms to copy ; for then Students, by always drawing from one 
 alone, will by habit be taught to overlook defects, and mistake deformity for 
 beauty. But of this there is no danger, since the Council has determined to 
 supply the Academy with a variety of subjects ; and indeed those laws which 
 they have drawn up, and which the Secretary will presently read for your con- 
 firmation, have in some measure precluded me from saying more upon this oc- 
 casion. Instead, therefore, of offering my advice, permit me to indulge my wishes, 
 and express my hope, that this Institution may answer the expectation of its 
 Royal Founder ; that the present age may vie in Arts with that of Leo the 
 Tenth ; and that the dignity of the dying Art (to make use of an expression of 
 Pliny) may be revived under the Reign of GEORGE THE THIRD. 
 
DISCOURSE II. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 11, 1769. 
 
 The course and order of Study. — The different stages of Art. — Much Copying 
 discountenanced. — The Artist at all times and in all places shouldbe employed 
 in laying up materials for the exercise of his art. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 I congratulate you on the honour which you have just received. I have the 
 highest opinion of your merits, and could wish to show my sense of them in some- 
 thing which possibly may be more useful to you than barren praise. I could 
 wish to lead you into such a course of study as may render your future progress 
 answerable to your past improvement, and, whilst T applaud you for what has 
 been done, remind you how much yet remains to attain perfection. 
 
 I flatter myself, that from the long experience I have had, and the unceasing 
 assiduity with which I have pursued those studies, in which, like you, I have been 
 engaged, I shall be acquitted of vanity in offering some hints to your consideration. 
 They are indeed in a great degree founded upon my own mistakes in the same 
 pursuit. But the history of errors, properly managed, often shortens the road to 
 truth. And although no method of study that I can offer, will of itself conduct 
 to excellence, yet it may preserve industry from being misapplied. 
 
 In speaking to you of the Theory of the Art, I shall only consider it as it has 
 a relation to the method of your studies. 
 
 Dividing the study of painting into three distinct periods, I shall address you 
 as having passed through the first of them, which is confined to the rudiments ; 
 including a facility of drawing any object that presents itself, a tolerable readiness 
 in the management of colours, and an acquaintance with the most simple and 
 obvious rules of composition. 
 
 This first degree of proficiency is, in painting, what grammar is in literature, a 
 general preparation for whatever species of the art the Student may afterwards 
 choose for his more particular application. The power of drawing, modelling, 
 and using colours, is very properly called the Language of the art ; and in this 
 language, the honours you have just received prove you to have made no incon- 
 siderable progress. 
 
 When the Artist is once enabled to express himself with some degree of cor- 
 rectness, he must then endeavour to collect subjects for expression ; to amass a 
 stock of ideas, to be combined and varied as occasion may require. He is now in 
 the second period of study, in which his business is to learn all that has been 
 known and done before his own time. Having hitherto received instructions from 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 15 
 
 a particular master, he is now to consider the Art itself as his master. He must 
 extend his capacity to more sublime and general instructions. Those perfections 
 which lie scattered among various masters, are now united in one general idea, 
 which is henceforth to regulate his taste, and enlarge his imagination. With a 
 variety of models thus before him, he will avoid that narrowness and poverty of 
 conception which attends a bigotted admiration of a single master, and will cease 
 to follow any favourite where he ceases to excel. This period is, however, still a 
 time of subjection and discipline. Though the Student will not resign himself 
 blindly to any single authority, when he may have the advantage of consulting- 
 many, he must still be afraid of trusting his own judgment, and of deviating into 
 any track where he cannot find the footsteps of some former master. 
 
 The third and last period emancipates the Student from subjection to any au- 
 thority, but what he shall himself judge to be supported by reason. Confiding 
 now in his own judgment, he will consider and separate those different principles 
 to which different modes of beauty owe their original. In the former period he 
 sought only to know and combine excellence, wherever it was to be found, into 
 one idea of perfection : in this, he learns, what requires the most attentive survey 
 and the most subtle disquisition, to discriminate perfections that are incompatible 
 with each other. 
 
 He is from this time to regard himself as holding the same rank with those 
 masters whom he before obeyed as teachers ; and as exercising a sort of so- 
 vereignty over those rules which have hitherto restrained him. Comparing now no 
 longer the performances of Art with each other, but examining the Art itself by 
 the standard of nature, he corrects what is erroneous, supplies what is scanty, and 
 adds by his own observation what the industry of his predecessors may have yet 
 left wanting to perfection. Having well established his judgment, and stored his 
 memory, he may now without fear try the power of his imagination. The mind 
 that has been thus disciplined, may be indulged in the warmest enthusiasm, and 
 venture to play on the borders of the wildest extravagance. The habitual dignity 
 which long converse with the greatest minds has imparted to him, will display 
 itself in all his attempts ; and he will stand among his instructors, not as an imi- 
 tator, but a rival. 
 
 These are the different stages of the Art. But as I now address myself par- 
 ticularly to those Students who have been this day rewarded for their happy 
 passage through the first period, I can with no propriety suppose they want any 
 help in the initiatory studies. My present design is to direct your view to distant 
 excellence, and to show you the readiest path that leads to it. Of this I shall 
 speak with such latitude, as may leave the province of the professor uninvaded ; 
 and shall not anticipate those precepts, which it is his business to give, and your 
 duty to understand. 
 
 It is indisputably evident that a great part of every man's life must be em- 
 ployed in collecting materials for the exercise of genius. Invention, strictly 
 speaking, is little more than a new combination of those images which have been 
 previously gathered and deposited in the memory ; nothing can come of nothing : 
 he who has laid up no materials, can produce no combinations. 
 
 A Student unacquainted with the attempts of former adventurers, is always 
 apt to over-rate his own abilities; to mistake the most trifling excursions for 
 discoveries of moment, and every coast new to him for a new-found country. If 
 
16 
 
 THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 by chance lie passes beyond his usual limits, he congratulates his own arrival at 
 those regions which they who have steered a better course have long left behind 
 them. 
 
 The productions of such minds are seldom distinguished by an air of originality : 
 they are anticipated in their happiest efforts ; and if they are found to differ in 
 any thing from their predecessors, it is only in irregular sallies, and trifling con- 
 ceits. The more extensive therefore your acquaintance is with the works of those 
 who have excelled, the more extensive will be your powers of invention ; and 
 what may appear still more like a paradox, the more original will be your con- 
 ceptions. But the difficulty on this occasion is to determine what ought to be 
 proposed as models of excellence, and who ought to be considered as the properest 
 guides. 
 
 To a young man just arrived in Italy, many of the present painters of that 
 country are ready enough to obtrude their precepts, and to offer their own per- 
 formances as examples of that perfection which they effect to recommend. The 
 Modern, however, who recommends himself as a standard, may justly be suspected 
 as ignorant of the true end, and unacquainted with the proper object, of the art 
 which he professes. To follow such a guide, will not only retard the Student, 
 but mislead him. 
 
 On whom then can he rely, or who shall show him the path that leads to 
 excellence % the answer is obvious : those great masters who have travelled the 
 same road with success are the most likely to conduct others. The works of those 
 who have stood the test of ages, have a claim to that respect and veneration to 
 which no modern can pretend. The duration and stability of their fame is suffi- 
 cient to evince that it has not been suspended upon the slender thread of fashion 
 and caprice, but bound to the human heart by every tie of sympathetic appro- 
 bation. 
 
 There is no danger of studying too much the works of those great men ; but 
 how they may be studied to advantage is an enquiry of great importance. 
 
 Some who have never raised their minds to the consideration of the real dignity 
 of the art, and who rate the works of an Artist in proportion as they excel or are 
 defective in the mechanical parts, look on theory as something that may enable 
 them to talk but not to paint better; and confining themselves entirely to 
 mechanical practice, very assiduously toil on in the drudgery of copying, and 
 think they make a rapid progress while they faithfully exhibit the minutest part 
 of a favourite picture. This appears to me a very tedious, and I think a very 
 erroneous method of proceeding. Of every large composition, even of those which 
 are most admired, a great part may be truly said to be common-place. This, 
 though it takes up much time in copying, conduces little to improvement. I con- 
 sider general copying as a delusive kind of industry ; the Student satisfies himself 
 with the appearance of doing something ; he falls into the dangerous habit of 
 imitating without selecting, and of labouring without any determinate object ; as 
 it requires no effort of the mind, he sleeps over his work ; and those powers of 
 invention and composition which ought particularly to be called out, and put in 
 action, lie torpid, and lose their energy for want of exercise. 
 
 How incapable those are of producing any thing of their own, who have spent 
 much of their time in making finished copies, is well known to all who are con- 
 versant with our art. 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 17 
 
 T© suppose that the complication of powers, and variety of ideas necessary to 
 that mind which aspires to the first honours in the art of Painting, can be obtained 
 by the frigid contemplation of a few single models, is no less absurd, than it 
 would be in him who wishes to be a Poet, to imagine that by translating a 
 tragedy he can acquire to himself sufficient knowledge of the appearances of 
 nature, the operations of the passions, and the incidents of life. 
 
 The great use in copying, if it be at all useful, should seem to be in learning 
 to colour ; yet even colouring will never be perfectly attained by servilely copy- 
 ing the model before you. An eye critically nice ca,n only be formed by observ- 
 ing well-coloured pictures with attention : and by close inspection and minute 
 examination, you will discover, at last, the manner of handling, the artifices of 
 •contrast, glazing, and other expedients, by which good colourists have raised the 
 value of their tints, and by which nature has been so happily imitated. 
 
 I must inform you, however, that old pictures deservedly celebrated for their 
 colouring, are often so changed by dirt and varnish, that we ought not to wonder 
 if they do not appear equal to their reputation in the eyes of unexperienced 
 painters, or young students. An artist whose judgment is matured by long ob- 
 servation, considers rather Avhat the picture once was, than what it is at present. 
 He has by habit acquired a power of seeing the brilliancy of tints through the 
 cloud by which it is obscured. An exact imitation, therefore, of those pictures, is 
 likely to fill the student's mind with false opinions; and to send him back a col- 
 ourist of his own formation, with ideas equally remote from nature and from art, 
 from the genuine practice of the masters, and the real appearances of things. 
 
 Following these rules, and using these precautions, when you have clearly and 
 distinctly learned in what good colouring consists, you cannot do better than 
 have recourse to nature herself, who is always at hand, and in comparison of 
 whose true splendour the best coloured pictures are but faint and feeble. 
 
 However, as the practice of copying is not entirely to be excluded, since the 
 mechanical practice of painting is learned in some measure by it, let those choice 
 parts only be selected which have recommended the work to notice. If its excel- 
 lence consists in its general effect, it would be proper to make slight sketches of 
 the machinery and general management of the picture. Those sketches should 
 be kept always by you for the regulation of your style. Instead of copying the 
 touches of those great masters, copy only their conceptions. Instead of treading 
 in their footsteps, endeavour only to keep the same road. Labour to invent on 
 their general principles and way of thinking. Possess yourself with their spirit. 
 Consider with yourself how a Michael Angelo or a Raffaelle would have treated 
 this subject : and work yourself into a belief that your picture is to be seen and 
 criticised by them when completed. Even an attempt of this kind will rouse 
 your powers. 
 
 But as mere 'enthusiasm will carry you but a little way, let me recommend a 
 practice that may be equivalent to and will perhaps more efficaciously contribute 
 to your advancement, than even the verbal corrections of those masters themselves, 
 could they be obtained. What I would propose is, that you should enter into a 
 kind of competition, by painting a similar subject, and making a companion to 
 any picture that you consider as a model. After you have finished your work, 
 place it near the model, and compare them carefully together. You will then not 
 only see, but feel your own deficiencies more sensibly than by precepts, or any 
 
 L 
 
18 
 
 THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 other means of instruction. The true principles of painting will mingle with your 
 thoughts. Ideas thus fixed by sensible objects, will be certain and definitive ; 
 and sinking deep into the mind, will not only be more just, but more lasting than 
 those presented to you by precepts only ; which will always be fleeting, variable, 
 and undetermined. 
 
 This method of comparing your own efforts with those of some great master, is 
 indeed a severe and mortifying task, to which none will submit, but such as have 
 great views, with fortitude sufficient to forego the gratifications of present vanity 
 for future honour. When the student has succeeded in some measure to his own 
 satisfaction, and has felicitated himself on his success, to go voluntarily to a tri- 
 bunal where he knows his vanity must be humbled, and all self-approbation must 
 vanish, requires not only great resolution, but great humility. To him, however, 
 who has the ambition to be a real master, the solid satisfaction which proceeds 
 from a consciousness of his advancement, (of which seeing his own faults is 
 the first step,) will very abundantly compensate for the mortification of present 
 disappointment. There is, besides, this alleviating circumstance : every discov- 
 ery he makes, every acquisition of knowledge he attains, seems to proceed from 
 his own sagacity ; and thus he acquires a confidence in himself sufficient to keep 
 up the resolution of perseverance. 
 
 We all must have experienced how lazily, and consequently how ineffectually, 
 instruction is received when forced upon the mind by others. Few have been 
 taught to any purpose who have not been their own teachers. We prefer those 
 instructions which we have given ourselves, from our affection to the instructor ; 
 and they are more effectual, from being received into the mind at the very time 
 when it is most open and eager to receive them. 
 
 With respect to the pictures that you are to choose for your models, I could 
 wish that you would take the world's opinion rather than your own. In other 
 words, I would have you choose those of established reputation, rather than follow 
 your own fancy. If you should not admire them at first, you will, by endeavour- 
 ing to imitate them, find that the world has not been mistaken. 
 
 It is not an easy task to point out those various excellencies for your imitation, 
 which lie distributed amongst the various schools. An endeavour to do this may 
 perhaps be the subject of some future Discourse. I will, therefore, at present only 
 recommend a model for style in Painting, which is a branch of the art more im- 
 mediately necessary to the young student. Style in painting is the same as in 
 writing, a power over materials, whether words or colours, by which conceptions 
 or sentiments are conveyed. And in this Ludovico Caracci (1 mean in his best 
 works) appears to me to approach the nearest to perfection. His unaffected 
 breadth of light and shadow, the simplicity of colouring, which, holding its proper 
 rank, does not draw aside the least part of the attention from the subject, and the 
 solemn effect of that twilight which seems diffused over his pictures, appear to me 
 to correspond with grave and dignified subjects, better than the more artificial 
 brilliancy of sunshine which enlightens the pictures of Titian : though Tintoret 
 thought that Titian's colouring was the model of perfection, and would correspond 
 even with the sublime of Michael Angelo ; and that if Angelo had coloured like 
 Titian, or Titian designed like Angelo, the world would once have had a perfect 
 painter. 
 
 It is our misfortune, however, that those works of Caracci which 1 would 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE, 
 
 19 
 
 recommend to the Student, are notjrften found out of Bologna. The St. Francis 
 in the midst of his Friars, The Transfiguration, The Birth of St. John the Bap- 
 tist, The Calling of St. Matthew, The St. Jerome, The Fresco Paintings in the 
 Zampieri palace, are all worthy the attention of the student. And I think those 
 who travel would do well to allot a much greater portion of their time to that 
 city, than it has been hitherto the custom to bestow. 
 
 In this art, as in others, there are many teachers who profess to shew the near- 
 est way to excellence ; and many expedients have been invented by which the 
 toil of study might be saved. But let no man be seduced to idleness by specious 
 promises. Excellence is never granted to man, but as the reward of labour. It 
 argues indeed no small strength of mind to persevere in habits of industry, with- 
 out the pleasure of perceiving those advances ; which, like the hand of a clock, 
 whilst they make hourly approaches to their point, yet proceed so slowly as to 
 escape observation. A facility of drawing, like that of playing upon a musical 
 instrument, cannot be acquired but by an infinite number of acts. I need not, 
 therefore, enforce by many words the necessity of continual application ; nor tell 
 you that the port-crayon ought to be for ever in your hands. Various methods 
 will occur to you by which this power may be acquired. I would particularly 
 recommend, that after your return from the Academy, (where I suppose your at- 
 tendance to be constant,) you would endeavour to draw the figure by memory. 
 I will even venture to add, that by perseverance in this custom, you will become 
 able to draw the human figure tolerably correct, with as little effort of the mind 
 as is required to trace with a pen the letters of the alphabet. 
 
 That this facility is not unattainable, some members in this Academy give a 
 sufficient proof. And be assured, that if this power is not acquired whilst you 
 are young, there will be no time for it afterwards ; at least the attempt will be 
 attended with as much difficulty as those experience, who learn to read or write 
 after they have arrived to the age of maturity. 
 
 But while I mention the port-crayon as the student's constant companion, he 
 must still remember, that the pencil is the instrument by which he must hope to 
 obtain eminence. What, therefore, I wish to impress upon you is, that whenever 
 an opportunity offers, you paint your studies instead of drawing them. This will 
 give you such a facility in using colours, that in time they will arrange them- 
 selves under the pencil, even without the attention of the hand that conducts it. 
 If one act excluded the other, this advice could not with any propriety be given. 
 But if Painting comprises both drawing and colouring, and if by a short struggle 
 of resolute industry, the same expedition is attainable in painting as in drawing 
 on paper, I cannot see what objection can justly be made to the practice ; or why 
 that should be done by parts, which may be done all together. 
 
 If we turn our eyes to the several Schools of Painting, and consider their re- 
 spective excellencies, we shall find that those who excel most in colouring, pur- 
 sued this method. The Venetian and Flemish schools, which owe much of their 
 fame to colouring, have enriched the cabinets of the collectors of drawings, with 
 very few examples. Those of Titian, Paul Veronese, Tintoret, and the Bassans, 
 are in general slight and undetermined. Their sketches on paper are as rude as 
 their pictures are excellent, in regard to harmony of colouring. Correggio and 
 Baroccio have left few, if any finished drawings behind them. And in the Fle- 
 mish school, Rubens and Vandyck made their designs for the most f>art either in 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 colours, or in chiaro-oscuro. It is as common to find studies of the Venetian and 
 Flemish Painters on canvass, as of the schools of Rome and Florence on paper. 
 Not but that many finished drawings are sold under the names of those masters. 
 Those, however, are undoubtedly the productions either of engravers or of their 
 scholars, who copied their works. 
 
 These instructions I have ventured to offer from my own experience ; but as 
 they deviate widely from received opinions, I offer them with diffidence ; and 
 when better are suggested, shall retract them without regret. 
 
 There is one precept, however, in which I shall only be opposed by the vain, 
 the ignorant, and the idle. I am not afraid that I shall repeat it too often. 
 You must have no dependence on your own genius. If you have great talents, 
 industry will improve them ; if you have but moderate abilities, industry will sup- 
 ply their deficiency. Nothing is denied to well-directed labour : nothing is to be 
 obtained without it. Not to enter into metaphysical discussions on the nature or 
 essence of genius, I will venture to assert, that assiduity, unabated by difficulty, 
 and a disposition eagerly directed to the object of its pursuit, will produce effects 
 similar to those which some call the result of natural powers. 
 
 Though a man cannot at all times, and in all places, paint or draw, yet the 
 mind can prepare itself by laying in proper materials, at ail times, and in all 
 places. Both Livy and Plutarch, in describing Philopoemen, one of the ablest 
 generals of antiquity, have given us a striking picture of a mind always intent on 
 its profession, and by assiduity obtaining those excellencies which some all their 
 lives vainly expect from nature. I shall quote the passage in Livy at length, as 
 it runs parallel with the practice I would recommend to the Painter, Sculptor, 
 and Architect. 
 
 " Philopoemen was a man eminent for his sagacity and experience in choosing 
 ground, and in leading armies 5 to which he formed his mind by perpetual medi- 
 tation, in times of peace as well as war. When in any occasional journey, he 
 came to a strait difficult passage, if he was alone, he considered with himself, and 
 if he was in company he asked his friends, what it would be best to do if in this 
 place they had found an enemy, either in the front or in the rear, on the one side, 
 or on the other. ' It might happen, ' says he, ' that the enemy to be opposed 
 might come on drawn up in regular lines, or in a tumultuous body, formed only 
 by the nature of the place.' He then considered a little what ground he should 
 take ; what number of soldiers he should use, and what arms he should give them; 
 where he should lodge his carriages, his baggage, and the defenceless followers of 
 his camp ; how many guards, and of what kind, he should send to defend them ; 
 and whether it would be better to press forward along the pass, or recover by 
 retreat his former station : he would consider likewise where his camp could 
 most commodiously be formed ; how much ground he should inclose within hi* 
 trenches ; where he should have the convenience of water, and where he might 
 find plenty of wood and forage ; and when he should break up his camp on the 
 following day, through what road he could most safely pass, and in what form 
 he should dispose his troops. With such thoughts and disquisitions he had from 
 hie early years so exercised his mind, that on these occasions nothing could hap- 
 pen which he had not been already accustomed to consider." 
 
 I cannot help imagining that I see a promising young painter, equally vigilant, 
 whether at home, or abroad, in the streets, or in the fields. Every object that 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE . 
 
 21 
 
 presents itself, is to him a lesson. He regards all Nature with a yiew to hi* 
 profession ; and combines her beauties, or corrects her defects. He examines 
 the countenance of men under the influence of passion ; and often catches the 
 most pleasing hints from subjects of turbulence or deformity. Even bad pictures 
 themselves supply him with useful documents ; and, as Leonardo da Vinci has ob- 
 served, he improves upon the fanciful images that are sometimes seen in the fire, 
 or are accidentally sketched upon a discoloured wall. 
 
 The Artist who has his mind thus filled with ideas, and his hand made expert 
 by practice, works with ease and readiness ; whilst he who would have you 
 believe that he is waiting for the inspirations of Genius, is in reality at a loss 
 how to begin ; and is at last delivered of his monsters, with difficulty and pa'in. 
 
 The well-grounded painter, on the contrary, has only maturely to consider his 
 subject, and all the- mechanical parts of his art follow without his exertion. Con- 
 scious of the difficulty of obtaining what he possesses, he makes no pretensions 
 to secrets, except those of closer application. Without conceiving the smallest 
 jealousy against others, he is contented that all shall be as great as himself, who 
 have undergone the same fatigue ; and as his pre-eminence depends not upon a 
 trick, he is free from the painful suspicions of a juggler, who lives in perpetual 
 fear lest his trick should be discovered. 
 
DISCOURSE III. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 14, 1770. 
 
 The great leading principles of the Grand Style. — Of beauty. — The Genuine 
 Habits of Nature to be distinguished from those of Fashion. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 It is not easy to speak with propriety to so many students of different ages and 
 different degrees of advancement. The mind requires nourishment adapted to its 
 growth ; and what may have promoted our earlier efforts, might retard us in our 
 nearer approaches to perfection. 
 
 The first endeavours of a young Painter, as I have remarked in a former dis- 
 course, must be employed in the attainment of mechanical dexterity, and confined 
 to the mere imitation of the object before him. Those who have advanced be- 
 yond the rudiments, may, perhaps, find advantage in reflecting on the advice 
 which I have likewise given them, when 1 recommended the diligent study of the 
 works of our great predecessors ; but I at the same time endeavoured to guard 
 them against an implicit submission to the authority of any one master however 
 excellent : or by a strict imitation of his manner, precluding themselves from the 
 abundance and variety of nature. I will now add that Nature herself is not to 
 be too closely copied. There are excellencies in the art of painting beyond what 
 is commonly called the imitation of nature : and these excellencies I wish to point 
 out. The students who, having passed through the initiatory exercises, are more 
 advanced in the art, and who, sure of their hand, have leisure to exert their un- 
 derstanding, must now be told, that a mere copier of nature can never produce 
 any thing great ; can never raise and enlarge the conceptions, or warm the heart 
 of the spectator. 
 
 The wish of the genuine painter must be more extensive : instead of endeavour- 
 ing to amuse mankind with the minute neatness of his imitations, he must endea- 
 vour to improve them by the grandeur of his ideas ; instead of seeking praise, by 
 deceiving the superficial sense of the spectator, he must strive for fame, by cap- 
 tivating the imagination. 
 
 The principle now laid down, that the perfection of this art does not consist in 
 mere imitation, is far from being new or singular. It is, indeed, supported by the 
 general opinion of the enlightened part of mankind. The poets, orators, and 
 rhetoricians of antiquity, are continually enforcing this position : that all the arts 
 receive their perfection from an ideal beauty, superior to what is to be found in 
 individual nature. They are ever referring to the practice of the painters and 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 23 
 
 sculptors of their times, particularly Phidias, (the favourite artist of antiquity,) 
 to illustrate their assertions. As if they could not sufficiently express their 
 admiration of his genius by what they knew, they have recourse to poetical 
 enthusiasm : they call it inspiration ; a gift from heaven. The artist is supposed 
 to have ascended the celestial regions, to furnish his mind with this perfect idea 
 of beauty. " He," says Proclus*, " who takes for his model such forms as nature 
 produces, and confines himself to an exact imitation of them, will never attain to 
 what is perfectly beautiful. For the works of nature are full of disproportion, 
 and fall very short of the true standard of beauty. So that Phidias, when he 
 formed his Jupiter, did not copy any object ever presented to his sight ; but con- 
 templated only that image which he had conceived in his mind from Homer's 
 description." And thus Cicero, speaking of the same Phidias : " Neither did this 
 artist," says he, " when he carved the image of Jupiter or Minerva, set before 
 him any one human figure, as a pattern, which he was to copy ; but having a 
 more perfect idea of beauty fixed in his mind, this he steadily contemplated, and 
 to the imitation of this all his skill and labour were directed." 
 
 The Moderns are not less convinced than the Ancients of this superior power 
 existing in the art, nor less sensible of its effects. Every language has adopted 
 terms expressive of this excellence. The gusto grande of the Italians, the beau 
 ideal of the French, and the great style, genius, and taste, among the English, are 
 but different appellations of the same thing. It is this intellectual dignity, they 
 say, that ennobles the painter's art ; that lays the line between him and the mere 
 mechanic ; and produces those great effects in an instant, which eloquence and 
 poetry, by slow and repeated efforts, are scarcely able to attain. 
 
 Such is the warmth with which both the Ancients and Moderns speak of this 
 divine principle of the art ; but, as I have formerly observed, enthusiastic admira- 
 tion seldom promotes knowledge. Though a student by such praise may have 
 his attention roused, and a desire excited, of running in this great career, yet it 
 is possible, that what has been said to excite, may only serve to deter him. He 
 examines his own mind, and perceives there nothing of that divine inspiration, 
 with which, he is told, so many others have been favoured. He never travelled 
 to heaven to gather new ideas ; and he finds himself possessed of no other qualifi- 
 cations than what mere common observation and a plain understanding can con- 
 fer. Thus he becomes gloomy amidst the splendour of figurative declamation, 
 and thinks it hopeless to pursue an object which he supposes out of the reach of 
 human industry. 
 
 But on this, as upon many other occasions, we ought to distinguish how much 
 is to be given to enthusiasm, and how much to reason. We ought to allow for, 
 and we ought to commend, that strength of vivid expression, which is necessary 
 to convey, in its full force, the highest sense of the most complete effect of art ; 
 taking care at the same time, not to lose in terms of vague admiration, that soli- 
 dity and truth of principle, upon which alone we can reason, and may be enabled 
 to practise. 
 
 It is not easy to define in what this great style consists ; nor to describe, by 
 words, the proper means of acquiring it, if the mind of the student should be at 
 
 * Lib. 2. in Timaeum Platonis, as cited by Junius ue Pictura Veterum. 11. 
 
24 
 
 THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 all capable of sucli an acquisition. Could we teach taste or genius by rules, they 
 would be no longer taste and genius. But though there neither are, nor can be, 
 any precise invariable rules for the exercise, or the acquisition, of these great 
 qualities, yet we may truly say, that they always operate in proportion to our at- 
 tention in observing the works of nature, to our skill in selecting, and to our care 
 in digesting, methodizing, and comparing our observations. There are many 
 beauties in our art, that seem, at first, to lie without the reach of precept, and 
 yet may easily be reduced to practical principles. Experience is all in all ; but 
 it is not every one who profits by experience ; and most people err, not so much 
 from want of capacity to find their object, as from not knowing what object to 
 pursue. This great ideal perfection and beauty are not to be sought in the 
 heavens, but upon the earth. They are about us, and upon every side of us. But 
 the power of discovering what is deformed in nature, or in other words, what is 
 particular and uncommon, can be acquired only by experience ; and the whole 
 beauty and grandeur of the art consists, in my opinion, in being able to get above 
 all singular forms, local customs, particularities, and details of every kind. 
 
 All the objects which are exhibited to our view by nature, upon close examin- 
 ation, will be found to have their blemishes and defects. The most beautiful forms 
 have something about them like weakness, minuteness, or imperfection. But it 
 is not every eye that perceives these blemishes. It must be an eye long used to 
 the contemplation and comparison of these forms ; and which, by a long habit of 
 observing what any set of objects of the same kind have in common, has acquired 
 the power of discerning what each wants in particular. This long laborious com- 
 parison should be the first study of the painter, who aims at the greatest style. 
 By this means, he acquires a just idea of beautiful forms ; he corrects Nature by 
 herself, her imperfect state by her more perfect. His eye being enabled to dis- 
 tinguish the accidental deficiencies, excrescences, and deformities of things, from 
 their general figures, he makes out an abstract idea of their forms more perfect 
 than any one original ; and what may seem a paradox, he learns to design 
 naturally by drawing his figures unlike to any one object. This idea of the per- 
 fect state of nature, which the Artist calls the Ideal Beauty, is the great leading 
 principle by which works of genius are conducted. By this Phidias acquired his 
 fame. He wrought upon a sober principle what has so much excited the 
 enthusiasm of the world ; and by this method you, who have courage to tread 
 the same path, may acquire equal reputation. 
 
 This is the idea which has acquired, and which seems to have a right to the 
 epithet of divine; as it may be said to preside, like a supreme judge, over all the 
 productions of nature ; appearing to be possessed of the will and intention of the 
 Creator, as far as they regard the external form of living beings. When a 
 man once possesses this idea in its perfection, there is no danger, but that he will 
 be sufficiently warmed by it himself, and be able to warm and ravish every one 
 else. 
 
 Thus it is from a reiterated experience, and a close comparison of the objects 
 in nature, that an artist becomes possessed of the idea of that central form, if I 
 may so express it, from which every deviation is deformity. But the investigation 
 of this form, I grant, is painful, and I know but of one method of shortening the 
 road ; this is, by a careful study of the works of the ancient sculptors ; who, being 
 indefatigable in the school of nature, have left models of that perfect form behind 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 25 
 
 ■them, which an artist would prefer as supremely beautiful, who had spent his 
 whole life in that single contemplation. But if industry carried them thus far, 
 may not you also hope for the same reward from the same labour? we have the 
 same school opened to us, that was opened to them ; for Nature denies her in- 
 structions to none who desire to become her pupils. 
 
 This laborious investigation, I am aware, must appear superfluous to those who 
 think every thing is to be done by felicity, and the powers of native genius. Even 
 the great Bacon treats with ridicule the idea of confining proportion to rules, or 
 of producing beauty by selection. " A man cannot tell, (says he,) whether Apelles 
 or Albert Durer were the more trifler : whereof the one would make a personage 
 by geometrical proportions ; the other, by taking the best parts out of divers faces, 
 
 to make one excellent The painter, (he adds,) must do it by a kind of 
 
 felicity, . . and not by rule*." 
 
 It is not safe to question any opinion of so great a writer, and so profound a 
 thinker, as undoubtedly Bacon was. But he studies brevity to excess ; and there- 
 fore his meaning is sometimes doubtful. If he means that duty has nothing to do 
 with rule, he is mistaken. There is a rule, obtained out of general nature, to 
 contradict which is to fall into deformity. Whenever any thing is done beyond 
 this rule, it is in virtue of some other rule which is followed along with it, but 
 which does not contradict it. Every thing which is wrought with certainty, is 
 wrought upon some principle. If it is not, it cannot be repeated. If by felicity 
 is meant any thing of chance or hazard, or something born with a man, and not 
 earned, I cannot agree with this great philosopher. Every object which pleases 
 must give us pleasure upon some certain principles : but as the objects of pleasure 
 are almost infinite, so their principles vary without end, and every man finds them 
 out, not by felicity or successful hazard, but by care and sagacity. 
 
 To the principle I have laid down, that the idea of beauty in each species of 
 beings is an invariable one, it may be objected, that in every particular species 
 there are various central forms, which are separate and distinct from each other, 
 and yet are undeniably beautiful ; that in the human figure, for instance, the 
 beauty of Hercules is one, of the Gladiator another, of the Apollo another ; which 
 makes so many different ideas of beauty. 
 
 It is true, indeed, that these figures are each perfect in their kind, though of 
 different characters and proportions ; but still none of them is the representation 
 of an individual, but of a class. And as there is one general form, which, as I 
 have said, belongs to the human kind at large, so in each of these classes there is 
 one common idea and central form, which is the abstract of the various individual 
 forms belonging to that class. Thus, though the forms of childhood and age differ 
 exceedingly, there is a common form in childhood, and a common form in age, 
 which is the more perfect, as it is more remote from all peculiarities. But 1 must 
 add further, that though the most perfect forms of each of the general divisions 
 of the human figure are ideal, and superior to any individual form of that class, 
 yet the highest perfection of the human figure is not to be found in any one of 
 them. It is not in the Hercules, nor in the Gladiator, nor in the Apollo ; but in 
 that form which is taken from all, and which partakes equally of the activity of 
 
 * Essays, p. 252, edit. 1625. 
 
 M 
 
26 
 
 THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 the Gladiator, of the delicacy of the Apollo, and of the muscular strength of the 
 Hercules. For perfect beauty in any species must combine all the characters 
 which are beautiful in that species. It cannot consist in any one to the exclu- 
 sion of the rest : no one, therefore, must be predominant, that no one may be 
 deficient. 
 
 The knowledge of these different characters, and the power of separating and 
 distinguishing them, is undoubtedly necessary to the painter, who is to vary his 
 compositions with figures of various forms and proportions, though he is never to 
 lose sight of the general idea of perfection in each kind. 
 
 There is, likewise, a kind of symmetry, or proportion, which may properly be 
 said to belong to deformity. A figure lean or corpulent, tall or short, though 
 deviating from beauty, may still have a certain union of the various parts, which 
 may contribute to make them on the whole not unpleasing. 
 
 When the Artist has by diligent attention acquired a clear and distinct idea of 
 beauty and symmetry ; when he has reduced the variety of nature to the abstract 
 idea; his next task will be to become acquainted with the genuine habits of 
 nature, as distinguished from those of fashion. For in the same manner, and on 
 the same principles, as he has acquired the knowledge of the real forms of nature, 
 distinct from accidental deformity, he must endeavour to separate simple chaste 
 Nature, from those adventitious, those affected and forced airs or actions, with 
 which she is loaded by modern education. 
 
 Perhaps I cannot better explain what I mean, than by reminding you of what 
 was taught us by the Professor of Anatomy, in respect to the natural position 
 and movement of the feet. He observed, that the fashion of turning them out- 
 wards was contrary to the intent of nature, as might be seen from the structure 
 of the bones, and from the weakness that proceeded from that manner of stand- 
 ing. To this we may add the erect position of the head, the projection of the 
 chest, the walking with straight knees, and many such actions, which we know to 
 be merely the result of fashion, and what nature never warranted, as we are 
 sure that we have been taught them when children. 
 
 I have mentioned but a few of those instances, in which vanity or caprice have 
 contrived to distort and disfigure the human form : your own recollection will 
 add to these a thousand more of ill-understood methods, which have been prac- 
 tised to disguise nature, among our dancing-masters, hair-dressers, and tailors, in 
 their various schools of deformity*. 
 
 However the mechanic and ornamental arts may sacrifice to fashion, she must 
 be entirely excluded from the Art of Painting ; the painter must never mistake 
 this capricious changeling for the genuine offspring of nature ; he must divest 
 himself of all prejudices in favour of his age or country ; he must disregard all 
 local and temporary ornaments, and look only on those general habits which are 
 every where and always the same ; he addresses his works to the people of every 
 country and every age ; he calls upon posterity to be his spectators, and says 
 with Zeuxis, in ceternitaiem pingo. 
 
 *" Those," says Quintilian, "who are taken with the outward shew of things, think that there 
 is more beauty in persons who are trimmed, curled, and painted, than uncorrapt nature can 
 give ; as if beauty were merely the effect of the corruption of manners." E. 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 27 
 
 The neglect of separating modern fashions from the habits of nature, leads to 
 that ridiculous style which has been practised by some painters, who have given 
 to Grecian Heroes the airs and graces practised in the court of Lewis the Four- 
 teenth ; an absurdity almost as great as it would have been to have dressed 
 them after the fashion of that court. 
 
 To avoid this error, however, and to retain the true simplicity of nature, is a 
 task more difficult than at first sight it may appear. The prejudices in favour of 
 the fashions and customs that we have been used to, and which are justly called 
 a second nature, make it too often difficult to distinguish that which is natural 
 from that which is the result of education ; they frequently even give a predilec- 
 tion in favour of the artificial mode ; and almost every one is apt to be guided 
 by those local prejudices, who has not chastised his mind, and regulated the in- 
 stability of his affections by the eternal invariable idea of nature. 
 
 Here then, as before, we must have recourse to the ancients as instructors. 
 It is from a careful study of their works that you will be enabled to attain to the 
 real simplicity of nature ; they will suggest many observations, which would 
 probably escape you, if your study were confined to nature alone. And, indeed, 
 1 cannot help suspecting, that in this instance the ancients had an easier task 
 than the moderns. They had, probably, little or nothing to unlearn, as their 
 manners were nearly approaching to this desirable simplicity ; while the modern 
 artist, before he can see the truth of things, is obliged to remove a veil, with 
 which the fashion of the times has thought proper to cover her. 
 
 Having gone thus far in our investigation of the great style in painting ; if we 
 now should suppose that the artist has formed the true idea of beauty, which 
 enables him to give his works a correct and perfect design ; if we should sup- 
 pose also, that he has acquired a knowledge of the unadulterated habits of nature, 
 which gives him simplicity ; the rest of his task is, perhaps, less than is generally 
 imagined. Beauty and simplicity have so great a share in the composition of a 
 great style, that he who has acquired them has little else to learn. It must not, 
 indeed, be forgotten, that there is a nobleness of conception, which goes beyond 
 anything in the mere exhibition even of perfect form ; there is an art of animating 
 and dignifying the figures with intellectual grandeur, of impressing the appearance 
 of philosophic wisdom, or heroic virtue. This can only be acquired by him that 
 enlarges the sphere of his understanding by a variety of knowledge, and warms his 
 imagination with the best productions of ancient and modern poetry. 
 
 A hand thus exercised, and a mind thus instructed, will bring the art to a 
 higher degree of excellence than, perhaps, it has hitherto attained in this country. 
 Such a student will disdain the humbler walks of painting, which, however 
 profitable, can never assure him a permanent reputation. He will leave the 
 meaner artist servilely to suppose that those are the best pictures, which are 
 most likely to deceive the spectator. He will permit the lower painter, like 
 the florist or collector of shells, to exhibit the minute discriminations, which dis- 
 tinguish one object of the same species from another ; while he, like the philoso- 
 pher, will consider nature in the abstract, and represent in every one of his 
 figures the character of its species. 
 
 If deceiving the eye were the only business of art, there is no doubt, indeed, 
 but the minute painter would be more apt to succeed : but it is not the eye, it is 
 the mind, which the painter of genius desires to address ; nor will he waste /fc 
 
28 
 
 THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 moment upon those smaller objects, which only serve to catcli the sense, to di- 
 vide the attention, and to counteract his great design of speaking to the heart. 
 
 This is the ambition which I wish to excite in your minds ; and the object I 
 have had in my view - , throughout this discourse, is that one great idea, which 
 gives to painting its true dignity, which entitles it to the name of a Liberal Art, 
 and ranks it as a sister of poetry. 
 
 It may possibly have happened to many young students, whose application 
 was sufficient to overcome all difficulties, and whose minds were capable of em- 
 bracing the most extensive views, that they have, by a wrong direction origin- 
 ally given, spent their lives in the meaner walks of painting, without ever know- 
 ing there was a nobler to pursue. Albert Durer, as Vasari has justly remarked, 
 would, probably, have been one of the first painters of his age, (and he lived in 
 an era of great artists,) had he been initiated into those great principles of the 
 art, which were so well understood and practised by his contemporaries in Italy; 
 but unluckily having never seen or heard of any other manner, he, without doubt, 
 considered his own as perfect. 
 
 As for the various departments of painting, which do not presume to make 
 such high pretentions, they are many. None of them are without their merit, 
 though none enter into competition with this universal presiding idea of the art. 
 The painters who have applied themselves more particularly to low and vulgar 
 characters, and who express with precision the various shades of passion, as they 
 are exhibited by vulgar minds, (such as we see in the works of Hogarth,) de- 
 serve great praise ; but as their genius has been employed on low and confined 
 subjects, the praise which we give must be as limited as its object. The merry- 
 making or quarrelling of the Boors of Teniers ; the same sort of productions of 
 Brouwer, or Ostade, are excellent in their kind ; and the excellence and its 
 praise will be in proportion, as, in those limited subjects, and peculiar forms, 
 they introduce more or less of the expression of those passions, as they appear in 
 general and more enlarged nature. This principle may be applied to the Battle- 
 pieces of Bourgognone, the French Gallantries of Watteau, and even beyond 
 the exhibition of animal life, to the Landscapes of Claude Lorraine, and the 
 Sea-Views of Vandervelde. All these painters have, in general, the same right, 
 in different degrees, to the name of a painter, which a satirist, an epigrammatist, 
 a sonneteer, a writer of pastorals, or descriptive poetry, has to that of a poet. 
 
 In the same rank, and perhaps of not so great merit, is the cold painter of 
 portraits. But his correct and just imitation of his object has its merit. Even 
 the painter of still life, whose highest ambition is to give a minute representation 
 of every part of those low objects which he sets before him, deserves praise in 
 proportion to his attainment ; because no part of this excellent art, so much th« 
 ornament of polished life, is destitute of value and use. These, however, are by 
 no means the views to which the mind of the student ought to be primarily di- 
 rected. Having begun by aiming at better things, if from particular inclination, 
 or from the taste of the time and place he lives in, or from necessity, or from 
 failure in the highest attempts, he is obliged to descend lower, he will bring into 
 the lower sphere of art a grandeur of composition and character, that will raise 
 and ennoble his works far above their natural rank. 
 
 A man is not weak though he may not be able to wield the club of Hercules ; 
 nor does a man always practise that which he esteems the best ; but doea that 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 29 
 
 which he can best do. In moderate attempts, there are many walks open to the 
 artist. But as the idea of beauty is of necessity but one, so there can be but one 
 great mode of painting ; the leading principle of which I have endeavoured to 
 explain. 
 
 I should be sorry if what is here recommended should be at all understood 
 to countenance a careless or undetermined manner of painting. For though 
 the painter is to overlook the accidental discriminations of nature, he is to exhibit 
 distinctly, and with precision, the general forms of things. A firm and determined 
 outline is one of the characteristics of the great style in painting ; and let me 
 add, that he who possesses the knowledge of the exact form which every part of 
 nature ought to have, will be fond of expressing that knowledge with correctness 
 and precision in all his works. 
 
 To conclude ; I have endeavoured to reduce the idea of beauty to general 
 principles ; and I had the pleasure to observe that the Professor of Painting pro- 
 ceeded in the same method, when he shewed you that the artifice of contrast was 
 founded but on one principle. I am convinced that this is the only means of ad- 
 vancing science ; of clearing the mind from -a confused heap of contradictory ob- 
 servations, that do but perplex and puzzle the student, when he compares them, 
 or misguide him if he gives himself up to their authority ; bringing them under 
 one general head, can alone give rest and satisfaction to an inquisitive mind. 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 10, 1771. 
 
 General Ideas, the Presiding Principle which regulates every part of Art ; In- 
 vention, Expression, Colouring, and Drapery. — Two Distinct Styles in History- 
 Painting; the Grand, and the Ornamental. — The Schools in which each is to 
 be found. — The Composite Style. — The Style formed on Local Customs and 
 Habits, or a Partial View of Nature. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 The value and rank of every art is in proportion to the mental labour employed 
 in it, or the mental pleasure produced by it. As this principle is observed or 
 neglected, our profession becomes either a liberal art, or a mechanical trade. 
 In the hands of one man it makes the highest pretensions, as it is addressed to 
 the noblest faculties : in those of another it is reduced to a mere matter of orna- 
 ment ; and the painter has but the humble province of furnishing our apartments 
 with elegance. 
 
 This exertion of mind, which is the only circumstance that truly ennobles our 
 Art, makes the great distinction between the Roman and Venetian schools. I 
 have formerly observed that perfect form is produced by leaving out particulari- 
 ties, and retaining only general ideas : I shall now endeavour to shew that this 
 principle, which I have proved to be metaphysically just, extends itself to every 
 part of the Art ; that it gives what is called the grand style to Invention, to 
 Composition, to Expression, and even to Colouring and Drapery. 
 
 Invention in Painting does not imply the invention of the subject ; for that is 
 commonly supplied by the Poet or Historian. With respect to the choice, no 
 subject can be proper that is not generally interesting. It ought to be either 
 some eminent instance of heroic action, or heroic suffering. There must be some- 
 thing either in the action, or in the object, in which men are universally concerned, 
 and which powerfully strikes upon the public sympathy. 
 
 Strictly speaking, indeed, no subject can be of universal, hardly can it be of 
 general concern; but there are events and characters so popularly known in 
 those countries where our Art is in request, that they may be considered as suf- 
 ficiently general for all our purposes. Such are the great events of Greek and 
 Roman fable and history, which early education, and the usual course of reading, 
 have made familiar and interesting to all Europe, without being degraded by the 
 vulgarism of ordinary life in any country. Such, too, are the capital subjects of 
 scripture history, which, beside their general notoriety, become venerable by their 
 connection with our religion. 
 
 As it is required that the subject selected should be a general one, it is no les# 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 31 
 
 necessary that it should be kept unembarrassed with whatever may any way 
 serve to divide the attention of the spectator. Whenever a story is related, every 
 man forms a picture in his mind of the action and expression of the persons em- 
 ployed. The power of representing this mental picture on canvass is what we 
 call invention in a painter. And as in the conception of this ideal picture, the 
 mind does not enter into the minute peculiarities of the dress, furniture, or scene 
 of action ; so when the painter comes to represent it, he contrives those little 
 necessary concomitant circumstances in such a manner that they shall strike the 
 spectator no more than they did himself in his first conception of the story. 
 
 I am very ready to allow, that some circumstances of minuteness and particu- 
 larity frequently tend to give an air of truth to a piece, and to interest the spec- 
 tator in an extraordinary manner. Such circumstances therefore cannot wholly 
 be rejected : but if there be any thing in the Art which requires peculiar nicety 
 of discernment, it is the disposition of these minute circumstantial parts, which, 
 according to the judgment employed in the choice, become so useful to truth, or 
 so injurious to grandeur. 
 
 However, the usual and most dangerous error is on the side of minuteness ; 
 and therefore I think caution most necessary where most have failed. The 
 general idea constitutes real excellence. All smaller things, however perfect in 
 their way, are to be sacrificed without mercy to the greater. The Painter will 
 not enquire what things may be admitted without much censure : he will not 
 think it enough to shew that they may be there ; he will shew that they must be 
 there ; that their absence would render his picture maimed and defective. 
 
 Thus, though to the principal group a second or third be added, and a second 
 and third mass of light, care must be taken that these subordinate actions and 
 lights, neither each in particular, nor all together, come into any degree of com- 
 petition with the principal ; they should merely make a part of that whole which 
 would be imperfect without them. To every kind of painting this rule may be 
 applied. Even in portraits, the grace, and, we may add, the likeness consists 
 more in taking the general air, than in observing the exact similitude of every 
 feature. 
 
 Thus figures must have a ground whereon to stand ; they must be clothed ; 
 there must be a back-ground ; there must be light and shadow : but none of 
 these ought to appear to have taken up any part of the artist's attention. They 
 should be so managed as not even to catch that of the spectator. We know well 
 enough, when we analyze a piece, the difficulty and the subtilty with which an 
 artist adjusts the back-ground, drapery, and masses of light ; we know that a 
 considerable part of the grace and effect of his picture depends upon them ; but 
 this art is so much concealed, even to a judicious eye, that no remains of any of 
 these subordinate parts occur to the memory when the picture is not present. 
 
 The great end of the art is to strike the imagination. The Painter, therefore, 
 is to make no ostentation of the means by which this is done ; the spectator is 
 only to feel the result in his bosom. An inferior artist is unwilling that any part 
 of his industry should be lost upon the spectator. He takes as much pains to dis- 
 cover, as the greater artist does to conceal, the marks of his subordinate assiduity. 
 In works of the lower kind, every thing appears studied and encumbered ; it is 
 all boastful art, and open affectation. The ignorant often part from such picture* 
 with wonder in their mouths, and indifference in their hearts. 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 But it is not enough in invention that the Artist should restrain and keep under 
 all the inferior parts of his subject ; he must sometimes deviate from vulgar and 
 strict historical truth, in pursuing the grandeur of his design. 
 
 How much the great style exacts from its professors to conceive and represent 
 their subjects in a poetical manner, not confined to mere matter of fact, may be 
 seen in the Cartoons of Raffaelle. In all the pictures in which the painter has 
 represented the apostles, he has drawn them with great nobleness ; he has given 
 them as much dignity as the human figure is capable of receiving ; yet we are ex- 
 pressly told in scripture they had no such respectable appearance ; and of St. 
 Paul in particular, we are told by himself, that his bodily presence was mean. 
 Alexander is said to have been of a low stature : a Painter ought not so to re- 
 present him. Agesilaus was low, lame, and of a mean appearance : none of these 
 defects ought to appear in a piece of which he is the hero. In conformity to 
 custom, I call this part of the art History Painting : it ought to be called Poeti- 
 cal, as in reality it is. 
 
 All this is not falsifying any fact ; it is taking an allowed poetical license. A 
 painter of portraits retains the individual likeness ; a painter of history shews 
 the man by shewing his actions. A painter must compensate the natural defi- 
 ciencies of his art. He has but one sentence to utter, but one moment to exhibit. 
 He cannot, like the poet or historian, expatiate and impress the mind vrith 
 great veneration for the character of the hero or saint he represents, though he 
 lets us know, at the same time, that the saint was deformed, or the hero lame. 
 The painter has no other means of giving an idea of the dignity of the mind, but 
 by that external appearance which grandeur of thought does generally, though 
 not always, impress on the countenance ; and by that correspondence of figure to 
 sentiment and situation, which all men wish, but cannot command. The painter, 
 who may in this one particular attain with ease what others desire in vain, ought 
 to give all that he possibly can, since there are so many circumstances of true 
 greatness that he cannot give at all. He cannot make his hero talk like a great 
 man ; he must make him look like one. For which reason he ought to be well- 
 studied in the analysis of those circumstances which constitute dignity of appear- 
 ance in real life. 
 
 As in invention, so likewise in expression, care must be taken not to run into par- 
 ticularities. Those expressions alone should be given to the figures which their 
 respective situations generally produce. Nor is this enough: each person should 
 also have that expression which men of his rank generally exhibit. The joy or 
 the grief of a character of dignity, is not to be expressed in the same manner as a 
 similar passion in a vulgar face. Upon this principle Bernini, perhaps, may be 
 subject to censure. This sculptor, in many respects admirable, has given a very 
 mean expression to his statue of David, who is represented as just going to throw 
 the stone from the sling ; and in order to give it the expression of energy, he has 
 made him biting his under-lip. This expression is far from being general, and 
 still farther from being dignified. He might have seen it in an instance or two, 
 and he mistook accident for generality. 
 
 With respect to colouring, though it may appear at first a part of painting 
 merely mechanical, yet it still has its rules, and those grounded upon that pre- 
 siding principle which regulates both the great and the little in the study of a 
 painter. By this the first effect of the picture is produced ; and as this in per- 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 33 
 
 formed, the spectator, as he walks the gallery, will stop or pass along. To give 
 a general air of grandeur at first view, all trifling or artful play of little lights, 
 or an attention to a variety of tints, is to be avoided ; a quietness and simplicity 
 must reign over the whole work ; to which a breadth of uniform and simple 
 colour, will very much contribute. Grandeur of effect is produced by two differ- 
 ent ways, which seem entirely opposed to each other. One is, by reducing the 
 colours to little more than chiara oscuro, which was often the practice of the 
 Bolognian schools ; and the other, by making the colours very distinct and forci- 
 ble, such as we see in those of Rome and Florence ; but still the presiding prin- 
 ciple of both those manners is simplicity. Certainly nothing can be more simple 
 than monotony ; and the distinct blue, red, and yellow colours which are seen in 
 the draperies of the Roman and Florentine schools, though they have not that 
 kind of harmony which is produced by a variety of broken and transparent 
 colours, have that effect of grandeur which was intended. Perhaps these distinct 
 colours strike the mind more forcibly, from there not being any great union be- 
 tweenthem ; as martial music, which is intended to rouse the nobler passions, 
 has its effect from the sudden and strongly-marked transitions from one note to 
 another, which that style of music requires ; whilst in that which is intended to 
 move the softer passions, the notes imperceptibly melt into one another. 
 
 In the same manner as the historical Painter never enters into the detail of 
 colours, so neither does he debase his conceptions with minute attention to the 
 discriminations of drapery. It is the inferior style that marks the variety of 
 stuffs. "With him, the cloathing is neither woollen, nor linen, nor silk, satin, or 
 velvet : it is drapery ; it is nothing more. The art of disposing the foldings of 
 the drapery makes a very considerable part of the painter's study. To make it 
 merely natural, is a mechanical operation, to which neither genius nor taste are 
 required ; whereas, it requires the nicest judgment to dispose the drapery, so that 
 the folds shall have an easy communication, and gracefully follow each other, 
 with such natural negligence as to look like the effect of chance, and at the same 
 time shew the figure under it to the utmost advantage. 
 
 Carlo Maratti was of opinion, that the disposition of drapery was a more difficult 
 art than even that of drawing the human figure ; that a Student might be more 
 easily taught the latter than the former ; as the rules of drapery, he said, could 
 not be so well ascertained as those for delineating a correct form. This, perhaps, 
 is a proof how willingly we favour our own peculiar excellence. Carlo Maratti 
 is said to have valued himself particularly upon his skill in this part of his art ; 
 yet in him, the disposition appears so ostentatiously artificial, that he is inferior 
 to Raffaelle, even in that which gave him his best claim to reputation. 
 
 Such is the great principle by which we must be directed in the nobler branches 
 of our art. Upon this principle, the Roman, the Florentine, the Bolognese schools, 
 have formed their practice ; and by this they have deservedly obtained the highest 
 praise. These are the three great schools of the world in the epic style. The 
 best of the French school, Poussin, Le Sueur, and Le Brun, have formed them- 
 selves upon these models, and consequently may be said, though Frenchmen, to 
 be a colony from the Roman school. Next to these, but in a very different style 
 «f excellence, we may rank the Venetian, together with the Flemish and th« 
 
 N 
 
34 
 
 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Dutch schools ; all professing to depart from the great purposes of painting, and 
 catching at applause by inferior qualities. 
 
 I am not ignorant that some will censure me for placing the Venetians in this 
 inferior class, and many of the warmest admirers of painting will think them 
 unjustly degraded ; but I wish not to be misunderstood. Though I can by no 
 means allow them to hold any rank with the nobler schools of painting, they 
 accomplished perfectly the thing they attempted. But as mere elegance is their 
 principal object, as they seem more willing to dazzle than to effect, it can be no 
 injury to them to suppose that their practice is useful only to its proper end. But 
 what may heighten the elegant may degrade the sublime. There is a simplicity, 
 and T may add, severity, in the great manner, which is, I am afraid, almost in- 
 compatible with this comparatively sensual style. 
 
 Tintoret, Paul Veronese, and others of the Venetian school, seem to have painted 
 with no other purpose than to be admired for their skill and expertness in the 
 mechanism of painting, and to make a parade of that art ; which, as I before 
 observed, the higher style requires its followers to conceal. 
 
 In a conference of the French Academy, at which were present Le Brun, 
 Sebastian, Bourdon, and all the eminent Artists of that age, one of the academicians 
 desired to have their opinion on the conduct of Paul Veronese, who, though a 
 Painter of great consideration, had, contrary to the strict rules of art, in his 
 picture of Perseus and Andromeda, represented the principal figure in shade. 
 To this question no satisfactory answer was then given. But I will venture to 
 say, that if they had considered the class of the Artist, and ranked him as an 
 ornamental Painter, there would have been no difficulty in answering — " It was 
 unreasonable to expect what was never intended. His intention was solely to 
 produce an effect of light and shadow ; every thing was to be sacrificed to that 
 intent, and the capricious composition of that picture suited very well with the 
 style which he professed." 
 
 Young minds are indeed too apt to be captivated by this splendour of style 
 and that of the Venetians is particularly pleasing ; for by them, all those parts of 
 the Art that gave pleasure to the eye or sense, have been cultivated with care, and 
 carried to the degree nearest to perfection. The powers exerted in the mechanical 
 part of the Art, have been called the language of Painters; but we may say, that 
 it is but poor eloquence which only shews that the orator can talk. Words 
 should be employed as the means, not as the end : language is the instrument, 
 conviction is the work. 
 
 The language of Painting must indeed be allowed these masters ; but even in 
 that, they have shewn more copiousness than choice, and more luxuriancy than 
 judgment. If we consider the uninteresting subjects of their invention, or at 
 least the uninteresting manner in which they are treated ; if we attend to their 
 capricious composition, their violent and affected contrasts, whether of figures or 
 of light and shadow, the richness of their drapery, and at the same time the 
 mean effect which the discrimination of stuffs gives to their pictures ; if to these 
 we add their total inattention to expression ; and then reflect on the conceptions 
 and the learning of Michael Angelo, or the simplicity of Raffaelle, we can no longer 
 dwell on the comparison. Even in colouring, if we compare the quietness and 
 chastity of the Bolognese pencil to the bustle and tumult that fills every part of 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 35 
 
 a Venetian picture, without the least attempt to interest the passions, their 
 boasted art will appear a mere struggle without effect ; a tale told by an idiot, 
 full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. 
 
 Such as suppose that the great style might happily he blended with the or- 
 namental, that the simple, grave, and majestic dignity of Raffaelle could unite 
 with the glow and bustle of a Paolo, or Tintoret, are totally mistaken. The 
 principles by which each is attained are so contrary to each other, that they seem? 
 in my opinion, incompatible, and as impossible to exist together, as that in the 
 mind the most sublime ideas and the lowest sensuality should at the same time 
 be united. 
 
 The subjects of the Venetian Painters are mostly such as give them an oppor- 
 tunity of introducing a great number of figures ; such as feasts, marriages, and 
 processions, public martyrdoms, or miracles. I can easily conceive that Paul 
 Veronese, if he were asked, would say, that no subject was proper for an 
 historical picture, but such as admitted at least forty figures ; for in a less number, 
 he would assert, there could be no opportunity of the Painter's shewing his art in 
 composition, his dexterity of managing and disposing the masses of light and 
 groups of figures, and of introducing a variety of Eastern dresses and characters 
 in their rich stuffs. 
 
 But the thing is very different with a pupil of the greater schools. Annibale 
 Carracci thought twelve figures sufficient for any story : he conceived that more 
 would contribute to no end but to fill space ; that they would be but cold 
 spectators of the general action, or, to use his own expression, that they would 
 be figurers to be let. Besides, it is impossible for a picture composed of so many 
 parts to have that effect so indispensably necessary to grandeur, that of one 
 complete whole. However contradictory it may be in geometry, it is true in 
 taste, that many little things will not make a great one. The Sublime impresses 
 the mind at once with one great idea ; it is a single blow : the Elegant indeed 
 may be produced by repetition — by an accumulation of many minute circum- 
 stances. 
 
 However great the difference is between the composition of the Venetian, and 
 the rest of the Italian schools, there is full as great a disparity in the effect of 
 their pictures as produced by colours. And though in this respect the Venetians 
 must be allowed extraordinary skill, yet even that skill, as they have employed 
 it, will but ill correspond with the great style. Their colouring is not only too 
 brilliant, but, I will venture to say, too harmonious, to produce that solidity, 
 steadiness, and simplicity of effect, which heroic subjects require, and which 
 simple or grave colours only can give to a work. That they are to be cautiously 
 studied by those who are ambitious of treading the great walk of history, is con- 
 firmed, if it wants confirmation, by the greatest of all authorities Michael Angelo. 
 This wonderful man, after having seen a picture by Titian, told Vasaro who ac- 
 companied him*, " that he liked much his colouring and manner ;" but then he 
 
 * Dicendo, che molto gli piaceva il colorito suo, e la maniera; re; a che era un peccato, che a 
 Venezia non s'imparasse da principio a disegnare bene, e che non havessano que pittori miglior 
 modo nello studio. Vas. torn. iii. p. 226. Vita di Tiziano. 
 
36 
 
 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 added, " that it was a pity the Venetian painters did not learn to draw correctly 
 in their early youth, and adopt a better manner of study." 
 
 By this it appears, that the principal attention of the Venetian painters, in 
 the opinion of Michael Angelo, seemed to be ingrossed by the study of colours, 
 to the neglect of the ideal beauty of form, or propriety of expression. But if 
 general censure was given to that school from the sight of a picture of Titian, 
 how much more heavily and more justly would the censure fall on Paolo Ve- 
 ronese, and more especially on Tintoret ? And here I cannot avoid citing Vasari's 
 opinion of the style and manner of Tintoret. " Of all the extraordinary ge- 
 niuses*," says he, "that have practised the art of painting, for wild, capricious, 
 extravagant, and fantastical inventions, for furious impetuosity and boldness in 
 the execution of his work, there is none like Tintoret ; his strange whimsies are 
 even beyond extravagance, and his works seem to be produced rather by chance 
 than in consequence of any previous design, as if he wanted to convince the 
 world that the art was a trifle, and of the most easy attainment." 
 
 For my own part, when I speak of the Venetian painters, I wish to be under- 
 stood to mean Paolo Veronese and Tintoret, to the exclusion of Titian; for 
 though his style is not so pure as that of many other of the Italian schools, yet 
 there is a sort of senatorial dignity about him, which, however awkward in his 
 imitators, seems to become him exceedingly. His portraits alone, from the no- 
 bleness and simplicity of character which he always gave them, will entitle him 
 to the greatest jrespect, as he undoubtedly stands in the first rank in this branch 
 of the art. 
 
 It is not with Titian, but with the seducing qualities of the two former, that I 
 could wish to caution you against being too much captivated. These are the 
 persons" who may be said to have exhausted all the powers of florid eloquence, to 
 debauch the young and unexperienced ; and have, without doubt, been the cause 
 of turning off the attention of the connoisseur and of the patron of art, as well as 
 that of the painter, from those higher excellencies of which the art is capable, 
 and which ought to be required in every considerable production. By them, and 
 their imitators, a style merely ornamental has been disseminated throughout all 
 Europe. Rubens carried it to Flanders ; Voet to France ; and Lucca Giordano 
 to Spain and Naples. 
 
 The Venetian is indeed the most splendid of the schools of elegance ; and it is 
 not without reason, that the best performances in this lower school are valued 
 higher than the second rate performances of those above them : for every picture 
 has value when it has a decided character, and is excellent in its kind. But the 
 student must take care not to be so much dazzled with this splendour, as to be 
 tempted to imitate what must ultimately lead from perfection. Poussin, whose 
 eye was always steady fixed on the Sublime, has been often heard to say, " That 
 a particular attention to colouring was an obstacle to the Student, in his progress 
 
 * Nelle cose della pittura, stravagante, capriccioso, presto, e resoluto, efeil piu terrible cervello, 
 che habbia havuto mai la pittura, come si pub vedere in tutte le sue opere ; e ne' componimenti 
 delle storie, fantasticbe, e fatte da lui diversamente, e fuori dell' uso degli altri pittori ; anzi h& 
 superato la stravaganza, con le nuove, e capricciose inventioni, e strani ghiribizzi del suo intel- 
 leto, che ha lavorato a caso, e senza disegno, quasi monstrando che quest' arte e* una baia. 
 
 f 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 37 
 
 to the great end and design of the art ; and that he who attaches himself to this 
 principal end, will acquire by practice a reasonable good method of colouring.*" 
 
 Though it be allowed that elaborate harmony of colouring, a brilliancy of 
 tints, a soft and gradual transition from one to another, present to the eye what 
 an harmonious concert of music does to the ear, it must be remembered, that 
 painting is not merely a gratification of the sight. Such excellence, though pro- 
 perly cultivated, where nothing higher than elegance is intended, is weak and 
 unworthy of regard, when the work aspires to grandeur and sublimity. 
 
 The same reasons that have been urged to shew that a mixture of the Venetian 
 style cannot improve the great style, will hold good in regard to the Flemish 
 and Dutch schools. Indeed the Flemish school, of which Rubens is the head, 
 was formed upon that of the Venetian ; like them, he took his figures too much 
 from the people before him. But it must be allowed in favour of the Venetians, 
 that he was more gross than they, and carried all their mistaken methods to a 
 far greater excess. In the Venetian school itself, where they all err from the 
 same cause, there is a difference in the effect. The difference between Paolo and 
 Bassano seems to be only, that one introduced Venetian gentlemen into his pic- 
 tures, and the other the boors of the district of Bassano, and called them patri- 
 archs and prophets. 
 
 The painters of the Dutch school have still more locality. With them a his- 
 tory-piece is properly a portrait of themselves ; whether they describe the inside 
 or outside of their houses, we have their own people engaged in their own 
 peculiar occupations ; working or drinking, playing or fighting. The circum- 
 stances that enter into a picture of this kind, are so far from giving a general 
 view of human life, that they exhibit all the minute particularities of a nation 
 differing in several respects from the rest of mankind. Yet, let them have their 
 share of more humble praise. The painters of this school are excellent in their 
 own way ; they are only ridiculous when they attempt general history on their 
 own narrow principles, and debase great events by the meanness of their 
 characters. 
 
 Some inferior dexterity, some extraordinary mechanical power is apparently 
 that from which they seek distinction. Thus, we see, that school alone has the 
 custom of representing candle-light not as it really appears to us by night, but 
 red, as it would illuminate objects to a spectator by day. Such tricks, however 
 pardonable in the little style, where petty effects are the sole end, are inexcusa- 
 ble in the greater, where the attention should never be drawn aside by trifles, 
 but should be entirely occupied by the subject itself. 
 
 The same local principles which characterize the Dutch school extend even to 
 their landscape painters ; and Rubens himself,lwho has painted many landscapes, 
 has sometimes transgressed in this particular. Their pieces in this way are, I 
 think, always a representation of an individual spot, and each in its kind a very 
 faithful but a very confined portrait. Claude Lorraine, on the contrary, was con- 
 vinced, that taking nature as he found it seldom produced beauty. His pictures 
 
 * Que cette application singuliere n'etoit qu'un obstacle pour empeoher de parvenir au veritable 
 but de la peinture, and celui qui s' attache au principal, acquiert par la pratique une assez belle 
 maniere de peindre. Conference de l'Acad. Franc. 
 
38 
 
 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 are a composition of the various draughts which he had previously made from 
 various beautiful scenes and prospects. However, Rubens in some measure has 
 made amends for the deficiency with which he is charged ; he has contrived to 
 raise and animate his otherwise uninteresting views, by introducing a rainbow, 
 storm, or some particular accidental effect of light. That the practice of Claude 
 Lorraine, in respect to his choice, is to be adopted by Landscape painters, in op- 
 position to that of the Flemish and Dutch schools, there can be no doubt, as its 
 truth is founded upon the same principle as that by which the Historical Painter 
 acquires perfect form. But whether landscape painting has a right to aspire so 
 far as to reject what the painters call accidents of Nature, is not easy to deter- 
 mine. It is certain Claude Lorraine seldom, if ever, availed himself of those ac- 
 cidents ; either he thought that such peculiarities were contrary to that style of 
 general nature which he professed, or that it would catch the attention too 
 strongly, and destroy that quietness and repose which he thought necessary to 
 that kind of painting. 
 
 A Portrait-painter likewise, when he attempts history, unless he is upon his 
 guard, is likely to enter too much into the detail. He too frequently makes his 
 historical heads look like portraits ; and this was once the custom amongst those 
 old painters, who revived the art before general ideas were practised or under- 
 stood. A History -painter paints man in general ; a Portrait-painter a particu- 
 lar man, and consequently a defective model. 
 
 Thus an habitual practice in the lower exercises of the art will prevent man y 
 from attaining the greater. But such of us who move in these humbler walks of 
 the profession, are not ignorant that, as the natural dignity of the subject is less, 
 the more all the little ornamental helps are necessary to its embellishment. It 
 would be ridiculous for a painter of domestic scenes, of portraits, landscapes, 
 animals, or still life, to say that he despised those qualities which has made the 
 subordinate schools so famous. The art of colouring, and the skilful management 
 of light and shadow, are essential requisites in his confined labours. If 4 we de- 
 scend still lower, what is the painter of fruit and flowers without the utmost art 
 in colouring, and what the painters call handling : that is, a lightness of pencil 
 that implies great practice, and gives the appearance of being done with ease % 
 Some here, 1 believe, must remember a flower-painter whose boast it was, that 
 he scorned to paint for the million - no, he professed to paint in the true Italian 
 taste ; and despising the crowd, called strenuously upon the few to admire him. 
 His idea of the Italian taste was to paint as black and dirty as he could, and to 
 leave all clearness and brilliancy of colouring to those who were fonder of money 
 than immortality. The consequence was such as might be expected. For these 
 petty excellencies are here essential beauties ; and without this merit the artist's 
 work will be more short-lived than the objects of his imitation. 
 
 From what has been advanced, we must now be convinced that there are two 
 distinct styles in history-painting : the grand, and the splendid or ornamental. 
 
 The great style stands alone, and does not require, perhaps does not so well 
 admit, any addition from inferior beauties. The ornamental style also possesses 
 its own peculiar merit. However, though the union of the two may make a sort 
 of composite style, yet that style is likely to be more imperfect than either of 
 those which go to its composition. Both kinds have merit, and may be excellent 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 39 
 
 though in different ranks, if uniformity be preserved, and the general and par- 
 ticular ideas of nature be not mixed. Even the meanest of them is difficult 
 enough to attain ; and the first place being already occupied by the great artists 
 in each department, some of those who followed thought there was less room for 
 them, and feeling the impulse of ambition and the desire of novelty, and being 
 at the same time perhaps willing to take the shortest way, endeavoured to make 
 for themselves a place between both. This they have effected by forming a union 
 of the different orders. But as the grave and majestic style would suffer by a 
 union with the florid and gay, so also has the Venetian ornament in some respect 
 been injured by attempting an alliance with simplicity. 
 
 It may be asserted, that the great style is always more or less contaminated 
 by any meaner mixture. But it happens in a few instances, that the lower may 
 be improved by borrowing from the grand. Thus if a portrait-painter is desirous 
 to raise and improve his subject, he has no other means than by approaching it 
 to a general idea. He leaves out all the minute breaks and peculiarities in the 
 face, and changes the dress from a temporary fashion to one more permanent, 
 which has annexed to if no ideas of meanness from its being familiar to us. But 
 if an exact resemblance of an individual be considered as the sole object to be 
 aimed at, the portrait-painter will be apt to lose more than he gains by the ac- 
 quired 1 dignity taken from general nature. It is very difficult to ennoble the 
 character of a countenance but at the expense of the likeness, which is what is 
 most generally required by such as sit to the painter. 
 
 Of those who have practised the composite style, and have succeeded in 
 this perilous attempt, perhaps the foremost is Correggio. His style is founded 
 upon modern grace and elegance, to which is superaded something of the sim- 
 plicity of the grand style. A breadth of light and colour, the general ideas of 
 the drapery, an uninterrupted flow of outline, all conspire to this effect. Next to 
 him (perhaps equal to him) Parmegiano has dignified the genteelness of modern 
 effeminacy, by uniting it with the simplicity of the ancients and the grandeur 
 and severity of Michael Angelo. It must be confessed, however, that these two 
 extraordinary men, by endeavouring to give the utmost degree of grace, have 
 sometimes perhaps exceeded its boundaries, and have fallen into the most hate- 
 ful of all hateful qualities, affectation. Indeed, it is the peculiar characteristic 
 of men of genius to be afraid of coldness and insipidity, from which they think 
 they never can be too far removed. It particularly happens to these great 
 masters of grace and elegance. They often boldly drive on to the very verge of 
 ridicule ; the spectator is alarmed, but at the same time admires their vigour 
 and intrepidity : 
 
 Strange graces still, and stranger flights they had, 
 
 Yet ne'er so sure our passion to create, 
 
 As when they touch'd the brink of all we hate. 
 
 The errors of genius, however, are pardonable, and none even of the more ex- 
 alted painters are wholly free from them ; but they have taught us, by the recti- 
 tude of their general practice, to correct their own affected or accidental devia- 
 tion. The very first have not been always upon their guard, and perhaps there 
 is not a fault, but what may take shelter under the most venerable authorities ; 
 
40 
 
 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 yet that style only is perfect in which the noblest principles are uniformly 
 pursued ; and those masters only are entitled to the first rank in our estimation, 
 who have enlarged the boundaries of their art, and have raised it to its highest 
 dignity, by exhibiting the general ideas of nature. 
 
 On the whole, it seems to me that there is but one presiding principle which 
 regulates and gives stability to every art. The works, whether of poets, painters, 
 moralists, or historians, which are built upon general nature, live for ever ; while 
 those which depend for their existence on particular customs and habits, a partial 
 view of nature, or the fluctuation of fashion, can only be coeval with that which 
 first raised them from obscurity. Present time and future may be considered as 
 rivals, and he who solicits the one must expect to be discountenanced by the 
 other. 
 
DISCOURSE V. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 10, 1772. 
 
 Circumspection required in endeavouring to unite Contrary Excellencies. — The 
 expression of a Mixed Passion not to be Attempted. — Examples of those who 
 excelled in the Great Style; — Baffaelle, Michael Angelo. Those two Extraor- 
 dinary Men compared with each other. — The Character istical Style. — Salvator 
 Rosa mentioned as an Example of that Style ; and opposed to Carlo Maratti. 
 — Sketch of the Characters of Poussin and Rubens. These two Painters en- 
 tirely dissimilar, but consistent with themselves. — This consistency required 
 in all parts of the Art. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 I purpose to carry on in this discourse the subject which I began in my last. 
 It was my wish upon that occasion to incite you to pursue the higher excellencies 
 of the art ; but I fear, that in this particular, I have been misunderstood. Some 
 are ready to imagine, when any of their favourite acquirements in the art are 
 properly classed, that they are utterly disgraced. This is a very great mistake : 
 nothing has its proper lustre but in its proper place. That which is most worthy 
 of esteem in its allotted sphere, becomes an object, not of respect, but of derision, 
 when it is forced into a higher, to which it is not suited ; and there it becomes 
 doubly a source of disorder, by occupying a situation which is not natural to it, 
 and by putting down from the first place what is in reality of too much magni- 
 tude to become with grace and proportion that subordinate station to which 
 something of less value would be much better suited. 
 
 My advice, in a word, is this : — keep your principal attention fixed upon the 
 higher excellencies. If you compass them, and compass nothing more, you are 
 still in the first class. We may regret the innumerable beauties which you may 
 want; you maybe very imperfect; but still you are an imperfect artist of the 
 highest order. 
 
 If, when you have got thus far, you can add any, or all of the subordinate 
 qualifications, it is my wish and advice that you should not neglect them. But 
 this is as much a matter of circumspection and caution at least, as of eagerness 
 and pursuit. 
 
 The mind is apt to be distracted by a multiplicity of objects ; and that scale 
 of perfection, which I wish always to be preserved, is in the greatest danger of 
 being totally disordered, and even inverted. 
 
 Some excellencies bear to be united, and are improved by union ; others are of 
 
 O 
 
42 
 
 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 a discordant nature ; and the attempt to join them only produces a harsh jarring' 
 of incongruent principles. The attempt to unite contrary excellencies (of form, 
 for instance) in a single figure, can never escape degenerating into the monstrous, 
 but by sinking into the insipid ; by taking away its marked character, and weak- 
 ening its expression. 
 
 This remark is true to a certain degree with regard to the passions. If you 
 mean to preserve the most perfect beauty in its most perfect state, you cannot 
 express the passions, all of which produce distortion and deformity, more or less, 
 in the most beautiful faces. 
 
 Guido, from want of choice in adapting his subject to his ideas and his powers, 
 or from attempting to preserve beauty where it could not be preserved, has in 
 this respect succeeded very ill. His figures are often engaged in subjects that 
 required great expression : yet his Judith and Holofemes, the daughter of He- 
 rodias with the Baptist's head, the Andromeda, and some even of the Mothers 
 of the Innocents, have little more expression than his Venus attired by the Graces. 
 
 Obvious as these remarks appear, there are many writers on our art, who, not 
 being of the profession, and consequently not knowing what can or cannot be 
 done, have been very liberal of absurd praises in their descriptions of favourite 
 works. They always find in them what they are resolved to find. They praise 
 excellencies that can hardly exist together ; and above all things are fond of de- 
 scribing with great exactness the expression of a mixed passion, which more 
 particularly appears to me out of the reach of our art. 
 
 Such are many disquisitions which I have read on some of the Cartoons and 
 other pictures of Raffaelle, where the critics have described their own imagina- 
 tions ; or indeed where the excellent master himself may have attempted this 
 expression of passions above the powers of the art ; and has, therefore, by an 
 indistinct and imperfect marking, left room for every imagination, with equal 
 probability, to find a passion of his own. What has been, and what can be done 
 in the art, is sufficiently difficult ; we need not be mortified or. discouraged at not 
 being able to execute the conceptions of a romantic imagination. Art has its 
 boundaries, though imagination has none. We can easily, like the ancients, sup- 
 pose a Jupiter to be possessed of all those powers and perfections which the sub- 
 ordinate Deities were endowed with separately. Yet, when they employed their 
 art to represent him, they confined his character to majesty alone. Pliny, there- 
 fore, though we are under great obligations to him for the information he has 
 given us in relation to the works of the ancient artists, is very frequently wrong 
 when he speaks of them, which he does very often in the style of many of our modern 
 connoisseurs. He observes, that in a statue of Paris, by Euphranor, you might 
 discover at the same time three different characters — the dignity of a judge of 
 the Goddesses, the Lover of Helen, and the Conqueror of Achilles. A statue in 
 which you endeavour to unite stately dignity, youthful elegance, and stern valour, 
 must surely possess none of these to any eminent degree. 
 
 From hence it appears that there is much difficulty as well as danger in an 
 endeavour to concentrate, in a single subject, those various powers, which, rising 
 from different points, naturally move in different directions. 
 
 The summit of excellence seems to be an assemblage of contrary qualities, but 
 mixed in such proportions that no one part is found to counteract the other. 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 43 
 
 How bard this is to be attained in every art, those only know who have made 
 the greatest progress in their respective professions. 
 
 To conclude what I have to say on this part of the subject, which I think of 
 great importance, I wish you to understand, that I do not discourage the younger 
 Students from the noble attempt of uniting all the excellencies of art; but suggest 
 to them that, beside the difficulties which attend every arduous attempt, there is 
 a peculiar difficulty in the choice of the excellencies which ought to be united. 
 I wish you to attend to this, that you may try yourselves, whenever you are' 
 capable of that trial, what you can, and what you cannot do ; and that, instead of 
 dissipating your natural faculties over the immense field of possible excellence, you 
 may choose some particular walk in which you may exercise all your powers in order 
 that each of you may become the first in his way. If any man shall be master of 
 such a transcendant, commanding, and ductile genius, as to enable him to rise to the 
 highest, and stoop to the lowest, flights of art, and to sweep over all of them un- 
 obstructed and secure, he is fitter to give example than to receive instruction. 
 
 Having said thus much on the union of excellencies, I will next say something 
 of the subordination in which various excellencies ought to be kept. 
 
 I am of opinion that the ornamental style, whieh in my discourse of last year 
 I cautioned you against, considering it as pri?icipal, may not be wholly un- 
 worthy the attention even of those who aim at the grand style, when it is properly 
 placed and properly reduced. 
 
 But this study will be used with far better effect, if its principles are employed 
 in softening the harshness and mitigating the rigour of the great style, than if it 
 attempt to stand forward with any pretentions of its own to positive and original 
 excellence. It was thus Lodovico Carracci, whose example I formerly recom- 
 mended to you, employed it. He was acquainted with the works both of Cor- 
 reggio and the Venetian painters, and knew the principles by which they pro- 
 duced those pleasing effects which, at the first glance, prepossess us so much in 
 their favour ; but he took only as much from each as would embellish, but not 
 overpower, that manly strength and energy of style, which is his peculiar char- 
 acter. 
 
 Since I have already expatiated so largely in my former discourse, and in my 
 present, upon the styles and characters of Painting, it will not be at all unsuitable 
 to my subject if I mention to you some particulars relative to the leading princi- 
 ples, and capital works of those who excelled in the great style; that T may bring 
 you from abstraction nearer to practice, and by exemplifying the positions which 
 I have laid down, enable you to understand more clearly what I would enforce. 
 
 The principal works of modern art are in Fresco, a mode of painting which 
 excludes attention to minute elegancies : yet these works in Fresco are the pro- 
 ductions on which the fame of the greatest masters depends : such are the pic- 
 tures of Michael Angelo and Raffaelle in the Vatican ; to which we may add 
 the Cartoons ; which, though not strictly to be called Fresco, yet may be put 
 under that denomination ; and such are the works of Giulio Romano at Mantua. 
 If these performances were destroyed, with them would be lost the best part of 
 the reputation of those illustrious painters ; for these are justly considered as 
 the greatest efforts of our art of which the world can boast. To these, therefore, 
 we should principally direct our attention for higher excellencies. As for the 
 
44 
 
 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 lower arts, as they have been once discovered, they may he easily attained by 
 those possessed of the former. 
 
 Raffaelle, who stands in general foremost of the first painters, owes his re- 
 putation, as 1 have observed, to his excellence in the higher parts of the art : his 
 works in Fresco, therefore, ought to be the first object of our study and attention. 
 His easel-works stand in a lower degree of estimation: for though he continual- 
 ly, to the day of his death, embellished his performances more and more with 
 the addition of those lower ornaments, which entirely make the merit of some 
 painters, yet he never arrived at such perfection as to make him an object of 
 imitation. He never was able to conquer perfectly that dryness, or even little- 
 ness of manner, which he inherited from his master. He never acquired that 
 nicety of taste in colours, that breadth of light and shadow, that art and manage- 
 ment of uniting light to light, and shadow to shadow, so as to make the object 
 rise out of the ground with the plenitude of effect so much admired in the works 
 of Correggio. When he painted in oil his hand seemed to be so cramped and 
 confined, that he not only lost that facility and spirit, but I think even that cor- 
 rectness of form, which is so perfect and admirable in his Fresco-works. I do 
 not recollect any pictures of his of this kind, except perhaps the Transfiguration, 
 in which there are not some parts that appear to be even feebly drawn. That 
 this is not a necessary attendant on Oil-painting, we have abundant instances in 
 more modern painters. Lodovico Caracci, for instance, preserved in his works 
 in oil the same spirit, vigour, and correctness which he had in Fresco. I have 
 no desire to degrade Raffaelle from the high rank which he deservedly holds : 
 but by comparing him with himself, he does not appear to me to be the same 
 man in oil as in Fresco. 
 
 From those who have ambition to tread in this great walk of the art, Michael 
 Angelo claims the next attention. He did not possess so many excellencies as 
 Raffaelle, but those which he had were of the highest kind. He considered the 
 art as consisting of little more than what may be attained by sculpture : correct- 
 ness of form, and energy of character. We ought not to expect more than an 
 artist intends in his work. He never attempted those lesser elegancies and 
 graces in the art. Vasari says, he never painted but one picture in oil, and 
 resolved never to paint another, saying, it was an employment only fit for women 
 and children. 
 
 If any man had a right to look down upon the lower accomplishments as 
 beneath his attention, it was certainly Michael Angelo ; nor can it be thought 
 strange, that such a mind should have slighted or have been withheld from pay- 
 ing due attention to all those graces and embellishments of art, which have 
 diffused such lustre over the works of other painters. 
 
 It must be acknowledged, however, that together with these, which we wish 
 he had more attended to, he has rejected all the false, though specious ornaments, 
 which disgrace the works even of the most esteemed artists ; and I will venture 
 to say, that when those higher excellencies are more known and cultivated by the 
 artists and the patrons of arts, his fame and credit will increase with our increas- 
 ing knowledge. His name will then be held in the same veneration as it was in 
 the enlightened age of Leo the Tenth : and it is remarkable that the reputation 
 of this truly great man has been continually declining as the art itself has declined. 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 45 
 
 For I must remark to you, that it has long been much on the decline, and that 
 our only hope of its revival will consist in your being thoroughly sensible of its 
 depravation and decay. It is to Michael Angelo that we owe even the existence 
 of RafFaelle : it is to him Raffaelle owes the grandeur of his style. He was taught 
 by him to elevate his thoughts, and to conceive his subject with dignity. His 
 genius, however, formed to blaze and to shine, might, like fire in combustible 
 matter, for ever have lain dormant, if it had not caught a spark by its contact 
 with Michael Angelo: and though it never burst out with his extraordinary 
 heat and vehemence, yet it must be acknowledged to be a more pure, regular, 
 and chaste flame. Though our judgment must upon the whole decide in favour 
 of Raffaelle, yet he never takes such a firm hold and entire possession of the 
 mind as to make us desire nothing else, and to feel nothing wanting. The effect 
 of the capital works of Michael Angelo perfectly corresponds to what Bouchar- 
 don said he felt from reading Homer ; his whole frame appeared to himself to be 
 enlarged, and all nature which surrounded him, diminished to atoms. 
 
 If we put these great artists in a light of comparison with each other, Raffaelle 
 had more taste and fancy, Michael Angelo more genius and imagination. The 
 one excelled in beauty, the other in energy. Michael Angelo has more of the 
 poetical inspiration ; his ideas are vast and sublime ; his people are a superior 
 order of beings ; there is nothing about them, nothing in the air of their actions 
 or their attitudes, or the style and cast of their limbs or features, that reminds 
 us of their belonging to our own species. Raffaelle's imagination is not so 
 elevated ; his figures are not so much disjoined from our own diminutive race of 
 beings, though his ideas are chaste, noble, and of great conformity to their sub- 
 jects. Michael Angelo's works have a strong, peculiar, and marked character : 
 they seem to proceed from his own mind entirely, and that mind so rich and 
 abundant, that he never needed, or seemed to disdain, to look abroad for foreign 
 help. Raffaelle's materials are generally borrowed, though the noble structure 
 is his own. The excellency of this extraordinary man lay in the propriety, 
 beauty, and majesty of his characters, the judicious contrivance of his composi- 
 tion, his correctnesss of drawing, purity of taste, and skilful accommodation of 
 other men's conceptions to his own purpose. Nobody excelled him in that 
 judgment, with which he united to his own observations on Nature, the energy 
 of Michael Angelo, and the beauty and simplicity of the Antique. To the ques- 
 tion, therefore, which ought to hold the first rank, Raffaelle or Michael Angelo ? 
 it must be answered, that if it is to be given to him who possessed a greater 
 combination of the higher qualities of the art than any other man, there is no 
 doubt but Raffaelle is the first. But if, as Longinus thinks, the sublime, being 
 the highest excellence that human composition can attain to, abundantly com- 
 pensates the absence of every other beauty, and atones for all other deficiencies, 
 then Michael Angelo demands the preference. 
 
 These two extraordinary men carried some of the higher excellencies of the art 
 to a greater degree of perfection than probably they ever arrived at before. They 
 certainly have not been excelled, nor equalled since. Many of their successors 
 were induced to leave this great road as a beaten path, endeavouring to surprise 
 and please by something uncommon or new. When this desire of novelty has 
 proceeded from mere idleness or caprice, it is not worth the trouble of criticism ; 
 
10 
 
 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 but when it has been the result of a busy mind of a peculiar complexion, it is 
 always striking and interesting, never insipid. 
 
 Such is the great style, as it appears in those who possessed it at its height : 
 in this, search after novelty, in conception or in treating the subject, has no 
 place. 
 
 But there is another style, which, though inferior to the former, has still great 
 merit, because it shews that those who cultivated it were men of lively and 
 vigorous imagination. This, which may be called the original or characteristical 
 style, being less referred to any true archetype existing either in general or 
 particular nature, must be supported by the painter's consistency in the principles 
 which he has assumed, and in the union and harmony of his whole design. The 
 excellency of every style, but of the subordinate styles more especially, will yery 
 much depend on preserving that union and harmony between all the component 
 parts that they may appear to hang well together, as if the whole proceeded 
 from one mind. It is in the works of art, as in the characters of men. The 
 faults or defects of some men seem to become them, when they appear to be the 
 natural growth, and of a piece with the rest of their character. A faithful pic- 
 ture of a mind, though it be not of the most elevated kind, though it be irregular, 
 wild, and incorrect, yet if it be marked with that spirit and firmness which 
 characterises works of genius, will claim attention, and be more striking than a 
 combination of excellencies that do not seem to unite well together ; or we may 
 say, than a work that possesses even all excellencies, but those in a moderate 
 degree. 
 
 One of the strongest-marked characters of this kind, which must be allowed 
 to be subordinate to the great style, is that of Salvator Rosa. He gives us a 
 peculiar cast of nature, which, though void of all grace, elegance, and simplicity, 
 though it has nothing of that elevation and dignity which belongs to the grand 
 style, yet has that sort of dignity which belongs to savage and uncultivated 
 nature : but what is most to be admired in him, is, the perfect correspondence 
 which he observed between the subjects which he chose and his manner of treat- 
 ing them. Every thing is of a piece : his rocks, trees, sky, even to his handling, 
 have the same rude and wild character which animates his figures. 
 
 With him we may contrast the character of Carlo Maratti, who, in my opinion, 
 had no great vigour of mind or strength of original genius. He rarely seizes the 
 imagination by exhibiting the higher excellencies, nor does he captivate us by 
 that originality which attends the painter who thinks for himself. He knew and 
 practised all the rules of art, and from a composition of Raffaelle, Caracci, and 
 Guido, made up a style, of which the only fault was, that it had no manifest 
 defects and no striking beauties ; and that the principles of his composition are 
 never blended together, so as to form one uniform body, original in its kind, or 
 excellent in any view. 
 
 I will mention two other painters, who, though entirely dissimilar, yet, by be- 
 ing each consistent with himself, and possessing a manner entirely his own, have 
 both gained reputation, though for very opposite accomplishments. The painters 
 I mean are Rubens and Poussin. Rubens I mention in this place, as 1 think 
 him a remarkable instance of the same mind being seen in all the various parts 
 of the art. The whole is so much of a piece, that one can scarce be brought to 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 47 
 
 believe but that if any one of the qualities he possessed had been more correct 
 and perfect, his works would not have been so complete as they now appear. J f 
 we should allow him a greater purity and correctness of drawing, his want of 
 simplicity in composition, colouring, and drapery, would appear more gross. 
 
 In his composition his art is too apparent. His figures have expression, and 
 act with energy, but without simplicity or dignity. His colouring, in which 
 he is eminently skilled, is notwithstanding too much of what we call tinted. 
 Throughout the whole of his works there is a proportionable want of that nicety 
 of distinction and elegance of mind which is required in the higher walks of 
 painting; and to this want it maybe in some degree ascribed that those qualities, 
 which make the excellency of this subordinate style, appear in him with their 
 greatest lustre. Indeed the facility with which he invented, the richness of his 
 composition, the luxuriant harmony and brilliancy of his colouring, so dazzle the 
 eye, that whilst his works continue before us, we cannot help thinking that all 
 his deficiencies are fully supplied*. 
 
 Opposed to this florid, careless, loose, and inaccurate style, that of the simple, 
 careful, pure, and correct style of Poussin seems to be a complete contrast. Yet 
 however opposite their characters, in one thing they agreed; both of them always 
 preserving a perfect correspondence between all the parts of their respective 
 manners : insomuch that it may be doubted whether any alteration of what is 
 considered as defective in either, would not destroy the effect of the whole. 
 
 Poussin lived and conversed with the ancient statues so long, that he may be 
 said to have been better acquainted with them than with the people who were 
 about him. I have often thought that he carried his veneration for them so far 
 as to wish to give his works the air of ancient paintings. It is certain he copied 
 some of the antique paintings, particularly the Marriage in the Aldobrandini- 
 Palace at Rome, which I believe to be the best relique of those remote ages that 
 has yet been found. 
 
 No works of any modern has so much of the air of antique painting as those 
 of Poussin. His best performances have a remarkable dryness of manner, which, 
 though by no means to be recommended for imitation, yet seems perfectly corres- 
 pondent to that ancient simplicity which distinguishes his style. Like Polidoro, 
 he studied the ancients so much that he acquired a habit of thinking in their 
 way, and seemed to know perfectly the actions and gestures they would use on 
 every occasion. 
 
 Poussin, in the latter part of his life, changed from his dry manner to one 
 much softer and richer, where there is a greater union between the figures and 
 the ground — as in the Seven Sacraments in the Duke of Orlean's collection ; 
 but neither these, nor any of his other pictures in this manner, are at all com- 
 parable to many in his dry manner which we have in England. 
 
 The favourite subjects of Poussin were Ancient Fables ; and no painter was 
 ever better qualified to paint such subjects, not only from his being eminently 
 skilled in the knowledge of the ceremonies, customs, and habits of the Ancients, 
 
 * A more detailed character of Rubens may be found in the " Journey to Flanders and Hol- 
 land," near the conclusion. M, 
 
48 
 
 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 but from Ins being so well acquainted with the different characters which those 
 who invented them gave to their allegorical figures. Though Rubens has shown 
 great fancy in his Satyrs, Silenuses, and Fauns, yet they are not that distinct 
 separate class of beings which is carefully exhibited by the Ancients, and by 
 Poussin. Certainly when such subjects of antiquity are represented, nothing in 
 the picture ought to remind us of modern times. The mind is thrown back into 
 antiquity, and nothing ought to be introduced that may tend to awaken it from 
 the illusion. 
 
 Poussin seemed to think that the style and the language in which such stories 
 are told, is not the worse for preserving some relish of the old way of painting, 
 which seemed to give a general uniformity to the whole, so that the mind was 
 thrown back into antiquity not only by the subject, but the execution. 
 
 If Poussin in imitation of the Ancients represents Apollo driving his chariot 
 out of the sea by way of representing the Sun rising, if he personifies Lakes and 
 Rivers, it is nowise offensive in him ; but seems perfectly of a piece with the 
 general air of the picture. On the contrary, if the figures which people his pic- 
 tures had a modern air or countenance, if they appeared like our countrymen, if 
 the draperies were like cloth or silk of our manufacture, if the landscape had 
 the appearance of a modern view, how ridiculous would Apollo appear instead of 
 the Sun ; an Old Man, or a Nymph with an Urn, to represent a River or a 
 Lake « 
 
 I cannot avoid mentioning here a circumstance in portrait-painting, which 
 may help to confirm what has been said. When a portrait is painted in the his- 
 torical style, as it is neither an exact minute representation of an individual, nor 
 completely ideal, every circumstance ought to correspond to this mixture. The 
 simplicity of the antique air and attitude, however much to be admired, is ridi- 
 culous when joined to a figure in a modern dress. It is not to my purpose to 
 enter into the question at present, whether this mixed style ought to be adopted 
 or not ; yet if it is chosen, 'tis necessary it should be complete and all of a 
 piece : the difference of stuffs, for instance, which make the cloathing, should be 
 distinguished in the same degree as the head deviates from a general idea. 
 Without this union, which I have so often recommended, a work can have no 
 marked and determined character, which is the peculiar and constant evidence 
 of genius. But when this is accomplished to a high degree, it becomes in some 
 sort a rival to that style which we have fixed as the highest. 
 
 Thus I have given a sketch of the characters of Rubens and Salvator Rosa, as 
 they appear to me to have the greatest uniformity of mind throughout their whole 
 work. But we may add to these, all those Artists who are at the head of a class, 
 and have had a school of imitators from Michael Angelo down to Watteau. 
 Upon the whole it appears, that setting aside the Ornamental Style, there are 
 two different modes, either of which a Student may adopt without degrading the 
 dignity of his art. The object of the first is, to combine the higher excellencies 
 and embellish them to the greatest advantage ; of the other, to carry one of these 
 excellencies to the highest degree. But those who possess neither must be classed 
 with them, who, as Shakespeare says, are men of no mark or likelihood. 
 
 I inculcate as frequently as I can your forming yourselves upon great princi- 
 ples and great models. Your time will be much mis-spent in every other pursuit. 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 19 
 
 Small excellencies should be viewed not studied ; they ought to be viewed, be- 
 cause nothing ought to escape a painter's observation ; but for no other reason. 
 
 There is another caution which I wish to give you. Be as select in those 
 whom you endeavour to please, as in those whom you endeavour to imitate. 
 Without the love of fame you can never do any thing excellent ; but by an ex- 
 cessive and undistinguishing thirst after it, you will come to have vulgar views ; 
 you will degrade your style ; and your taste will be entirely corrupted, it is 
 certain that the lowest style will be the most popular, as it falls within the com- 
 pass of ignorance itself; and the Vulgar will always be pleased with what is 
 natural, in the confined and misunderstood sense of the word. 
 
 One would wish that such depravation of taste should be counteracted with 
 that manly pride which actuated Euripides when he said to the Athenians who 
 criticised his works, " I do not compose my works in order to be corrected by 
 you, but to instruct you." It is true, to have a right to speak thus, a man must 
 be an Euripides. However, thus much may be allowed, that when an Artist is 
 sure that he is upon firm ground, supported by the authority and practice of his 
 predecessors of the greatest reputation, he may then assume the boldness and in- 
 trepidity of genius ; at any rate he must not be tempted out of the right path by 
 any allurement of popularity, which always accompanies the lower styles of 
 painting. 
 
 I mention this, because our Exhibitions, while they produce such admirable 
 effects by nourishing emulation, and calling out genius, have also a mischievous 
 tendency, by seducing the Painter to an ambition of pleasing indiscriminately the 
 mixed multitude of people who resort to them. 
 
 P 
 
DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 10, 1774. 
 
 Imitation. — Genius begins where Rules End. — Invention : — Acquired by being 
 conversant with the Inventions of Others. — The True Method of Imitating. — 
 Borrowing how far Allowable. — Something to be Gathered from Every School. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 When I have taken the liberty of addressing you on the course and order of your 
 studies, I never proposed to enter into a minute detail of the art. This I have 
 always left to the several Professors, who pursue the end of our institution with 
 the highest honour to themselves, and with the greatest advantage to the 
 Students. 
 
 My purpose in the Discourses I have held in the Academy has been to lay down 
 certain general positions, which seem to me proper for the formation of a sound 
 taste : principles necessary to guard the pupils against those errors, into which 
 the sanguine temper common to their time of life has a tendency to lead them ; 
 and which have rendered abortive the hopes of so many successions of promising 
 young men in all parts of Europe. I wished also, to intercept and suppress those 
 prejudices which particularly prevail when the mechanism of painting is come to 
 its perfection ; and which, when they do prevail, are certain utterly to destroy 
 the higher and more valuable parts of this literate and liberal profession. 
 
 These two have been my principal purposes ; they are still as much my concern 
 as ever ; and if I repeat my own notions on the subject, you who know how fast 
 mistake and prejudice, when neglected, gain ground upon truth and reason, will 
 easily excuse me. I only attempt to set the same thing in the greatest variety 
 of lights. 
 
 The subject of this discourse will be Imitation, as far as a painter is concerned 
 in it. By imitation, I do not mean imitation in its largest sense, but simply the 
 following of other masters, and the advantage to be drawn from the study of 
 their works. 
 
 Those who have undertaken to write on our art, and have represented it as a 
 kind of inspiration, as a gift bestowed upon peculiar favourites at their birth, 
 seem to insure a much more favourable disposition from their readers, and have 
 a much more captivating and liberal air, than he who attempts to examine, coldly, 
 whether there are any means by which this art may be acquired ; how the mind 
 may be strengthened and expanded, and what guides will shew the way to emi- 
 nence. 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 51 
 
 It is very natural for those who are unacquainted with the cause of any thing 
 extraordinary, to be astonished at the effect, and to consider it as a kind of ma- 
 gic. They who have never observed the gradation by which art is acquired — 
 who see only what is the full result of long labour and application of an infinite 
 number and infinite variety of acts, are apt to conclude, from their entire inability 
 to do the same at once, that it is not only inaccessible to themselves, but can be 
 done by those only who have some gift of the nature of inspiration bestowed 
 upon them. 
 
 The travellers into the East tell us, that when the ignorant inhabitants of 
 those countries are asked concerning the ruins of stately edifices yet remaining 
 amongst them, the melancholy monuments of their former grandeur and long-lost 
 science, they always answer, that they were built by magicians. The untaught 
 mind finds a vast gulph between its own powers, and those works of complicated 
 art, which it is utterly unable to fathom ; and it supposes that such a void can 
 be passed only by supernatural powers. 
 
 And, as for artists themselves, it is by no means their interest to undeceive 
 such judges, however conscious they may be of the very natural means by which 
 their extraordinary powers were acquired ; though our art, being intrinsically 
 imitative, rejects this idea of inspiration, more perhaps than any other. 
 
 It is to avoid this plain confession of truth, as it should seem, that this imi- 
 tation of masters, indeed almost all imitation, which implies a more regular and 
 progressive method of attaining the ends of painting, has ever been particularly 
 inveighed against with great keenness, both by ancient and modern writers. 
 
 To derive all from native power, to owe nothing to another, is the praise which 
 men, who do not much think on what they are saying, bestow sometimes upon 
 others, and sometimes on themselves ; and their imaginary dignity is naturally 
 heightened by a supercilious censure of the low, the barren, the grovelling, the 
 servile imitator. It would be no wonder if a student, frightened by those ter- 
 rific and disgraceful epithets, with which the poor imitators are so often loaded, 
 should let fall his pencil in mere despair ; (conscious, as he must be, how much 
 he has been indebted to the labours of others, how little, how very little of his 
 art was born with him ;) and, consider it as hopeless, to set about acquiring by 
 the imitation of any human master, what he is taught to suppose is matter of 
 inspiration from heaven. 
 
 Some allowance must be made for what is said in the "gaiety of rhetoric. We 
 cannot suppose that any one can really mean to exclude all imitation of others. 
 A position so wild would scarce deserve a serious answer ; for it is apparent, if 
 we were forbid to make use of the advantages which our predecessors afford us, 
 the art would be always to begin, and consequently remain always in its infant 
 state ; and it is a common observation, that no art was ever invented and carried 
 to perfection at the same time. 
 
 But to bring us entirely to reason and sobriety, let it be observed, that a 
 painter must not only be of necessity an imitator of the works of nature, which 
 alone is sufficient to dispel this phantom of inspiration, but he must be as neces- 
 sarily an imitator of the works of other painters. This appears more humiliating, 
 but is equally true ; and no man can be an artist, whatever he may suppose, upon 
 any other terms. 
 
52 
 
 THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 However, those who appear more moderate and reasonable, allow, that our 
 study is to begin by imitation ; but maintain, that we should no longer use the 
 thoughts of our predecessors, when we are become able to think for ourselves. 
 They hold, that imitation is as hurtful to the more advanced student, as it was 
 advantageous to the beginner. 
 
 For my own part, I confess, I am not only very much disposed to maintain 
 the absolute necessity of imitation in the first stages of the art ; but am of opinion, 
 that the study of other masters, which I here call imitation, may be extended, 
 throughout our whole lives, without any danger of the inconveniences with which 
 it is charged, of enfeebling the mind, or preventing us from giving that original 
 air which every work undoubtedly ought always to have. 
 
 I am on the contrary persuaded, that, by imitation only, variety, and even ori- 
 ginality of invention, is produced. I will go further ; even genius, at least what 
 generally is so called, is the child of imitation. But as this appears to be con- 
 trary to the general opinion, I must explain my position before I enforce it. 
 
 Genius is supposed to be a power of producing excellencies, which are out of 
 the reach of the rules of art ; a power which no precepts can teach, and which 
 no industry can acquire. 
 
 This opinion of the impossibility of acquiring those beauties, which stamp the 
 work with the character of genius, supposes that it is something more fixed than 
 in reality it is ; and that we always do, and ever did agree in opinion, with 
 respect to what should be considered as the characteristic of genius. But the 
 truth is, that the degree of excellence which proclaims genius is different, in 
 different times and different places ; and what shews it to be so is, that mankind 
 have often changed their opinion upon this matter. 
 
 When the Arts were in their infancy, the power of merely drawing the likeness 
 of any object, was considered as one of its greatest efforts. The common people, 
 ignorant of the principles of art, talk the same language even to this day. But 
 when it was found that every man could be taught to do this, and a great deal 
 more, merely by the observance of certain precepts ; the name of Genius then 
 shifted its application, and was given only to him who added the peculiar char- 
 acter of the object he represented ; to him who had invention, expression, grace, 
 or dignity ; in short, those qualities, or excellencies, the power of producing 
 which could not then be taught by any known and promulgated rules. 
 
 We are very sure that the beauty of form, the expression of the passions, the 
 art of composition, even the power of giving a general air of grandeur to a work, 
 is at present very much under the dominion of rules. These excellencies were, 
 heretofore, considered merely as the effects of genius ; and justly, if genius is not 
 taken for inspiration, but as the effect of close observation and experience. 
 
 He who first made any of these observations, and digested them, so as to form 
 an invariable principle for himself to work by, had that merit, but probably no 
 one went very far at once ; and generally, the first who gave the hint, did not 
 know how to pursue it steadily and methodically ; at least not in the beginning. 
 He himself worked on it, and improved it ; others worked more, and improved 
 further ; until the secret was discovered, and the practice made as general as 
 refined practice can be made. How many more principles may be fixed and 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 53 
 
 ascertained, we cannot tell ; but as criticism is likely to go hand in hand with 
 the art which is its subject, we may yenture to say, that as that art shall advance, 
 its powers will be still more and more fixed by rules. 
 
 But by whatever strides criticism may gain ground, we need be under no 
 apprehension that invention will ever be annihilated or subdued ; or intellectual 
 energy be brought entirely within the restraint of written law. Genius will still 
 have room enough to expatiate, and keep always at the same distance from nar- 
 row comprehension and mechanical performance. 
 
 What we now call Genius, begins, not where rules, abstractedly taken, end ; 
 but where known, vulgar and trite rules have no longer any place. It must of 
 necessity be, that even works of Genius, like every other effect, as they must 
 have their cause, must likewise have their rules ; it cannot be by chance, that 
 excellencies are produced with any constancy or any certainty, for this is not the 
 nature of chance ; but the rules by which men of extraordinary parts, and such 
 as are called men of Genius, work, are either such as they discover by their own 
 peculiar observations, or of such a nice texture as not easily to admit being ex- 
 pressed in words ; especially as artists are not very frequently skilful in that 
 mode of communicating ideas. Unsubstantial, however, as these rules may seem, 
 and difficult as it may be to convey them in writing, they are still seen and felt 
 in the mind of the artist ; and he works from them with as much certainty, as if 
 they were embodied, as I may say, upon paper. It is true, these refined prin- 
 ciples cannot be always made palpable, like the more gross rules of art ; yet it 
 does not follow, but that the mind may be put in such a train, that it shall per- 
 ceive, by a kind of scientific sense, that propriety, which words, particularly 
 words of unpractised writers, such as we are, can but very feebly suggest. 
 
 Invention is one of the great marks of genius ; but if we consult experience, we 
 shall find, that it is by being conversant with the inventions of others, that we 
 learn to invent : as by reading the thoughts of others we learn to think. 
 
 Whoever has so far formed his taste, as to be able to relish and feel tiie 
 beauties of the great masters, has gone a great way in his study ; for, merely 
 from a consciousness of this relish of the right, the mind swells with an inward 
 pride, and is almost as powerfully affected, as if it had itself produced what it 
 admires. Our hearts, frequently warmed in this manner by the contact of those 
 whom we wish to resemble, will undoubtedly catch something of their way of 
 thinking ; and we shall receive in our own bosoms some radiation at least of 
 their fire and splendour. That disposition, which is so strong in children, still 
 continues with us, of catching involuntarily the general air and manner of those 
 with whom we are conversant ; with this difference only, that a young mind is 
 naturally pliable and imitative ; but in a more advanced state it grows rigid, and 
 must be warmed and softened, before it will receive a deep impression. 
 
 From these considerations, which a little of your own reflection will carry a 
 great way further, it appears, of what great consequence it is, that our minds 
 should be habituated to the contemplation of excellence ; and that, far from being 
 contented to make such habits the discipline of our youth only, we should, to the 
 last moment of our lives, continue a settled intercourse with all the true examples 
 of grandeur. Their inventions are not only the food of our infancy, but the sub- 
 stance which supplies the fullest maturity of our vigour. 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 The mind is but a barren soil ; a soil which is soon exhausted, and will pro- 
 duce no crop, or only one, unless it be continually fertilized and enriched with 
 foreign matter. 
 
 When we have had continually before us the great works of Art to impregnate 
 our minds with kindred ideas, we are then, and not till then, fit to produce some- 
 thing of the same species. We behold all about us with the eyes of those pene- 
 trating observers whose works we contemplate ; and our minds, accustomed to 
 think the thoughts of the noblest and brightest intellects, are prepared for the 
 discovery and selection of all that is great and noble in nature. The greatest 
 natural genius cannot subsist on its own stock : he who resolves never to ransack 
 any mind but his own, will be soon reduced, from mere barrenness, to the poorest 
 of all imitations ; he will be obliged to imitate himself, and to repeat what he 
 has before often repeated. When we know the subject designed by such men, it 
 will never be difficult to guess what kind of work is to be produced. 
 
 It is vain for painters or poets to endeavour to invent without materials on 
 which the mind may work, and from which invention must originate. Nothing 
 can come of nothing. 
 
 Homer is supposed to be possessed of all the learning of his time : and we are 
 certain that Michael Angelo, and RafFaelle, were equally possessed of all the 
 knowledge in the art which had been discovered in the works of their prede- 
 cessors. 
 
 A mind encircled by an assemblage of all the treasures of ancient and modern 
 art, will be more elevated and fruitful in resources, in proportion to the number 
 of ideas which have been carefully collected and thoroughly digested. There 
 can be no doubt but that he who has the most materials has the greatest means 
 of invention ; and if he has not the power of using them, it must proceed from a 
 feebleness of intellect ; or from the confused manner in which those collections 
 have been laid up in his mind. 
 
 The addition of other men's judgment is so far from weakening our own, as is 
 the opinion of many, that it will fashion and consolidate those ideas of excellence 
 which lay in embryo, feeble, ill-shaped, and confused, but which are finished and 
 put in order by the authority and practice of those whose works may be said to 
 have heen consecrated by having stood the test of ages. 
 
 The mind, or genius, has been compared to a spark of fire, which is smothered 
 by a heap of fuel, and prevented from blazing into a flame : This simile, which is 
 made use of by the younger Pliny, may be easily mistaken for argument or proof. 
 But there is no danger of the mind's being over-burthened with knowledge, or the 
 genius extinguished by any addition of images ; on the contrary, these acquisi- 
 tions may as well, perhaps better, be compared, if comparisons signified any thing 
 in reasoning, to the supply of living embers, which will contribute to strengthen 
 the spark, that without the association of more fuel would have died away. The 
 truth is, he whose feebleness is such, as to make other men's thoughts an incum- 
 brance to him, can have no very great strength of mind or genius of his own to be 
 destroyed ; so that not much harm will be done at worst. 
 
 We may oppose to Pliny the greater authority of Cicero, who is continually 
 enforcing the necessity of this method of study. In his Dialogue on Oratory, he 
 makes Crassus say, that one of the first and most important precepts is, to choose 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 55 
 
 a proper model for our imitation. Hoc sitprimum in pneceptis meis, ut demon- 
 stremus quern imitemur. 
 
 When I speak of the habitual imitation and continued study of masters, it is 
 not to be understood that I advise any endeavour to copy the exact peculiar 
 colour and complexion of another man's mind ; the success of such an attempt 
 must always be like his, who imitates exactly the air, manner, and gestures, of 
 him whom he admires. His model may be excellent, but the copy will be ridi- 
 culous ; this ridicule does not arise from his having imitated, but from his not 
 having chosen the right mode of imitation. 
 
 It is a necessary and warrantable pride to disdain to walk servilely behind any 
 individual, however elevated his rank. The true and liberal ground of imitation 
 is an open field ; where, though he who presides has had the advantage of start- 
 ing before you, you may always propose to overtake him : it is enough, however, 
 to pursue his course ; you need not tread in his footsteps ; and you certainly have 
 a right to outstrip him if you can. 
 
 Nor whilst I recommend studying the art from artists, can I be supposed to 
 mean, that nature is to be neglected : I take this study in aid, and not in exclusion, 
 of the other. Nature is, and must be the fountain which alone is inexhaustible ; 
 and from which all excellencies must originally flow. 
 
 The great use of studying our predecessors is, to open the mind, to shorten our 
 labour, and to give us the result of the selection made by those great minds of 
 what is grand or beautiful in nature : her rich stores are all spread out before us : 
 but it is an art, and no easy art, to know how or what to choose, and how to 
 attain and secure the object of our choice. Thus the highest beauty of form must 
 be taken from nature ; but it is an art of long deduction, and great experience, 
 to know how to find it. We must not content ourselves with merely admiring 
 and relishing ; we must enter into the principles on which the work is wrought ; 
 these do not swim on the superficies, and consequently are not open to superficial 
 observers. 
 
 Art in its perfection is not ostentatious ; it lies hid, and works its effect, itself 
 unseen. It is the proper study and labour of an artist to uncover and find out the 
 latent cause of conspicuous beauties, and from thence form principles of his own 
 conduct : such an examination is a continual exertion of the mind ; as great, per- 
 haps, as that of the artist whose works he is thus studying. 
 
 The sagacious imitator does not content himself with merely remarking what 
 distinguishes the different manner or genius of each master ; he enters into the 
 contrivance in the composition how the masses of lights are disposed, the means 
 by which the effect is produced, how artfully some parts are lost in the ground, 
 others boldly relieved, and how all these are mutually altered and interchanged 
 according to the reason and scheme of the work. He admires not the harmony 
 of colouring alone, but examines by what artifice one colour is a foil to its neigh- 
 bour. He looks close into the tints, examines of what colours they are composed, 
 till he has formed clear and distinct ideas, and has learnt to see in what harmony 
 and good colouring consists. What is learned in this mauner from the works of 
 others becomes really our own, sinks deep, and is never forgotten ; nay, it is by 
 seizing on this clue that we proceed forward, and get further and further in en- 
 larging the principles and improving the practice of our art. 
 
56 
 
 THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 There can be no doubt, but the art is better learnt from the works themselves, 
 than from the precepts which are formed upon those works ; but if it is difficult to 
 choose proper models for imitation, it requires no less circumspection to separate 
 and distinguish what in those models we ought to imitate. 
 
 I cannot avoid mentioning here, though it is not my intention at present to 
 enter into the art and method of study, an error which students are too apt to 
 fall into. He that is forming himself, must look with great caution and wariness 
 on those peculiarities, or prominent parts, which at first force themselves upon 
 view; and are the marks, or what is commonly called the manner, by which 
 that individual artist is distinguished. 
 
 Peculiar marks, I hold to be, generally, if not always, defects ; however diffi- 
 cult it may be wholly to escape them. 
 
 Peculiarities in the works of art, are like those in the human figure : it is by 
 them that we are cognizable and distinguished one from another, but they are 
 always so many blemishes ; which, however, both in real life and in painting, 
 cease to appear deformities to those who have them continually before their eyes. 
 In the works of art, even the most enlightened mind, when warmed by beauties 
 of the highest kind, will by degrees find a repugnance within him to acknowledge 
 any defects ; nay, his enthusiasm will carry him so far, as to transform them into 
 beauties, and objects of imitation. 
 
 It must be acknowledged, that a peculiarity of style, either from its novelty, 
 or by seeming to proceed from a peculiar turn of mind, often escapes blame ; on 
 the contrary, it is sometimes striking and pleasing : but this it is a vain labour 
 to endeavour to imitate ; because novelty and peculiarity being its only merit, 
 when it ceases to be new, it ceases to have value. 
 
 A manner therefore being a defect, and every painter, however excellent, hav- 
 ing a manner, it seems to follow, that all kinds of faults, as well as beauties, may 
 be learned under the sanction of the greatest authorities. Even the great name 
 of Michael Angelo may be used, to keep in countenance a deficiency or rather 
 neglect of colouring, and every other ornamental part of the Art. If the young 
 student is dry and hard, Poussin is the same. If his work has a careless and un- 
 finished air, he has most of the Venetian School to support him. If he makes no 
 selection of objects, but takes individual nature just as he finds it, he is like 
 Rembrandt. If he is incorrect in the proportions of his figures, Correggio was 
 likewise incorrect. If his colours are not blended and united, Rubens was equally 
 crude. In short, there is no defect that may not be excused, if it is a sufficient 
 excuse that it can be imputed to considerable Artists ; but it must be remembered, 
 that it was not by these defects they acquired their reputation ; they have a right 
 to our pardon, but not to our admiration. 
 
 However, to imitate peculiarities or mistake defects for beauties, that man will 
 be most liable, who confines his imitation to one favourite master ; and even 
 though he chooses the best, and is capable of distinguishing the real excellence 
 of his model, it is not by such narrow practice, that a genius or mastery in the 
 Art is acquired. A man is as little likely to form a true idea of the perfection of 
 the Art, by studying a single artist, as he would be to produce a perfectly beau- 
 tiful figure, by an exact imitation of any individual living model. And as the 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 57 
 
 painter, by bringing together in one piece, those beauties which are dispersed 
 among a great variety of individuals, produces a figure more beautiful than can 
 be found in nature, so that artist who can unite in himself the excellencies of the 
 various great painters, will approach nearer to perfection than any one of his 
 masters. He, who confines himself to the imitation of an individual, as he never 
 proposes to surpass, so he is not likely to equal, the object of his imitation. He 
 professes only to follow ; and he that follows must necessarily be behind. 
 
 We should imitate the conduct of the great artists in the course of their 
 studies, as well as the works which they produced, when they were perfectly 
 formed. Raffaelle began by imitating implicitly the manner of Pietro Perugino, 
 under whom he studied ; hence his first works are scarce to be distinguished 
 from his master's ; but soon forming higher and more extensive views, he imi- 
 tated the grand outline of Michael Angelo ; he learned the manner of using 
 colours from the works of Leonardo da Vinci, and Fratre Bartolomeo : to all 
 this he added the contemplation of all the remains of antiquity that were with- 
 in his reach ; and employed others to draw for him what was in Greece and 
 distant places. And it is from his having taken so many models, that he became 
 himself a model for all succeeding painters ; always imitating, and always 
 original. 
 
 If your ambition, therefore, be to equal Raffaelle, you must do as Raffaelle 
 did ; take many models, and not even him for your guide alone, to the exclusion 
 of others*. And yet the number is infinite of those who seem, if one may judge 
 by their style, to have seen no other works but those of their master, or of some 
 favourite, whose manner is their first wish, and their last. 
 
 I will mention a few that occur to me of this narrow, confined, illiberal, un- 
 scientific, and servile kind of imitators. Guido was thus meanly copied by Eli- 
 zabetta, Sirani, and Simone Cantarini ; Poussin, by Verdier and Cheron ; Par- 
 meggiano, by Jeronimo Mazzuoli. Paolo Veronese, and lacomo Bassan, had for 
 their imitators their brothers and sons. Pietro da Cartona was followed by Giro 
 Ferri and Ronianelli ; Rubens, by Jacques Jordaens, and Diepenbeke ; Guer- 
 eino, by his own family, the Gennari. Carlo Maratti was imitated by Giuseppe 
 Chiari, and Pietro da Pietri ; and Rembrandt, by Bramer, Eeckhout, and Flink. 
 All these, to whom may be added a much longer list of painters, whose works, 
 among the ignorant, pass for those of their masters, are justly to be cerssured for 
 barrenness and servility. 
 
 To oppose to this list a few that have adopted a more liberal style of imitation ; 
 Pellegrino Tibaldi, Rosso, and Primaticcio, did not coldly imitate, but caught 
 something of the fire that animates the works of Michael Angelo. The Caraccis 
 formed their style from Pellegrino Tibaldi, Correggio, and the Venetian School. 
 Domeniehino, Guido, Lanfranco, Albano, Guercino, Cavidone, Schidone, Tiarini, 
 though it is sufficiently apparent that they came from the school of the Caraccis, 
 have yet the appearance of men who extended their views beyond the model 
 that lay before them, and have shewn that they had opinions of their own, and 
 thought for themselves, after they had made themselves masters of the general 
 principles of their schools. 
 
 * Seel non qui maiame imitandus, etiam solus imitandus est. Quintilian, 
 
 Q 
 
58 
 
 THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Le Suer's first manner resembles very much that of his master Voiiet : but as 
 he soon excelled him, so he differed from him in every part of the art. Carlo 
 Maratti succeeded better than those I have first named, and I think owes his 
 superiority to the extension of his views ; beside his master Andrea Sacchi, he 
 imitated Raffaelle, Guido, and the Caraccis. It is true, there is nothing very 
 captivating in Carlo Maratti ; but this proceeded from a want which cannot be 
 completely supplied ; that is, want of strength of parts. In this certainly men 
 are not equal; and a man can bring home wares only in proportion to the capital 
 with which he goes to market. Carlo, by diligence, made the most of what he 
 had ; but there was undoubtedly a heaviness about him, which extended itself, 
 uniformly, to his invention, expression, his drawing, colouring, and the general 
 effect of his pictures. The truth is, he never equalled any of his patterns in any 
 one thing, and he added little of his own. 
 
 But we must not rest contented even in this general study of the moderns ; we 
 must trace back the art to its fountain-head ; to that source from whence they 
 drew their principal excellencies, the monuments of pure antiquity. All the in- 
 ventions and thoughts of the Ancients, whether conveyed to us in statues, bas- 
 reliefs, intaglios, cameos, or coins, are to be sought after and carefully studied : 
 the genius that hovers over these venerable relics, may be called the father of 
 modern art. 
 
 From the remains of the works of the ancients the modern arts were revived, 
 and it is by their means that they must be restored a second time. However it 
 may mortify our vanity, we must be forced to allow them our masters ; and we 
 may venture to prophecy, that when they shall cease to be studied, arts will no 
 longer flourish, and we shall again relapse into barbarism. 
 
 The fire of the artist's own genius operating upon these materials, which have 
 been thus diligently collected, will enable him to make new combinations, per- 
 haps superior to what had ever before been in the possession of the art : as in 
 the mixture of the variety of metals, which are said to have been melted and 
 run together at the burning of Corinth, a new and till then unknown metal was 
 produced, equal in value to any of those that had contributed to its composition. 
 And though a curious refiner should come with his crucibles, analyse and sepa- 
 rate its various component parts, yet Corinthian brass would still hold its rank 
 amongst the most beautiful and valuable of metals. 
 
 We have hitherto considered the advantages of imitation as it tends to form 
 the taste, and as a practice by which a spark of that genius may be caught, 
 which illumines those noble works that ought always to be present to our 
 thoughts. 
 
 We come now to speak of another kind of imitation ; the borrowing a parti- 
 cular thought, an action, attitude, or figure, and transplanting it into your own 
 work : this will either come under the charge of plagiarism, or be warrantable, 
 and deserve commendation, according to the address with which it is performed. 
 There is some difference likewise, whether it is upon the ancients or moderns that 
 these depredations are made. It is generally allowed, that no man need be 
 ashamed of copying the ancients : their works are considered as a magazine of 
 common property, always open to the public, whence every man has a right to 
 take what materials he pleases ; and if he has the art of using them, they are 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE . 
 
 59 
 
 supposed to become to all intents and purposes his own property. The collection 
 of the thoughts of the ancients, which RafFaelle made with so much trouble, is a 
 proof of his opinion on this subject. Such collections may be made with much 
 more ease, by means of an art scarce known in his time ; I mean that of en- 
 graving ; by which, at an easy rate, every man may now avail himself of the 
 inventions of antiquity. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that the works of the moderns are more the property 
 of their authors. He who borrows an idea from an ancient, or even from a mo- 
 dern artist not his contemporary, and so accommodates it to his own work, that 
 it makes a part of it, with no seam or joining appearing, can hardly be charged 
 with plagiarism : poets practise this kind of borrowing, without reserve. But 
 an artist should not be contented with this only ; he should enter into a com- 
 petition with his original, and endeavour to improve what he is appropriating to 
 his own work. Such imitation is so far from having any thing in it of the ser- 
 vility of plagiarism, that it is a perpetual exercise of the mind, a continual in- 
 vention. Borrowing or stealing with such art and caution, will have a right to 
 the same lenity as was used by the Lacedemonians, who did not punish theft, 
 but the want of artifice to conceal it. 
 
 In order to encourage you to imitation, to the utmost extent, let me add, that 
 very finished artists, in the inferior branches of the art will contribute to furnish 
 the mind and give hints, of which a skilful painter, who is sensible of what he 
 wants, and is in no danger of being infected by the contact of vicious models, 
 will know how to avail himself. He will pick up from dunghills what by a nice 
 chemistry, passing through his own mind, shall be converted into pure gold ; and 
 under the rudeness of Gothic essays, he will find original, rational, and even su- 
 blime inventions. 
 
 The works of Albert Durer, Lucas Van Leyden, the numerous inventions of 
 Tobias Stimmer, and JostAmm on, afford a rich mass of genuine materials, which, 
 wrought up and polished to elegance, will add copiousness to what, perhaps, 
 without such aid, could have aspired only to justness and propriety. 
 
 In the luxuriant style of Paul Veronese, in the capricious compositions of Tin- 
 toret, he will find something that will assist his invention, and give points, from 
 which his own imagination shall rise and take flight, when the subject which he 
 treats will with propriety admit of splendid effects. 
 
 In every school, whether Venetian, French, or Dutch, he will find, either in- 
 genious compositions, extraordinary effects, some peculiar expressions, or some 
 mechanical excellence, well worthy of his attention, and, in some measure, of his 
 imitation. Even in the lower class of the French painters, great beauties are 
 often found, united with great defects. Though Coypel wanted a simplicity of 
 taste, and mistook a presumptuous and assuming air for what is grand or majestic, 
 yet he frequently has good sense and judgment in his manner of telling his stories, 
 great skill in his compositions, and is not without a considerable power of ex- 
 pressing the passions. The modern affectation of grace in his works, as well as 
 in those of Bosch and Watteau, may be said to be separated, by a very thin par- 
 tition, from the more simple and pure grace of Correggio and Parmegiano. 
 
 Among the Dutch painters, the correct, firm, and determined pencil, which 
 was employed by Bamboccio and Jean Miel, on vulgar and mean subjects, might, 
 
GO 
 
 THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 without any change, be employed on the highest ; to which, indeed, it eeeme 
 more properly to belong. The greatest style, if that style is confined to small 
 figures, such as Poussin generally painted, would receive an additional grace by 
 the elegance and precision of pencil so admirable in the works of Teniers ; and 
 though the school to which he belonged more particularly excelled in the 
 mechanism of painting, yet it produced many who have shewn great abilities 
 in expressing what must be ranked above mechanical excellencies. In the works 
 of Frank Hals, the portrait painter may observe the composition of a face, the 
 features well put together, as the painters express it ; from whence proceeds that 
 strong-marked character of individual nature, which is so remarkable in his por- 
 traits, and is not found in an equal degree in any other painter. If he had joined 
 to this most difficult part of the art, a patience in finishing what he had so cor- 
 rectly planned, he might justly have claimed the place which Vandyck, all things 
 considered, so justly holds as the first of portrait painters. 
 
 Others of the same school have shewn great power in expressing the character 
 and passions of those vulgar people, which were the subjects of their study and 
 attention. Among those Jan Steen seems to be one of the most diligent and 
 accurate observers of what passed in those scenes which he frequented, and which 
 were to him an academy. I can easily imagine, that if this extraordinary man 
 had had the good fortune to have been born in Italy, instead of Holland, had he 
 lived in Rome instead of Leyden, and been blessed with Michael Angelo and 
 Raffaelle for his masters, instead of Brouwer and Van Goyen, the same sagacity 
 and penetration which distinguished so accurately the different characters and 
 expression in his vulgar figures, would, when exerted, in the selection and imita- 
 tion of what was great and elevated in nature, have been equally successful ; and 
 he now would have ranged with the great pillars and supporters of our Art. 
 
 Men who, although thus bound down by the almost invincible powers of early 
 habits, have still exerted extraordinary abilities within their narrow and confined 
 circle, and have, from the natural vigour of their mind, given a very interesting 
 expression and great force and energy to their works, though they cannot be 
 recommended to be exactly imitated, may yet invite an artist to endeavour to 
 transfer, by a kind of parody, their excellencies to his own performances. Who- 
 ever has acquired the power of making this use of the Flemish, Venetian, and 
 French schools, is a real genius, and has sources of knowledge open to him which 
 were wanting to the great artists who lived in the great age of painting. 
 
 To find excellencies, however dispersed, to discover beauties, however con- 
 cealed by the multitude of defects with which they are surrounded, can be the 
 work only of him, who, having a mind always alive to his art, has extended his 
 views to all ages and to all schools ; and has acquired from that comprehensive 
 mass, which he has thus gathered to himself, a well digested and perfect idea of 
 his art, to which every thing is referred. Like a sovereign judge and arbiter of 
 art, he is possessed of that presiding power which separates and attracts every 
 excellence from every school ; selects both from what is great, and what is little ; 
 brings home knowledge from the East and from the West ; making the universe 
 tributary towards furnishing his mind and enriching his works with originality, 
 and variety of inventions. 
 
 Thus I have ventured to give my opinion of what appears to me the true and 
 only method by which an artist makes himself master of his profession ; which I 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 61 
 
 hold ought to be one continued course of imitation, that is, not to cease but with 
 his life. 
 
 Those, who either from their own engagements and hurry of business, or from 
 indolence, or from conceit and vanity, have neglected looking out of themselves, 
 as far as my experience and observation reaches, have from that time not only 
 ceased to advance, and improve in their performances, but have gone backward. 
 They may be compared to men who have lived upon their principal, till they are 
 reduced to beggary, and left without resources. 
 
 I can recommend nothing better, therefore, than that you endeavour to infuse 
 into your works what you learn from the contemplation of the works of others. 
 To recommend this has the appearance of needless and superfluous advice ; but 
 it has fallen within my own knowledge, that artists, though they were not 
 wanting in a sincere love for their art, though they had great pleasure in seeing 
 good pictures, and were well skilled to distinguish what was excellent or defec- 
 tive in them, yet have gone on in their own manner, without any endeavour to 
 give a little of those beauties, which they admired in others, to their own works. 
 Tt is difficult to conceive how the present Italian painters, who live in the midst 
 of the treasures of art, should be contented with their own style. They proceed 
 in their common place inventions, and never think it worth while to visit the 
 works of those great artists with which they are surrounded. 
 
 I remember, several years ago, to have conversed at Rome with an artist of 
 great fame throughout Europe ; he was not without a considerable degree of 
 abilities, but those abilities were by no means equal to his own opinion of them. 
 From the reputation he had acquired, he too fondly concluded that he stood ia 
 the same rank, when compared with his predecessors, as he held with regard to 
 his miserable contemporary rivals. In conversation about some particulars of 
 the works of Raffaelle, he seemed to have, or to affect to have, a very obscure 
 memory of them. He told me that he had not set his foot in the Vatican for 
 fifteen years together ; that he had been in treaty to copy a capital picture of 
 Raffaelle, but that the business had gone off; however, if the agreement had held, 
 his copy would have greatly exceeded the original. The merit of this artist, 
 however great we may suppose it, I am sure would have been far greater, and 
 his presumption would have been far less, if he had visited the Vatican, as in 
 reason he ought to have done, at least once every month of his life. 
 
 I address myself, Gentlemen, to you who have made some progress in the art, 
 and are to be, for the future, under the guidance of your own judgment and 
 discretion. I consider you as arrived to that period, when you have a right to 
 think for yourselves, and to presume that every man is fallible ; to study the 
 masters with a suspicion, that great men are not always exempt from great 
 faults ; to criticise, compare, and rank their works in your own estimation, as 
 they approach to, or recede from, that standard of perfection which you have 
 formed in your own minds, but which those masters themselves, it must be re- 
 membered, have taught you to make ; and which you will cease to make with 
 correctness, when you cease to study them. It is their excellencies which have 
 taught you their defects. 
 
 I would wish you to forget where you are, and who it is that speaks to you. 
 I only direct you to higher models and better advisers. We can teach you here 
 
62 
 
 THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 but very little ; you are henceforth to be your own teachers. Do this justice, 
 however, to the English Academy, to bear in mind, that in this place you con- 
 tracted no narrow habits, no false ideas, nothing that could lead you to the imi- 
 tation of any living master, who may be the fashionable darling of the day. As 
 you have not been taught to flatter us, do not learn to flatter yourselves. W e 
 have endeavoured to lead you to the admiration of nothing but what is truly ad- 
 mirable. If you choose inferior patterns, or if you make your own former works 
 your patterns for your latter, it is your own fault. 
 
 The purport of this discourse, and, indeed, of most of my other discourses, is, 
 to caution you against that false opinion, but too prevalent among artists, of the 
 imaginary powers of native genius, and its sufficiency in great works. This 
 opinion, according to the temper of mind it meets with, almost always pro- 
 duces, either a vain confidence, or a sluggish despair, both equally fatal to all 
 proficiency. 
 
 Study, therefore, the great works of the great masters, for ever. Study as 
 nearly as you can, in the order, in the manner, and on the principles, on which 
 they studied. Study nature attentively, but always with those masters in your 
 company ; consider them as models which you are to imitate, and at the same 
 time as rivals with whom you are to contend. 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 10, 1776. 
 
 The reality of a Standard of Taste, as well as' of Corporal Beauty. Beside this 
 immutable truth, there are secondary truths, which are variable: both requiring 
 the attention of the Artist, in proportion to their stability or their influence. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 It has been my uniform endeavour, since I first addressed you from this place, to 
 impress you strongly with one ruling idea. I wished you to be persuaded, that 
 success in your art depends almost entirely on your own industry ; but the indus- 
 try which I principally recommended, is not the industry of the hands, but of the 
 mind. 
 
 As our art is not a divine gift, so neither is it a mechanical trade. Its founda- 
 tions are laid in solid science : and practice, though essential to perfection, can 
 never attain that to which it aims, unless it works under the direction of 
 principle. 
 
 Some writers upon art can carry this point too far, and suppose that such a 
 body of universal and profound learning is requisite, that the very enumeration 
 of its kinds is enough to frighten a beginner. Vitruvius, after going through the 
 many accomplishments of nature, and the many acquirements of learning neces- 
 sary to an architect, proceeds with great gravity to assert, that he ought to be 
 well skilled in the civil law, that he may not be cheated in the title of the ground 
 he builds on, But without such exaggeration, we may go so far as to assert, 
 that a painter stands in need of more knowledge than is to be picked off his 
 pallet, or collected by looking on his model, whether it be in life or in picture. 
 He can never be a great artist who is grossly illiterate. 
 
 Every man whose business is description, ought to be tolerably conversant with 
 the poets, in some language or other, that he may imbibe a poetical spirit, and 
 enlarge his stock of ideas. He ought to acquire a habit of comparing and di- 
 gesting his notions. He ought not to be wholly unacquainted with that part of 
 philosophy which gives an insight into human nature, and relates to the manners, 
 characters, passions, and affections. He ought to know something concerning 
 the mind, as well as a great deal concerning the body of man. For this purpose, 
 it is not necessary that he should go into such a compass of reading, as must, by 
 distracting his attention, disqualify him for the practical part of his profession, 
 and make him sink the performer in the critic. Reading, if it can be made the 
 favourite recreation of his leisure hours, will improve and enlarge his mind, with- 
 
6A THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 out retarding his actual industry. What such partial and desultory reading can- 
 not afford, may be supplied by the conversation of learned and ingenious men, 
 Which is the best of all substitutes for those who have not the means or oppor- 
 tunities of deep study. There are many such men in this age ; and they will be 
 pleased with communicating their ideas to artists, when they see them curious 
 and docile, if they are treated with that respect and deference which is so justly 
 their due. Into such society, young artists, if they make it the point of their 
 ambition, will by degrees be admitted. There, without formal teaching, they 
 will insensibly come to feel and reason like those they live with, and find a ra- 
 tional and systematic taste imperceptibly formed in their minds, which they will 
 know how to reduce to a standard, by applying general truth to their own pur- 
 poses, better perhaps than those to whom they owned the original sentiment. 
 
 Of these studies, and this conversation, the desired and legitimate offspring i3 
 a power of distinguishing right from wrong ; which power, applied to works of 
 art, is denominated Taste. Let me then, without further introduction, enter upon 
 an examination, whether taste be so far beyond our reach, as to be unattainable 
 by care ; or be so very vague and capricious, that no care ought to be employed 
 about it. 
 
 It has been the fate of arts to be enveloped in mysterious and incomprehensible 
 language, as if it was thought necessary that even the terms should correspond to 
 the idea entertained of the instability and uncertainty of the rules which they 
 expressed. 
 
 To speak of genius and taste, as in any way connected with reason or common 
 sense, would be, in the opinion of some towering talkers, to speak like a man who 
 possessed neither ; who had never felt that enthusiasm, or, to use their own in- 
 flated language, was never warmed by that Promethean fire, which animates the 
 canvas and vivifies the marble. 
 
 If, in order to be intelligible, I appear to degrade art by bringing her down 
 from her visionary situation in the clouds, it is only to give her a more solid 
 mansion upon the earth. It is necessary that at some time or other we should 
 see things as they really are, and not impose on ourselves by that false magnitude 
 with which objects appear when viewed indistinctly as through a mist. 
 
 We will allow a poet to express his meaning, when his meaning is not well 
 known to himself, with a certain degree of obscurity, as it is one source of the 
 sublime. But when, in plain prose, we gravely talk of courting the muse in 
 shady bowers, — waiting the call and inspiration of Genius, finding out where he 
 inhabits, and where he is to be invoked with the greatest success, — of attending 
 to times and seasons when the imagination shoots with the greatest vigour, 
 whether at the summer solstice or the vernal equinox, — sagaciously observing how 
 much the wild freedom and liberty of imagination is cramped [by attention to 
 established rules, — and how this same imagination begins to grow dim in ad- 
 vanced age, smothered and deadened by too much judgment, — when we talk such 
 language, or entertain such sentiments as these, we generally rest contented with 
 mere words, or at best entertain notions not only groundless, but pernicious. 
 
 If all this means, what it is very possible was originally intended only to be 
 meant, that in order to cultivate an art, a man secludes himself from the com- 
 merce of the world, and retires into the country at particular seasons ; or that at 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 65 
 
 one time of the year his body is in better health, and consequently his mind fitter 
 for the business of hard thinking than at another time ; or that the mind may 
 be fatigued and grow confused by long and unremitted application ; this I can 
 understand. I can likewise believe, that a man, eminent when young for pos- 
 sessing poetical imagination, may, from having taken another road, so neglect its 
 cultivation, as to shew less of its powers in his latter life. But I am persuaded, 
 that scarce a poet is to be found, from Homer down to Dryden, who preserved a 
 sound mind in a sound body, and continued practising his profession to the very 
 last, whose latter works are not as replete with the fire of imagination, as those 
 which were produced in his more youthful days. 
 
 To understand literally those metaphors or ideas expressed in poetical lan- 
 guage, seems to be equally absurd as to conclude, that because painters some- 
 times represent poets writing from the dictates of a little winged boy or genius, 
 that this same genius did really inform him in a whisper what he was to write ; 
 and that he is himself but a mere machine, unconscious of the operations of his 
 own mind. 
 
 Opinions generally received and floating in the world, whether true or false, 
 we naturally adopt and make our own ; they may be considered as a kind of 
 inheritance to which we succeed and are tenants for life, and which we leave 
 to our posterity very nearly in the condition in which we received it : it not 
 being much in any one man's power either to impair or improve it. The greatest 
 part of these opinions, like current coin in its circulation, we are used to take 
 without weighing or examining ; but by this inevitable inattention many adul- 
 terated pieces are received, which, when we seriously estimate our wealth, we 
 must throw away. So the collector of popular opinions, when he embodies his 
 knowledge, and forms a system, must separate those which are true from those 
 which are only plausible. But it becomes more peculiarly a duty to the pro- 
 fessors of art not to let any opinions relating to that art pass unexamined. The 
 caution and circumspection required in such examination we shall presently have 
 an opportunity of explaining. 
 
 Genius and taste, in their common acceptation, appear to be very nearly re- 
 lated ; the difference lies only in this, that genius has superadded to it a habit or 
 power of execution : or we may say, that taste, when this power is added, 
 changes its name, and is called genius. They both, in the popular opinion, pre- 
 tend to an entire exemption from the restraint of rules. It is supposed that their 
 powers are intuitive ; that under the name of genius great works are produced, 
 and under the name of taste an exact judgment is given, without our knowing- 
 why, and without our being under the least obligation to reason, precept, or 
 experience. 
 
 One can scarce state these opinions without exposing their absurdity ; yet they 
 are constantly in the mouths of men, and particularly of artists. They who have 
 thought seriously on this subject, do not carry the point so far ; yet I am per- 
 suaded, that even among those few who may be called thinkers, the prevalent 
 opinion allows less than it ought to the powers of reason ; and considers the 
 principles of taste, which give all their authority to the rules of art, as more fluc- 
 tuating, and as having less solid foundations, than we shall find, upon examina- 
 tion, they really have. 
 
 R 
 
66 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 The common saying, that tastes are not to be disputed, owes its influence, and 
 its general reception, to the same error which leads us to imagine this faculty of 
 too high an original to submit to the authority of an earthly tribunal. It like- 
 wise corresponds with the notions of those who consider it as a mere phantom of 
 the imagination, so devoid of substance as to elude all criticism. 
 
 We often appear to differ in sentiments from each other, merely from the inac- 
 curacy of terms, as we are not obliged to speak always with critical exactness. 
 Something of this, too, may arise from want of words in the language in which 
 we speak, to express the more nice discriminations which a deep investigation 
 discovers. A great deal, however, of this difference vanishes, when each opinion 
 is tolerably explained and understood by constancy and precision in the use of 
 terms. 
 
 We apply the term Taste to that act of the mind by which we like or dislike, 
 whatever be the subject. Our judgment upon an airy nothing, a fancy which 
 has no foundation, is called by the same name which we give to our determina- 
 tion concerning those truths which refer to the most general and most unaltera- 
 ble principles of human nature ; to the works which are only to be produced by 
 the greatest efforts of the human understanding. However inconvenient this may 
 be, we are obliged to take words as we find them; all we can do is to distinguish 
 the things to which they are applied. 
 
 We may let pass those things which are at once subjects of taste and sense, 
 and which, having as much certainty as the senses themselves, give no occasion to 
 enquiry or dispute. The natural appetite or taste of the human mind is for truth : 
 whether that truth results from the real agreement or equality of original ideas 
 among themselves,— from the agreement of the representation of any object with 
 the thing represented, — or from the correspondence of the several parts of any 
 arrangement with each other. It is the very same taste which relishes a demon- 
 stration in geometry, that is pleased with the resemblance of a picture to an ori- 
 ginal, and touched with the harmony of music. 
 
 All these have unalterable and fixed foundations in nature, and are therefore 
 equally investigated by reason, and known by study : some with more, some with 
 less clearness, but all exactly in the same way. A picture that is unlike, is 
 false. Disproportionate ordonnance of parts is not right ; because it cannot be 
 true, until it ceases to be a contradiction to assert, that the parts have no relation 
 to the whole. Colouring is true, when it is naturally adapted to the eye, from 
 brightness, from softness, from harmony, from resemblance ; because these agree 
 with their object, nature, and therefore are true : as true as mathematical de- 
 monstration ; but known to be true only to those who study these things. 
 
 But beside real, there is also apparent truth, or opinion, or prejudice. With 
 regard to real truth, when it is known, the taste which conforms to it, is, and 
 must be, uniform. With regard to the second sort of truth, which may be called 
 truth upon sufferance, or truth by courtesy, it is not fixed, but variable. How- 
 ever, whilst these opinions and prejudices, on which it is founded, continue, they 
 operate as truth ; and the art, whose office it is to please the mind, as well as 
 instruct it, must direct itself according to opinion, or it will not attain its end. 
 
 In proportion as these prejudices are known to be generally diffused, or long 
 received, the taste which conforms to them approaches nearer to certainty, and to 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 67 
 
 a sort of resemblance to real science, even where opinions are found to be no 
 better than prejudices. And since they deserve, on account of their duration 
 and extent, to be really true, they become capable of no small degree of stability 
 and determination, by their permanent and uniform nature. 
 
 As these prejudices become more narrow, more local, more transitory, this 
 secondary taste becomes more and more fantastical ; recedes from real science ; 
 is less to be approved by reason, and less followed in practice ; though in no 
 case perhaps to be wholly neglected, where it does not stand, as it sometimes 
 does, in direct defiance of the most respectable opinions received amongst man- 
 kind. 
 
 Having laid down these positions, I shall proceed with less method, because 
 less will serve to explain and apply them. 
 
 We will take it for granted, that reason is something invariable and fixed in 
 the nature of things ; and without endeavouring to go back to an account of first 
 principles, which for ever will elude our search, we will conclude, that whatever 
 goes under the name of taste, which we can fairly bring under the dominion of 
 reason, must be considered as equally exempt from change. If, therefore, in the 
 course of this enquiry, we can shew that there are rules for the conduct of the 
 artist which are fixed and invariable, it follows, of course, that the art of the 
 connoisseur, or, in other words, taste, has likewise invariable principles. 
 
 Of the judgment which we make on the works of art, and the preference that 
 we give to one class of art over another, if a reason be demanded, the question 
 is perhaps evaded by answering, I judge from my taste ; but it does not 
 follow that a better answer cannot be given, though, for common gazers, this 
 may be sufficient. Every man is not obliged to investigate the cause of his 
 approbation or dislike. 
 
 The arts would lie open for ever to caprice and casuality, if those who are to 
 judge of their excellencies had no settled principles by which they are to regulate 
 their decisions, and the merit or defect of performances were to be determined by 
 unguided fancy. And indeed we may venture to assert, that whatever specu- 
 lative knowledge is necessary to the artist, is equally and indispensably necessary 
 to the connoisseur. 
 
 The first idea that occurs in the consideration of what is fixed in art, or in 
 taste, is that presiding principle of which I have so frequently spoken in former 
 discourses, — the general idea of nature. The beginning, the middle, and the 
 end of every thing that is valuable in taste, is comprised in the knowledge of 
 what is truly nature; for whatever notions are not conformable to those of 
 nature, or universal opinion, must be considered as more or less capricious. 
 
 My notion of nature comprehends not only the forms which nature produces, 
 but also the nature and internal fabric and organization, as I may call it, of the 
 human mind and imagination. The terms beauty, or nature, which are general 
 ideas, are but different modes of expressing the same thing, whether we apply 
 these terms to statues, poetry, or picture. Deformity is not nature, but an 
 accidental deviation from her accustomed practice. This general idea therefore 
 ought to be called Nature ; and nothing else, correctly speaking, has a right to 
 that name. But we are so far from speaking, in common conversation, with any 
 such accuracy, that, on the contrary, when we criticise Rembrandt and other 
 
68 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Dutch painters, who introduced their historical pictures exact representations of 
 individual objects with all their imperfections, we say, — though it is not in a good 
 taste, yet it is nature. 
 
 This misapplication of terms must be very often perplexing to the young 
 Student. Is not art, he may say, an imitation of nature ? Must he not therefore 
 who imitates her with the greatest fidelity, be the best artist % By this mode of 
 reasoning Rembrandt has a higher place than Raffaelle. But a very little re- 
 flection will serve to shew us, that these particularities cannot be nature : for 
 how can that be the nature of man, in which no two individuals are the same ? 
 
 It plainly appears, that as a work is conducted under the influence of general 
 ideas, or partial, it is principally to be considered as the effect of a good or a 
 bad taste. 
 
 As beauty therefore does not consist in taking what lies immediately before 
 you, so neither, in our pursuit of taste, are those opinions which we first received 
 and adopted, the best choice, or the most natural to the mind and imagination. 
 In the infancy of our knowledge we seize with greediness the good that is within 
 our reach ; it is by after-consideration, and in consequence of discipline, that we 
 refuse the present for a greater good at a distance. The nobility or elevation of 
 all arts, like the excellency of virtue itself, consists in adopting this enlarged and 
 comprehensive idea ; and all criticism built upon the more confined view of what 
 is natural, may properly be called shallow criticism, rather than false : its defect 
 is, that the truth is not sufficiently extensive. 
 
 It has sometimes happened, that some of the greatest men in our Art have 
 been betrayed into errors by this confined mode of reasoning. Poussin, who, 
 upon the whole, may be produced as an Artist strictly attentive to the most 
 enlarged and extensive ideas of nature, from not having settled principles on this 
 point, has, in one instance at least, I think, deserted truth for prejudice. He is 
 said to have vindicated the conduct of Julio Romano for his inattention to the 
 masses of light and shade, or grouping the figures in The Battle op Constan- 
 tine, as if designedly neglected, the better to correspond with the hurry and 
 confusion of a battle. Poussin's own conduct in many of his pictures, makes us 
 more easily give credit to this report. That it was too much his own practice, 
 The Sacrifice to Silenus, and The Triumph op Bacchus and Ariadne*, may 
 be produced as instances ; but this principle is still more apparent, and may be 
 said to be even more ostentatiously displayed in his Perseus and Medusa's 
 
 HEADf. 
 
 This is undoubtedly a subject of great bustle and tumult, and that the first 
 effect of the picture may correspond to the subject, every principle of composition 
 is violated ; there is no principal figure, no principal light, no groups ; every 
 thing is dispersed, and in such a state of confusion, that the eye finds no repose 
 any where. In consequence of the forbidding appearance, I remember turning 
 from it with disgust, and should not have looked a second time, if I had not been 
 called back to a closer inspection. I then indeed found, what we may expect 
 
 * In the Cabinet of the Eavl of Ashburnham. 
 ■{• In the Cabinet of Sir Peter Burrel. 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 69 
 
 always to find in the works of Poussin, correct drawing, forcible expression, and 
 just character; in short, all the excellencies which so much distinguish the works 
 of this learned painter. 
 
 This conduct of Poussin I hold to be entirely improper to imitate. A picture 
 should please at first sight, and appear to invite the spectator's attention : if, on 
 the contrary, the general effect offends the eye, a second view is not always 
 sought, whatever more substantial and intrinsic merit it may possess. 
 
 Perhaps no apology ought to be received for offences committed against the 
 vehicle (whether it be the organ of seeing, or of hearing,) by which our plea- 
 sures are conveyed to the mind. We must take care that the eye be not per- 
 plexed and distracted by a confusion of equal parts, or equal lights, or offended 
 by an unharmonious mixture of colours, as we should guard against offending 
 the ear by unharmonious sounds. We may venture to be more confident of the 
 truth of this observation, since we find that Shakespeare, on a parallel occasion, 
 has made Hamlet recommend to the players a precept of the same kind, — never 
 to offend the ear by harsh sounds: in the very torrent, tempest, and whirlwind of 
 your passion, says he, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it 
 smoothness. And yet, at the same time, he very justly observes, the end of play- 
 ing, both at the first, and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to 
 nature. No one can deny, that violent passions will naturally emit harsh and 
 disagreeable tones : yet this great poet and critic thought that this imitation of 
 nature would cost too much, if purchased at the expense of disagreeable sensa- 
 tions, or, as he expresses it, of splitting the ear. The poet and actor, as well as the 
 painter of genius who is well acquainted with all the variety and sources of plea*- 
 sure in the mind and imagination, has little regard or attention to common na- 
 ture, or creeping after common sense. By overleaping those narrow bounds, he 
 more effectually seizes the whole mind, and more powerfully accomplishes his 
 purpose. This success is ignorantly imagined to proceed from inattention to all 
 rules, and a defiance of reason and judgment ; whereas it is in truth acting ac- 
 cording to the best rules and the justest reason. 
 
 He who thinks nature, in the narrow sense of the word, is alone to be follow- 
 ed, will produce but a scanty entertainment for the imagination : every thing is 
 to be done with which it is natural for the mind to be pleased, whether it pro- 
 ceeds from simplicity or variety, uniformity or irregularity ; whether the scenes 
 are familiar or exotic ; rude and wild, or enriched and cultivated ; for it is na- 
 tural for the mind to be pleased with all these in their turn. In short, what- 
 ever pleases, has in it what is analogous to the mind, and is therefore, in the 
 highest and best sense of the word, natural. 
 
 It is the sense of nature or truth which ought more particularly to be culti- 
 vated by the professors of art ; and it may be observed, that many wise and 
 learned men, who have accustomed their minds to admit nothing for truth but 
 what can be proved by mathematical demonstration, have seldom any relish for 
 those arts which address themselves to the fancy, the rectitude and truth of which 
 is known by another kind of proof: and we may add, that the acquisition of this 
 knowledge requires as much circumspection and sagacity, as is necessary to at- 
 tain those truths which are more capable of demonstration. Reason must ulti- 
 mately determine our choice on every occasion; but this reason may still be 
 
70 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 exerted ineffectually by applying to taste, principles which, though right as far 
 as they go, yet do not reach the object. No man, for instance, can deny, that it 
 seems at first view very reasonable, that a statue which is to carry down to 
 posterity the resemblance of an individual, should be dressed in the fashion of 
 the times, in the dress which he himself wore : this would certainly be true, if 
 the dress were part of the man: but after a time, the dress is only an amusement 
 for an antiquarian ; and if it obstructs the general design of the piece, it is to be 
 disregarded by the artist. Common sense must here give way to a higher sense. 
 In the naked form, and in the disposition of the drapery, the difference between one 
 artist and another is principally seen. But if he is compelled to exhibit the 
 modern dress, the naked form is entirely hid, and the drapery is already disposed 
 by the skill of the tailor. Were a Phidias to obey such absurd commands, he 
 would please no more than an ordinary sculptor ; since, in the inferior parts of 
 every art, the learned and the ignorant are nearly upon a level. 
 
 These were probably among the reasons that induced the sculptor of that 
 wonderful figure of Laocoon to exhibit him naked, notwithstanding he was sur- 
 prised in the act of sacrificing to Apollo, and consequently ought to have been 
 shewn in his sacerdotal habits, if those greater reasons had not preponderated. 
 Art is not yet in so high estimation with us, as to obtain so great a sacrifice as 
 the ancients made, especially the Grecians ; who suffered themselves to be repre- 
 sented naked, whether they were generals, lawgivers, or kings. 
 
 Under this head of balancing and choosing the greater reason, or of two evils 
 taking the least, we may consider the conduct of Rubens in the Luxembourg 
 gallery, where he has mixed allegorical figures with the representations of 
 real personages, which must be acknowledged to be a fault ; yet, if the artist 
 considered himself as engaged to furnish this gallery with a rich, various, and 
 splendid ornament, this could not be done, at least in an equal degree, without 
 peopling the air and water with these allegorical figures : he therefore accom- 
 plished all that he purposed. In this case all lesser considerations, which tend 
 to obstruct the great end of the work, must yield and give way. 
 
 The variety which portraits and modern dresses, mixed with allegorical 
 figures, produce, is not to be slightly given up upon a punctilio of reason, when 
 that reason deprives the art in a manner of its very existence. It must always 
 be remembered that the business of a great painter, is to produce a great picture ; 
 he must therefore take especial care not to be cajoled by specious arguments out 
 of his materials. 
 
 What has been so often said to the disadvantage of allegorical poetry, — that 
 it is tedious, and uninteresting, — cannot with the same propriety be applied to 
 painting, where the interest is of a different kind. If allegorical painting pro- 
 duces a greater variety of ideal beauty, a richer, a more various and delightful 
 composition, and gives to the artist a greater opportunity of exhibiting his skill, 
 all the interest he wishes for is accomplished ; such a picture not only attracts, 
 but fixes the attention. 
 
 If it be objected that Rubens judged ill at first in thinking it necessary to 
 make his work so very ornamental, this puts the question upon new ground. It 
 was his peculiar style ; he could paint in no other ; and he was selected for that 
 work, probably, because it was his style. Nobody will dispute but some of the 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 71 
 
 best of the Roman or Bolognian schools would have produced a more learned and 
 more noble work. 
 
 This leads us to another important province of taste, that of weighing the 
 value of the different classes of the art, and of estimating them accordingly. 
 
 All arts have means within them of applying themselves with success both to 
 the intellectual and sensitive part of our natures. It cannot be disputed, sup- 
 posing both these means put in practice with equal abilities, to which we ought 
 to give the preference ; to him who represents the heroic arts and more dignified 
 passions of man, or to him who, by the help of meretricious ornaments, however 
 elegant and graceful, captivates the sensuality, as it may be called of our taste. 
 Thus the Roman and Bolognian schools are reasonably preferred to the Venetian. 
 Flemish, or Dutch schools, as they address themselves to our best and noblest 
 faculties. 
 
 Well-turned periods in eloquence, or harmony of numbers in poetry, which are 
 in those arts what colouring is in painting, however highly we may esteem them, 
 can never be considered as of equal importance with the art of unfolding truths 
 that are useful to mankind, and which make us better or wiser. Nor can those 
 works which remind us of the poverty and meanness of our nature, be considered 
 as of equal rank with what excites ideas of grandeur, or raises and dignifies 
 humanity ; or, in the words of a late poet, which makes the beholder learn to 
 venerate himself as man.* 
 
 Tt is reason and good sense, therefore, which ranks and estimates every art, 
 and every part of that art, according to its importance, from the painter of ani- 
 mated, down to inanimated nature. We will not allow a man, who shall prefer 
 the inferior style, to say it is his taste ; taste here has nothing, or at least ought 
 to have nothing, to do with the question. He wants not taste, but sense, and 
 soundness of judgment. 
 
 Indeed perfection in an inferior style may be reasonably preferred to medio- 
 crity in the highest walks of art. A landscape of Claude Lorrain may be pre- 
 ferred to a history by Luca Giordano ; but hence appears the necessity of the 
 connoisseur's knowing in what consists the excellency of each class, in order to 
 judge how near it approaches to perfection. 
 
 Even in works of the same kind, as in history-painting, which is composed of 
 various parts, excellence of an inferior species, carried to a very high degree, 
 will make a work very valuable, and in some measure compensate for the absence 
 of the higher kinds of merit. It is the duty of the connoisseur to know and 
 esteem, as much as it may deserve, every part of painting : he will not then think 
 even Bassano unworthy of his notice ; who, though totally devoid of expression, 
 sense, grace, or elegance, may be esteemed on account of his admirable taste of 
 colours, which, in his best works, are little inferior to those of Titian. 
 
 Since I have mentioned Bassano, we must do him likewise the justice to ac- 
 knowledge, that though he did not aspire to the dignity of expressing the 
 characters and passions of men, yet, with respect to facility and truth in his 
 manner of touching animals of all kinds, and giving them what painters call 
 their character, few have excelled him. 
 
 * Dr. Goldsmith. 
 
72 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 To Bassano we may add Paul Veronese and Tintoret, for their entire inatten- 
 tion to what is justly thought the most essential part of our art, the expression 
 of the passions. Notwithstanding these glaring deficiencies, we justly esteem 
 their works ; but it must be remembered, that they do not please from those de- 
 fects, but from their great excellencies of another kind, and in spite of such trans- 
 gressions. These excellencies, too, as far as they go, are founded in the truth of 
 general nature : they tell the truth, though not the whole truth. 
 
 By these considerations, which can never be too frequently impressed, may be 
 obviated two errors, which I observed to have been, formerly at least, the most 
 prevalent, and to be most injurious to artists ; that of thinking, taste, and genius, 
 to have nothing to do with reason, and that of taking particular living objects 
 for nature. 
 
 I shall now say something on that part of taste, which, as I have hinted to you 
 before, does not belong so much to the external form of things, but is addressed 
 to the mind, and depends on its original frame, or, to use the expression, the or- 
 ganization of the soul : I mean the imagination and the passions. The principles 
 of these are as invariable as the former, and are to be known and reasoned upon 
 in the same manner, by an appeal to common sense deciding upon the common 
 feelings of mankind. This sense, and these feelings, appear to me of equal 
 authority, and equally conclusive. Now this appeal implies a general uniformity 
 and agreement in the minds of men. It would be else an idle and vain endeavour 
 to establish rules of art ; it would be pursuing a phantom, to attempt to move 
 affections with which we were entirely unacquainted. We have no reason to 
 suspect there is a greater difference between our minds than between our forms ; 
 of which, though there are no two alike, yet there is a general similitude that 
 goes through the whole race of mankind ; and those who have cultivated their 
 taste, can distinguish what is beautiful or deformed, or, in other words, what 
 agrees with or deviates from the general idea of nature, in one case, as well as in 
 the other. 
 
 The internal fabric of our minds, as well as the external form of our bodies, 
 being nearly uniform, it seems then to follow, of course, that as the imagination 
 is incapable of producing any thing originally of itself, and can only vary and 
 combine those ideas with which it is furnished by means of the senses, there will 
 be necessarily an agreement in the imaginations, as in the senses of men. There 
 being this agreement, it follows, that in all cases, in our lightest amusements, as 
 well as in our most serious actions and engagements of life, we must regulate our 
 affections of every kind by that of others. The well-disciplined mind acknow- 
 ledges this authority, and submits its own opinion to the public voice. It is 
 from knowing what are the general feelings and passions of mankind, that we 
 acquire a true idea of what imagination is ; though it appears as if we had 
 nothing to do but to consult our own particular sensations, and these were suffi- 
 cient to ensure us from all error and mistake. 
 
 A knowledge of the disposition and character of the human mind can be ac- 
 quired only by experience : a great deal will be learned, I admit, by a habit of 
 examining what passes in our bosoms, what are our own motives of action, and 
 of what kind of sentiments we are conscious on any occasion. We may suppose 
 an uniformity, and conclude that the same effect will be produced by the same 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 73 
 
 cause in the minds of others. This examination will contribute to suggest to us 
 matters of enquiry ; but we can never be sure that our own sentiments are true 
 and right, till they are confirmed by more extensive observation. One man 
 opposing another determines nothing ; but a general union of minds, like a gene- 
 ral combination of the forces of all mankind, makes a strength that is irresistible. 
 In fact, as he who does not know himself, does not know others, so it may be 
 said with equal truth, that he who does not know others, knows himself but very 
 imperfectly. 
 
 A man who thinks he is guarding himself against prejudices by resisting the 
 authority of others, leaves open every avenue to singularity, vanity, self-conceit, 
 obstinacy, and many other vices, all tending to warp the judgment, and prevent 
 the natural operation of his faculties. This submission to others is a deference 
 which we owe, and indeed are forced involuntarily to pay. In fact, we never are 
 satisfied with our opinions, whatever we may pretend, till they are ratified and 
 confirmed by the suffrages of the rest of mankind. We dispute and wrangle for 
 ever ; we endeavour to get men to come to us, when we do not go to them. 
 
 He therefore who is acquainted with the works which have pleased different 
 ages and different countries, and has formed his opinion on them, has more 
 materials, and more means of knowing what is analogous to the mind of man, 
 than he who is conversant only with the works of his own age or country. What 
 has pleased, and continues to please, is likely to please again : hence are derived 
 the rules of art, and on this immoveable foundation they must ever stand. 
 
 This search and study of the history of the mind ought not to be confined to 
 one art only. It is by the analogy that one art bears to another, that many 
 things are ascertained, which either were but faintly seen, or, perhaps, would 
 not have been discovered at all, if the inventor had not received the first hints 
 from the practices of a sister art on a similar occasion.* The frequent allusions 
 which every man who treats of any art is obliged to make to others, in order to 
 illustrate and confirm his principles, sufficiently shew their near connection and 
 inseparable relation. 
 
 All arts having the same general end, which is to please, and addressing 
 themselves to the same faculties through the medium of the senses, it follows, 
 that their rules and principles must have as great affinity as the different mate- 
 rials and the different organs or vehicles, by which they pass to the mind, will 
 permit them to retain.f 
 
 We may therefore conclude, that the real substance, as it may be called, of 
 what goes under the name of taste, is fixed and established in the nature of 
 things ; that there are certain and regular causes by which the imagination and 
 passions of men are affected ; and that the knowledge of these causes is acquired 
 by a laborious and diligent investigation of nature, and by the same slow progress 
 as wisdom or knowledge of every kind, however instantaneous its operations may 
 appear when thus acquired. 
 
 * Nulla ars, non alterius artis, aut mater, aut propinqua est. Tertull. as cited by Junius . 
 
 + Omnes artes quae ad humanitatem pertinent, habent quoddam commune vinculum, et quasi 
 cognatione inter se continentur. Cicero. 
 
74 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 It has been often observed, that the good and virtuous man alone can acquire 
 this true or just relish even of works of art. This opinion will not appear en- 
 tirely without foundation, when we consider that the same habit of mind which 
 is acquired by our search after truth in the more serious duties of life, is only 
 transferred to the pursuit of lighter amusements. The same disposition, the same 
 desire to find something steady, substantial, and durable, on which the mind can 
 lean as it were, and rest with safety, actuates us in both cases. The subject only 
 is changed. We pursue the same method in our search after the idea of beauty 
 and perfection in each ; of virtue, by looking forwards beyond ourselves to society, 
 and to the whole ; of arts, by extending our views in the same manner to all ages 
 and all times. 
 
 Every art, like our own, has in its composition fluctuating as well as fixed 
 principles. It is an attentive enquiry into their difference that will enable us to 
 determine how far we are influenced by custom and habit, and what is fixed in 
 the nature of things. 
 
 To distinguish how much has solid foundations we may have recourse to the 
 same proof by which some hold that wit ought to be tried ; whether it preserves 
 itself when translated. That wit is false, which can subsist only in one lan- 
 guage ; and that picture which only pleases one age or one nation, owes its re- 
 ception to some local or accidental association of ideas. 
 
 We may apply this to every custom and habit of life. Thus the general prin- 
 ciples of urbanity, politeness, or civility, have been the same in all nations ; but 
 the mode in which they are dressed, is continually varying. The general idea of 
 shewing respect is by making yourself less ; but the manner, whether by bowing 
 the body, kneeling, prostration, pulling off the upper part of our dress, or taking 
 away the lower,* is a matter of custom. 
 
 Thus, in regard to ornaments, — it would be unjust to conclude that because 
 they were at first arbitrarily contrived, they are therefore undeserving of our at- 
 tention ; on the contrary, he who neglects the cultivation of those ornaments, 
 acts contrary to nature and reason. As life would be imperfect without its highest 
 ornaments, the Arts, so these arts themselves would be imperfect without their 
 ornaments. Though we by no means ought to rank these with positive and sub- 
 stantial beauties, yet it must be allowed, that a knowledge of both is essentially 
 requisite towards forming a complete, whole, and perfect taste. It is in reality 
 from the ornaments that arts receive their peculiar character and complexion ; 
 we may add, that in them we find the characteristical mark of a national taste ; 
 as by throwing up a feather in the air, we know which way the wind blows, 
 better than by a more heavy matter. 
 
 The striking distinction between the works of the Roman, Bolognian, and 
 Venetian schools, consists more in that general effect which is produced by colours, 
 than in the more profound excellencies of the art : at least it is from thence that 
 each is distinguished and known at first sight. Thus it is the ornaments, rather 
 than the proportions of architecture, which at the first glance distinguish the 
 
 * Put off thy shoes from off thy feet; for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground. 
 Exodus, iii. 5. 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 75 
 
 different orders from each other; the Doric is known by its triglyphs, the Ionic by 
 its volutes, and the Corinthian by its acanthus. 
 
 What distinguishes oratory from a cold narration, is a more liberal, though 
 chaste, use of those ornaments which go under the name of figurative and meta- 
 phorical expressions ; and poetry distinguishes itself from oratory, by words and 
 expressions still more ardent and glowing. What separates and distinguishes 
 poetry, is more particularly the ornament of verse : it is this which gives it its 
 character, and is an essential without which it cannot exist. Custom has appro- 
 priated different metre to different kinds of composition, in which the world is 
 not perfectly agreed. In England the dispute is not yet settled, which is to be 
 preferred, rhyme or blank verse. But however we disagree about what these 
 metrical ornaments shall be, that some metre is essentially necessary, is univer- 
 sally acknowledged. 
 
 In poetry or eloquence, to determine how far figurative or metaphorical lan- 
 guage may proceed, and when it begins to be affectation or beside the truth, must 
 be determined by taste ; though this taste, we must never forget, is regulated and 
 formed by the presiding feelings of mankind: by those works which have approved 
 themselves to all times and all persons. Thus, though eloquence has undoubtedly 
 an essential and intrinsic excellence, and immoveable principles common to all 
 languages, founded in the nature of our passions and affections ; yet it has its 
 ornaments and modes of address, which are merely arbitrary. What is approved 
 in the eastern nations as grand and majestic, would be considered by the Greeks 
 and Romans as turgid and inflated ; and they, in return, would be thought by 
 the Orientals to express themselves in a cold and insipid manner. 
 
 We may add likewise to the credit of ornaments, that it is by their means that 
 Art itself accomplishes its purpose. Fresnoy calls colouring, which is one of the 
 chief ornaments of painting, lena sororis, that which procures lovers and admirers 
 to the more valuable excellencies of the art. 
 
 It appears to be the same right turn of mind which enables a man to acquire 
 the truth, or the just idea of what is right, in the ornaments, as in the more stable 
 principles of art. It has still the same centre of perfection, though it is the centre 
 of a smaller circle. 
 
 To illustrate this by the fashion of dress, in which there is allowed to be a 
 good or bad taste : — The component parts of dress are continually changing from 
 great to little, from short to long ; but the general form still remains : it is still 
 the same general dress, which is comparatively fixed, though on a very slender 
 foundation ; but it is on this which fashion must rest. He who invents with the 
 most success, or dresses in the best taste, would probably, from the same sagacity 
 employed to greater purposes, have discovered equal skill, or have formed the 
 same correct taste, in the highest labours of art. 
 
 I have mentioned taste in dress, which is certainly one of the lowest subjects 
 to which this word is applied ; yet, as I have before observed, there is a right 
 even here, however narrow its foundation respecting the fashion of any particular 
 nation. But we have still more slender means of determining, to which of the 
 different customs of different ages or countries we ought to give the preference, 
 since they seem to be all equally removed from nature. If an European, when 
 he has cut off his beard, and put false hair on his head, or bound up his own 
 
76 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOUBSE. 
 
 natural hair in regular hard knots, as unlike nature as he can possibly make it ; 
 and after having rendered them immoveable by the help of the fat of hogs, has 
 covered the whole with flour, laid on by a machine with the utmost regularity ; 
 if, when thus attired he issues forth, and meets a Cherokee Indian, who has be- 
 stowed as much time at his toilet, and laid on with equal care and attention his 
 yellow and red ochre on particular parts of his forehead or cheeks, as he judges 
 most becoming ; whoever of these two despises the other for this attention to the 
 fashion of his country, which ever feels himself provoked to laugh, is the bar- 
 barian. 
 
 All these fashions are very innocent ; neither worth disquisition, nor any en- 
 deavour to alter them ; as the change would, in all probability, be equally 
 distant from nature. The only circumstance against which indignation may 
 reasonably be removed, is, where the operation is painful or destructive of health ; 
 such as some of the practices at Otaheite, and the straight lacing of the English 
 ladies ; of the last of which practices, how destructive it must be to health and 
 long life, the professor of anatomy took an opportunity of proving a few days 
 since in this Academy. 
 
 It is in dress, as in things of greater consequence. Fashions originate from 
 those only who have the high and powerful advantages of rank, birth, and for- 
 tune. Many of the ornaments of art, those at least for which no reason can be 
 given, are transmitted to us, are adopted, and acquire their consequence from the 
 company in which we have been used to see them. As Greece and Rome are 
 the fountains from whence have flowed all kinds of excellence, to that veneration 
 which they have a right to claim for the pleasure and knowledge which they 
 have afforded us, we voluntarily add our approbation of every ornament and 
 every custom that belonged to them, even to the fashion of their dress. For it 
 may be observed that, not satisfied with them in their own place, we make no 
 difficulty of dressing statues of modern heroes or senators in the fashion of the 
 Roman armour or peaceful robe ; we go so far as hardly to bear a statue in any 
 other drapery. 
 
 The figures of the great men of those nations have come down to us in sculp- 
 ture. In sculpture remain almost all the excellent specimens of ancient art. 
 We have so far associated personal dignity to the persons thus represented, and 
 the truth of art to their manner of representation, that it is not in our power any 
 longer to separate them. This is not so in painting ; because having no excel- 
 lent ancient portraits, that connection was never formed. Indeed we could no 
 more venture to paint a general officer in a Roman military habit, than we could 
 make a statue in the present uniform. But since we have no ancient portraits, — 
 to shew how ready we are to adopt those kind of prejudices, we make the best 
 authority among the moderns serve ithe same purpose. The great variety of 
 excellent portraits with which Vandyck has enriched this nation, we are not 
 content to admire for their real excellence, but extend our approbation even to 
 the dress which happened to be the fashion of that age. We all very well 
 remember how common it was a few years ago for portraits to be drawn in this 
 fantastic dress ; and this custom is not yet entirely laid aside. By this means it 
 must be acknowledged very ordinary pictures acquired something of the air and 
 effect of the works of Vandyck, and appeared therefore at first sight to be better 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 77 
 
 pictures than they really were ; they appeared so, however, to those only who 
 had the means of making this association ; and when made, it was irresistible. 
 But this association is Nature, and refers to that secondary truth that comes from 
 conformity to general prejudice and opinion ; it is therefore not merely fantasti- 
 cal. Besides the prejudice which we have in favour of ancient dresses, there 
 may be likewise other reasons for the effect which they produce ; among which 
 we may justly rank the simplicity of them, consisting of little more than one 
 single piece of drapery, without those whimsical capricious forms by which all 
 other dresses are embarrassed. 
 
 Thus, though it is from the prejudice we have in favour of the ancients, who 
 have taught us architecture, that we have adopted likewise their ornaments ; and 
 though we are satisfied that neither nature nor reason are the foundation of those 
 beauties which we imagine we see in that art, yet if any one, persuaded of this 
 truth, should therefore invent new orders of equal beauty, which we will suppose 
 to be possible, they would not please ; nor ought he to complain, since the old 
 has that great advantage of having custom and prejudice on its side. In this 
 case we leave what has every prejudice in its favour, to take that which will 
 have no advantage over what we have left, but novelty : which soon destroys 
 itself, and at any rate is but a weak antagonist against custom. 
 
 Ancient ornaments, having the right of possession, ought not to be removed, 
 unless to make room for that which not only has higher pretensions, but such 
 pretensions as will balance the evil and confusion which innovation always 
 brings with it. 
 
 To this we may add, that even the durability of the materials will often con- 
 tribute to give a superiority to one object over another. Ornaments in build- 
 ings, with which taste is principally concerned, are composed of materials which 
 last longer than those of which dress is composed ; the former therefore make 
 higher pretensions to our favour and prejudice. 
 
 Some attention is surely due to what we can no more get rid of, than we can 
 go out of ourselves. We are creatures of prejudice ; we neither can nor ought to 
 eradicate it ; we must only regulate it by reason ; which kind of regulation is 
 indeed little more than obliging the lesser, the local and temporary prejudices, to 
 give way to those which are more durable and lasting. 
 
 He, therefore, who in his practice of portrait-painting wishes to dignify his 
 subject, which we will suppose to be a lady, will not paint her in the modern 
 dress, the familiarity of which alone is sufficient to destroy all dignity. He takes 
 care that his work shall correspond to those ideas and that imagination which 
 he knows will regulate the judgment of others ; and therefore dresses his figure 
 something with the general air of the antique for the sake of dignity, and preserves 
 something of the modern for the sake of likeness. By this conduct his works 
 corresponds with those prejudices which we have in favour of what we continu- 
 ally see ; and the relish of the antique simplicity corresponds with what we may 
 call the more learned and scientific prejudice. 
 
 There was a statue made not long since of Voltaire, which the sculptor, not 
 having that respect for the prejudices of mankind which he ought to have had, 
 made entirely naked, and as meagre and emaciated as the original is said to 
 be. The consequence was what might have been expected ; it remained in the 
 
78 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 sculptor's shop, though it was intended as a public ornament and a public honour 
 to Voltaire, for it was procured at the expense of his contemporary wits and 
 admirers. 
 
 Whoever would reform a nation, supposing a bad taste to prevail in it, will not 
 accomplish his purpose by going directly against the stream of their prejudices. 
 Men's minds must be prepared to receive what is new to them. Reformation is 
 a work of time. A national taste, however wrong it may be, cannot be totally 
 changed at once ; we must yield a little to the prepossession which has taken 
 hold on the mind, and we may then bring people to adopt what would offend 
 them, if endeavoured to be introduced by violence. When Battista Franco 
 was employed, in conjunction with Titian, Paul Veronese, and Tintoret, to adorn 
 the library of St. Mark, his work, Vasari says, gave less satisfaction than any of 
 the others : the dry manner of the Roman school was very ill calculated to please 
 eyes that had been accustomed to the luxuriancy, splendour, and richness of 
 Venetian colouring. Had the Romans been the judges of this work, probably 
 the determination would have been just contrary ; for in the more noble parts of 
 the art, Battista Franco was perhaps not inferior to any of his rivals. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 It has been the main scope and principle end of this discourse to demonstrate 
 the reality of a standard in taste, as well as in corporeal beauty ; that a false or 
 depraved taste is a thing as well known, as easily discovered, as any thing that 
 is deformed, mis-shapen, or wrong, in our form or outward make ; and that this 
 knowledge is derived from the uniformity of sentiments among mankind, from 
 whence proceeds the knowledge of what are the general habits of nature ; the 
 result of which is an idea of perfect beauty. 
 
 If what has been advanced be true, — that beside this beauty or truth, which 
 is formed on the uniform, eternal, and immutable laws of nature, and which of 
 necessity can be but one ; that besides this one immutable verity, there are like- 
 wise what we have called apparent or secondary truths, proceeding from local 
 and temporary prejudices, fancies, fashions, or accidental connection of ideas ; if 
 it appears that these last have still their foundation, however slender, in the 
 original fabric of our minds, — it follows that all these truths or beauties deserve 
 and require the attention of the artist, in proportion to their stability or duration, 
 or as their influence is more or less extensive. And let me add, that as they 
 ought not to pass their just bounds, so neither do they, in a well-regulated taste, 
 at all prevent or weaken the influence of those general principles which alone 
 can give to art its true and permanent dignity. 
 
 To form this just taste is undoubtedly in your own power, but it is to reason 
 and philosophy that you must have recourse ; from them you must borrow the 
 balance, by which is to be weighed and estimated the value of every pretension 
 that intrudes itself on your notice. 
 
 The general objection which is made to the introduction of Philosophy into the 
 regions of taste, is, that it checks and restrains the flights of the imagination, 
 and gives that timidity, which an over-carefulness not to err or act contrary to 
 reason is likely to produce. It is not so. Fear is neither reason nor philosophy. 
 The true spirit of philosophy, by giving knowledge, gives a manly confidence, 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 79 
 
 and substitutes rational firmness in the place of vain presumption. A man of 
 real taste is always a man of judgment in other respects ; and those inventions 
 which either disdain or shrink from reason, are generally, I fear, more like the 
 dreams of a distempered brain, than the exalted enthusiasm of a sound and true 
 genius. In the midst of the highest flights of fancy or imagination, reason ought 
 to preside from first to last, though I admit her more powerful operation is upon 
 reflection. 
 
 Let me add, that some of the greatest names of antiquity, and those who have 
 most distinguished themselves in works of genius and imagination, were equally 
 eminent for their critical skill. Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, and Horace ; and 
 among the moderns, Boileau, Corneille, Pope, and Dryden, are at least instances 
 of genius not being destroyed by attention or subjection to rules and science. I 
 should hope, therefore, that the natural consequence of what has been said, would 
 be to excite in you a desire of knowing the principles and conduct of the great 
 masters of our Art, and respect and veneration for them when known. 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 10, 1778. 
 
 The Principles of Art, whether Poetry or Painting, have their foundation in 
 the mind ; such as novelty, variety, and contrast ; these in their excess become 
 defects. — Simplicity : Its excess disagreeable. — Rides not to be always observed 
 in their literal sense : sufficient to preserve the spirit of the law. —Observations 
 on the Prize Pictures. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 I have recommended in former discourses,* that Artists should learn their 
 profession by endeavouring to form an idea of perfection from the different excel- 
 lencies which lie dispersed in the various schools of painting. Some difficulty will 
 still occur, to know what is beauty, and where it may be found : one would wish 
 not to be obliged to take it entirely on the credit of fame ; though to this, I acknow- 
 ledge, the younger Students must unavoidably submit. Any suspicion in them of 
 the chance of their being deceived, will have more tendency to obstruct their 
 advancement, than even an enthusiastic confidence in the perfection of their 
 models. But to the more advanced in the art, who wish to stand on more stable 
 and firmer ground, and to establish principles on a stronger foundation than 
 authority, however venerable or powerful, it may be safely told, that there is still 
 a higher tribunal, to which those great masters themselves must submit, and to 
 which indeed every excellence in art must be ultimately referred. He who is 
 ambitious to enlarge the boundaries of his art, must extend his views beyond 
 the precepts which are found in books, or may be drawn from the practice of his 
 predecessors, to a knowledge of those preeepts in the mind, those operations of 
 intellectual nature, — to which every thing that aspires to please, must be pro- 
 portioned and accommodated. 
 
 Poetry having a more extensive power than our art, exerts its influence over 
 almost all the passions ; among those may be reckoned one of our most prevalent 
 dispositions, anxiety for the future. Poetry operates by raising our curiosity, 
 engaging the mind by degrees to take an interest in the event, keeping that event 
 suspended, and surprising at last with an unexpected catastrophe. 
 
 The Painter's art is more confined, and has nothing that corresponds with, or 
 perhaps is equivalent to, this power and advantage of leading the mind on, till 
 attention is totally engaged. What is done by Painting, must be done at one 
 blow ; curiosity has received at once all the satisfaction it can ever have. There 
 
 * Discourse II. and III. 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 81 
 
 are, however, other intellectual qualities and dispositions which the Painter can 
 satisfy and affect as powerfully as the Poet : among those we may reckon our 
 love of novelty, variety, and contrast ; these qualities, on examination, will be 
 found to refer to a certain activity and restlessness, which has a pleasure and 
 delight in being exercised and put in motion : art therefore only administers to 
 those wants and desires of the mind. 
 
 It requires no long disquisitions to shew, that the dispositions which I have 
 stated actually subsist in the human mind. Variety reanimates the attention, 
 which is apt to languish under a continual sameness. Novelty makes a more 
 forcible impression on the mind, than can be made by the representation of what 
 we have often seen before ; and contrasts rouse the power of comparison by 
 opposition. All this is obvious ; but, on the other hand, it must be remembered, 
 that the mind, though an active principle, has likewise a disposition to indolence; 
 and though it loves exercise, loves it only to a certain degree, beyond which it is 
 very unwilling to be led or driven ; the pursuit therefore of novelty and variety 
 may be carried to excess. When variety entirely destroys the pleasure proceed- 
 ing from uniformity and repetition, and when novelty counteracts and shuts out 
 the pleasure arising from old habits and customs, they oppose too much the in- 
 dolence of our disposition; the mind therefore can bear with pleasure but a small 
 portion of novelty at a time. The main part of the work must be in the mode to 
 which we have been used. An affection to old habits and customs I take to be 
 the predominant disposition of the mind, and novelty comes as an exception : 
 where all is novelty, the attention, the exercise of the mind is too violent. Con- 
 trast, in the same manner, when it exceeds certain limits, is as disagreeable as a 
 violent and perpetual opposition; it gives to the senses, in their progress, a more 
 sudden change than they can bear with pleasure. 
 
 It is then apparent, that those qualities, however they contribute to the per- 
 fection of art, when kept within certain bounds, if they are carried to excess, 
 become defects, and require correction : a work consequently will not proceed 
 better and better as it is more varied ; variety can never be the ground-work and 
 principle of the performance — it must be only employed to recreate and relieve. 
 
 To apply these general observations which belong equally to all arts, to ours 
 in particular. In a composition, when the objects are scattered and divided into 
 many equal parts, the eye is perplexed and fatigued, from not knowing where to 
 rest, where to find the principal action, or which is the principal figure ; for 
 where all are making equal pretensions to notice, all are in equal danger of 
 neglect. 
 
 The expression which is used very often on these occasions is, the piece wants 
 repose ; a word which perfectly expresses a relief of the mind from that state of 
 hurry and anxiety which it suffers, when looking at a work of this character. 
 
 On the other hand, absolute unity, that is, a large work, consisting of one 
 group or mass of light only, would be as defective as an heroic . poem without 
 episode, or any collateral incidents to recreate the mind with that variety which it 
 always requires. 
 
 An instance occurs to me of two painters, (Rembrandt and Poussin,) of char- 
 acters totally opposite to each other in every respect, but in nothing more than 
 in their mode of composition, and management of light and shadow. Rembrandt's 
 
 T 
 
82 
 
 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 manner is absolute unity ; he often has but one group, and exhibits little more 
 than one spot of light in the midst of a large quantity of shadow : if he has a 
 second mass, that second bears no proportion to the principal. Poussin, on the 
 contrary, has scarce any principal mass of light at all, and his figures are often 
 too much dispersed, without sufficient attention to place them in groups. 
 
 The conduct of these two painters is entirely the reverse of what might be 
 expected from their general style and character ; the works of Poussin being as 
 much distinguished for simplicity, as those of Rembrandt for combination. Even 
 this conduct of Poussin might proceed from too great an affection to simplicity of 
 another kind ; too great a desire to avoid that ostentation of art, with regard to 
 light and shadow, on which Rembrandt so much wished to draw the attention : 
 however, each of them ran into contrary extremes, and it is difficult to determine 
 which is the most reprehensible, being equally distant from the demands of 
 nature, and the purposes of art. 
 
 The same just moderation must be observed in regard to ornaments ; nothing will 
 contribute more to destroy or oppose than profusion, of whatever kind, whether it 
 consists in the multiplicity of objects, or the variety and brightness of colours. On 
 the other hand, a work without ornament, instead of simplicity, to which it 
 makes pretensions, has rather the appearance of poverty. The degree to which 
 ornaments are admissible, must be regulated by the professed style of the work ; 
 but we may be sure of this truth, — that the most ornamental style requires 
 repose, to set off even its ornaments to advantage. I cannot avoid mentioning 
 here an instance of repose in that faithful and accurate painter of nature, Shaks- 
 peare ; the short dialogue between Duncan and Banquo, whilst they are ap- 
 proaching the gates of Macbeth's castle. Their conversation very naturally 
 turns upon the beauty of its situation, and the pleasantness of the air : and 
 Banquo observing the martlets' nests in every recess of the cornice, remarks? 
 that where those birds most breed and haunt, the air is delicate. The subject 
 of this quiet and easy conversation gives that repose so necessary to the mind, 
 after the tumultuous bustle of the preceding scenes, and perfectly contrasts the 
 scene of horror that immediately succeeds. It seems as if Shakspeare asked 
 himself, What is a Prince likely to say to his attendants on such an occasion ? 
 The modern writers seem, on the contrary, to be always searching for new 
 thoughts, such as never could occur to men in the situation represented. This is 
 also frequently the practice of Homer ; who, from the midst of battles and 
 horrors, relieves and refreshes the mind of the reader, by introducing some quiet 
 rural image, or picture of familiar domestic life. The writers of every age and 
 country, where taste has begun to decline, paint and adorn every object they 
 touch ; are always on the stretch ; never deviate or sink a moment from the 
 pompous and the brilliant. Lucan, Statius, and Claudian, (as a learned critic 
 lias observed,) are examples of this bad taste and want of judgment ; they never 
 soften their tones, or condescend to be natural : all is exaggeration and perpetual 
 splendour, without affording repose of any kind. 
 
 As we are speaking of excesses, it will not be remote from our purpose to say 
 a few words upon simplicity ; which, in one of the senses in which it is used, is 
 considered as the general corrector of excess. We shall at present forbear to 
 consider it as implying that exact conduct which proceeds from an intimate 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 83 
 
 knowledge of simple unadulterated nature, as it is then only another word for 
 perfection, which neither stop short of, nor oversteps, reality and truth. 
 
 In our enquiry after simplicity, as in many other enquiries of this nature, we 
 can best explain what is right, by shewing what is wrong ; and, indeed, in this 
 case it seems to be absolutely necessary : simplicity, being only a negative virtue, 
 cannot be described or defined. We must therefore explain its nature, and shew 
 the advantage and beauty which is derived from it, by shewing the deformity 
 which proceeds from its neglect. 
 
 Though instances of this neglect might be expected to be found in practice, we 
 should not expect to find in the works of critics, precepts that bid defiance to 
 simplicity and every thing that relates to it. De Piles recommends to us por- 
 trait-painters, to add grace and dignity to the characters of those, whose pictures 
 we draw : so far he is undoubtedly right ; but, unluckily, he descends to parti- 
 culars, and gives his own ideas of grace and dignity. " If," says he, " you draw 
 persons of high character and dignity, they ought to he drawn in such an attitude, 
 that the Portrait must seem to speak to us of themselves, and, as it were, to say to 
 lis, i stop, take notice of me, I am that invincible King, surrounded by Majesty, 
 — / am that valiant commander, who struck terror every where, — / am that great 
 minister, who knew all the springs of Politics, — I am that magistrate of consum- 
 mate wisdom and probity? " He goes on in this manner, with all the characters 
 he can think on. We may contrast the tumour of this presumptuous loftiness 
 with the natural unaffected air of the portraits of Titian, where dignity, seeming 
 to be natural and inherent, draws spontaneous reverence, and instead of being 
 thus vainly assumed, has the appearance of an unalienable adjunct ; whereas 
 such pompous and laboured insolence of grandeur is so far from creating respect, 
 that it betrays vulgarity and meanness, and new-acquired consequence. 
 
 The painters, many of them at least, have not been backward in adopting the 
 notions contained in these precepts. The portraits of Rigaud are perfect ex- 
 amples of an implicit observance of these rules of De Piles ; so that though he 
 was a painter of great merit in many respects, yet that merit is entirely over- 
 powered by a total absence of simplicity in every sense. 
 
 Not to multiply instances, which might be produced for this purpose, from 
 the works of History -painters, I shall mention only one, — a picture which I have 
 seen of the Supreme Being by Coypell. 
 
 This subject the Roman Catholic painters have taken the liberty to represent, 
 however indecent the attempt, and however obvious the impossibility of any 
 approach to an adequate representation : but here the air and character, which 
 the Painter has given, &nd he has doubtless given the highest he could conceive, 
 are so degraded by an attempt at such dignity as De Piles has recommended, 
 that we are enraged at the folly and presumption of the artist, and consider it as 
 little less than profanation. 
 
 As we have passed to a neighbouring nation for instances of want of this 
 quality, we must acknowledge, at the same time, that they have produced great 
 examples of simplicity, in Poussin and Le Sueur. But as we are speaking of the 
 most refined and subtle notion of perfection, may we not enquire, whether a 
 curious eye cannot discern some faults, even in those great men ? I can fancy, 
 that even Poussin, by abhorring that affectation and that want of simplicity $ 
 
84 
 
 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 which he observed in his countrymen, has, in certain particulars, fallen into the 
 contrary extreme, so far as to approach to a kind of affectation ; — to what, in 
 writing, would be called pedantry. 
 
 When simplicity, instead of being a corrector, seems to set up for herself, that 
 is, when an artist seems to value himself solely upon this quality, such an 
 ostentatious display of simplicity becomes then as disagreeable and nauseous as 
 any other kind of affectation. He is, however, in this case, likely enough to sit 
 down contented with his own work ; for though he finds the world look at it 
 with indifference or dislike, as being destitute of every quality that can recreate 
 or give pleasure to the mind, yet he consoles himself, that it has simplicity, a 
 beauty of too pure and chaste a nature to be relished by vulgar minds. 
 
 It is in art as in morals ; no character would inspire us with an enthusiastic 
 admiration of his virtue, if that virtue consisted only in an absence of vice ; 
 something more is required ; a man must do more than- merely his duty, to be a 
 hero. 
 
 Those works of the ancients, which are in the highest esteem, have something 
 beside mere simplicity to recommend them. The Apollo, the Venus, the Laocoon, 
 the Gladiator, have a certain composition of action, have contrasts sufficient to 
 give grace and energy in a high degree ; but it must be confessed of the many 
 thousand antique statues which we have, that their general characteristic is 
 bordering at least on inanimate insipidity. 
 
 Simplicity, when so very inartificial as to seem to evade the difficulties of art, 
 is a very suspicious virtue. 
 
 I do not, however, wish to degrade simplicity from the high estimation in 
 which it has been ever justly held. Tt is our barrier against that great enemy 
 to truth and nature, affectation, which is ever clinging to the pencil, and ready 
 to drop in and poison every thing it touches. 
 
 Our love and affection to simplicity proceeds in a great measure from our 
 aversion to every kind of affectation. There is likewise another reason why so 
 much stress is laid upon this virtue ; the propensity which artists have to fall 
 into the contrary extreme : we therefore set a guard on that side which is most 
 assailable. When a young artist is first told, that his composition and his 
 attitudes must be contrasted, that he must turn the head contrary to the position 
 of the body, in order to produce grace and animation ; that his outline must be 
 undulating, and swelling, to give grandeur ; and that the eye must be gratified 
 with a variety of colours ; — when he is told this, with certain animating words 
 of spirit, dignity, energy, grace, greatness of style, and brilliancy of tints, he 
 becomes suddenly vain of his newly-acquired knowledge, and never thinks he can 
 carry those rules too far. It is then that the aid of simplicity ought to be called 
 in, to correct the exuberance of youthful ardour. 
 
 The same may be said in regard to colouring, which in its pre-eminence is par- 
 ticularly applied to flesh. An artist in his first essay of imitating nature, would 
 make the whole mass of one colour, as the oldest painters did ; till he is taught 
 to observe not only the variety of tints, which are in the object itself, but the 
 differences produced by the gradual decline of light to shadow : he then imme- 
 diately puts his instruction in practice, and introduces a variety of distinct 
 colours. He must then be again corrected and told, that though there is this 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 85 
 
 variety, yet the effect of the whole upon the eye must have the union and simpli- 
 city of the colouring of nature. 
 
 And here we may observe, that the progress of an individual Student bears a 
 great resemblance to the progress and advancement of the art itself. Want of 
 simplicity would probably be not one of the defects of an artist who had studied 
 nature only, as it was not of the old masters, who lived in the time preceding 
 the great Art of Painting ; on the contrary, their works are too simple and too 
 inartificial. 
 
 The art in its infancy, like the first work of a Student, was dry, hard, and 
 simple. But this kind of barbarous simplicity would be better named Penury, as 
 it proceeds from mere want ; from want of knowledge, want of resources, want 
 of abilities to be otherwise : their simplicity was the offspring, not of choice, but 
 necessity. 
 
 In the second stage they were sensible of this poverty ; and those who were 
 the most sensible of the want, were the best judges of the measure of the supply. 
 There were painters who emerged from poverty without falling into luxury. 
 Their success induced others, who probably never would of themselves have had 
 strength of mind to discover the original defect, to endeavour at the remedy by 
 an abuse ; and they ran into the contrary extreme. But however they may have 
 strayed, we cannot recommend to them to return to that simplicity which they 
 have justly quitted ; but to deal out their abundance with a more sparing hand, 
 with that dignity which makes no parade, either of its riches or of its art. It is 
 not easy to give a rule which may serve to fix this just and correct medium ; 
 because when we may have fixed, or nearly fixed, the middle point, taken as a 
 general principle, circumstances may oblige us to depart from it, either on the 
 side of simplicity, or on that of variety and decoration. 
 
 I thought it necessary in a former Discourse, speaking of the difference of the 
 sublime and ornamental style of painting, — in order to excite your attention to 
 the more manly, noble, and dignified manner, — to leave perhaps an impression 
 too contemptuous of those ornamental parts of our art, for which many have 
 valued themselves, and many works are much valued and esteemed. 
 
 I said, then, what I thought it was right at that time to say : I supposed the 
 disposition of young men more inclinable to splendid negligence, than perseverance 
 in laborious application to acquire correctness ; and therefore did as we do in 
 making what is crooked straight, by bending it the contrary way, in order that 
 it may remain straight at last. 
 
 For this purpose, then, and to correct excess or neglect of any kind, we may 
 here add, that it is not enough that a work be learned, it must be pleasing : the 
 painter must add grace to strength, if he desires to secure the first impression in 
 his favour. Our taste has a kind of sensuality about it, as well as a love of the 
 sublime ; both these qualities of the mind are to have their proper consequence, 
 as far as they do not counteract each other ; for that is the grand error which 
 much care ought to be taken to avoid. 
 
 There are some rules, whose absolute authority, like that of our nurses, con- 
 tinues no longer than while we are in a state of childhood. One of the first rules, 
 for instance, that I believe every master would give to a young pupil, respecting 
 his conduct and management of light and shadow, would be what Leonardo da 
 
86 
 
 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Vinci has actually given ; that you must oppose a light ground to the shadowed 
 side of your figure, and a dark ground to the light side. If Lionardo had lived 
 to see the superior splendour and effect which has been since produced by the 
 exactly contrary conduct, — by joining light to light, and shadow to shadow, — ■ 
 though without doubt he would have admired it, yet, as it ought not, so probably 
 it would not be the first rule with which he would have begun his instructions. 
 
 Again ; in the artificial management of the figures, it is directed that they 
 shall contrast each other according to the rules generally given ; that if one 
 figure opposes his front to the spectator, the next figure is to have his back 
 turned, and that the limbs of eaeh individual figure be contrasted ; that is, if the 
 right leg be put forward, the right arm is to be drawn back. 
 
 It is very proper that those rules should be given in the Academy ; it is proper 
 the young Students should be informed that some research is to be made, and 
 that they should be habituated to consider every excellence as reducible to prin- 
 ciples. Besides, it is the natural progress of instruction to teach first what is 
 obvious and perceptible to the senses, and from thence proceed gradually to 
 notions large, liberal, and complete, such as comprise the more refined and higher 
 excellencies in art. But when Students are more advanced, they will find that 
 the greatest beauties of character and expression are produced without contrast ; 
 nay, more, that this contrast would ruin and destroy that natural energy of men 
 engaged in real action, unsolicitous of grace. St Paul preaching at Athens in 
 one of the Cartoons, far from any affected academical contrast of limbs, stands 
 equally on both legs, and both hands are in the same attitude : add contrast, 
 and the whole energy and unaffected grace of the figure is destroyed. Elymas 
 the sorcerer stretches both hands forward in the same direction, which gives per- 
 fectly the expression intended. Indeed you never will find in the works of 
 Raffaelle any of those school-boy affected contrasts. Whatever contrast there is, 
 appears without any seeming agency of art, by the natural chance of things. 
 
 What has been said of the evil of excesses of all kinds, whether of simplicity, 
 variety, or contrast, naturally suggests to the painter the necessity of a general 
 enquiry into the true meaning and cause of rules, and how they operate on those 
 faculties to which t&ey are addressed ; by knowing their general purpose and 
 meaning, he will often find that he need not confine himself to the literal sense, 
 it will be sufficient if he preserve the spirit of the law. 
 
 Critical remarks are not always understood without examples : it may not be 
 improper, therefore, to give instances where the rule itself, though generally re- 
 ceived, is false, or where a narrow conception of it may lead the artist into great 
 errors. 
 
 It is given as a rule by Fresnoy, that the principal figure of a subject must 
 appear in the midst of the picture, under the principal light, to distinguish it 
 from the rest. A Painter who should think himself obliged strictly to follow 
 this rule, would encumber himself with needless difficulties ; he would be con- 
 fined to great uniformity of composition, and be deprived of many beauties which 
 are incompatible with its observance. The meaning of this rule extends, or ought 
 to extend, no further than this — that the principal figure should be immediately 
 distinguished at the first glance of the eye ; but there is no necessity that the 
 principal light should fall on the principal figure, or that the principal figure 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 87 
 
 should be in the middle of the picture. It is sufficient that it be distinguished 
 by its place, or by the attention of other figures pointing it out to the spectator. 
 So far is this rule from being indispensable, that it is very seldom practised, other 
 considerations of greater consequence often standing in the way. Examples in 
 opposition to this rule, are found in the Cartoons, in Christ's Charge to Peter, the 
 Preaching of St. Paul, and Elymas the Sorcerer, who is undoubtedly the principal 
 object in that picture. In none of those compositions is the principal figure 
 in the midst of the picture. In the very admirable composition in the Tent of 
 Darius, by Le Brun, Alexander is not in the middle of the picture, nor does the 
 principal light fall on him ; but the attention of all the other figures immediately 
 distinguish him, and distinguishes him more properly ; the greatest light falls on 
 the daughter of Darius, who is in the middle of the picture, where it is more ne- 
 cessary the principal light Should be placed. 
 
 It is very extraordinary that Felibien, who has given a very minute description 
 of this picture, but indeed such a description as may be rather called panegyric 
 than criticism, thinking it necessary (according to the precept of Fresnoy) that 
 Alexander should possess the principal light, has accordingly given it to him ; he 
 might with equal truth have said that he was placed in the middle of the picture, 
 as he seemed resolved to give this piece every kind of excellence which he con- 
 ceived to be necessary to perfection. His generosity is here unluckily misapplied^ 
 as it would have destroyed, in a great measure, the beauty of the composition. 
 
 Another instance occurs to me, where equal liberty may be taken in regard to 
 the management of light. Though the general practice is, to make a large mass 
 about the middle of the picture surrounded by shadow, the reverse may be prac- 
 tised, and the spirit of the rule may still be preserved. Examples of this principle 
 reversed may be found very frequently in the works of the Venetian School. In 
 the great composition of Paul Veronese, the Marriage at Cana, the figures are 
 for the most part in half shadow ; the great light is in the sky ; and indeed the 
 general effect of this picture, which is so striking, is no more than what we often 
 see in landscapes, in small pictures of fairs and country feasts ; but those prin- 
 ciples of light and shadow, being transferred to a large scale, to a space containing 
 near a hundred figures as large as life, and conducted to all appearance with as 
 much facility, and with an attention as steadily fixed upon the whole together, as 
 if it were a small picture immediately under the eye, the work justly excites our 
 admiration ; the difficulty being encreased as the extent is enlarged. 
 
 The various modes of composition are infinite : sometimes it shall consist of one 
 large group in the middle of the picture, and the smaller groups on each side ; or 
 a plain space in the middle, and the groups of figures ranged round this vacuity. 
 
 Whether this principal broad light be in the middle space of ground, as in the 
 School op Athens or in the sky, as in the Marriage at Cana, in the Andro- 
 meda, and in most of the Pictures of Paul Veronese ; or whether the light be on 
 the groups ; whatever mode of composition be adopted, every variety and licence 
 is allowable : this only is indisputably necessary, that to prevent the eye from, 
 being distracted and confused by a multiplicity of objects of equal magnitude, 
 those objects, whether they consist of lights, shadows, or figures, must be disposed 
 in large masses and groups properly varied and contrasted ; that to a certain 
 quantity of action a proportioned space of plain ground is required ; that light is 
 
88 
 
 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 to be supported by sufficient shadow ; and, we may add, that a certain quantity 
 of cold colours is necessary to give value and lustre to the warm colours : what 
 those proportions are cannot be so well learnt by precept as by observation on 
 picures, and in this knowledge bad pictures will instruct as well as good. Our 
 enquiry why pictures have a bad effect, may be as advantageous as the enquiry 
 why they have a good effect ; each will corroborate the principles that are sug- 
 gested by the other. 
 
 Though it is not my business to enter into the detail of our art, yet I must take 
 this opportunity of mentioning one of the means of producing that great effect 
 which we observe iu the works of the Venetian painters, as I think it is not gene- 
 rally known or observed. It ought, in my opinion, to be indispensably observed, 
 that the masses of light in a picture be always of a warm, mellow colour, yellow, 
 red, or a yellowish-white ; and that the blue, the grey, or the green colours, be 
 kept almost entirely out of these masses, and be used only to support and set off 
 these warm colours ; and for this purpose, a small proportion of cold colours will 
 be sufficient. 
 
 Let this conduct be reversed ; let the light be cold, and the surrounding colours 
 warm, as we often see in the works of the Homan and Florentine painters, and 
 it will be out of the power of art, even in the hands of Rubens or Titian, to make 
 a picture splendid and harmonious. 
 
 Le Brun and Carlo Maratti were two painters of great merit, and particularly 
 what may be called Academical Merit, but were both deficient in this manage- 
 ment of colours : the want of observing this rule is one of the causes of that 
 heaviness of effect which is so observable in their works. The principal light in 
 the Picture of Le Brun, which I just now mentioned, falls on Statira, who is 
 dressed very injudiciously in a pale blue drapery : it is true, he has heightened 
 this blue with gold, but that is not enough ; the whole picture has a heavy air, 
 and by no means answers the expectation raised by the Print. Poussin often 
 made a spot of blue drapery, when the general hue of the picture was inclinable 
 to brown or yellow ; which shews sufficiently, that harmony of colouring was not 
 a part of the art that had much engaged the attention of that great painter. 
 
 The conduct of Titian in the picture of Bacchus and Ariadne, has been much 
 celebrated, and justly, for the harmony of colouring. To Ariadne is given (say 
 the critics) a red scarf, to relieve the figure from the sea, which is behind her. 
 It is not for that reason, alone, but for another of much greater consequence ; 
 for the sake of general harmony and effect of the picture. The figure of Ariadne 
 is separated from the great group, and is dressed in blue, which, added to the 
 colour of the sea, makes that quantity of cold colour which Titian thought ne- 
 cessary for the support and brilliancy of the great group ; which group is com- 
 posed, with very little exception, entirely of mellow colours. But as the picture 
 in this case would be divided into two distinct parts, one half cold, and the other 
 warm, it was necessary to carry some of the mellow colours of the great group 
 into the cold part of the picture, and a part of the cold into the great group ; 
 accordingly Titian gave Ariadne a red scarf, and to one of the Bacchante a little 
 blue drapery. 
 
 The light of the picture, as I observed, ought to be of a warm colour ; for 
 though white may be used for the principal light, as was the practice of many 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 8.9 
 
 of the Dutch and Flemish painters, yet it is better to suppose that white illu- 
 mined by the yellow rays of the setting sun, as was the manner of Titian. The 
 superiority of which manner is never more striking, than when in a collection of 
 pictures we chance to see a portrait of Titian's hanging by the side of a Flemish 
 picture, (even though that should be of the hand of Vandyck,) which, however 
 admirable in other respects, becomes cold and grey in the comparison. 
 
 The illuminated parts of objects are in nature of a warmer tint than those that 
 are in the shade: what I have recommended, therefore, is no more than that the 
 same conduct be observed in the whole, which is acknowledged to be necessary 
 in every individual part. It is presenting to the eye the same effect as that which 
 it has been accustomed to feel, which in this case, as in every other, will always 
 produce beauty; no principle, therefore, in our art, can be more certain, or is 
 derived from a higher source. 
 
 What I just now mentioned of the supposed reason why Ariadne has part of 
 her drapery red, gives me occasion here to observe, that this favourite quality of 
 giving objects relief, and which De Piles and all the Critics have considered as 
 a requisite of the utmost importance, was not one of those objects which much 
 engaged the attention of Titian: painters of an inferior rank have far exceeded 
 him in producing this effect. This was a great object of attention, when art was 
 in its infant state ; as it is at present with the vulgar and ignorant, who feel the 
 highest satisfaction in seeing a figure, which, as they say, looks as if they could 
 walk round it. But however low T may rate this pleasure of deception, I should 
 not oppose it, did it not oppose itself to a quality of a much higher kind, by coun- 
 teracting entirely that fulness of manner which is so difficult to express in words, 
 but which is found in perfection in the best works of Correggio, and we may add, 
 of Rembrandt. This effect is produced by melting and losing the shadows in a 
 ground still darker than those shadows; whereas that relief is produced by op- 
 posing and separating the ground from the figure either by light, or shadow, or 
 colour. This conduct of in-laying, as it may be called, figures on their ground, 
 in order to produce relief, was the practice of the old Painters, such as Andrea 
 Mantega, Pietro Perugino, and Albert Durer; and to these we may add, the 
 first manner of Lionardo da Vinci, Giorgione, and even Correggio; but these 
 three were among the first who began to correct themselves in dryness of style, 
 by no longer considering relief as a principal object. As those two qualities, re- 
 lief, and fulness of effect, can hardly exist together, it is not very difficult to de- 
 termine to which we ought to give the preference. An Artist is obliged for eyer 
 to hold a balance in his hand, by which he must determine the value of different 
 qualities; that, when some fault must be committed, he may choose the least. 
 Those painters who have best understood the art of producing a good effect, have 
 adopted one principle that seems perfectly conformable to reason; that a part 
 may be sacrificed for the good of the whole. Thus, whether the masses consist 
 of light or shadow, it is necessary that they should be compact, and of a pleasing- 
 shape: to this end, some parts may be made darker and some lighter, and re- 
 flections stronger than nature would warrant. Paul Veronese took great liber- 
 ties of this kind. It is said, that being once asked, why certain figures were 
 painted in shade, as no cause was seen in the picture itself; he turned off the 
 enquiry by answering, " una nuetola che passa" a cloud is passing which has 
 overshadowed them. 
 
 V 
 
90 
 
 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 But I cannot give a better instance of this practice than a picture which i 
 have of Rubens: it is a representation of a Moonlight. Rubens has not only 
 diffused more light over the picture than is in nature, but has bestowed on it 
 those warm glowing colours by which his works are so much distinguished. It 
 is so unlike what any other painters have given us of Moonlight, that it might be 
 easily mistaken, if he had not likewise added stars, for a fainter setting sun. — 
 Rubens thought the eye ought to be satisfied in this case, above all other con- 
 siderations: he might indeed have made it more natural, but it would have been 
 at the expence of what he thought of much greater consequence, — the harmony 
 proceeding from the contrast and variety of colours. 
 
 This same picture will furnish us with another instance, where we must depart 
 from nature for a greater advantage. The Moon in this picture does not pre- 
 serve so great a superiority in regard to its lightness over the object which it 
 illumines, as it does in nature ; this is likewise an intended deviation, and for the 
 same reason. If Rubens had preserved the same scale of gradation of light be- 
 tween the Moon and the objects, which is found in nature, the picture must have 
 consisted of one small spot of light only, and at a little distance from the 
 picture nothing but this spot would have been seen. It may be said, indeed, that 
 this being the case, it is a subject that ought not to be painted: but then, for 
 the same reason, neither armour, nor anything shining, ought ever to be painted ; 
 for though pure white is used in order to represent the greatest light of shining 
 objects, it will not in the picture preserve the same superiority over flesh, as it 
 has in nature, without keeping that flesh-colour of a very low tint. Rembrandt, 
 who thought it of more consequence to paint light, than the objects that are seen 
 by it, has done this in a picture of Achilles which I have. The head is kept 
 down to a very low tint, in order to preserve this due gradation and distinction 
 between the armouF and the face ; the consequence of which is, that upon the 
 whole the picture is too black. Surely too much is sacrificed here to this narrow 
 conception of nature: allowing the contrary conduct a fault, yet it must be ac- 
 knowledged a less fault, than making a picture so dark that it cannot be seen 
 without a peculiar light, and then with difficulty. The merit or demerit of the 
 different conduct of Rubens and Rembrandt, in those instances which I have 
 given, is not to be determined by the narrow principles of nature, separated from 
 its effect on the human mind. Reason and common sense tell us, that before, and 
 above all other considerations, it is necessary that the work should be seen, not 
 only without difficulty or inconvenience, but with pleasure and satisfaction; and 
 every obstacle which stands in the way of this pleasure and convenience must be 
 removed. 
 
 The tendency of this Discourse, with the instances which have been given, is 
 not so much to place the Artist above rules, as to teach him their reason; to 
 prevent him from entertaining a narrow confined conception of Art; to clear his 
 mind from a perplexed variety of rules and their exceptions, by directing his 
 attention to an intimate acquaintance with the passions and affections of the mind y 
 from which all rules arise, and to which they are all referable. Art effects its 
 purpose by their means; accurate knowledge, therefore, of those passions and 
 dispositions of the mind is necessary to him who desires to effect them upon sure 
 and solid principles. 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 91 
 
 A compiete essay or enquiry into the connection between the rules of Art, and 
 the eternal and immutable dispositions of our passions, would be indeed going at 
 once to the foundation of criticism* ; but I am too well convinced what extensive 
 knowledge, what subtle and penetrating judgment would be required, to en- 
 gage in such an undertaking: it is enough for me, if, in the language of painters, 
 I have produced a slight sketch of a part of this vast composition, but that 
 sufficiently distinct to shew the usefulness of such a theory, and its practica- 
 bility. 
 
 Before I conclude, I cannot avoid making one observation on the pictures now 
 before us. I have observed, that every candidate has copied the celebrated in- 
 vention of Timanthes in hiding the face of Agamemnon in his mantle ; indeed 
 such lavish encomiums have been bestowed on this thought, and that too by men 
 of the highest character in critcal knowledge, — Cicero, Q,uintillian, Valerius 
 Maximus, and Pliny, — and have been since re-echoed by almost every modern 
 that has written on the Arts, that your adopting it can neither be wondered at 
 nor blamed. It appears now to be so much connected with the subject, that the 
 spectator would perhaps be disappointed in not finding united in the picture 
 what he always united in his mind, and considered as indispensably belonging to 
 the subject. But it may be observed, that those who praise this circumstance 
 were not painters. They use it as an illustration only of their own art ; it served 
 their purpose, and it was certainly not their business to enter into the objections 
 that lie against it in another Art. I fear we have but very scanty means of ex- 
 citing those powers over the imagination, which make so very considerable and 
 refined a part of poetry. It is a doubt with me, whether we should even make 
 the attempt. The chief, if not the only occasion which the painter has for this 
 artifice, is, when the subject is improper to be more fully represented, either for 
 the sake of decency, or to avoid what would be disagreeable to be seen; and 
 this is not to raise or increase the passions, which is the reason that is given for 
 this practice, but on the contrary to diminish their effect. 
 
 It is true, sketches, or such drawings as painters generally make for their 
 works, give this pleasure of imagination to a high degree. From a slight unde- 
 termined drawing, where the ideas of the composition and character are, as I 
 may say, only just touched upon, the imagination supplies more than the painter 
 himself, probably, could produce; and we accordingly often find that the finished 
 work disappoints the expectation that was raised from the sketch; and this 
 power of the imagination is one of the causes of the great pleasure we have in 
 viewing a collection of drawings by great painters. These general ideas, which 
 are expressed in sketches, correspond very well to the art often used in Poetry. 
 A great part of the beauty of the celebrated description of Eve in Milton's Para- 
 dise Lost, consists in using only general indistinct expressions, every reader 
 making out the detail according to his own particular imagination, — his own 
 idea of beauty, grace, expression, dignity, or loveliness: but a painter, when he 
 represents Eve on a canvas, is obliged to give a determined form, and his own idea 
 of beauty distinctly expressed. 
 
 * This was inadvertently said, I did not recollect the admirable treatise On the SubUnve 
 *and Beautiful. 
 
92 
 
 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 We cannot on this occasion, nor indeed on any other, recommend an undeter- 
 minate manner, or vague ideas of any kind, in a complete and finished picture. 
 This notion, therefore, of leaving any thing to the imagination, opposes a very 
 fixed and indispensable rule in our art, — that every thing shall be carefully and 
 distinctly expressed, as if the painter knew, with correctness and precision, the 
 exact form and character of whatever is introduced into the picture. This is 
 what with us is called Science and Learning; which must not be sacrificed and 
 given up for an uncertain and doubtful beauty, which, not naturally belonging to 
 our Art, will probably be sought for without success. 
 
 Mr Falconet has observed, in a note on this passage in his translation of Pliny, 
 that the circumstance of covering the face of Agamemnon was probably not in 
 consequence of any fine imagination of the painter, — which he considers as a dis- 
 covery of the critics, but merely copied from the description of the sacrifice, as it 
 is found in Euripides. 
 
 The words from which the picture is supposed to be taken, are these: Agamem- 
 non saw Iphigenia advance towards the fatal altar; he groaned, he turned aside 
 his head, he shed tears, and covered his face with his robe. 
 
 Falconet does not at all acquiesce in the praise that is bestowed on Timanthes; 
 not only because it is not his invention, but because he thinks meanly of this trick 
 of concealing, except in instances of blood, where the objects would be too horri- 
 ble to be seen; but, says he, " in an afflicted Father, in a King, in Agamemnon, 
 you, who are a painter, conceal from me the most interesting circumstance, and 
 then put me off with sophistry and a veil. You are (he adds) a feeble Painter, 
 without resources: you do not know even those of your Art: I care not what 
 veil it is, whether closed hands, arms raised, or any other action that conceals 
 from me the countenance of the Hero. You think of veiling Agamemnon; you 
 have unveiled your own ignorance. A Painter who represents Agamemnon 
 veiled, is as rediculous as a Poet would be, who, in a pathetic situation, in order 
 to satisfy my expectations, and rid himself of the business, should say, that the 
 sentiments of his hero are so far above whatever can be said on the occasion, 
 that he shall say nothing." 
 
 To what Falconet has said, we may add, that supposing this method of leaving 
 the expression of grief to the imagination, to be, as it was thought to be, the im- 
 vention of the painter, and that it deserves all the praise that has been given it, 
 still it is a trick that will serve but once ; whoever does it a second time, will 
 not only want novelty, but be justly suspected of using artifice to evade difficulties. 
 If difficulties overcome make a great part of the merit of Art, difficulties evaded 
 can deserve but little commendation. 
 
DISCOURSE IX. 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE 
 
 OPENING OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, IN SOMERSET-PLACE, 
 OCTOBER 16, 1780. 
 
 On the removal of the Royal Academy to Somerset-Place. — The advantages to 
 Society from cultivating intellectual pleasure. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 The honour which the Arts acquire by being permitted to take possession of this 
 noble habitation, is one of the most considerable of the many instances we have 
 received of his Majesty's protection; and the strongest proof of his desire to 
 make the Academy respectable. 
 
 Nothing has been left undone, that might contribute to excite our pursuit, or 
 to reward our attainments. We have already the happiness of seeing the Arts 
 in a state to which they never before arrived in this nation. This Building, in 
 which we are now assembled, will remain to many future ages an illustrious 
 specimen of the Architect's* abilities. It is our duty to endeavour that those 
 who gaze with wonder at the structure, may not be disappointed when they visit 
 the apartments. It will be no small addition to the glory which this nation 
 has already acquired from having given birth to eminent men in every part of 
 science, if it should be enabled to produce, in consequence of this institution, a 
 School of English Artists. The estimation in which we stand in respect to our 
 neighbours, will be in proportion to the degree in which we excel or are inferior 
 to them in the acquisition of intellectual excellence, of which Trade and its con- 
 sequential riches must be acknowledged to give the means; but a people whose 
 whole attention is absorded in those means, and who forget the end, can aspire 
 but little above the rank of a barbarous nation. Every establishment that tends 
 to the cultivation of the pleasures of the mind, as distinct from those of sense, 
 may be considered as an inferior school of mortality, where the mind is polished 
 and prepared for higher attainments. 
 
 Let us for a moment take a short survey of the progress of the mind towards 
 what is, or ought to be, its true object of attention. Man, in .his lowest state, 
 has no pleasures but those of sense, and no wants but those of appetite; after- 
 wards, when society is divided into different ranks, and some are appointed to 
 labour for the support of others, those whom their superiority sets free from la- 
 bour, begin to look for intellectual entertainments. Thus, whilst the shepherds 
 were attending their flocks, their masters made the first astronomical observa- 
 tions; so music is said to have had its origin from a man at leisure listening to 
 the strokes of a hammer. 
 
 * Sir Walter Chambers, 
 
94 
 
 THE NINTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 As the senses, in the lowest state of nature, are necessary to direct us to our 
 support, when that support is once secure there is danger in following them 
 further ; to him who has no rule of action but the gratification of the senses, 
 plenty is always dangerous : it is therefore necessary to the happiness of indi- 
 viduals, and still more necessary to the security of society, that the mind should 
 be elevated to the idea of general beauty, and the contemplation of general truth ; 
 by this pursuit the mind is always carried forward in search of something more 
 excellent than it finds, and obtains its proper superiority over the common senses 
 of life, by learning to feel itself capable of higher aims and nobler enjoyments. 
 In this gradual exaltation of human nature, every art contributes its contingent 
 towards the general supply of mental pleasure. Whatever abstracts the thoughts 
 from sensual gratifications, whatever teaches us to look for happiness within our- 
 selves, must advance in some measure the dignity of our nature. 
 
 Perhaps there is no higher proof of the- excellency of man than this, that to a 
 mind properly cultivated whatever is bounded is little. The mind is continually 
 labouring to advance, step by step, through successive gradations of excellence, 
 towards perfection, which is dimly seen, at a great though not hopeless distance, 
 and which we must always follow because we never can attain ; but the pursuit 
 rewards itself: one truth teaches another, and our store is always increasing, 
 though nature can never be exhausted. Our art, like all arts which address the 
 imagination, is applied to somewhat a lower faculty of the mind, which ap- 
 proaches nearer to sensuality; but through sense and fancy it must make its way 
 to reason ; for such is the progress of thought, that we perceive by sense, we 
 combine by fancy, and distinguish by reason : and without carrying our art out 
 of its natural and true character, the more we purify it from every thing that is 
 gross in sense, in that proportion we advance its use and dignity ; and in pro- 
 portion as we lower it to mere sensuality, we pervert its nature, and degrade it 
 from the rank of a liberal art ; and this is what every artist ought well to remem- 
 ber. Let him remember, also, that he deserves just so much encouragement in 
 the state as he makes himself a member of it virtuously useful, and contributes 
 in his sphere to the general purpose and perfection of society. 
 
 The art which we profess has beauty for its object ; this it is our business to 
 discover and to express ; but the beauty of which we are in quest is general and 
 intellectual ; it is an idea that subsists only in the mind ; the sight never beheld 
 it, nor has the hand expressed it ; it is an idea residing in the breast of the artist, 
 which he is always labouring to impart, and which he dies at last without im- 
 parting ; but which he is yet so far able to communicate, as to raise the thoughts, 
 and extend the views of the spectator ; and which, by a succession of art, may 
 be so far diffused, that its effects may extend themselves imperceptibly into public 
 benefits, and be among the means of bestowing on whole nations refinement of 
 taste : which, if it does not lead directly to purity of manners, obviates at least 
 their greatest depravation, by disentangling the mind from appetite, and con- 
 ducting the thoughts through successive stages of excellence, till that contem- 
 plation of universal rectitude and harmony, which began by taste, may, as it is 
 exalted and refined, conclude in virtue. 
 
DISCOURSE X. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 11, 1780. 
 
 Sculpture. — Has but one style. — Its objects, form and character. — Ineffectual at- 
 tempts of the Modern Sculptors to improve the Art. — Til effects of Modem 
 Dress in Sculpture. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 I shall now, as it has been customary on this day, and on this occasion, com- 
 municate to you such observations as have occurred to me on the Theory of Art. 
 
 If these observations have hitherto referred principally to painting, let it be 
 remembered that this art is much more extensive and complicated than Sculpture* 
 and affords therefore a more ample field for criticism ; and as the greater includes 
 the less, the leading principles of Sculpture are comprised in those of Painting. 
 
 However, I wish now to make some remarks with particular relation to Sculp- 
 ture ; to consider wherein, or in what manner, its principles and those of Paint- 
 ing agree or differ ; what is within its power of performing, and what it is vain 
 or improper to attempt ; that it may be clearly and distinctly known what ought 
 to be the great purpose of the Sculptor's labours. 
 
 Sculpture is an art of much more simplicity and uniformity than Painting ; it 
 cannot with propriety, and the best effect, be applied to many subjects. The 
 object of its pursuit may be comprised in two words, Form and Character ; and 
 those qualities are presented to us but in one manner, or in one style only ; where- 
 as the powers of Painting, as they are more various and extensive, so they are 
 exhibited in as great a variety of manners. The Roman, Lombard, Florentine, 
 Venetian, and Flemish Schools, all pursue the same end by different means. 
 But Sculpture having but one style, can only to one style of painting have any 
 relation ; and to this (which is indeed the highest and most dignified that Paint- 
 ing can boast), it has a relation so close, that it may be said to be almost the 
 same art operating upon different materials. The Sculptors of the last age, from 
 not attending sufficiently to this discrimination of the different styles of Painting, 
 have been led into many errors. Though they well knew that they were allow- 
 ed to imitate, or take ideas for the improvemeut of their own Art from the grand 
 style of Painting, they were not aware that it was not permitted to borrow in the 
 same manner from the ornamental. When they endeavour to copy the picturesque 
 effects, contrasts, or petty exellencies of whatever kind, which not improperly 
 find a place in the inferior branches of Painting, they doubtless imagine them- 
 selves improving and extending the boundaries of their art by this imitation ; but 
 they are in reality violating its essential character, by giving a different direction 
 to its operations, and proposing to themselves either what is unattainable, or at 
 
9(5 
 
 THE TENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 best a meaner object of pursuit. The grave and austere character of Sculpture 
 requires the utmost degree of formality in composition ; picturesque contrasts 
 have here no place ; every thing is carefully weighed and measured, one side 
 making almost an exact equipoise to the other ; a child is not a proper balance 
 to a full-grown figure, nor is a figure sitting or stooping a companion to an up- 
 right figure. 
 
 The excellence of every art must consist in the complete accomplishment of 
 its purpose ; and if by a false imitation of nature, or mean ambition of producing 
 a picturesque effect or illusion of any kind, all the grandeur of ideas which this 
 art endeavours to excite, be degraded or destroyed, we may boldly oppose our- 
 selves to any such innovation. If the producing of a deception is the summit of 
 this art, let us at once give to statues the addition of colour ; which will contri- 
 bute more towards accomplishing this end, than all those artifices which have 
 been introduced and professedly defended, on no other principle but that of ren- 
 dering the work more natural. But as colour is universally rejected, every 
 practice liable to the same objection must fall with it. If the business of Sculp- 
 ture were to administer pleasure to ignorance, or a mere entertainment to the 
 senses, the Venus of Medici s might certainly receive much improvement by 
 colour ; but the character of Sculpture makes it her duty to afford delight of a 
 different, and, perhaps, of a higher kind ; the delight resulting from the contem- 
 plation of perfect beauty : and this, which is in truth an intellectual pleasure, is 
 in many respects incompatible with what is merely addressed to the senses, such 
 as that with which ignorance and levity contemplate elegance of form. 
 
 The Sculptor may be safely allowed to practise every means within the power 
 of his art to produce a deception, provided this practice does not interfere 
 with or destroy higher excellencies ; on these conditions he will be forced, how- 
 ever loth, to acknowledge that the boundaries of his art have long been fixed, 
 and that all endeavours will be vain that hope to pass beyond the best works 
 which remain of ancient Sculpture. 
 
 Imitation is the means, and not the end, of art; it is employed by the sculptor 
 as the language by which his ideas are presented to the mind of the spectator. 
 Poetry and elocution of every sort make use of signs, but those signs are arbitrary 
 and conventional. The sculptor employs the representation of the thing itself ; 
 but still as a means to a higher end, — as a gradual ascent always advancing to- 
 wards faultless form and perfect beauty. It may be thought at the first view, 
 that even this form, however perfectly represented, is to be valued and take its 
 rank only for the sake of still a higher object, that of conveying sentiment and 
 character, as they are exhibited by attitude, and expression of the passions. But 
 we are sure from experience, that the beauty of form alone, without the assistance 
 of any other quality, makes of itself a great work, and justly claims our esteem 
 and admiration. As a proof of the high value we set on the mere excellence of 
 form, we may produce the greatest part of the works of Michael Angelo, both in 
 painting and sculpture; as well as most of the antique statues, which are justly 
 esteemed in a very high degree, though no very marked or striking character or 
 expression of any kind is represented. 
 
 But, as a stronger instance that this excellence alone inspires sentiment, what 
 artist ever looked at the Torso without feeling a warmth of enthusiasm, as from the 
 
THE TENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 97 
 
 highest efforts of poetry ? From whence does this proceed ? What is there 
 in this fragment that produces this effect, but the perfection of this science of 
 abstract form ? 
 
 A mind elevated to the contemplation of excellence perceives in this defaced 
 and shattered fragment, disjecti membra poetce, the traces of superlative genius, 
 the reliques of a work on which succeeding ages can only gaze with inadequate 
 admiration. 
 
 It may be said that this pleasure is reserved only to those who have spent their 
 whole life in the study and contemplation of this art; but the truth is, that all 
 would feel its effects, if they could divest themselves of the expectation of decep- 
 tion, and look only for what it really is, a partial representation of nature. The 
 only impediment of their judgment must then proceed from their being uncertain 
 to what rank, or rather kind of excellence, it aspires; and to what sort of appro- 
 bation it has a right. This state of darkness is, without doubt, irksome to every 
 mind; but by attention to works of this kind, the knowledge of what is aimed at 
 comes of itself, without being taught, and almost without being perceived. 
 
 The Sculptor's art is limited in comparison of others, but it has its variety and 
 intricacy within its proper bounds. Its essence is correctness: and when to cor- 
 rect and perfect form is added the ornament of grace, dignity of character, and 
 appropriated expression, as in the Apollo, the Venus, the Laocoon, the Moses of 
 Michael Angelo, and many others, this art may be said to have accomplished its 
 purpose. 
 
 What Grace is, how it is to be acquired or conceived, are in speculation diffi- 
 cult questions; but causa latet, res est notissima: without any perplexing enquiry, 
 the effect is hourly perceived. I shall only observe, that its natural foundation 
 is correctness of design; and though grace may be sometimes united with incor- 
 rectness, it cannot proceed from it. 
 
 But to come nearer to our present subject. It has been said that the grace of 
 the Apollo depends on a certain degree of incorrectness; that the head is not ana- 
 tomically placed between the shoulders; and that the lower half of the figure is 
 longer than just proportion allows. 
 
 I know that Correggio and Parmegiano are often produced as authorities 
 to support this opinion; but very little attention will convince us, that the incor- 
 rectness of some parts which we find in their works, does not contribute to grace, 
 but rather tends to destroy it. The Madonna, with the sleeping Infant, and 
 beautiful group of Angels, by Parmegiano, in the Palazzo Piti, would not have 
 lost any of its excellence, if the neck, fingers, and indeed the whole figure of 
 the Virgin, instead of being so very long and incorrect, had preserved their due 
 proportion. 
 
 In opposition to the first of these remarks, I have the authority of a very able 
 Sculptor of this Academy, who has copied that figure, consequently measured 
 and carefully examined it, to declare, that the criticism is not true. In regard 
 to the last, it must be remembered, that Apollo is here in the exertion of one of 
 his peculiar powers, which is swiftness; he has therefore that proportion which 
 is best adapted to that character. This is no more incorrectness than when 
 there is given to an Hercules an extraordinary swelling and strength of muscles. 
 
 The art of discovering and expressing grace is difficult enough of itself, with- 
 
 W 
 
98 
 
 THE TENTH DISCOUBSE. 
 
 out perplexing ourselves with what is incomprehensible. A supposition of such 
 a monster as Grace, begot by Deformity, is poison to the mind of a young Artist, 
 and may make him neglect what is essential to his art, correctness of Design, in 
 order to pursue a phantom, which has no existence but in the imagination of 
 affected and refined speculators. 
 
 I cannot quit the Apollo, without making one observation on the character of 
 this figure. He is supposed to have just discharged his arrow at the Python; and, 
 by the head retreating a little towards the right shoulder, he appears attentive to 
 its effect. What I would remark, is the difference of this attention from that of 
 the Discobolus, who is engaged in the same purpose, watching the effect of his 
 Discus. The graceful, negligent, though animated, air of the one, and the vulgar 
 eagerness of the other, furnish a signal instance of the judgment of the ancient 
 Sculptors in their nice discrimination of character. They are both equally true 
 to nature, and equally admirable. 
 
 It may be remarked, that Grace, Character, and Expression, though words of 
 different sense and meaning, and so understood when applied to the works of 
 Painters, are indiscriminately used when we speak of Sculpture. This indecision 
 we may suspect to proceed from the undetermined effects of the Art itself: those 
 qualities are exhibited in Sculpture rather by form and attitude than by the 
 features, and can therefore be expressed but in a very general manner. 
 
 Though the Laocoon and his two sons have more expression in the countenance 
 than perhaps any other antique statues, yet it is only the general expression of 
 pain ; and this passion is still more strongly expressed by the writhing and con- 
 tortion of the body than by the features. 
 
 It has been observed in a late publication, that if the attention of the Father 
 in this group had been occupied more by the distress of his children than by his 
 own sufferings, it would have raised a much greater interest in the spectator. 
 Though this observation comes from a person whose opinion, in every thing re- 
 lating to the Arts, carries with it the highest authority, yet I cannot but suspect 
 that such refined expression is scarce within the province of this Art ; and in 
 attempting it, the Artist will run great risk of enfeebling expression, and making 
 it less intelligible to the spectator. 
 
 As the general figure presents itself in a more conspicuous manner than the fea- 
 tures, it is there we must principally look for expression or character; patuit in 
 corpore tultus ; and, in this respect, the Sculptor's art is not unlike that of 
 Dancing, where the attention of the spectator is principally engaged by the atti- 
 tude and action of the performer; and it is there he must look for whatever 
 expression that art is capable of exhibiting. The Dancers themselves acknow- 
 ledge this, by often wearing masks, with little diminution in the expression. 
 The face bears so very inconsiderable a proportion to the effect of the whole figure, 
 that the ancient Sculptors neglected to animate the features, even with the gene- 
 ral expression of the passions. Of this the group of the Boxers is a remarkable 
 instance; they are engaged in the most animated action with the greatest serenity 
 of countenance. This is not recommended for imitation, (for there can be no 
 reason why the countenance should not correspond with the attitude and expres- 
 sion of the figure,) but is mentioned in order to infer from hence, that this fre- 
 
THE TENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 99 
 
 quent deficiency in ancient Sculpture could proceed from nothing but a habit of 
 inattention to what was considered as comparatively immaterial. 
 
 Those who think Sculpture can express more than we have allowed, may ask, 
 by what means we discover, at the first glance, the character that is represented 
 in a Bust, Cameo, or Intaglio ? I suspect it will be found, on close examination, 
 by him who is resolved not to see more than he really does see, that the figures 
 are distinguished by their insignia more than by any variety of form or beauty. 
 Take from Apollo his Lyre, from Bacchus his Thirsus and Vine-leaves, and 
 Meleager the Boar's Head, and there will remain little or no difference in their 
 characters. In a Juno, Minerva, or Flora, the idea of the artist seems to have 
 gone no further than representing perfect beauty, and afterwards adding the 
 proper attributes, with a total indifference to which they gave them. Thus J ohn 
 De Bologna, after he had finished a group of a young man holding up a young 
 woman in his arms, with an old man at his feet, called his friends together, to 
 tell him what name he should give it, and it was agreed to call it the Rape of 
 the Sabines j* and this is the celebrated group which now stands before the old 
 Palace at Florence. The figures have the same general expression which is to 
 be found in most of the antique Sculpture ; and yet it would be no wonder if 
 future critics should find out delicacy of expression which was never intended ; 
 and go so far as to see, in the old man's countenance, the exact relation which 
 he bore to the woman who appears to be taken from him. 
 
 Though Painting and Sculpture are, like many other arts, governed by the 
 same general principles, yet in the detail, or what may be called the by-laws of 
 each art, there seems to be no longer any connection between them. The dif- 
 ferent materials upon which those two arts exert their powers, must infallibly 
 create a proportional difference in their practice. There are many petty excel- 
 lencies which the Painter attains with ease, but which are impracticable in 
 Sculpture ; and which, even if it could accomplish them, would add nothing to 
 the true value and dignity of the work. 
 
 Of the ineffectual attempts which the modern Sculptors have made by way of 
 improvement, these seem to be the principal ; The practice of detaching drapery 
 from the figure, in order to give the appearance of flying in the air ; — 
 Of making different plans in the same bas-relievos ; — 
 Of attempting to represent the effects of perspective- — 
 To these we may add the ill effect of figures cloathed in a modern dress. 
 The folly of attempting to make stone sport and flutter in the air, is so ap- 
 pareut, that it carries with it its own reprehension ; and yet to accomplish this 
 seemed to be the great ambition of many modern Sculptors, particularly Bernini: 
 his heart was so much set on overcoming this difficulty, that he was for ever 
 attempting it, though by that attempt he risked every thing that was valuable in 
 the art. 
 
 Bernini stands in the first class of modern Sculptors, and therefore it is the 
 business of criticism to prevent the ill effects of so powerful an example. 
 
 See II reposo di Rajfaelle Borghini. 
 
100 
 
 THE TENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 From his very early work of Apollo and Daphne, the world justly expected 
 he would rival the best productions of ancient Greece; but he soon strayed from 
 the right path. And though there is in his works something which always dis- 
 tinguishes him from the common herd, yet he appears in his latter performances 
 to have lost his way. Instead of pursuing the study of that ideal beauty with 
 which he had so successfully begun, he turned his mind to an injudicious quest 
 of novelty ; attempted what was not within the province of the Art, and endea- 
 voured to overcome the hardness and obstinancy of his materials; which, even 
 supposing he had accomplished, so far as to make this species of drapery appear 
 natural, the ill effect and confusion occasioned by its being detached from the 
 figure to which it belongs, ought to have been alone a sufficient reason to have 
 deterred him from that practice. 
 
 We have not, I think, in our Academy, any of Bernini's works, except a cast 
 of the head of his Neptune*; this will be sufficient to serve us for an example of 
 the mischief produced by this attempt of representing the effects of the wind. 
 The locks of the hair are flying abroad in all directions, insomuch that it is not a 
 superficial view that can discover what the object is which is represented, or dis- 
 tinguish those flying locks from the features, as they are all of the same colour, 
 of equal solidity, and consequently project with equal force. 
 
 The same entangled confusion which is here occasioned by the hair, is produced 
 by drapery flying off ; which the eye must, for the same reason, inevitably mingle 
 and confound with the principal parts of the figure. 
 
 It is a general rule, equally true in both Arts, that the form and attitude of 
 the figure should be seen clearly, and without any ambiguity, at the first glance 
 of the eye. This the Painter can easily do by colour, by loosing parts in the 
 ground, or keeping them so obscure as to prevent them from interfering with the 
 more principal objects. The Sculptor has no other means of preventing this con- 
 fusion than by attaching the drapery for the greater part close to the figure ; the 
 folds of which following the order of the limbs, whenever the drapery is seen, 
 the eye is led to trace the form and attitude of the figure at the same time. 
 
 The drapery of the Apollo, though it makes a large mass, and is separated 
 from the figure, does not affect the present question, from the very circumstance 
 of its being so completely separated ; and from the regularity and simplicity of its 
 form, it does not in the least interfere with a distinct view of the figure. In 
 reality, it is no more a part of it than a pedestal, a trunk of a tree, or an animal, 
 which we often see joined to statues. 
 
 The principal use of those appendages is to strengthen and preserve the statue 
 from accidents; and many are of opinion, that the mantle which falls from the 
 Apollo's arm is for the same end; but surely it answers a much greater purpose, 
 by preventing that dryness of effect which would inevitably attend a naked arm ; 
 extended almost at full length ; to which we may add, the disagreeable effect 
 which would proceed from the body and arm making a right angle. 
 
 * Some years after this Discourse was written, Bernini's Neptune was purchased for our 
 author at Rome, and brought to England. After his death it was sold by his Executors for 
 £500 to Charles Anderson Pelham, Esq., now Lord Yarborough. M. 
 
THE TENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 101 
 
 The Apostles, in the church of St. John Lateran, appear to me to fall under 
 the censure of an injudicious imitation of the manner of the Painters. The 
 drapery of those figures, from being disposed in large masses, gives undoubtedly 
 that air of grandeur which magnitude or quantity is sure to produce. But though 
 it should be acknowledged that it is managed with great skill and intelligence, 
 and contrived to appear as light as the materials will allow, yet the weight and 
 solidity of stone was not to be overcome. 
 
 Those figures are much in the style of Carlo Maratti, and such as we may 
 imagine he would have made, if he had attempted Sculpture; and when we 
 know he had the superintendence of that work, and was an intimate friend of 
 one of the principal Sculptors, we may suspect that his taste had some influence, 
 if he did not even give the designs. No man can look at those figures without 
 recognizing the manner of Carlo Maratti. They have the same defect which 
 his works so often have, of being overloaded with drapery, and that too artificially 
 disposed. I cannot but believe that if Ruscono, Le Gros, Monot, and the rest 
 of the Sculptors employed in that work, had taken for their guide the simple 
 dress, such as we see in the antique statues of the philosophers, it would have 
 given more real grandeur to the figures, and would certainly have been more 
 suitable to the characters of the Apostles. 
 
 Though there is no remedy for the ill effect of those solid projections which 
 flying drapery in stone must always produce in statues, yet in bas-relievos it is 
 totally different; those detached parts of drapery the Sculptor has here as much 
 power over as the Painter, by uniting and losing it in the ground, so that it shall 
 not in the least entangle and confuse the figure. 
 
 But here again the Sculptor, not content with this successful imitation, if it 
 may be so called, proceeds to represent figures, or groups of figures on different 
 plans; that is, some on the fore-ground, and some at a greater distance, in the 
 manner of Painters in historical compositions. To do this he has no other means 
 than by making the distant figures of less dimensions, and relieving them in a 
 less degree from the surface; but this is not adequate to the end; they will still 
 appear only as figures on a less scale, but equally near the eye with those in the 
 front of the piece. 
 
 Nor does the mischief of this attempt, which never accomplishes its intention, 
 rest here: by this division of the work into many minute parts, the grandeur of 
 its general effect is inevitably destroyed. 
 
 Perhaps the only circumstance in which the Modern have excelled the Ancient 
 Sculptors, is the management of a single group in basso-relievo ; the art of gradu- 
 ally raising the group from the flat surface, till it imperceptibly emerges into 
 alto-relievo. Of this there is no ancient example remaining that discovers any 
 approach to the skill which Le Gros has shewn in an Altar in the Jesuits Church 
 at Rome. Different plans or degrees of relief in the same group have, as we see 
 in this instance, a good effect, though the contrary happens when the groups are 
 separated, and are at some distance behind each other. 
 
 This improvement in the art of composing a group in basso-relievo was proba- 
 bly first suggested by the practice of the modern Painters, who relieve their 
 figures, or groups of figures, from their ground, by the same gentle gradation ; 
 and it is accomplished in every respect by the same general principles; but as 
 
102 
 
 THE TENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 the marble has no colour, it is the composition itself that must give it its light 
 and shadow. The ancient Sculptors could not borrow this advantage from their 
 Painters, for this was an art with wliich they appear to have been entirely unac- 
 quainted; and in the bas-relievos of Lorenzo Ghibcrti, the casts of which we 
 have in the Academy, this art is no more attempted than it was by the Painters 
 of his age. 
 
 The next imaginary improvement of the moderns, is the representing the effects 
 of Perspective in bas-relief. Of this little need be said; all must recollect how 
 ineffectual has been the attempt of modern Sculptors to turn the buildings which 
 they have introduced as seen from their angle, with a view to make them appear 
 to recede from the eye in perspective. This, though it may shew indeed their 
 eager desire to encounter difficulties, shews at the same time how inadequate 
 their materials are even to this their humble ambition. 
 
 The Ancients, with great judgment, represented only the elevation of what- 
 ever architecture they introduced into their bas-reliefs, which is composed of 
 little more than horizontal or perpendicular lines; whereas the interruption of 
 crossed lines or whatever causes a multiplicity of subordinate parts, destroys that 
 regularity and firmness of effect on which grandeur of style so much depends. 
 
 We come now to the last consideration; in what manner Statues are to be 
 dressed, which are made in honour of men, either now living, or lately departed. 
 
 This is a question which might employ a long discourse of itself : I shall at 
 present only observe, that he who wishes not to obstruct the Artist, and prevent 
 his exhibiting his abilities to their greatest advantage, will certainly not desire 
 a modern dress. 
 
 The desire of transmitting to posterity the shape of modern dress must be ac- 
 knowledged to be purchased at a prodigious price, even the price of every thing 
 that is valuable in art. 
 
 Working in stone is a very serious business; and it seems to be scarce worth 
 while to employ such durable materials in conveying to posterity a fashion of 
 which the longest existence scarce exceeds a year. 
 
 However agreeable it may be to the Antiquary's principles of equity and gra- 
 titude, that as he has received great pleasure from the contemplation of the 
 fashions of dress of former ages, he wishes to give the same satisfaction to future 
 Antiquaries: yet, methinks pictures of an inferior style, or prints, may be consider- 
 ed as quite sufficient, without prostituting this great art to such mean purposes. 
 
 In this town may be seen an Equestrian Statue in a modern dress, which may 
 be sufficient to deter future artists from any such attempt: even supposing no 
 other objection, the familiarity of the modern dress by no means agrees with the 
 dignity and gravity of Sculpture. 
 
 Sculpture is formal, regular, and austere; disdains all familiar objects, as in- 
 compatible with its dignity; and is an enemy to every species of affectation, or 
 appearance of academical art. All contrasts, therefore, of one figure to another, 
 •or of the limbs of a single figure, or even in the folds of the drapery, must be 
 sparingly employed. In short, whatever partakes of fancy or caprice, or goes 
 wnder the denomination of Picturesque, (however to be admired in its proper 
 place,) is incompatible with that sobriety and gravity which is peculiarly the 
 characteristic of this art. 
 
THE TENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 103 
 
 There is no circumstance which more distinguishes a well regulated and sound 
 taste, than a settled uniformity of design, where all the parts are compact, and 
 fitted to each other, every thing being of a piece. This principle extends itself 
 to all the habits of life, as well as to all works of art. Upon this general ground 
 therefore we may safely venture to pronounce, that the uniformity and simplicity 
 of the materials on which the Sculptor labours, (which are only white marble,) 
 prescribes bounds to his art, and teaches him to confine himself to a proportion- 
 able simplicity of design. 
 
DISCOURSE XI. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 10, 1782. 
 
 Genius. — Consists Principally in the Comprehension of a Whole ; in taking 
 General Ideas only. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 The highest ambition of every Artist is to be thought a man of Genius. As 
 long as this flattering quality is joined to his name, he can bear with patience the 
 imputation of carelessness, incorrectness, or defects of whatever kind. 
 
 So far indeed is the presence of Genius from implying an absence of faults, 
 that they are considered by many as its inseparable companions. Some go such 
 lengths as to take indication from them, and not only excuse faults on account 
 of Genius, but presume Genius from the existence of certain faults. 
 
 It is certainly true, that a work may justly claim the character of Genius, 
 though full of errors ; and it is equally true, that it may be faultless, and yet not 
 exhibit the least spark of Genius. This naturally suggests an enquiry, a desire 
 at least of enquiring, what qualities of a work and of a workman may justly en- 
 title a Painter to that character. 
 
 I have in a former discourse* endeavoured to impress you with a fixed opinion, 
 that a comprehensive and critical knowledge of the works of nature is the only 
 source of beauty and grandeur. But when we speak to Painters, we must also 
 consider this rule, and all rules, with reference to the meehanical practice of 
 their own particular Art. It is not properly in the learning, the taste, and the 
 dignity of the ideas, that Genius appears as belonging to a painter. There is a 
 Genius particular and appropriated to his own trade, (as I may call it,) distin- 
 guished from all others. For that power, which enables the Artist to conceive 
 his subject with dignity, may be said to belong to general education; and is as 
 much the Genius of a Poet, or the professor of any other liberal Art, or even a 
 good critic in any of those arts, as of a Painter. Whatever sublime ideas may 
 fill his mind, he is a Painter only as he can put in practice what he knows, and 
 communicate those ideas by visible representation. 
 
 Tf my expression can convey my idea, I wish to distinguish excellence of this 
 kind by calling it the Genius of mechanical performance. This Genius consists, 
 I conceive, in the power of expressing that whieh employs your pencil, whatever 
 
 * Discourse III. 
 
THE ELEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 105 
 
 it may be, as a whole ; so that the general effect and power of the whole may 
 take possession of the mind, and for a while suspend the consideration of the 
 subordinate and particular beauties or defects. 
 
 The advantage of this method of considering objects, is what I wish now more 
 particularly to enforce. At the same time I do not forget, that a Painter must 
 have the power of contracting as well as dilating his sight; because, he that 
 does not at all express particulars, expresses nothing; yet it is certain, that a 
 nice discrimination of minute circumstances, and a punctilious delineation of them, 
 whatever excellence it may have, (and I do not mean to detract from it,) never 
 did confer on the Artist the character of Genius. 
 
 Beside those minute differences in things which are frequently not observed 
 at all, and, when they are, make little impression, there are in all considerable ob- 
 jects great characteristic distinctions, which press strongly on the senses, and 
 therefore fix the imagination. These are by no means, as some persons think, 
 an aggregate of all the small discriminating particulars; nor will such an ac- 
 cumulation of particulars ever express them. These ^answer to what I have 
 heard great lawyers call the leading points in a case, or the leading cases rela- 
 tive to those points. 
 
 The detail of particulars, which does not assist the expression of the main 
 characteristic, is worse than useless — it is mischievous, as it dissipates the atten- 
 tion, and draws it from the principal point. It may be remarked, that the im- 
 pression which is left on our mind, even of things which are familiar to us, is 
 seldom more than their general effect; beyond which we do not look in recog- 
 nising such objects. To express this in Painting, is to express what is congenial 
 and natural to the mind of man, and what gives him by reflection his own mode 
 of conceiving. The other pre-supposes nicety and research, which are only the 
 business of the curious and attentive, and therefore does not speak to the general 
 sense of the whole species; in which common, and, as I may so call it, mother 
 tongue, every thing grand and comprehensive must be uttered. 
 
 I do not mean to prescribe what degree of attention ought to be paid to the 
 minute parts; this it is hard to settle. We are sure that it is expressing the 
 general effect of the whole, which alone can give to objects their true and touch- 
 ing character; and wherever this is observed, whatever else maybe neglected, 
 we acknowledge the hand of a Master. We may even go further, and observe, 
 than when the general effect only is presented to us by a skilful hand, it appears 
 to express the object represented in a more lively manner than the minutest re- 
 semblance would do. 
 
 These observations may lead to very deep questions, which T do not mean here 
 to discuss; among others, it may lead to an enquiry, Why we are not always 
 pleased with the most absolute possible resemblance of an imitation to its ori- 
 ginal object ? Cases may exist in which such a resemblance may be even disa- 
 greeable. I shall only observe that the effect of figures in Wax-work, though 
 certainly a more exact representation than can be given by Painting or Sculp- 
 ture, is a suflicient proof that the pleasure we receive from imitation is not in- 
 creased merely in proportion as it approaches to minute and detailed reality; we 
 are pleased, on the contrary, by seeing ends accomplished by seemingly inade- 
 quate means, 
 
 X 
 
106 
 
 THE ELEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 To express protuberance by actual relief, to express the softness of flesh by 
 the softness of wax, seems rude and inartificial, and creates no grateful surprise. 
 But to express distances on a plain surface, softness by hard bodies, and parti- 
 cular colouring by materials which are not singly of that colour, produces that 
 magic which is the prize and triumph of art. 
 
 Carry this principle a step further. Suppose the effect of imitation to be fully 
 compassed by means still more inadequate; let the power of a few well-chosen 
 strokes, which supersede labour by judgment and direction, produce a complete 
 impression of all that the mind demands in an object; we are charmed with such 
 an unexpected happiness of execution, and begin to be tired with the superfluous 
 diligence, which in vain solicits an appetite already satiated. 
 
 The properties of all objects, as far as a Painter is concerned with them, are, 
 the outline or drawing, the colour, and the light and shade. The drawing gives 
 the form, the colour its visible quality, and the light and shade its solidity. 
 
 Excellence in any one of these parts of art will never be acquired by an artist, 
 unless he has the habit of looking upon objects at large, and observing the effect 
 which they have on the eye when it is dilated, and employed upon the whole, 
 without seeing any one of the parts distinctly. It is by this that we obtain the 
 ruling characteristic, and that we learn to imitate it by short and dexterous me- 
 thods. I do not mean by dexterity a trick or mechanical habit, formed by guess, 
 and established by custom; but that science, which, by a profound knowledge of 
 ends and means, discovers the shortest and surest way to its own purpose. 
 
 If we examine with a critical view the manner of those painters whom we con- 
 sider as patterns, we shall find that their great fame does not proceed from their 
 works being more highly finished than those of other artists, or from a more 
 minute attention to details, but from that enlarged comprehension which sees 
 the whole at once, and that energy of art which gives its characteristic effect 
 by adequate expression. 
 
 Raffaelle and Titian are two names which stand the highest in our art: one 
 for Drawing, the other for Painting. The most considerable and the most es- 
 teemed works of Raffaelle are the Cartoons, and his Fresco works in the Vatican; 
 those, as we all know, are far from being minutely finished: his principal care 
 and attention seems to have been fixed upon the adjustment of the whole, whether 
 it was the general composition, or the composition of each individual figure ; for 
 every figure may be said to be a lesser whole, though in regard to the general 
 work to which it belongs, it is but a part; the same may be said of the head, of the 
 hands, and feet. Though he possessed this art of seeing and comprehending the 
 whole, as far as form is concerned, he did not exert the same faculty in regard to 
 the general effect, which is presented to the eye by colour, and light and shade. 
 Of this the deficiency of his oil pictures, where this excellence is more expected 
 than in Fresco, is a sufficient proof. 
 
 It is to Titian we must turn our eyes to find excellence with regard to colour, 
 and light and shade, in the highest degree. He was both the first and the great- 
 est master of this art. By a few strokes he knew how to mark the general image 
 and character of whatever object he attempted; and produced, by this alone, a 
 truer representation than his master Giovanni Bellino, or any of his predecessors, 
 who finished every hair. His great care was to express the general colour, to 
 
THE ELEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 107 
 
 Reserve the masses of light and shade, and to give by opposition the idea of that 
 solidity which is inseparable from natural objects. When those are preserved, 
 though the work should possess no other merit, it will have in a proper place its 
 complete effect; but where any of these are wanting, however minutely laboured 
 the picture may be in the detail, the whole will have a false and even an un- 
 finished appearance, at whatever distance, or in whatever light, it can be shewn. 
 
 It is vain to attend to the variation of tints, if, in that attention, the general 
 hue of flesh is lost; or to finish ever so minutely the parts, if the masses are not 
 observed, or the whole not well put together. 
 
 Vasari seems to have had no great disposition to favour the Venetian Painters, 
 yet he every where justly commends il modo di fare, la maniera, la bella pratica; 
 that is, the admirable manner and practice of that school. On Titian, in parti- 
 cular, he bestows the epithets of guidicioso, bello, e stupendo. 
 
 This manner was then new to the world, but that unshaken truth on which it 
 is founded, has fixed it as a model to all succeeding Painters; and those who will 
 examine into the artifice, will find it to consist in the power of generalising, and 
 in the shortness and simplicity of the means employed. 
 
 Many artists, as Vasari likewise observes, have ignorantly imagined they are 
 imitating the manner of Titian, when they leave their colours rough, and neglect 
 the detail; but, not possessing the principles on which he wrought, they have 
 produced what he calls goffe pitture, absurd foolish pictures ; for such will al- 
 ways be the consequence of affecting dexterity without science, without selec- 
 tion, and without fixed principles. 
 
 Raffaelle and Titian seem to have looked at nature for different purposes; they 
 both had the power of extending their view to the whole; but one looked only 
 for the general effect as produced by form, the other as produced by colour. 
 
 We cannot entirely refuse to Titian the merit of attending the general form of 
 his object, as well as colour; but his deficiency lay, a deficiency at least when 
 he is compared with Raffaelle, in not possessing the power, like him, of correcting 
 the form of his model by any general idea of beauty in ^his own mind. Of this 
 his St. Sebastian is a particular instance. The figure appears to be a most exact 
 representation both of the form and the colour of the model, which he then 
 happened to have before him ; it has all the force of nature, and the colouring is 
 flesh itself; but, unluckily, the model was of a bad form, especially the legs. 
 Titian has with as much care preserved these defects as he has imitated the 
 beauty and briliancy of the colouring. In his colouring he was large and general, 
 as in his design he was minute and partial; in the one he was a Genius, in the 
 other not much above a copier. I do not, however, speak now of all his pictures; 
 instances enough may be produced in his works, where those observations on his 
 defects could not with any propriety be applied: but it is in the manner, or lan- 
 guage, as it may be called, in which Titian and others of that school express 
 themselves, that their chief excellence lies. This manner is in reality, in painting, 
 what language is in poetry ; we are all sensible how differently the imagination 
 is affected by the same sentiment expressed in different words, and how mean or 
 how grand the same object appears when presented to us by different Painters. 
 Whether it is the human figure, an animal, or even inanimate objects, there is 
 nothing, however unpromising in appearance, but may be raised into dignity, 
 
108 
 
 THE ELEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 convey sentiment, and produce emotion, in the hands of a Painter of genius* 
 What was said of Virgil, that he threw even the dung about the ground with an 
 air of dignity, may be applied to Titian: whatever he touched, however naturally 
 mean, and habitually familiar, by a kind of magic he invested with grandeur and 
 importance, 
 
 I must here observe, that I am not recommending a neglect of the detail; in- 
 deed it would be difficult, if not impossible, to prescribe certain bounds, and tell 
 how far, or when it is to be observed or neglected; much must, at last, be left 
 to the taste and judgment of the artist. I am well aware that a judicious de- 
 tail will sometimes give the force of truth to the work, and consequently interest 
 the spectator. I only wish to impress on your minds the true distinction be- 
 tween essential and subordinate powers; and to shew what qualities in the art 
 claim your chief attention, and what may, with the least injury to your reputa- 
 tion, be neglected. Something, perhaps, always must be neglected; the lesser 
 ought then to give way to the greater; and since every work can have but a 
 limited time allotted to it, (for even supposing a whole life to be employed about 
 one picture, it is still limited,) it appears more reasonable to employ that time to 
 the best advantage, in contriving various methods of composing the work, — in 
 trying different effect of light and shadow, — and employing the labour of correc- 
 tion in heightening by a judicious adjustment of the parts the effects of the whole, 
 — than that the time should be taken up in minutely finishing those parts. 
 
 But there is another kind of high finishing, which may safely be condemned, 
 as it seems to counteract its own purpose; that is, when the artist, to avoid that 
 hardness which proceeds from the outline cutting against the ground, softens and 
 blends the colours to excess: this is what the ignorant call high finishing, but 
 which tends to destroy the brilliancy of colour, and the true effect of representa- 
 tion, which consists very much in preserving the same proportion of sharpness 
 and bluntness that is found in natural objects. This extreme softening, instead 
 of producing the effect of softness, gives the appearance of ivory, or some other 
 hard substance, highly polished. 
 
 The portraits of Cornelius Jansen appear to have this defect, and consequently 
 want that suppleness which is the characterestic of flesh; whereas, in the works 
 of Vandyck, we find that true mixture of softness and hardness perfectly observ- 
 ed. The same defect may be found in the manner of Vanderwerf, in opposition 
 to that of Teniers ; and such also, we may add, is the manner of Raffaelle in his 
 oil pictures, in comparison with that of Titian. 
 
 The name which Raffaelle has so justly maintained as the first of Painters, 
 we may venture to say was not acquired by this laborious attention. His apo- 
 logy may be made by saying that it was the manner of his country; but if he 
 had expressed his ideas with the facility and eloquence, as it may be called, of 
 Titian, his works would certainly not have been less excellent; and that praise, 
 which ages and nations have poured out upon him, for possessing Genius in the 
 higher attainments of art, would have been extended to them all. 
 
 Those who are not conversant in works of art, are often surprised at the high 
 value set by connoisseurs on drawings which appear careless, and in every re- 
 spect unfinished; but they are truly valuable; and their value arises from this, 
 that they give the idea of an whole; and this whole is often expressed by a dex- 
 
f 
 
 THE ELEVENTH DISCOURSE. 109 
 
 terous facility which indicates the true power of a Painter, even though roughly 
 exerted : whether it consists in the general composition, or the general form of 
 each figure, or the turn of the attitude which bestows grace and elegance. All 
 this we may see fully exemplified in the very skilful drawings of Parmegiano 
 and Correggio. On whatever account we value these drawings, it is certainly 
 not for high finishing, or a minute attention to particulars. 
 
 Excellence in every part, and in every province of our art, from the highest 
 style of history down to the resemblances of still life, will depend on this power 
 of extending the attention at once to the whole, without which the greatest dili- 
 gence is vain. 
 
 I wish you to bear in mind, that when I speak of an whole, I do not mean 
 simply an whole as belonging to composition, but an whole with respect to the 
 general style of colouring ; an whole with regard to the light and shade; an 
 whole of every thing which may separately become the main object of a 
 Painter. 
 
 I remember a Landscape-Painter in Rome, who was known by the name of 
 Studio, from his patience in high finishing, in which he thought the whole excel- 
 lence of art consisted; so that he once endeavoured, as he said, to represent 
 every individual leaf on a tree. This picture I never saw; but I am very sure 
 that an artist, who looked only at the general character of the species, the order 
 of the branches, and the masses of the foliage, would in a few minutes produce a 
 more true resemblance of trees, than this Painter in as many months. 
 
 A Landscape-painter certainly ought to study anatomically (if I may use the 
 expression) all the objects which he paints ; but when he is to turn his studies to 
 use, his skill as a man of genius will be displayed in shewing the general 
 effect, preserving the same degree of hardness and softness which the objects 
 have in nature; for he applies himself to the imagination, not to the curiosity, 
 and works not for the Virtuoso or the Naturalist, but for the common observer 
 of life and nature. When he knows his subject, he will know not only what to 
 describe, but what to omit; and this skill in leaving out, is, in all things, a great 
 part of knowledge and wisdom. 
 
 The same excellence of manner which Titian displayed in History or Portrait- 
 painting, is equally conspicuous in his Landscapes, whether they are professedly 
 such, or serve only as back-grounds. One of the most eminent of this latter kind 
 is to be found in the picture of St. Pietro Martire. The large trees, which are 
 here introduced, are plainly distinguished from each other by the different manner 
 with which the branches shoot from their trunks, as well as by their different 
 foliage; and the weeds in the fore-ground are varied in the same manner, just as 
 much as variety requires, and no more. When Algarotti, speaking of this picture, 
 praises it for the minute discriminations of the leaves and plants, even, as he says, 
 to excite the admiration of a Botanist, his intention was undoubtedly to give 
 praise even at the expense of truth ; for he must have known, that this is not the 
 character of the picture ; but connoisseurs will always find in pictures what they 
 think they ought to find: he was not aware that he was giving a description in- 
 jurious to the reputation of Titian. 
 
 Such accounts may be very hurtful to young artists, who never have had an op- 
 portunity of seeing the work described; and they may possibly conclude, that this 
 
110 
 
 THE ELEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 great Artist acquired the name of the Divine Titian from his eminent attention 
 to such trifling circumstancss, which in reality would not raise him above the 
 level of the most ordinary painter. 
 
 We may extend these observations even to what seems to have but a single, 
 and that an individual, object. The excellence of Portrait-painting, and we may 
 add even the likeness, the character, and countenance, as T have observed in an- 
 other place, depend more upon the general effect produced by the painter, than 
 on the exact expression of the peculiarities, or minute discrimination of the parts. 
 The chief attention of the artist is therefore employed in planting the features in 
 their proper places, which so much contributes to giving the effect and true im- 
 pression of the whole. The very peculiarities may be reduced to classes and 
 general descriptions; and there are therefore large ideas to be found even in this 
 contracted subject. He may afterwards labour single features to what degree 
 he thinks proper, but let him not forget continually to examine, whether, in 
 finishing the parts, he is not destroying the general effect. 
 
 It is certainly a thing to be wished, that all excellence were applied to illus- 
 trate subjects that are interesting and worthy of being commemorated; whereas, 
 of half the pictures that are in the world, the subject can be valued only as an 
 occasion which set the artist to work : and yet, our high estimation of such pic- 
 tures, without considering or perhaps without knowing the subject, shews how 
 much our attention is engaged by the art alone. 
 
 Perhaps nothing that we can say will so clearly shew the advantage and ex- 
 cellence of this faculty, as that it confers the character of Genius on works that 
 pretend to no other merit; in which is neither expression, character, or dignity, 
 and where none are interested in the subject. We cannot refuse the character 
 of Genius to the marriage of Paolo Veronese, without opposing the general sense 
 of mankind, (great authorities have called it the Triumph of Painting,) or, to 
 the altar of St Augustine at Antwerp, by Rubens, which equally deserves that 
 title, and for the same reason. Neither of those pictures have any interesting 
 story to support them. That of Paolo Veronese, is only a representation of a 
 great concourse of people at a dinner; and the subject of Rubens, if it may be 
 called a subject where nothing is doing, is an assembly of various Saints that 
 lived in different ages. The whole excellence of those pictures consists in 
 mechanical dexterity, working, however, under the influence of that comprehen- 
 sive faculty which I have so often mentioned. 
 
 It is by this, and this alone, that the mechanical power is ennobled, and raised 
 much above its natural rank. And it appears to me, that with propriety it ac- 
 quires this character, as an instance of that superiority with which mind pre- 
 dominates over matter, by contracting into one whole what nature has made 
 multifarious. 
 
 The great advantage of this idea of a whole is, that a greater quantity of truth 
 may be said to be contained and expressed in a few lines or touches, than in 
 the most laborious finishing of the parts, where this is not regarded. It is upon 
 this foundation that it stands; and the justness of the observation would be con- 
 firmed by the ignorant in art, if it were possible to take their opinions unseduced 
 by some false notion of what they imagine they ought to see in a Picture. As 
 it is an art, they think they ought to be pleased in proportion as they see that 
 
THE ELEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 art ostentatiously displayed; they will, from this supposition, prefer neatness, 
 high-finishing, and gaudy colouring, to the truth, simplicity, and unity of nature. 
 Perhaps, too, the totally ignorant beholder, like the ignorant artist, cannot 
 comprehend a whole, nor even what it means. But if false notions do not anti- 
 cipate their perceptions, they who are capable of observation, and who, pretend- 
 ing to no skill, look only straight forward, will praise and condemn in proportion 
 as the Painter has succeeded in the effect of the whole. Here general satisfac- 
 tion, or general dislike, though perhaps despised by the Painter, as proceeding 
 from the ignorance of the principles of art, may yet help to regulate his conduct, 
 and bring back his attention to that which ought to be his principal object, and 
 from which he has deviated for the sake of minuter beauties. 
 
 An instance of this right judgment I once saw in a child, in going through a 
 gallery where there were many portraits of the last ages, which, though 
 neatly put out of hand, were very ill put together. The child paid no attention 
 to the neat finishing or naturalness of any bit of drapery, but appeared to observe 
 only the ungracefulness of the persons represented, and put herself in the posture 
 of every figure which she saw in a forced and awkward attitude. The censure of 
 nature, uninformed, fastened upon the greatest fault that could be in a picture, 
 because it related to the character and management of the whole. 
 
 1 should be sorry, if what has been said should be understood to have any 
 tendency to encourage that carelessness which leaves work in an unfinished state. 
 I commend nothing for the want of exactness; I mean to point out that kind 
 of exactness which is the best, and which is alone truly to be so esteemed. 
 
 So far is my disquisition from giving countenance to idleness, that there is 
 nothing in our art which enforces such continual exertion and circumspection, as 
 an attention to the general effect of the whole. It requires much study and 
 much practice; it requires the Painter's entire mind ; whereas the parts 
 may be finishing by nice touches, while his mind is engaged on other matters; 
 he may even hear a play or a novel read without much disturbance. The 
 artist who flatters his own indolence, will continually find himself evading 
 this active exertion, and applying his thoughts to the ease and laziness of highly 
 finishing the parts; producing at last what Cowley calls " laborious effects of 
 idleness." 
 
 No work can be too much finished, provided the diligence employed be direct- 
 ed to its proper object; but 1 have observed that an excessive labour in the 
 detail has, nine times in ten, been pernicious to the general effect, even when it 
 has been the labour of great masters. It indicates a bad choice, which is an ill 
 setting out in any undertaking. 
 
 To give a right direction to your industry has been my principal purpose in 
 this discourse. It is this which I am confident often makes the difference be- 
 tween two Students of equal capacities and of equal industry. While the one 
 is employing his labour on minute objects of little consequence, the other is ac- 
 quiring the art, and perfecting the habit, of seeing nature in an extensive view, 
 in its proper proportions, and its due subordination of parts. 
 
 Before I conclude, I must make one observation sufficiently connected with 
 the present subject. 
 
 The same extension of mind which gives the excellence of Genius to the theory 
 
112 
 
 THE ELEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 and mechanical practice of the art, will direct him likewise in the method of 
 study, and give him the superiority over those who narrowly follow a more con- 
 fined track of partial imitation. Whoever, in order to finish his education, should 
 travel to Italy, and spend his whole time there only in copying pictures, and 
 measuring statues or huildings, (though these things are not to he neglected,) 
 would return with little improvement. He that imitates the Iliad, says Dr 
 Young, is not imitating Homer. It is not by laying up in the memory the par- 
 ticular details of any of the great works of art, that any man becomes a great 
 artist, if he stops without making himself master of the general principles on 
 which these works are conducted. If he even hopes to rival those whom he ad- 
 mires, he must consider their works as the means of teaching him the true art of 
 seeing nature. When this is acquired, he then may be said to have appropriated 
 their powers, or at least the foundation of their powers, to himself; the rest must 
 depend upon his own industry and application. The great business of study is, 
 to form a mind, adapted and adequate to all times and all occasions; to which 
 all nature is then laid open, and which may be said to possess the key of her in- 
 exhaustible riches. 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 10, 1784. 
 
 Particular Methods of Study of little Consequence. — Little of the Art can be 
 Taught. — Love of Method often a Love of Idleness. — Pittori Improvisatori 
 apt to be Careless and Incorrect ; seldom Original and Striking. — This pro- 
 ceeds from their not Studying the Works of other Masters. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 In consequence of the situation in which I have the honour to be placed in this 
 Academy, it has often happened, that I have been consulted by the young Stu- 
 dents who intend to spend some years in Italy, concerning the method of regu- 
 lating their studies. I am, as I ought to be, solicitously desirous to communicate 
 the entire result of my experience and observation; and though my openness and 
 facility in giving my opinions might make some amends for whatever was de- 
 fective in them, yet I fear my answers have not often given satisfaction. Indeed 
 I have never been sure, that I understood perfectly what they meant, and was 
 not without some suspicion that they had not themselves very distinct ideas of 
 the object of their enquiry. 
 
 If the information required was, by what means the path that leads to excel- 
 lence could be discovered; if they wished to know whom they were to take for 
 their guides; what to adhere to, and what to avoid; where they were to bait, 
 and where they were to take up their rest; what was to be tasted only, and what 
 should be their diet; such general directions are certainly proper for a Student to 
 ask, and for me, to the best of my capacity, to give; but these rules have been 
 already given: they have in reality been the subject of almost all my Discourses 
 from this place. But I am rather inclined to think, that by method of study, it 
 was meant, (as several do mean,) that the times and the seasons should be pre- 
 scribed, and the order settled, in which every thing was to be done: that it might 
 be useful to point out to what degree of excellence one part of the Art was to be 
 carried, before the Student proceeded to the next; how long he was to continue 
 to draw from the ancient statues, when to begin to compose, and when to apply 
 to the study of colouring. 
 
 Such a detail of instruction might be extended with a great deal of plausible 
 and ostentatious amplification — but it would at best be useless. Our studies 
 
 Y 
 
1U 
 
 THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 will be for ever, in a very great degree, under the direction of chance ; like- 
 travellers, we must take what we can get, and when we can get it ; whether it 
 is, or is not administered to us in the most commodious manner, in the most 
 proper place, or at the exact minute when we would wish to have it. 
 
 Treatises on education, and method of study, have always appeared to me to 
 have one general fault. They proceed upon a false supposition of life ; as if we 
 possessed not only a power over events and circumstances, but had a greater 
 power over ourselves than I believe any of us will be found to possess. Instead 
 of supposing ourselves to be perfect patterns of wisdom and virtue, it seems to 
 me more reasonable to treat ourselves (as I am sure we must now and then treat 
 others) like humoursome children, whose fancies are often to be indulged, in 
 order to keep them in good-humour with themselves and their pursuits. It is 
 necessary to use some artifice of this kind in all processes which by their very 
 nature are long, tedious, and complex, in order to prevent our taking that aver- 
 sion to our studies, which the continual shackles of methodical restraint are sure 
 to produce. 
 
 I would rather wish a student, as soon as he goes abroad, to employ himself 
 upon whatever he has been incited to by any immediate impulse, than to go 
 sluggishly about a prescribed task: whatever he does in such a state of mind, 
 little advantage accrues from it, as nothing sinks deep enough to leave any last- 
 ing impression; and it is impossible that any thing should be well understood, 
 or well done, that is taken into a reluctant understanding, and executed with a 
 servile hand. 
 
 It is desirable, and indeed is necessary to intellectual health, that the mind 
 should be recreated and refreshed with a variety in our studies; that in the irk- 
 someness of uniform pursuit we should be relieved, and, if I may so say, deceived, 
 as much as possible. Besides, the minds of men are so very differently consti- 
 tuted, that it is impossible to find one method which shall be suitable to all. It 
 is of no use to prescribe to those who have no talents ; and those who have 
 talents will find methods for themselves — methods dictated to them by their 
 own particular dispositions, and by the experience of their own particular ne- 
 cessities. 
 
 However, I would not be understood to extend this doctrine to the younger 
 students. The first part of the life of a student, like that of other school-boys, 
 must necessarily be a life of restraint. The grammar, the rudiments, however 
 unpalatable, must at all events be mastered. After a habit is acquired of draw - 
 ing correctly from the model (whatever it may be) which he has before him, the 
 rest, I think, may be safely left to chance ; always supposing that the student is 
 employed, and that his studies are directed to the proper object. 
 
 A passion for his art, and an eager desire to excel, will more than supply 
 the place of method. By leaving a student to himself, he may possibly indeed 
 be led to undertake matters above his strength: but the trial will at least have 
 this advantage, it will discover to himself his own deficiencies ; and this dis- 
 covery alone, is a very considerable acquisition. One inconvenience, I acknow- 
 ledge, may attend bold and arduous attempts; frequent failure may discourage. 
 This evil, however, is not more pernicious than the slow proficiency which is the 
 natural consequence of too easy tasks. 
 
THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 115 
 
 Whatever advantages method may have in dispatch of business, (and there it 
 certainly has many,) I have but little confidence of its efficacy in acquiring ex- 
 cellence in any art whatever. Indeed, I have always strongly suspected, that 
 this love of method, on which some persons appear to place so great dependence, 
 is, in reality, at the bottom, a love of idleness; a want of sufficient energy to put 
 themselves into immediate action: it is a sort of an apology to themselves for 
 doing nothing. I have known artists who may truly be said to have spent their 
 whole lives, or at least the most precious part of their lives, in planning methods 
 of study, without ever beginning; resolving, however, to put it all in practice at 
 some time or other, — when a certain period arrives,— when proper conveniences 
 are procured, — or when they remove to a certain place better calculated for 
 study. It is not uncommon for such persons to go abroad with the most honest 
 and sincere resolution of studying hard, when they shall arrive at the end of their 
 journey. The same want of exertion, arising from the same cause which made 
 them at home put off the day of labour until they had found a proper scheme for 
 it, still continues in Italy, and they consequently return home with little, if any, 
 improvement. 
 
 In the practice of art, as well as in morals, it is necessary to keep a watchful 
 and jealous eye over ourselves: idleness, assuming the specious disguise of in- 
 dustry, will lull to sleep all suspicion of our want of an active exertion of 
 strength. A provision of endless apparatus, a bustle of infinite enquiry and 
 research, or even the mere mechanical labour of copying, may be employed to 
 evade and shuffle off real labour, — the real labour of thinking. 
 
 I have declined for these reasons to point out any particular method and course 
 of study to young Artists on their arrival in Italy. I have left it to their own 
 prudence, a prudence which will grow and improve upon them in the course of 
 unremitted, ardent industry, directed by a real love of their profession, and an 
 unfeigned admiration of those who have been universally admitted as patterns of 
 excellence in the art. 
 
 In the exercise of that general prudence, I shall here submit to their considera- 
 tion such miscellaneous observations as have occurred to me on considering the 
 mistaken notions or evil habits, which have prevented that progress towards ex- 
 cellence, which the natural abilities of several Artists might otherwise have en- 
 abled them to make. 
 
 False opinions and vicious habits have done far more mischief to Students, and 
 to Professors too, than any wrong methods of study. 
 
 Under the influence of sloth, or of some mistaken notion, is that disposition 
 which always wants to lean on other men. Such Students are always talking of 
 the prodigious progress they should make, if they could but have the advantage 
 of being taught by some particular eminent Master. To him they would wish to 
 transfer that care, which they ought and must take of themselves. Such are to 
 be told, that after the rudiments are past, very little of our Art can be taught by 
 others. The most skilful Master can do little more than put the end of the clue 
 into the hands of his Scholar, by which he must conduct himself. 
 
 It is true, the beauties and defects of the works of our predecessors may be 
 pointed out; the principles on which their works are conducted, may be ex- 
 
116 
 
 THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 plained; the great examples of Ancient Art may be spread out before them; but 
 the most sumptuous entertainment is prepared in vain, if the guests will not take 
 the trouble of helping themselves. 
 
 Even the Academy itself, where every convenience for study is procured, and 
 laid before them, may, from that very circumstance, from leaving no difficulties 
 to be encountered in the pursuit, cause a remission of their industry. It is not 
 uncommon to see young artists whilst they are struggling with every obstacle in 
 their way, exert themselves with such success as to outstrip competitors possessed 
 of every means of improvement. The promising expectation which was formed, 
 on so much being done with so little means, has recommended them to a Patron, 
 who has supplied them with every convenience of study; from that time their in- 
 dustry and eagerness of pursuit has forsaken them; they stand still, and see 
 others rush on before them. 
 
 Such men are like certain animals, who will feed only when there is but little 
 provender, and that got at with difficulty through the bars of a rack, but refuse 
 to touch it when there is abundance before them. 
 
 Perhaps, such a falling off may proceed from the faculties being overpowered 
 by the immensity of the materials ; as the traveller dispairs ever to arrive at the 
 end of his journey, when the whole extent of the road which he is to pass is at 
 once displayed to his view. 
 
 Among the first moral qualities, therefore, which a Student ought to cultivate, 
 is a just and manly confidence in himself, or rather in the effects of that perse- 
 vering industry which he is resolved to possess. 
 
 When Raffaelle, by means of his connection with Bramante, the Pope's 
 Architect, was fixed upon to adorn the Vatican with his works, he had done 
 nothing that marked in him any great superiority over his contemporaries; though 
 he was then but young, he had under his direction the most considerable Artists 
 of his age ; and we know what kind of men those were : a lesser mind would 
 have sunk under such a weight; and if we should judge from the meek and 
 gentle disposition which we are told was the character of Paffaelle, we might 
 expect this would have happened to him; but his strength appeared to increase 
 in proportion as exertion was required; and it is not improbable that we are 
 indebted to the good fortune which first placed him in that conspicuous situa- 
 tion, for those great examples of excellence which he has left us. 
 
 The observations to which I formerly wished, and now desire, to point your 
 attention, relate not to errors which are committed by those who have no claim 
 to merit, but to those inadvertencies into which men of parts only can fall by the 
 over-rating or the abuse of some real, though perhaps subordinate, excellence. The 
 errors last alluded to are those of backward, timid characters ; what I shall now 
 speak of, belong to another class; to those Artists who are distinguished for the 
 readiness and facility of their invention. It is undoubtedly a splendid and desir- 
 able accomplishment to be able to design instantaneously any given subject. It 
 is an excellence that I believe every Artist would wish to possess ; but unluckily, 
 the manner in which this dexterity is acquired, habituates the mind to be con- 
 tented with first thoughts without choice or selection. The judgment, after it 
 has been long passive, by degrees loses its power of becoming active when ex- 
 ertion is necessary. 
 
THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 117 
 
 Whoever, therefore, has this talent, must in some measure undo what he had 
 the habit of doing, or at least give a new turn to his mind: great works, which 
 are to live and stand the criticism of posterity, are not performed at a heat. A 
 proportionable time is required for deliberation and circumspection. I remember 
 when I was at Rome looking at the fighting Gladiator, in company with an 
 eminent Sculptor, and I expressed my admiration of the skill with which the 
 whole is composed, and the minute attention of the Artist to the change of every 
 muscle in that momentary exertion of strength; he was of opinion that a work 
 so perfect required nearly the whole life of man to perform. 
 
 I believe, if we look around us, we shall find, that in the sister art of Poetry, 
 what has been soon done, has been as soon forgotten. The judgment and prac- 
 tice of a great Poet on this occasion is worthy attention. Metastasio, who has 
 so much and justly distinguished himself throughout Europe, at his outset was an 
 Improvisator e, or extempore Poet, a description of men not uncommon in Italy: 
 it is not long since he was asked by a friend, if he did not think the custom of 
 inventing and reciting extempore, which he practised when a boy in his character 
 of an Improvisatore, might not be considered as a happy beginning of his edu- 
 cation; he thought it, on the contrary, a disadvantage to him: he said that he 
 had acquired by that habit a carelessness and incorrectness, which it cost him 
 much trouble to overcome, and to substitute in the place of it a totally different 
 habit, that of thinking with selection, and expressing himself with correctness 
 and precision. 
 
 However extraordinary it may appear, it is certainly true, that the inventions 
 of the Pittori improvisatori, as they may be called, have, — notwithstanding the 
 common boast of their authors that all is spun from their own brain, — very 
 rarely any thing that has in the least the air of originality : — their compositions 
 are generally common-place, uninteresting, without character or expression ; 
 like those flowery speeches that we sometimes hear, which impress no new ideas 
 on the mind. 
 
 I would not be thought, however, by what has been said, to oppose the use, 
 the advantage, the necessity there is, of a Painter's being readily able to express 
 his ideas by sketching. The further he can carry such designs, the better. The 
 evil to be apprehended is, his resting there, and not correcting them afterwards 
 from nature, or taking the trouble to look about him for whatever assistance the 
 works of others will afford him. 
 
 We are not to suppose, that when a Painter sits down to deliberate on any 
 work, he has all his knowledge to seek; he must not only be able to draw ex- 
 tempore the human figure in every variety of action, but he must be acquainted 
 likewise with the general principles of composition, and possess a habit of fore- 
 seeing, while he is composing, the effect of the masses of light and shadow, that 
 will attend such a disposition. His mind is entirely occupied by his attention 
 to the whole. It is a subsequent consideration to determine the attitude and 
 expression of individual figures. It is in this period of his work that I would 
 recommend to every Artist to look over his port-folio, or pocket-book, in which 
 he has treasured up all the happy inventions, all the extraordinary and expres- 
 sive attitudes that he has met with in the course of his studies; not only for the 
 sake of borrowing from those studies whatever may be applicable to his wn 
 
118 
 
 THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 work, but likewise on account of the great advantage he will receive by bringing 
 the ideas of great Artists more distinctly before his mind, which will teach him 
 to invent other figures in a similar style. 
 
 Sir Francis Bacon speaks with approbation of the provisionary methods De- 
 mosthenes and Cicero employed to assist their invention : and illustrates their use 
 by a quaint comparison after his manner. These particular Studios being not 
 immediately connected with our art, I need not cite the passage I allude to, and 
 shall only observe that such preparation totally opposes the general received 
 opinions that are floating in the world, concerning genius and inspiration. The 
 same great man in another place, speaking of his own Essays, remarks, that 
 they treat of " those things, wherein both men's lives and persons are most con- 
 versant, whereof a man shall find much in experience, but little in books:" they 
 are then what an artist would naturally call invention; and yet we may suspect 
 that even the genius of Bacon, great as it was, would never have been enabled 
 to have made those observations, if his mind had not been trained and disciplined 
 by reading the observations of others. Nor could he, without such reading, have 
 known that those opinions were not to be found in other books. 
 
 I know there are many Artists of great fame, who appear never to have look- 
 ed out of themselves, and who probably would think it derogatory to their 
 character, to be supposed to borrow from any other Painter. But when we recol- 
 lect, and compare the works of such men with those who took to their assistance 
 the inventions of others, we shall be convinced of the great advantage of this 
 latter practice. 
 
 The two men most eminent for readiness of invention, that occnr to me, are 
 Luca Giordano and La Fage: one in painting, and the other in drawing. 
 
 To such extraordinary powers as were possessed by both of those Artists, we 
 cannot refuse the character of Genius; at the same time, it must be acknowledged, 
 that it was that kind of mechanic Genius which operates without much assist- 
 ance of the head. In all their works, which are (as might be expected) very 
 numerous, we may look in vain fcr anything that can be said to be original and 
 striking; and yet, according to the ordinary ideas of originality, they have as 
 good pretensions as most Painters \ for they borrowed very little from others, 
 and still less will any Artist, that can distinguish between excellence and insipi- 
 dity, ever borrow from them. 
 
 To those men, and all such, let us oppose the practice of the first of Painters. 
 I suppose we shall all agree, that no man ever possessed a greater power of 
 invention, and stood less in need of foreign assistance, than Raffaelle; and 
 yet, when he was designing one of his greatest as well as latest works, the Car- 
 toons, it is very apparent that he had the studies which he had made from 
 Masaccio before him. Two noble figures of St. Paul, which he found there, he 
 adopted in his own work : one of them he took for St. Paul preaching at Athens; 
 and the other for the same Saint, when chastising the sorcerer Elymas. Another 
 figure in the same work, whose head is sunk in his breast, with his eyes shut, 
 appearing deeply wrapt up in thought, was introduced amongst the listeners 
 to the preaching of St. Paul. The most material alteration that is made in those 
 two figures of St. Paul, is the addition of the left hands, which are not seen in 
 the original. It is a rule that Raffaelle observed, (and indeed ought never to be 
 
THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 119 
 
 dispensed with,) in a principal figure, to shew both hands; that it should never 
 be a question, what is become of the other hand. For the Sacrifice at Listra, he 
 took the whole ceremony much as it stands in an ancient Basso-relievo, since 
 published in the Admiranda. 
 
 I have given examples from those pictures only of Raffaelle which we have 
 among us, though many other instances might be produced of this great Painter's 
 not disdaining assistance : indeed his known wealth was so great, that he might 
 borrow where he pleased without loss of credit. 
 
 It may be remarked, that this work of Masaccio, from which he has borrowed 
 so freely, was a public work, and at no farther distance from Rome than Flor- 
 ence ; so that if he had considered it a disgraceful theft, he was sure to be de- 
 tected; but he was well satisfied that his character for invention would be little 
 affected by such a discovery; nor is it, except in the opinion of those who are 
 ignorant of the manner in which great works are built. 
 
 Those who steal from mere poverty; who, having nothing of their own, can- 
 not exist a minute without making such depredations; who are so poor that they 
 have no place in which they can even deposit what they have taken; to men of 
 this description nothing can be said: but such Artists as those to whom I suppose 
 myself now speaking, men whom I consider as competently provided with all the 
 necessaries and conveniences of art, and who do not desire to steal baubles and 
 common trash, but wish only to possess peculiar rarities which they select to or- 
 nament their cabinets, and take care to enrich the general store with materials 
 of equal or of greater value than what they have taken; such men surely need 
 not be ashamed of that friendly intercourse which ought to exist among Artists, 
 of receiving from the dead and giving to the living, and perhaps to those who 
 are yet unborn. 
 
 The daily food and nourishment of the mind of an Artist is found in the great 
 works of his predecessors. There is no other way for him to become great him- 
 self. Serpens nisi serpentem comederit, nonfit draco*, is a remark of a whimsi- 
 cal Natural History, which I have read, though I do not recollect its title; how- 
 ever false as to dragons, it is applicable enough to Artists. 
 
 Raffaelle, as appears from what has been said, had carefully studied the works 
 of Masaccio; and indeed there was no other, if we except Michael Angelo, 
 (whom he likewise imitated,) so worthy of his attention; and though his man- 
 ner was dry and hard, his compositions formal, and not enough diversified, 
 according to the custom of Painters in that early period, yet his works possess 
 that grandeur and simplicity which accompany, and even sometimes proceed from 
 regularity and hardness of manner. We must consider the barbarous state of 
 the Arts before his time, when skill in drawing was so little understood, that the 
 best of the painters could not even foreshorten the foot, but every figure appeared 
 to stand upon his toes; and what served for drapery, had, from the hardness and 
 
 * In Ben Jonson's Catiline, we find this aphorism, with a slight variation : 
 
 " A serpent, ere he comes to be a dragon, 
 " Must eat a bat." M. 
 
120 
 
 THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 smallness of the folds, too much the appearance of cords clinging round the body. 
 He first introduced large drapery flowing in an easy and natural manner: in- 
 deed he appears to be the first who discovered the path that leads to every ex- 
 cellence to which the Art afterwards arrived, and may therefore be justly con 
 sidered as one of the Great fathers of modern Art. 
 
 Though I have been led on to a longer digression respecting this great Painter 
 than I intended, yet I cannot avoid mentioning another excellence which he 
 possessed in a very eminent degree; he was as much distinguished among his 
 contemporaries for his diligence and industry, as he was for the natural faculties 
 of his mind. We are told, that his whole attention was absorbed in the pursuit 
 of his art, and that he acquired the name of Masaccio*, from his total disregard to 
 his dress, his person, and all the common concerns of life. He is indeed a signal 
 instance of what well-directed diligence will do in a short time; he lived but 
 twenty-seven years; yet in that short space carried the art so far beyond what it 
 had before reached, that he appears to stand alone as a model for his successors. 
 Vasari gives a long catalogue of Painters and Sculptors, who formed their 
 taste, and learned their Art, by studying his works ; among those, he names 
 Michael Angelo, Lionardo da Vinci, Pietro Perugino, Raffaelle, Bartolomeo, 
 Andrea del Sarto, II Rosso, and Pierino del Vaga. 
 
 The habit of contemplating and brooding over the ideas of great geniuses, till 
 you find yourself warmed by the contact, is the true method of forming an artist- 
 like mind; it is impossible, in the presence of those great men, to think, or invent 
 in a mean manner; a state of mind is acquired that receives those ideas only 
 which relish of grandeur and simplicity. 
 
 Besides the general advantage of forming the taste by such an intercourse, 
 there is another of a particular kind, which was suggested to me by the practice 
 of Raffaelle, when imitating the work of which I have been speaking. The figure 
 of the Proconsul, Sergius Paulus, is taken from the Felix of Masaccio, though 
 one is a front figure, and the other seen in profile; the action is likewise some- 
 what changed; but it is plain Raffaelle had that figure in his mind. There is a 
 circumstance indeed, which I mention by the by, which marks it very particu- 
 larly; Sergius Paulus wears a crown of laurel ; this is hardly reconcileable to 
 strict propriety, and the costume, of which Raffaelle was in general a good ob- 
 server; but he found it so in Masaccio, and he did not bestow so much pains in 
 disguise as to change it. It appears to me to be an excellent practice, thus to 
 suppose the figures which you wish to adopt in the works of those great Painters 
 to be statues; and to give, as Raffaelle has here given another view, taking 
 care to preserve all the spirit and grace you find in the original. 
 
 I should hope, from what has been lately said, that it is not necessary to guard 
 myself against any supposition of recommending an entire dependence upon 
 former masters. I do not desire that you should get other people to do your 
 business, or to think for you; I only wish you to consult with, to call in, as 
 Councillors, men the most distinguished for their knowledge and experience, 
 
 * The addition of accio denotes some deformity or imperfection attending that person to 
 whom it is applied. K. 
 
THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 131 
 
 the result of which counsel must ultimately depend upon yourself. Such conduct 
 in the commerce of life has never been considered as disgraceful, or in any re- 
 spect to imply intellectual imbecility; it is a sign rather of that true wisdom, 
 which feels individual imperfection; and is conscious to itself how much collective 
 observation is necessary to fill the immense extent, and to comprehend the in- 
 finite variety of nature. I recommend neither self-dependence nor plagiarism, 
 I advise you only to take that assistance which every human being wants, and 
 which, as appears from the examples that have been given, the greatest Painters 
 have not disdained to accept. Let me add, that the dilligence required in the 
 search, and the exertion subsequent in accommodating those ideas to your own 
 purpose, is a business which idleness will not, and ignorance cannot, perform. 
 But in order more distinctly to explain what kind of borrowing I mean, when I 
 recommend so anxiously the study of the works of great Masters, let us for a 
 minute return again to Raffaelle, consider his method of practice, and endeavour 
 to imitate him, in his manner of imitating others. 
 
 The two figures of St. Paul which I lately mentioned, are so nobly conceived 
 by Masaccio, that perhaps it was not in the power even of Raffaelle himself to 
 raise and improve them, nor has he attempted it; but he has had the address to 
 change in some measure without diminishing the grandeur of their character; he 
 has substituted, in the place of a serene composed dignity, that animated ex- 
 pression which was necessary to the more active employment he has assigned 
 them. 
 
 In the same manner he has given more animation to the figure of Sergius Pau- 
 lus, and to that which is introduced in the picture of St. Paul preaching, of 
 which little more than hints are given by Masaccio, which Raffaelle has finished. 
 The closing the eyes of this figure, which in Masaccio might be easily mistaken 
 for sleeping, is not in the least ambiguous in the Cartoon: his eyes indeed are 
 closed, but they are closed with such vehemence, that the agitation of a mind 
 perplexed in the extreme is seen at the first glance: but what is most extraordi- 
 nary, and I think particularly to be admired, is, that the same idea is continued 
 through the whole figure, even to the drapery, which is so closely muffled about 
 him, that even his hands are not seen; by this happy correspondence between the 
 expression of the countenance, and the disposition of the parts, the figure appears 
 to think from head to foot. Men of superior talents alone are capable of thus using 
 and adapting other men's minds to their own purposes, or are able to make out 
 and finish what was only in the original a hint or imperfect conception. A readi- 
 ness in taking such hints, which escape the dull aud ignorant, makes, in my 
 opinion, no inconsiderable part of that faculty of the mind which is called 
 Genius. 
 
 It often happens that hints may be taken and employed in a situation totally 
 different from that in which they were originally employed. There is a figure 
 of a Bacchante leaning backward, her head thrown quite behind her, which 
 seems to be a favourite invention, as it is so frequently repeated in basso-relievos, 
 camseos, and intaglios; it is intended to express an enthusiastic frantic kind of 
 joy. This figure Baccio Bandinelli, in a drawing that I have of that Master, 
 of the Descent from the Cross, has adopted, (and he knew very well what was 
 worth borrowing,) for one of the Marys, to express frantic agony of grief. It is 
 
 Z 
 
122 
 
 THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 curious to observe, and it is certainly true, that the extremes of contrary pas- 
 sions are with very little variation expressed by the same action. 
 
 If I were to recommend method in any part of the study of a Painter, it 
 would be in regard to invention ; that young Students should not presume to 
 think themselves qualified to invent, till they were acquainted with those stores 
 of invention the world already possesses, and had by that means accumulated 
 sufficient materials for the mind to work with. It would certainly be no im- 
 proper method of forming the mind of a young Artist, to begin with such exer- 
 cises as the Italians call a Pasticcio composition of the different excellencies 
 which are dispersed in all other works of the same kind. It is not supposed that 
 he is to stop here, but that he is to acquire by this means the art of selecting, 
 first what is truly excellent in Art, and then what is still more excellent in 
 Nature; a task, which, without this previous study, he will be but ill qualified 
 to perform. 
 
 The doctrine which is here advanced, is acknowledged to be new, and to many 
 may appear strange. But I only demand for it the reception of a stranger ; a 
 favourable and attentive consideration, without that entire confidence which 
 might be claimed under authoritative recommendation. 
 
 After you have taken a figure, or any idea of a figure, from any of those great 
 Painters, there is another operation still remaining, which I hold to be indispen- 
 sably necessary, that is, never to neglect finishing from Nature every part of the 
 work. What is taken from a model, though the first idea may have been sug- 
 gested by another, you have a just right to consider as your own property. And 
 here I cannot avoid mentioning a circumstance in placing the model, though to 
 some it may appear trifling. It is better to possess the model with the attitude 
 you require, than to place him with your own hands: by this means it happens 
 often that the model puts himself in an action superior to your own imagination. 
 It is a great matter to be in the way of accident, and to be watchful and ready 
 to take advantage of it; besides, when you fix the position of a model, there is 
 danger of putting him in an attitude into which no man would naturally fall. 
 This extends even to drapery. We must be cautious in touching and altering a 
 fold of the stuff, which serves as a model, for fear of giving it inadvertently a 
 forced form ; and it is perhaps better to take the chance of another casual throw, 
 than to alter the position in which it was at first accidentally cast. 
 
 Rembrandt, in order to take the advantage of accident, appears often to have 
 used the pallet-knife to lay his colours on the canvas, instead of the pencil. 
 Whether it is the knife or any other instrument, it suffices if it is something that 
 does not follow exactly the will. Accident in the hands of an Artist who knows 
 how to take the advantage of its hints, will often produce bold and capricious 
 beauties of handling and facility, such as he would not have thought of, or ven- 
 tured, with his pencil, under the regular restraint of his hand. However, this 
 is fit only on occasions where no correctness of form is required, such as clouds, 
 stumps of trees, rocks, or broken ground. Works produced in an accidental 
 manner will have the same free unrestrained air as the works of nature, whose 
 particular combinations seem to depend upon accident. 
 
 I again repeat, you are never to lose sight of Nature; the instant you do, you 
 *re all abroad, at the mercy of every gust of fashion, without knowing or seeing 
 
THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 123 
 
 the point to which you ought to steer. Whatever trips you make, you must still 
 have Nature in your eye. Such deviations as art necessarily requires, I hope in 
 a future Discourse to be able to explain. In the mean time, let me recommend 
 to you, not to have too great dependence on your practice or memory, however 
 strong those impressions may have been which are there deposited. They are for 
 ever wearing out, and will be at last obliterated, unless they are continually re- 
 freshed and repaired. 
 
 It is not uncommon to meet with artists, who, from a long neglect of cultiva- 
 ting this necessary intimacy with Nature, do not even know her when they see 
 her; she appearing a stranger to them, from their being so long habituated to 
 their own representation of her. I have heard Painters acknowledge, though in 
 that acknowledgment no degradation of themselves was intended, that they 
 could do better without Nature than with her; or as they expressed it themselves, 
 that it only put them out. A Painter with such ideas and such habits, is indeed 
 in a most hopeless state. The art of seeing Nature, or in other words, the art 
 of using Models, is in reality the great object, the point to which all our studies 
 are directed. As for the power of being able to do tolerably well, from practice 
 alone, let it be valued according to its worth. But I do not see in what manner 
 it can be sufficient for the production of correct, excellent, and finished Pictures. 
 Works deserving this character never were produced, nor ever will arise, from 
 memory alone ; and I will venture to say, that an Artist who brings to his work 
 a mind tolerably furnished with the general principles of Art, and a taste formed 
 upon the works of good Artists, in short who knows in what excellence consists, 
 will, with the assistance of Models, which we will likewise suppose he has learnt 
 the art of using, be an over-match for the greatest Painter that ever lived who 
 should be debarred such advantages. 
 
 Our neighbours, the French, are much in this practice of extempore invention, 
 and their dexterity is such as even to excite admiration, if not envy; but how 
 rarely can this praise be given to their finished pictures! 
 
 The late Director of their Academy, Boucher, was eminent in this way. When 
 I visited him some years since, in France, I found him at work on a very large 
 Picture, without drawings or models of any kind. On my remarking this par- 
 ticular circumstance, he said, when he was young, studying his art, he found it 
 necessary to use models; but he had left them off for many years. 
 
 Such Pictures as this was, and such as I fear always will be produced by 
 those who work solely from practice or memory, may be a convincing proof of 
 the necessity of the conduct which 1 have recommended. However, in justice, I 
 cannot quit this Painter without adding, that in the former part of his life, when 
 he was in the habit of having recourse to nature, he was not without a consider- 
 able degree of merit, — enough to make half the Painters of his country his imita- 
 tors; he had often grace and beauty, and good skill in composition; but, I think, 
 all under the influence of a bad taste: his imitators are indeed abominable. 
 
 Those Artists who have quitted the service of Nature, (whose service when well 
 understood, is perfect freedom,) and have put themselves under the direction of \ 
 know not what capricious fantastical mistress, who fascinates and overpowers 
 their whole mind, and from whose dominion there are no hopes of their being 
 
124 
 
 THE TWELFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 ever reclaimed, (since they appear perfectly satisfied, and not at alt conscious of 
 their forlorn situation,) like the transformed followers of Comus, — 
 
 Not once perceive their soul disfigurement ; 
 But boast themselves more comely than before. 
 
 Me thinks sueh men, who have found out so short a path, have no reason to 
 complain of the shortness of life, and the extent of art; since life is so much 
 longer than is wanted for their improvement, or indeed is necessary for the ac- 
 complishment of their idea of perfection. On the contrary, he who recurs to 
 Nature, at every recurrence renews his strength. The rules of art he is never 
 likely to forget; they are few and simple; but Nature is refined, subtle, and in- 
 finitely various, beyond the power and retention of memory; it is necessary, 
 therefore, to have continual recourse to her. Tn this intercourse, there is no end 
 of his improvement; the longer he lives, the nearer he approaches to the true 
 and perfect idea of Art. 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER J 1, 1786. 
 
 Art not merely Imitation, but tinder the direction of the imagination. In what 
 ■manner Poetry, Painting, Acting, Gardening, and Architecture, depart from 
 Nature. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 To discover beauties, or to point out faults, in the works of celebrated Masters, 
 and to compare the conduct of one Artist with another, is certainly no mean or 
 inconsiderable part of criticism; but this is still no more than to know the art 
 through the Artist. This test of investigation must have two capital defects; it 
 must be narrow, and it must be uncertain. To enlarge the boundaries of the 
 Art of Painting, as well as to fix its principles, it will be necessary, that, thai 
 art, and those principles, should be considered in their correspondence with the 
 principles of the other arts, which, like this, address themselves primarily and 
 principally to the imagination. When those connected and kindred principles 
 are brought together to be compared, another comparison will grow out of this; 
 that is, the comparison of them all with those of human nature, from whence arts 
 derive the materials upon which they are to produce their effects. 
 
 When this comparison of art with art, and of all arts with the nature of man, 
 is once made with success, our guiding lines are as well ascertained and established 
 as they can be in matters of this description. 
 
 This, as it is the highest style of criticism, is at the same time the soundest ; 
 for it refers to the eternal and immutable nature of things. 
 
 You are not to imagine that I mean to open to you at large, or to recommend 
 to your research, the whole of this vast field of science. It is certainly much 
 above my faculties to reach it; and though it may not be above yours to compre- 
 hend it fully, if it were fully and properly brought before you, yet perhaps the 
 most perfect criticism requires habits of speculation and abstraction, not very 
 consistent with the employment which ought to occupy and the habits of mind 
 which ought to prevail in a practical Artist. I only point out to you these things, 
 that when you do criticise, (as all who work on a plan, will criticise more or less,) 
 your criticism may be built on the foundation of true principles; and that though 
 you may not always travel a great way, the way that you do travel may be the 
 right road. 
 
126 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 I observe, as a fundamental ground, common to all the Arts with which we 
 have any concern in this discourse, that they address themselves only to two 
 faculties of the mind, its imagination and its sensibility. 
 
 All theories which attempt to direct or to control the Art, upon any principles 
 falsely called rational, which we form to ourselves upon a supposition of what ought 
 in reason to be the end or means of Art, independent of the known first effect 
 produced by objects on the imagination, must be false and delusive. For though 
 it may appear bold to say it, the imagination is here the residence of truth. If the 
 imagination be effected, the conclusion is fairly drawn; if it be not affected, the 
 reasoning is erroneous, because the end is not obtained; the effect itself being 
 the test, and the only test, of the truth and efficacy of the means. 
 
 There is in the commerce of life, as in Art, a sagacity which is far from being 
 contradictory to right reason, and is superior to any occasional exercise of that 
 faculty, which supersedes it, and does not wait for the slow progress of deduc- 
 tion, but goes at once, by what appears a kind of intuition, to the conclusion. 
 A man endowed with this faculty, feels and acknowledges the truth, though it 
 is not always in his power, perhaps, to give a reason for it ; because he cannot 
 recollect and bring before him all the materials that gave birth to his opinion; 
 for very many and very intricate considerations may unite to form the principle, 
 even of small and minute parts, involved in, or dependant on, a great system of 
 things: though these in process of time are forgotten, the right impression still 
 remains fixed in his mind. 
 
 This impression is the result of the accumulated experience of our whole life, 
 and has been collected, we do not always know how, or when. But this mass of 
 collective observation, however acquired, ought to prevail over that reason, which 
 however powerfully exerted on any particular occasion, will probably compre- 
 hend but a partial view of the subject ; and our conduct in life as well as in the 
 Arts, is, or ought to be, generally governed by this habitual reason: it is our 
 happiness that we are enabled to draw on such funds. If we were obliged to 
 enter into a theoretical deliberation on every occasion, before we act, life would 
 be at a stand, and Art would be impracticable. 
 
 It appears to me therefore, that our first thoughts, that is, the effect which 
 any thing produces on our minds, on its first appearance, is never to be forgot- 
 ten; and it demands for that reason, because it is the first, to be laid up with 
 care. If this be not done, the Artist may happen to impose on himself by partial 
 reasoning; by a cold consideration of those animated thoughts which proceed, not 
 perhaps from caprice or rashness, (as he may afterwards conceit,) but from the 
 fulness of his mind, enriched with the copious stores of all the various inventions 
 which he had ever seen, or had ever passed in his mind. These ideas are infused 
 into his design, without any conscious effort; but if he be not on his guard, he 
 may re-consider and correct them, till the whole matter is reduced to a common- 
 place invention. 
 
 This is sometimes the effect of what I mean to caution you against; that is to 
 say, an unfounded distrust of the imagination and feeling, in favour of narrow, 
 partial, confined argumentative theories; and of principles that seem to apply 
 to the design in hand; without considering those general impressions on the fancy 
 in which real principles of sound reason, and of much more weight and import- 
 
THE THIRTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 12T 
 
 ance, are involved, and, as it were, lie hid, under the appearance of a sort of 
 vulgar sentiment. 
 
 Reason, without doubt, must ultimately determine every thing; at this minute 
 it is required to inform us when that very reason is to give way to feeling. 
 
 Though I have often spoke of that mean conception of our art which confines 
 it to mere imitation, I must add, that it may be narrowed to such a mere matter 
 of experiment, as to exclude from it the application of science, which alone gives 
 dignity and compass to any art. But to find proper foundations for science is. 
 neither to narrow or to vulgarise it ; and this is sufficiently exemplified in the 
 success of experimental philosophy. It is the false system of reasoning, ground- 
 ed on a partial view of things, against which I would most earnestly guard you. 
 And I do it the rather, because those narrow theories, so coincident with the 
 poorest and most miserable practice, and which are adopted to give it counte- 
 nance, have not had their origin in the poorest minds, but in the mistakes, or 
 possibly in the mistaken interpretations, of great and commanding authorities. 
 We are not therefore in this case misled by feeling, but by false speculation. 
 
 When such a man as Plato speaks of Painting as only an imitative art, and 
 that our pleasure proceeds from observing and acknowledging the truth of the 
 imitation, 1 think he misleads us by a partial theory. It is in this poor, partial, 
 and so far, false, view of the art, that Cardinal Bembo has chosen to distinguish 
 even Raffaelle himself, whom our enthusiasm honours with the name of Divine. 
 The same sentiment is adopted by Pope in his epitaph on Sir Godfrey Kneller; 
 and he turns the panegyric solely on imitation, as it is a sort of deception. 
 
 I shall not think my time misemployed, if by any means I may contribute to 
 confirm your opinion of what ought to be the object of your pursuit ; because, 
 though the best critics must always have exploded this strange idea, yet I know 
 that there is a disposition towards a perpetual recurrence to it, on account of its 
 simplicity and superficial plausibility. For this reason I shall beg leave to lay 
 before you a few thoughts on this subject; to throw out some hints that may 
 lead your minds to an opinion, (which I take to be the truth,) that Painting is 
 not only not to be considered as an imitation, operating by deception, but that it 
 is, and ought to be, in many points of view, and strictly speaking, no imitation 
 at all of external nature. Perhaps it ought to be as far removed from the vulgar 
 idea of imitation, as the refined civilized state in which we live, is removed from 
 a gross state of nature; and those who have not cultivated their imaginations, 
 which the majority of mankind certainly have not, may be said, in regard to arts, 
 to continue in this state of nature. Such men will always prefer imitation to 
 that excellence which is addressed to another faculty that they do not possess ; 
 but these are not the persons to whom a Painter is to look, any more than a 
 judge of morals and manners ought to refer controverted points upon those sub- 
 jects to the opinions of people taken from the banks of the Ohio, or from New 
 Holland. 
 
 It is the lowest style only of arts, whether of Painting, Poetry, or Music, that 
 may be said, in the vulgar sense, to be naturally pleasing. The higher efforts of 
 those arts, we know by experience, do not affect minds wholly uncultivated. 
 This refined taste is the consequence of education and habit; we are born only 
 with a capacity of entertaining this refinement, as we are born with a disposi- 
 
128 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 tion to receive and obey all the rules and regulations of society; and so far it 
 may be paid to be natural to us, and no further. 
 
 What has been said, may shew the artist how necessary it is, when he looks 
 about him for the advice and criticism of his friends, to make some distinction of 
 the character, taste, experience, and observation in this Art, of those from whom 
 it is received. An ignorant uneducated man may, like Apelles's critic, be a com- 
 petent judge of the truth of the representation of a sandal; or to go somewhat 
 higher, like Moliere's old woman, may decide upon what is nature in regard to 
 comic humour; but a critic in the higher style of art, ought to possess the same 
 refined taste, which directed the Artist in his work. 
 
 To illustrate this principle by a comparison with other Arts, I shall now pro- 
 duce some instances to shew, that they, as well as our own Art, renounce the 
 narrow idea of nature, and the narrow theories derived from that mistaken 
 principle, and apply to that reason only which informs us not what imitation is, — 
 a natural representation of a given object, — but what it is natural for the imagi- 
 nation to be delighted with. And perhaps there is no better way of acquiring 
 this knowledge, than by this kind of analogy: each art will corroborate and mu- 
 tually reflect the truth on the other. Such a kind of juxtaposition may likewise 
 have this use, that whilst the Artist is amusing himself in the contemplation of 
 other Arts, he may habitually transfer the principles of those Arts to that which 
 he professes; which ought to be always present to his mind, and to which every 
 thing is to be referred. 
 
 So far is Art from being derived from, or having any immediate intercourse 
 with particular nature as its model, that there are many Arts that set out with a 
 professed deviation from it. 
 
 This is certainly not so exactly true in regard to Painting and Sculpture. Our 
 elements are laid in gross common nature, — an exact imitation, of what is before 
 us : but when we advance to the higher state, we consider this power of imita- 
 tion, though first in the order of acquisition, as by no means the highest in the 
 scale of perfection. 
 
 Poetry addresses itself to the same faculties and the same dispositions as 
 Painting, though by different means. The object of both is to accommodate it- 
 self to all the natural propensities and inclinations of the mind. The very ex- 
 istence of Poetry depends on the licence it assumes of deviating from actual 
 nature, in order to gratify natural propensities by other means, which are found 
 by experience full as capable of affording such gratification. It sets out with a 
 language in the highest degree artificial, a construction of measured words, such 
 as never is, nor ever was used by man. Let this measure be what it may, 
 whether hexameter or any other metre used in Latin or Greek, — or Rhyme, or 
 blank Verse varied with pauses and accents, in modern languages, — they are all 
 equally removed from Nature, and equally a violation of common speech. When 
 this artificial mode has been established as the vehicle of sentiment, there is an- 
 other principle in the human mind, to which the work must be referred, which still 
 renders it more artificial, carries it still further from common nature, and deviates 
 only to render it more perfect. That principle is the sense of congruity, coherence, 
 and consistency, which is a real existing principle in man; and it must be grati- 
 fied. Therefore having once adopted a style and a measure not found in common 
 
THE THIRTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 129 
 
 discourse, it is required that the sentiments also should be in the same propor- 
 tion elevated above common nature, from the necessity of their being an agree- 
 ment of the parts among themselves, that one uniform whole may be produced. 
 
 To correspond therefore with this general system of deviation from nature, the 
 manner in which poetry is offered to the ear, the tone in which it is recited , 
 should be as far removed from the tone of conversation, as the words of which 
 that Poetry is composed. This naturally suggests the idea of modulating the 
 voice by art, which I suppose may be considered as accomplished to the highest 
 degree of excellence in the recitative of the Italian Opera, as we may conjecture 
 it was in the Chorus that attended the ancient drama. And though the most 
 violent passions, the highest distress, even death itself, are expressed in singing 
 or recitative, 1 would not admit as sound criticism the condemnation of such ex- 
 hibitions on account of their being unnatural. 
 
 If it is natural for our senses, and our imaginations, to be delighted with sing- 
 ing, with instrumental music, with poetry, and with graceful action, taken separ- 
 ately, (none of them being, in the vulgar sense, natural, even in that separate 
 state,) it is conformable to experience, and therefore agreeable to reason as con- 
 nected with and referred to experience, that we should also be delighted with 
 this union of music, poetry, and graceful action, joined to every circumstance 
 of pomp and magnificence calculated to strike the senses of the spectator. Shall 
 reason stand in the way, and tell us that we ought not to like what we know we 
 do like, and prevent us from feeling the full effect of this complicated exertion 
 of art ? This is what I would Understand by poets and painters being allowed 
 to dare every thing; for what can be more daring, than accomplishing the pur- 
 pose and end of art, by a complication of means, none of which have their arche- 
 types in actual nature ? 
 
 So far therefore is servile imitation from being necessary, that whatever is 
 familiar, or in any way reminds us of what we see and hear every day, perhaps 
 does not belong to the higher provinces of art, either in poetry or painting. The 
 mind is to be transported, as Shakspeare expresses it, beyond the ignorant pre- 
 sent, to ages past. Another and a higher order of beings is supposed; and to 
 those beings every thing which is introduced into the work must correspond. 
 Of this conduct, under these circumstances, the Roman and Florentine schools 
 afford sufficient examples. Their style by this means is raised and elevated above 
 all others; and by the same means the compass of art itself is enlarged. 
 
 We often see grave and great subjects attempted by artists of another school; 
 who though excellent in the lower class of art, proceeding on the principles which 
 regulate that class, and not recollecting, or not knowing, that they were to ad- 
 dress themselves to another faculty of the mind, have become perfectly ridiculous. 
 
 The picture which I have at present in my thoughts is a sacrifice of Iphigenia, 
 painted by Jan Steen, a painter of whom I have formerly had occasion to speak 
 with the highest approbation; and even in this picture, the subject of which is 
 by no means adapted to his genius, there is nature and expression ; but it is such 
 expression, and the countenances are so familiar, and consequently so vulgar, 
 and the whole accompanied with such finery of silks and velvet, that one would 
 be almost tempted to doubt, whether the artist did not purposely intend to bur- 
 lesque his subject 
 
 A 2 
 
130 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Instances of the same kind we frequently see in poetry. Parts of Hobbes'a 
 translation of Homer are remembered and repeated merely for the familiarity 
 and meanness of their phraseology, so ill corresponding with the ideas which 
 ought to have been expressed, and, as I conceive, with the style of the original. 
 
 We may proceed in the same manner through the comparatively inferior 
 branches of art. There are in works of that class, the same distinction of a 
 higher and a lower style ; and they take their rank and degree in proportion as 
 the artist departs more or less from common nature, and makes it an object of 
 his attention to strike the imagination of the spectator by ways belonging speci- 
 ally to art — unobserved and untaught out of the school of its practice. 
 
 If our judgments are to be directed by narrow, vulgar, untaught, or rather ill - 
 taught reason, we must prefer a portrait by Denner, or any other high finisher, to 
 those of Titian or Vandyck ; and a landscape of Vanderheyden to those of Titian 
 or Rubens; for they are certainly more exact representations of nature. 
 
 If we suppose a view of nature represented with all the truth of the camera 
 obscura, and the same scene represented by a great Artist, how little and mean 
 will the one appear in comparison of the other, where no superiority is supposed 
 from the choice of the subject. The scene shall be the same, the difference only 
 will be in the manner in which it is presented to the eye. With what additional 
 superiority then will the same Artist appear when he has the power of selecting 
 his materials, as well as elevating his style ? Like Nicolas Poussin, he transports 
 us to the environs of ancient Rome, with all the objects which a literary educa- 
 tion makes so precious and interesting to man: or, like Sebastian Bourdon, he 
 leads us to the dark antiquity of the Pyramids of Egypt ; or, like Claude Lor- 
 rain, he conducts us to the tranquillity of Arcadian scenes and fairy land. 
 
 Like the history-painter, a painter of landscapes in this style, and with this 
 conduct, sends the imagination back into antiquity; and, like the Poet, he makes 
 the elements sympathise with his subject: whether the clouds roll in volumes 
 like those of Titian or Salvator Rosa, — or, like those of Claude, are gilded with 
 the setting sun; whether the mountains have sudden and bold projections, or are 
 gently sloped, whether the branches of his trees shoot out abruptly in right 
 angles from their trunks, or follow each other with only a gentle inclination. 
 All these circumstances contribute to the general character of the work, whether 
 it be of the elegant, or of the more sublime kind. If we add to this the powerful 
 materials of lightness and darkness, over which the Artist has complete dominion, 
 to vary and dispose them as he pleases; to diminish, or increase them, as will 
 best suit his purpose, and correspond to the general idea of his work; a landscape 
 thus conducted, under the influence of a poetical mind, will have the same su- 
 periority over the more ordinary and common views, as Milton's Allegro and 
 Pensoroso have over a cold prosaic narration or description; and such a picture 
 would make a more forcible impression on the mind than the real scenes, were 
 they presented before us. 
 
 If we look abroad to other Arts, we may observe the same distinction, the 
 same division into two classes; each of them acting under the influence of two 
 different principles, in which the one follows nature, the other varies it, and 
 sometimes departs from it. 
 
 The Theatre, which is said to hold the mirror up to nature, comprehends both 
 those ideas. The lower kind of Comedy, or Farce, like the inferior style of 
 
THE THIRTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 131 
 
 Painting, the more naturally it is represented, the better; but the higher ap- 
 pears to me to aim no more at imitation, so far as it belongs to any thing like 
 deception, or to expect that the spectators should think that the events there 
 represented are really passing before them, than Raffaelle in his Cartoons, or 
 Poussin in his Sacraments, expected it to be believed, even for a moment, that 
 what they exhibited were real figures. 
 
 For want of this distinction, the world is filled with false criticism. Raffaelle 
 is praised for naturalness and deception, which he certainly has not accomplished, 
 and as certainly never intended; and our late great actor, Garrick, has been as 
 ignorantly praised by his friend Fielding, who doubtless imagined he had hit 
 upon an ingenious device, by introducing in one of his novels, (otherwise a work 
 of the highest merit,) an ignorant man, mistaking Garrick's representation of a 
 scene in Hamlet, for reality. A very little reflection will convince us, that there 
 is not one circumstance in the whole scene that is of the nature of deception. 
 The merit and excellence of Shakspeare, and of Garrick, when they were en- 
 gaged in such scenes, is of a different and much higher kind. But what adds 
 to the falsity of this intended compliment, is, that the best stage-representation 
 appears even more unnatural to a person of such a character, who is supposed 
 never to have seen a play before, than it does to those who have had a habit of 
 allowing for those necessary deviations from nature which the Art requires. 
 
 In theatric representation, great allowances must be always made for the place 
 in which the exhibition is represented; for the surrounding company, the lighted 
 candles, the scenes visibly shifted in your sight, and the language of blank verse, 
 so different from common English, which merely as English must appear sur- 
 prising in the mouths of Hamlet, and all the court and natives of Denmark. 
 These allowances are made ; but their being made puts an end to all manner of 
 deception: and further, we know that the more low, illiterate, and vulgar any 
 person is, the less he will be disposed to make these allowances, and of course to 
 be deceived by any imitation; the things in which the trespass against nature 
 and common probability is made in favour of the theatre, being quite within the 
 sphere of such uninformed men. 
 
 Though I have no intention of entering into all the circumstances of unnatural- 
 ness in theatrical representations, I must observe, that even the expression of 
 violent passion is not always the most excellent in proportion as it is the most 
 natural: so great terror and such disagreeable sensations may be communicated 
 to the audience, that the balance may be destroyed by which pleasure is pre- 
 served, and holds its predominancy in the mind: violent distortion of action, 
 harsh screamings of the voice, however great the occasion, or however natural 
 on such occasion, are therefore not admissible in the theatric art. Many of these 
 allowed deviations from nature arise from the necessity which there is, that every 
 thing should be raised and enlarged beyond its natural state; that the full effect 
 may come home to the spectator, which otherwise would be lost in the compara- 
 tively extensive space of the Theatre. Hence the deliberate and stately step, 
 the studied grace of action, which seems to enlarge the dimensions of the Actor, 
 and alone to fill the stage. All this unnaturalness, though right and proper in 
 its place, would appear affected and ridiculous in a private room; quid enhn de- 
 forming, qudm scenam in vitam transferre ? 
 
132 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 And here I must observe, and I believe it may be considered as a general rule, 
 that no Art can be engrafted with success on another Art. For though they all 
 profess the same origin, and to proceed from the same stock, yet each has its own 
 peculiar modes both of imitating nature, and of deviating from it, each for the 
 accomplishment of its own particular purpose. These deviations, more especially, 
 will not bear transplantation to another soil. 
 
 If a Painter should endeavour to copy the theatrical pomp and parade of dress 
 and attitude, instead of that simplicity, which is not a greater beauty in life 
 than it is in Painting, we should condemn such Pictures as painted in the mean- 
 est style. 
 
 So also Gardening, as far as Gardening is an Art, or entitled to that appella- 
 tion, is a deviation from nature ; for if the true taste consists, as many hold, in 
 banishing every appearance of Art, or any traces of the footsteps of man, it 
 would then be no longer a Garden. Even though we define it, " Nature to ad- 
 vantage dress'd," and in some sense it is such, and much more beautiful and 
 commodious for the recreation of man; it is, however, when so dressed, no longer 
 a subject for the pencil of a Landscape-Painter, as all Landscape-Painters know, 
 who love to have recourse to Nature herself, and to dress her according to the 
 principles of their own Art, which are far different from those of Gardening, 
 even when conducted according to the most approved principles, and such as a 
 Landscape-Painter himself would adopt in the disposition of his own grounds, 
 for his own private satisfaction. 
 
 I have brought together as many instances as appear necessary to make out 
 the several points which I wished to suggest to your consideration in this Dis- 
 course ; that your own thoughts may lead you further in the use that may be 
 made of the analogy of the Arts; and of the restraint which a full understand- 
 ing of the diversity of many of their principles ought to impose on the employ- 
 ment of that analogy. 
 
 The great end of all those arts is, to make an impression on the imagination 
 and the feeling. The imitation of nature frequently does this. Sometimes it 
 fails, and something else succeeds. I think, therefore, the true test of all the arts 
 is not solely whether the production is a true copy of nature, but whether it 
 answers the end of art, which is to produce a pleasing effect upon the mind. 
 
 It remains only to speak a few words of Architecture, which does not come 
 under the denomination of an imitative art. It applies itself, like Music, (and I 
 believe we may add Poetry,) directly to the imagination, without the interven- 
 tion of any kind of imitation. 
 
 There is in Architecture, as in Painting, an inferior branch of art, in which 
 the imagination appears to have no concern. It does not, however, acquire the 
 name of a polite and liberal art, from its usefulness, or administering to our 
 wants or necessities, but from some higher principle: we are sure that in the 
 hands of a man of genius it is capable of inspiring sentiment, and of filling the 
 mind with great and sublime ideas. 
 
 it may be worth the attention of Artists to consider what materials are in their 
 hands, that may contribute to this end; and whether this art has it not in its 
 power to address itself to the imagination with effect, by more ways than are 
 generally employed by Architects. 
 
THE THIRTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 133 
 
 To pass over the effect produced by that general symmetry and proportion, by 
 which the eye is delighted, as the ear is with music, Architecture certainly pos- 
 sesses many principles in common with Poetry and Painting. Among those 
 which may be reckoned as the first, is that of affecting the imagination by means 
 of association of ideas. Thus, for instance, as we have naturally a veneration 
 for antiquity, whatever building brings to our remembrance ancient customs and 
 manners, such as the Castles of the Barons of ancient Chivalry, is sure to give 
 this delight. Hence it is that towers and battlements* are so often selected by 
 the Painter and the Poet, to make a part of the composition of their ideal Land- 
 scape; and it is from hence, in a great degree, that in the buildings of Vanbrugh, 
 who was a Poet as well as an Architect, there is a greater display of imagina- 
 tion than we shall find perhaps in any other; and this is the ground of the 
 effect we feel in many of his works, notwithstanding the faults with which many 
 of them are justly charged. For this purpose, Vanburgh appears to have had 
 recourse to some of the principles of the Gothic Architecture; which, though not 
 so ancient as the Grecian, is more so to our imagination, with which the Artist 
 is more concerned than with absolute truth. 
 
 The Barbaric splendour of those Asiatic Buildings, which are now publishing 
 by a member of this Academy ,f may possibly, in the same manner, furnish an 
 Architect, not with models to copy, but with hints of composition and general 
 effect, which would not otherwise have occurred. 
 
 It is, I know, a delicate and hazardous thing, (and as such I have already 
 pointed it out,) to carry the principles of one art to another, or even to reconcile 
 in one object the various modes of the same Art, when they proceed on different 
 principles. The sound rules of the Grecian Architecture are not to be lightly 
 sacrificed. A deviation from them, or even an addition to them, is like a devia- 
 tion or addition to, or from, the rules of other Arts — fit only for a great master, 
 who is thoroughly conversant in the nature of man, as well as all combinations 
 in his own Art. 
 
 It may not be amiss for the Architect to take advantage sometimes of that to 
 which I am sure the Painter ought always to have his eyes open, I mean the 
 use of accidents; to follow when they lead, and to improve them, rather than 
 always to trust to a regular plan. It often happens that additions have been 
 made to houses, at various times, for use or pleasure. As such buildings depart 
 from regularity, they now and then acquire something of scenery by this accident, 
 which 1 should think might not unsuccessfully be adopted by an Architect, in an 
 original plan, if it does not too much interfere with convenience. Variety and 
 intricacy is a beauty and excellence in every other of the arts which address the 
 imagination; and why not in Architecture ? 
 
 The forms and turnings of the streets of London, and other old towns, are 
 produced by accident, without any original plan or design ; but they are not al- 
 
 * Towers and Battlements it sees 
 Bosom'd high in tufted trees. Milton. L'allkgro. R. 
 
 + Mr Hodges. 
 
134 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 ways the less pleasant to the walker or spectator, on that account. On the con- 
 trary, if the city had been built on the regular plan of Sir Christopher Wren, 
 the effect might have been, as we know it is in some new parts of the town, 
 rather unpleasing; the uniformity might have produced weariness, and a slight 
 degree of disgust. 
 
 I can pretend to no skill in the detail of Architecture. I judge now of the 
 art, merely as a Painter. When I speak of Vanbrugh, I mean to speak of him 
 in the language of our art. To speak then of Vanbrugh in the language of a 
 Painter, he had originality of invention, he understood light and shadow, and 
 had great skill in composition. To support his principal object, he produced his 
 second and third groups or masses; he perfectly understood in his Art what is 
 the most difficult in ours, the conduct of the back-ground; by which the design 
 and invention is set off to the greatest advantage. What the back-ground is in 
 Painting, in Architecture is the real ground on which the building is erected ; 
 and no Architect took greater care than he that his work should not appear 
 crude and hard: that is, it did not abruptly start out of the ground without ex- 
 pectation or preparation. 
 
 This is a tribute which a Painter owes to an Architect who composed like a 
 Painter; and was defrauded of the due reward of his merit by the Wits of his 
 time, who did not understand the principles of composition in poetry better than 
 he; and who knew little or nothing of what he understood perfectly, the general 
 ruling principles of Architecture and Painting. His fate was that of the great 
 Perrault; both were the objects of the petulant sarcasms of factious men of letters; 
 and both have left some of the fairest ornaments which to this day decorate their 
 several countries — the facade of the Louvre, Blenheim, and Castle-Howard. 
 
 Upon the whole, it seems to me, that the object and intention of all the Arts 
 is to supply the natural imperfection of things, and often to gratify the mind by 
 realising and embodying what never existed but in the imagination. 
 
 It is allowed on all hands, that facts, and events, however they may bind the 
 Historian, have no dominion over the Poet or the Painter. With us, History is 
 made to bend and conform to this great idea of Art. And why ? Because these 
 Arts, in their highest province, are not addressed to the gross senses, but to the 
 desires of the mind, to that spark of divinity which we have within, impatient 
 of being circumscribed and pent up by the world which is about us. J ust so 
 much as our Art has of this, just so much of dignity, I had almost said of divi- 
 nity, it exhibits; and those of our Artists who possessed this mark of distinction 
 in the highest degree, acquired from thence the glorious appellation of Divine. 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 10, 1788, 
 
 Character of Gainsborough ; — his Excellencies and Defects. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 In the study of our Art, as in the study of all Arts, something is the result of 
 our own ohservation of Nature ; something, and that not little, the effect of the 
 example of those who have studied the same nature before us, and who have 
 cultivated before us the same Art, with diligence and success. The less 
 we confine ourselves in the choice of those examples, the more advantage we 
 shall derive from them; and the nearer we shall bring our performances to a 
 correspondence with nature and the great general rules of Art. When we 
 draw our examples from remote and revered antiquity — with some advantage 
 undoubtedly in that selection — we subject ourselves to some inconveniencies. 
 We may suffer ourselves to be too much led away by great names, and to be too 
 much subdued by overbearing authority. Our learning, in that case, is not so 
 much an exercise of our judgment as a proof of our docility. We find our- 
 selves, perhaps, too much overshadowed; and the character of our pursuits is 
 rather distinguished by the tameness of the follower, than animated by the spirit 
 of emulation. It is sometimes of service that our examples should be near us; 
 and such as raise a reverence, sufficient to induce us carefully to observe them, 
 yet not so great as to prevent us from engaging with them in something like a 
 generous contention. 
 
 We have lately lost Mr Gainsborough, one of the greatest ornaments of our 
 Academy. It is not our business here to make panegyrics on the living, or 
 even on the dead, who were of our body. The praise of the former might bear 
 appearance of adulation ; and the latter, of untimely justice; perhaps of envy 
 to those whom we have still the happiness to enjoy, by an oblique suggestion of 
 invidious comparisons. In discoursing therefore on the talents of the late Mr 
 Gainsborough, my object is, not so much to praise or to blame him, as to draw 
 from his excellencies and defects matter of instruction to the Students in our 
 Academy. If ever this nation should produce genius sufficient to acquire to us 
 the honourable distinction of an English School, the name of Gainsborough will 
 
136 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 be transmitted to posterity, in the history of the Art, among the very first of 
 that rising name. That our reputation in the Arts is now only rising, must be 
 acknowledged; and we must expect our advances to be attended with old pre- 
 judices, as adversaries, and not as supporters; standing in this respect in a very 
 different situation from the late artists of the Roman School, to whose reputa- 
 tion ancient prejudices have certainly contributed: the way was prepared for 
 them, and they may be said rather to have lived in the reputation of their country, 
 than to have contributed to it; whilst whatever celebrity is obtained by English 
 Artists, can arise only from the operation of a fair and true comparison. And 
 when they communicate to their country a share of their reputation, it is a por- 
 tion of fame not borrowed from others, but solely acquired by their own labour 
 and talents. As Italy has undoubtedly a prescriptive right to an administration 
 bordering on prejudice, as a soil peculiarly adapted, congenial, and, we may add, 
 destined to the production of men of great genius in our Art, we may not un- 
 reasonably suspect that a portion of the great fame of some of their late artists 
 has been owing to the general readiness and disposition of mankind, to ac- 
 quiesce in their original prepossessions in favour of the productions of the Roman 
 School. 
 
 On this ground, however unsafe, I will venture to prophecy, that two of the 
 last distinguished Painters of that country, I mean Pompeio Battoni, and Raf- 
 faelle Mengs, however great their names may at present sound in our ears, will 
 very soon fall into the rank of Imperiale, Sebastian Concha, Placido Constanza, 
 Massuccio, and the rest of their immediate predecessors; whose names, though 
 equally renowned in their life-time, are now fallen into what is little short of 
 total oblivion. I do not say that those painters were not superior to the artist 
 I allude to, and whose loss we lament, in a certain routine of practice, which, to 
 the eyes of common observers, has the air of a learned composition, and bears a 
 sort of superficial resemblance to the manner of the great men who went before 
 them. T know this perfectly well ; but I know likewise, that a man, looking for 
 real and lasting reputation, must unlearn much of the common place method so 
 observable in the works of the artists whom I have named. For my own part, 
 T confess, I take more interest in, and am more captivated with, the powerful 
 impression of nature, which Gainsborough exhibited in his portraits and in his 
 landscapes, and the interesting simplicity and elegance of his little ordinary beg- 
 gar-children, than with any of the works of that School, since the time of Andrea 
 Sacchi, or perhaps we may say Carlo Maratti; two painters who may truly be 
 said to be Ultimi Romanorum. 
 
 I am well aware how much I lay myself open to the censure and ridicule 
 of the academical professors of other nations, in preferring the humble attempts 
 of Gainsborough to the works of those regular graduates in the great historical 
 style. But we have the sanction of all mankind in preferring genius, in a lower 
 rank of art, to feebleness and insipidity in the highest. 
 
 It would not be to the present purpose, even if I had the means and ma- 
 terials, which I have not, to enter into the private life of Mr Gainsborough. The 
 history of his gradual advancement, and the means by which he acquired such 
 excellence in his art, would come nearer to our purposes and wishes, if it were 
 by any means attainable ; but the slow progress of advancement is in general 
 
THE FOURTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 137 
 
 imperceptible to the man himself who makes it ; it is the consequence of an ac- 
 cumulation of various ideas which his mind has received, he does not perhaps 
 know how or when. Sometimes, indeed, it happens, that he may be able to mark 
 the time when, from the sight of a picture, a passage in an author, or a hint in 
 conversation, he has received, as it were, some new and guiding light, something 
 like inspiration, by which his mind has been expanded ; and is morally sure that 
 his whole life and conduct has been affected by that accidental circumstance. 
 Such interesting accounts we may however sometimes obtain from a man who 
 has acquired an uncommon habit of self-examination, and has attended to the' 
 progress of his own improvement. 
 
 It may not be improper to make mention of some of the customs and habits of 
 this extraordinary man: points which come more within the reach of an observer; 
 I however mean such only as are connected with his art, and indeed were, as T 
 apprehend, the causes of his arriving to that degree of excellence which we see 
 and acknowledge in his works. Of these causes we must state, as the funda- 
 mental, the love which he had to his art; to which, indeed, his whole mind ap- 
 pears to have been devoted, and to which every thing was referred; and this we 
 may fairly conclude from various circumstances of his life, which were known to 
 his intimate friends. Among others he had a habit of continually remarking to 
 those who happened to be about him, whatever peculiarity of countenance, what- 
 ever accidental combination of figure, or happy effects of light and shadow, oc- 
 curred in prospects, in the sky, in walking the streets, or in company. If, in his 
 walks, he found a character that he liked, and whose attendance was to be ob- 
 tained, he ordered him to his house: and from the fields he brought into his 
 painting-room, stumps of trees, weeds, and animals of various kinds ; and de- 
 signed them, not from memory, but immediately from the objects. He even 
 framed a kind of model of landscapes on his table; composed of broken stones, 
 dried herbs, and pieces of looking glass, which he magnified and improved into 
 rocks, trees, and water. How far this latter practice may be useful in giving 
 hints, the professors of landscape can best determine. Like every other techni- 
 cal practice, it seems to me wholly to depend on the general talent of him who 
 uses it. Such methods may be nothing better than contemptible and mischievous 
 trifling; or they may be aids. I think, upon the whole, unless we constantly 
 refer to real nature, that practice may be more likely to do harm than good. I 
 mention it only, as it shows the solicitude and extreme activity which he had 
 about every thing that related to his art; that he wished to have his objects em- 
 bodied as it were, and distinctly before him; that he neglected nothing which 
 could keep his faculties in exercise, and derived hints from every sort of com- 
 bination. 
 
 We must not forget whilst we are on this subject, to make some remarks on 
 his custom of painting by night, which confirms what I have already mentioned, 
 — his great affection to his art; since he could not amuse himself in the evening 
 by any other means so agreeable to himself. I am indeed much inclined to be- 
 lieve that it is a practice very advantageous and improving to an artist; for by 
 this means he will acquire a new and a higher perception of what is great and 
 beautiful in Nature. By candle-light, not only objects appear more beautiful, 
 but from their being in a greater breadth of light and shadow, as well as having 
 
138 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 a greater breadth and uniformity of colour, Nature appears in a higher style; and 
 even the flesh seems to take a higher and richer tone of colour. Judgment is to 
 direct us in the use to be made of this method of study; but the method itself is, 
 I am very sure, advantageous. I have often imagined that the two great colour- 
 ists, Titian and Correggio, though I do not know that they painted by night, 
 formed their high ideas of colouring from the effects of objects by this artificial 
 light: but I am more assured, that whoever attentively studies the first and best 
 manner of Guercino, will be convinced that he either painted by this light, or 
 formed his manner on this conception. 
 
 Another practice Gainsborough had, which is worth mentioning, as it is cer- 
 tainly worthy of imitation; I mean his manner of forming all the parts of his 
 picture together; the whole going on at the same time, in the same manner as 
 nature creates her works. Though this method is not uncommon to those who 
 have been regularly educated, yet probably it was suggested to him by his own 
 natural sagacity. That this custom is not universal appears from the practice of 
 a painter whom I have just mentioned, Pompeio Battoni, who finished his his- 
 torical pictures part after part ; and in his portraits completely finished one fea- 
 ture before he proceeded to another. The consequence was, as might be expect- 
 ed, the countenance was never well expressed; and, as the painters say, the 
 whole was not well put together. 
 
 The first thing required to excel in our art, or I believe in any art, is, not only 
 a love for it, but even an enthusiastic ambition to excel in it. This never fails of 
 success proportioned to the natural abilities with which the artist has been en- 
 dowed by Providence. Of Gainsborough, we certainly know, that his passion 
 was not the acquirement of riches, but excellence in his art, and to enjoy that 
 honourable fame which is sure to attend it. That he felt this ruling passion 
 strong in death, I am myself a witness. A few days before he died, he wrote me 
 a letter, to express his acknowledgments for the good opinion 1 entertained of 
 his abilities, and the manner in which (he had been informed) I always spoke of 
 him; and desired he might see me, once more, before he died. I am aware how 
 flattering it is to myself to be thus connected with the dying testimony which this 
 excellent painter bore to his art. But I cannot prevail on myself to suppress, 
 that I was not connected with him by any habits of familiarity; if any little 
 jealousies had subsisted between us, they were forgotten, in those moments of 
 sincerity ; and he turned towards me as one, who was engrossed by the same pur- 
 suits, and who deserved his good opinion, by being sensible of his excellence. 
 Without entering into a detail of what passed at this last interview, the impres- 
 sion of it upon my mind was, that his regret at losing life, was principally the 
 regret of leaving his art; and more especially as he now began, he said, to see 
 what his deficiencies were, which, he said, he flattered himself in his last works 
 were in some measure supplied. 
 
 When such a man as Gainsborough arrives to great fame, without the assist- 
 ance of an academical education, without travelling to Italy, or any of those 
 preparatory studies which have been so often recommended, he is produced as an 
 instance, how little such studies are necessary; since so great excellence may be 
 acquired without them. This is an inference not warranted by the success of any 
 individual; and I trust it will not be thought that I wish to make this use of it. 
 
THE FOURTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 139 
 
 It must be remembered that the style and department of art which Gains- 
 borough chose, and in which he so much excelled, did not require that he should 
 go out of his own country for the objects of his study; they were every where 
 about him; he found them in the streets, and in the fields; and from the models 
 thus accidentally found, he selected with great judgment such as suited his pur- 
 pose. As his studies were directed to the living world principally, he did not 
 pay a general attention to the works of the various masters, though they are, in 
 my opinion, always of great use, even when the character of our subject requires, 
 us to depart from some of their principles. It cannot be denied, that excellence 
 in the department of the art which he professed may exist without them; that 
 in such subjects, and in the manner that belongs to them, the want of them is sup- 
 plied, and more than supplied, by natural sagacity, and a minute observation of 
 particular nature. If Gainsborough did not look at Nature with a poet's eye, it 
 must be acknowledged that he saw Her with the eye of a painter; and gave a 
 faithful, if not a poetical, representation of what he had before him. 
 
 Though he did not much attend to the works o.f the great historical painters 
 of former ages, yet he was well aware that the language of the art, — the art of 
 imitation, — must be learned somewhere; and as he knew that he could not learn 
 it in an equal degree from his contemporaries, he very judiciously applied him- 
 self to the Flemish School, who are undoubtedly the greatest masters of one ne- 
 cessary branch of art; and he did not need to go out of his own country for ex- 
 amples of that school: from that he learned the harmony of colouring, the man- 
 agement and disposition of light and shadow, and every means which the masters 
 of it practised, to ornament and give splendour to their works. And to satisfy 
 himself as well as others, how well he knew the mechanism and artifice which 
 they employed to bring out that tone of colour which we so much admired in 
 their works, he occasionally made copies from Rubens, Teniers, and Vandyck, 
 which it would be no disgrace to the most accurate connoisseur to mistake, at 
 the first sight, for the works of those masters. What he thus learned, he applied 
 to the originals of nature, which he saw with his own eyes; and imitated, not in 
 the manner of those masters, but in his own. 
 
 Whether he most excelled in portraits, landscapes, or fancy-pictures, it is diffi- 
 cult to determine: whether his portraits were most admirable for exact truth of 
 resemblance, or his landscapes for a portrait-like representation of nature, such 
 as we see in the works of Rubens, Ruysdael, and others of those schools. In 
 his fancy-pictures, when he had fixed on his object of imitation, whether it was 
 the mean and vulgar form of a wood-cutter, or a child of an interesting charac- 
 ter, as he did not attempt to raise the one, so neither did he lose any of the 
 natural grace and elegance of the other, such a grace and such an elegance as 
 are more frequently found in cottages than in courts. This excellence was 
 his own, the result of his particular observation and taste; for this he was cer- 
 tainly not indebted to the Flemish School, nor indeed to any School; for his grace 
 was not academical or antique, but selected by himself from the great school of 
 nature; and there are yet a thousand modes of grace, which are neither theirs, 
 nor his, but lie open in the multiplied scenes and figures of life, to be brought 
 out by skilful and faithful observers. 
 
 Upon the whole, we may justly say, that whatever he attempted he carried to 
 
140 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 a high degree of excellence. It is to the credit of his good sense and judgment 
 that he never did attempt that style of historical painting, for which his previous 
 studies had made no preparation. 
 
 And here it naturally occurs to oppose the sensible conduct of Gainsborough 
 In this respect, to that of our late excellent Hogarth, who, with all his extraor- 
 dinary talents, was not blessed with this knowledge of his own deficiency, or of 
 the bounds which were set to the extent of his own powers. After this admira- 
 ble artist had spent the greatest part of his life in an active, busy, and we may 
 add, successful attention to the ridicule of life, after he had invented a new 
 species of dramatic painting, in which probably he will never be equalled, and 
 had stored his mind with infinite materials to explain and illustrate the domestic 
 and familiar scenes of common life, which were generally, and ought to have 
 been always, the subject of his pencil, he very imprudently, or rather presump- 
 tuously, attempted the great historical style, for which his previous habits had by 
 no means prepared him: he was indeed so entirely unacquainted with the princi- 
 ples of this style, that he was not even aware that any artificial preparation was 
 at all necessary. It is to be regretted that any part of the life of such a genius 
 should be fruitlessly employed. Let his failure teach us not to indulge ourselves 
 in the vain imagination that by a momentary resolution we can give either dex- 
 terity to the hand, or a new habit to the mind. 
 
 I have, however, little doubt, but that the same sagacity, which enabled those 
 two extraordinary men to discover their true object, and the peculiar excellence 
 of that branch of art which they cultivated, would have been equally effectual 
 In discovering the principles of the higher style ; if they had investigated those 
 principles with the same eager industry, which they exerted in their own de- 
 partment. As Gainsborough never attempted the heroic style, so neither did he 
 destroy the character and uniformity of his own style, by the idle affectation of 
 introducing mythological learning in any of his pictures. Of this boyish folly 
 we see instances enough, even in the works of great painters. When the Dutch 
 School attempt this poetry of our art in their landscapes, their performances are 
 beneath criticism; they become only an object of laughter. This practice is 
 hardly excusable, even in Claude Lorrain, who had shown more discretion if 
 he had never meddled with such subjects. 
 
 Our late ingenious Academician, Wilson, has, I fear, been guilty, like many of 
 his predecessors, of introducing gods and goddesses, ideal beings, into scenes 
 which were by no means prepared to receive such personages. His landscapes 
 were in reality too near common nature to admit supernatural objects. In con- 
 sequence of this mistake, in a very admirable picture of a storm, which I have 
 seen of his hand, many figures are introduced in the fore-ground, some in ap- 
 parent distress, and some struck dead, as a spectator would naturally suppose, 
 by the lightning; had not the painter injudiciously (as I think) rather chosen that 
 their death should be imputed to a little Apollo, who appears in the sky, with his 
 bent bow, and that those figures should be considered as the children of Niobe. 
 
 To manage a subject of this kind, a peculiar style of art is required; and it 
 can only be done without impropriety, or even without ridicule, when we adapt 
 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 it requires a 
 
THE FOURTEENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 141 
 
 mind thrown back two thousand years, and, as it were, naturalized in antiquity, 
 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 z 3 that in which the 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. 
 
 It appears to me, that such conduct is no less absurd, than if a plain man, 
 giving a relation of a real distress, occasioned, by an inundation accompanied 
 with thunder and lightening, should, instead of simply relating the event, take it 
 into his head, in order to give a grace to his narration, to talk of Jupiter Pluvius, 
 or Jupiter and his thunderbolts, or any other figurative idea ; an intermixture 
 which, though in poetry, with its proper preparations and accompaniments, it 
 might be managed with effect, yet, in the instance before us, would counteract 
 the purpose of the narrator, and instead of being interesting, would be only 
 ridiculous. 
 
 The Dutch and Flemish style of landscape, not even excepting those of Ru- 
 bens, is unfit for poetical subjects; but to explain in what this ineptitude consists, 
 or to point out all the circumstances that give nobleness, grandeur, and the poetic 
 character, to style, in landscape, would require a long discourse of itself ; and 
 the end would be then perhaps but imperfectly attained. The painter who is 
 ambitious of this perilous excellence, must catch his inspiration from those who 
 have cultivated with success the poetry, as it may be called, of the art ; and they 
 are few indeed. 
 
 I cannot quit this subject without mentioning two examples which occur to me 
 at present, in which the poetical style of landscape may be seen happily executed; 
 the one is Jacob's Dream by Salvator Rosa, and the other the Return of the Ark 
 from captivity, by Sebastian Bourdon*. With whatever dignity those histories 
 are presented to us in the language of Scripture, this style of painting possesses 
 the same power of inspiring sentiments of grandeur and sublimity, and is able to 
 communicate them to subjects which appear by no means adapted to receive them. 
 A ladder against the sky has no very promising appearance of possessing a ca- 
 pacity to excite any heroic ideas; and the Ark, in the hands of a second-rate 
 master, would have little more effect than a common waggon on the highway ; 
 yet those subjects are so poetically treated throughout, the parts have such a 
 correspondence with each other, and the whole and every part of the scene is so 
 visionary, that it is impossible to look at them, without feeling, in some measure, 
 the enthusiasm which seems to have inspired the painters. 
 
 By continual contemplation of such works, a sense of the higher excellencies 
 of art will by degrees dawn on the imagination ; at every review that sense will 
 become more and more assured, until we come to enjoy a sober certainty of the 
 real existence (if I may so express myself) of those almost ideal beauties; and 
 
 * This fine Picture was in our Author's collection; and was bequeathed by him to Sir George 
 Beaumont, Bart. M. 
 
142 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 the artist will then find no difficulty in fixing in his mind the principles by which 
 the impression is produced; which he will feel, and practise, though they are 
 perhaps too delicate and refined, and too peculiar to the imitative art, to be con- 
 veyed to the mind by any other means. 
 
 To return to Gainsborough: the peculiarity of his manner, or style, or, we may 
 call it, the language in which he expressed his ideas, has been considered by 
 many as his greatest defect. But without altogether wishing to enter into the 
 discussion — whether this peculiarity was a defect or not, intermixed, as it was, 
 with great beauties, of some of which it was probably the cause— it becomes a 
 proper subject of criticism and enquiry to a painter. 
 
 A novelty and peculiarity of manner, as it is often a cause of our approbation, 
 so likewise it is often a ground of censure; as being contrary to the practice of 
 other painters, in whose manner we have been initiated, and in whose favour we 
 have perhaps been prepossessed from our infancy; for, fond as we are of novelty, 
 we are, upon the whole, creatures of habit. However, it is certain, that all those 
 odd scratches and marks, which, on a close examination, are so observable in 
 Gainsborough's pictures, and which, even to experienced painters, appear rather 
 the effect of accident than design — this chaos, this uncouth and shapeless appear- 
 ance, by a kind of magic, at a certain distance, assumes form, and all the parts 
 seem to drop into their proper places; so that we can hardly refuse acknowledging 
 the full effect of diligence, under the appearance of chance and hasty negligence. 
 That Gainsborough himself considered this peculiarity in his manner and the 
 power it possesses of exciting surprise, as a beauty in his works, I think may be 
 inferred from the eager desire which we know he always expressed, that his 
 pictures, at the Exhibition, should be seen near as well as at a distance. 
 
 The slightness which we see in his best works, cannot always be imputed to 
 negligence. However they may appear to superficial observers, painters know 
 very well that a steady attention to the general effect takes up more time, and 
 is much more laborious to the mind, than any mode of high finishing or smooth- 
 ness, without such attention. His handling, the manner of leaving the colours, 
 or, in other words, the methods he used for producing the effect, had very much 
 the appearance of the work of an artist who had never learned from others the 
 usual and regular practice belonging to the art; but still, like a man of strong 
 intuitive perception of what was required, he found out a way of his own to ac- 
 complish his purpose. 
 
 It is no disgrace to the genius of Gainsborough, to compare him to such men 
 as we sometimes meet with, whose natural eloquence appears even in speaking 
 a language which they can scarce be said to understand; and who, without 
 knowing the appropriate expression of almost any one idea, contrive to com- 
 municate the lively and forcible impressions of an energetic mind. 
 
 I think some apology may reasonably be made for his manner, without violat- 
 ing truth, or running any risk of poisoning the minds of the younger students, by 
 propagating false criticism, for the sake of raising the character of a favourite 
 artist. It must be allowed, that this hatchiug manner of Gainsborough did very 
 much contribute to the lightness of effect which is so eminent a beauty in his 
 pictures, as, on the contrary, much smoothness, and uniting the colours, is apt to 
 produce heaviness. Every artist must have remarked, how often that lightness 
 
THE FOURTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 113 
 
 of hand which was in his dead-colour, or first painting, escaped in the finishing, 
 when he had determined the parts with more precisions and another loss he often 
 experiences, which is of greater consequence; whilst he is employed in the detail, 
 the effect of the whole together is either forgotten or neglected. The likeness of 
 a portrait, as I have formerly observed, consists more in preserving the general 
 effect of the countenance, than in the most minute finishing of the features, or 
 any of the particular parts. Now Gainsborough's portraits were often little more, 
 in regard to finishing, or determining the form of the features, than what gene- 
 rally attends a dead-colour; but as he was always attentive to the general 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. 
 Though this opinion may be considered as fanciful, yet I think a plausible reason 
 may be given why such a mode of painting should have such an effect. It is 
 presupposed that in this undetermined manner there is the general effect; enough 
 to remind the spectator of the original; the imagination supplies the rest, and 
 perhaps more satisfactorily to himself, if not more exactly, than the artist, 
 with all his care, could possibly have done. At the same time it must be ac- 
 knowledged there is one evil attending this mode, that if the portrait were seen, 
 previous to any knowledge of the original, different persons would form different 
 ideas, and all would be disappointed at not finding the original correspond with 
 their own conceptions; under the great latitude which indistinctness gives to the 
 imagination to assume almost what character or form it pleases. 
 
 Every artist has some favourite part on which he fixes his attention, and 
 which he pursues with such eagerness, that it absorbs every other consideration ; 
 and he often falls into the opposite error of that which he would avoid, which 
 is always ready to receive him. Now Gainsborough having truly a painter's 
 eye for colouring, cultivated those effects of the art which proceed from colours ; 
 and sometimes appears to be indifferent to or to neglect other excellencies. 
 Whatever defects are acknowledged, let him still experience from us the same 
 candour that we so freely give upon similar occasions to the ancient masters ; 
 let us not encourage that fastidious disposition, which is discontented with 
 every thing short of perfection, and unreasonably require, as we sometimes do, 
 a union of excellencies, not perhaps quite compatible with each other. We 
 may, on this ground, say even of the divine Raffaelle, that he might have finished 
 his picture as highly and as correctly as was his custom, without heaviness of 
 manner; and that Poussin might have preserved all his precision without hard- 
 ness or dryness. 
 
 To shew the difficulty of uniting solidity with lightness of manner, we may 
 produce a picture of Rubens in the Church of St. Judule, at Brussels, as an 
 example; the subject is, Christ's charge to Peter ; which, as it is the highest and 
 smoothest-finished picture I remember to have seen of that master, so it is by 
 far the heaviest; and if I had found it in any other place, I should have suspected 
 it to be a copy; for painters know very well, that it is principally by this air of 
 facility, or the want of it, that originals are distinguished from copies. A light- 
 ness of effect, produced by colour, and that produced by facility of handling, are 
 generally united; a copy may preserve something of the one, it is true, but hardly 
 ever of the other; a connoisseur therefore finds it often necessary to look carefully 
 
144 
 
 THE FOURTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 into the picture before he determines on its originality. Gainsborough possessed 
 this quality of lightness of manner and effect, I think, to an unexampled degree 
 of excellence; but it must be acknowledged, at the same time, that the sacrifice 
 which he made to this ornament of our art, was too great ; it was, in reality, 
 preferring the lesser excellencies to the greater. 
 
 To conclude. However we may apologize for the deficiencies of Gainsborough, 
 (I mean particularly his want of precision and finishing,) who so ingeniously 
 contrived to cover his defects by his beauties, and who cultivated that depart- 
 ment of art where such defects are more easily excused, you are to remember, 
 that no apology can be made for this deficiency, in that style which this academy 
 teaches, and which ought to be the object of your pursuit. It will be necessary for 
 you, in the first place, never to lose sight of the great rules and principles of the 
 art, as they are collected from the full body of the best general practice, and the 
 most constant and uniform experience ; this must be the ground-work of all your 
 studies : afterwards you may profit, as in this case I wish you to profit, by the 
 peculiar experience and personal talents of artists living and dead ; you may 
 derive lights, and catch hints, from their practice, but the moment you turn them 
 into models, you fall infinitely below them; you may be corrupted by excellencies, 
 not so much belonging to art as personal and appropriated to the artist; and 
 become bad copies of good painters, instead of exellent imitators of the great 
 universal truth of things. 
 
DISCOURSE XV, 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 STUDENTS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, ON THE DISTRIBUTION 
 OF THE PRIZES, DECEMBER 10, 1790. 
 
 The President tales leave of the Academy. — A Review of the Discourses. — The 
 Study of the Works of Michael Angelo recommended. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 The intimate connection which I have had with the Royal Academy ever since 
 its establishment, the social duties in which we have all mutually engaged for so 
 many years, make any profession of attachment to this Institution, on my part, 
 altogether superfluous ; the influence of habit alone in such a connection would 
 naturally have produced it. 
 
 Among men united in the same body, and engaged in the same pursuit, along 
 with permanent friendship occasional differences will arise. In these disputes 
 men are naturally too favourable to themselves, and think perhaps too hardly of 
 their antagonists. But composed and constituted as we are, those little con- 
 tentions will be lost to others, and they ought certainly to be lost amongst our- 
 selves, in mutual esteem for talents and acquirements : every controversy ought 
 to be, and I am persuaded, will be, sunk in our zeal for the perfection of our 
 common Art. 
 
 In parting with the Academy, I shall remember with pride, affection, and 
 gratitude, the support with which I have almost uniformly been honoured from 
 the commencement of our intercourse. I shall leave you, Gentlemen, with un- 
 affected cordial wishes for your future concord, and with a well-founded hope, 
 that in that concord, the auspicious and not obscure origin of our Academy may 
 be forgotten in the splendour of y.our succeeding prospects. 
 
 My age, and my infirmities still more than my age, make it probable that this 
 will be the last time I shall have the honour of addressing you from this place. 
 Excluded as I am, spatiis iniquis, from indulging my imagination with a distant 
 and forward perspective of life, I may be excused if I turn my eyes back on the 
 way which I have passed. 
 
 We may assume to ourselves, I should hope, the credit of having endeavoured, 
 at least, to fill with propriety that middle station which we hold in the general 
 connection of things. Our predecessors have laboured for our advantage, we 
 labour for our successors; and though we have done no more in this mutual 
 intercourse and reciprocation of benefits, than has been effected by other societies 
 
 c 2 
 
146 
 
 THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 formed in this nation for the advancement of useful and ornamental knowledge, 
 yet there is one circumstance which appears to give us a higher claim than the 
 credit of merely doing our duty. What I at present allude to, is the honour of 
 having been, some of us, the first contrivers, and all of us the promoters and 
 supporters, of the Annual Exhibition. This scheme could only have originated 
 from Artists already in possession of the favour of the public ; as it would not 
 have been so much in the power of others to have excited curiosity. It must be 
 remembered, that for the sake of bringing forward into notice concealed merit, 
 they incurred the risk of producing rivals to themselves; they voluntarily entered 
 the lists, and ran the race a second time for the prize which they had already 
 won. 
 
 When we take a review of the several departments of the Institution, I think 
 we may safely congratulate ourselves on our good fortune in having hitherto seen 
 the chairs of our Professors filled with men of distinguished abilities, and who 
 have so well acquitted themselves of their duty in their several departments. I 
 look upon it to be of importance, that none of them should be left unfilled: a 
 neglect to provide for qualified persons, is to produce a neglect of qualifications. 
 
 In this honourable rank of Professors, I have not presumed to class myself; 
 though in the Discourses which I have had the honour of delivering from this place, 
 while in one respect I may be considered as a volunteer, in another view it seems 
 as if I was involuntarily pressed into the service. If prizes were to be given, it 
 appeared not only proper, but almost indispensably necessary, that something- 
 should be said by the President on the delivery of those prizes; and the President 
 for his own credit would wish to say something more than mere words of com- 
 pliment, which, by being frequently repeated, would soon become flat and unin- 
 teresting, and by being uttered to many, would at last become a distinction to 
 none. I thought, therefore, if I were to preface this compliment with some in- 
 structive observations on the Art, when we crowned merjt in the Artists whom 
 we rewarded, I might do something to animate and guide them in their future 
 attempts. 
 
 I am truly sensible how unequal I have been to the expression of my own 
 ideas. To develope the latent excellencies, and draw out the interior principles 
 of our art, requires more skill and practice in writing than is likely to be pos- 
 sessed by a man perpetually occupied in the use of the pencil and the pallet. It 
 is for that reason, perhaps, that the sister art has had the advantage of better 
 criticism. Poets are naturally writers of prose. They may be said to be 
 practising only an inferior department of their own art, when they are explain- 
 ing and expatiating upon its most refined principles. But still such difficulties 
 ought not to deter artists who are not prevented by other engagements, from 
 putting their thoughts in order as well as they can, and from giving to the public 
 the result of their experience. The knowledge which an artist has of his subject 
 will more than compensate for any want of elegance in the manner of treating 
 it, or even of perspicuity, which is still more essential; and I am convinced, that 
 one short essay, written by a Painter, will contribute more to advance the theory 
 of our art than a thousand volumes such as we sometimes see ; the purpose of 
 which appears to be rather to display the refinement of the Author's own con- 
 ceptions of impossible practice, than to convey 'useful knowledge or instruction 
 
THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 147 
 
 of any kind whatever. An artist knows what is, and what is not, within the 
 province of his art to perform; and is not likely to be for ever teazing the poor 
 Student with the beauties of mixed passions, or to perplex him with an ima- 
 ginary union of excellencies incompatible with each other. 
 
 To this work, however, I could not be said to come totally unprovided with 
 materials. I had seen much, and I had thought much upon what I had seen; I 
 had something of an habit of investigation, and a disposition to reduce all that 
 I observed and felt in my own mind, to method and system; but never having 
 seen what I myself knew, distinctly placed before me on paper, I knew nothing 
 correctly. To put those ideas into something like order was, to my inexperience, 
 no easy task. The composition, the ponere totum even of a single Discourse, as 
 well as of a single statue, was the most difficult part, as perhaps it is of every 
 other art, and most requires the hand of a master. 
 
 For the manner, whatever deficiency there was, I might reasonably expect 
 indulgence ; but I thought it indispensably necessary well to consider the opinions 
 which were to be given out from this place, and under the sanction of a Royal 
 Academy; I therefore examined not only my own opinions, but likewise the 
 opinions of others. I found, in the course of this research, many precepts and 
 rules established in our art, which did not seem to me altogether reconcileable 
 with each other, yet each seemed in itself to have the same claim of being sup- 
 ported by truth and nature; and this claim, irreconcileable as they may be 
 thought, they do in reality alike possess. 
 
 To clear away those difficulties, and reconcile those contrary opinions, it be- 
 came necessary to distinguish the greater truth, as it may be called, from the 
 lesser truth ; the larger and more liberal idea of nature from the more narrow 
 and confined; that which addresses itself to the imagination, from that which is 
 solely addressed to the eye. In consequence of this discrimination, the different 
 branches of our art, to which those different truths were referred, were perceived 
 to make so wide a separation, and put on so new an appearance, that they 
 seemed scarcely to have proceeded from the same general stock. The different 
 rules and regulations, which presided over each department of art, followed of 
 course: every mode of excellence, from the grand style of the Roman and 
 Florentine Schools down to the lowest rank of still life, had its due weight and 
 value, — fitted some class or other; and nothing was thrown away. By this 
 disposition of our art into classes, that perplexity and confusion, which I ap- 
 prehend every Artist has at some time experienced from the variety of styles, 
 and the variety of excellence with which he is surrounded, is, I should hope, in 
 some measure removed, aud the Student better enabled to judge for himself, what 
 peculiarly belongs to his own particular pursuit. 
 
 In reviewing my Discourses, it is no small satisfaction to l:e assured that I 
 have, in no part of them, lent my assistance to foster neidy-hatdied unfledyed 
 opinions, or endeavoured to support paradoxes, however tempting may have been 
 their novelty; or however ingenious I might, for the minute, fancy them to be; 
 nor shall I, I hope, any where be found to have imposed on the minds of young- 
 Students declamation for argument, a smooth period for a sound precept. T 
 have pursued a plain and honest method; I have taken up the art simply as I 
 found it exemplified in the practice of the most approved Painters. That appro- 
 
148 
 
 THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 bation which the world has uniformly given, I have endeavoured to justify by 
 such proofs as questions of this kind will admit; by the analogy which Painting 
 holds with the sister Arts, and consequently by the common congeniality which 
 they all bear to our nature. And though in what has been done no new discovery 
 is pretended, I may still flatter myself, that from the discoveries which others 
 have made by their own intuitive good sense and native rectitude of judgment, I 
 have succeeded in establishing the rules and principles of our Art on a more firm 
 and lasting foundation than that on which they had formerly been placed. 
 
 Without wishing to divert the Student from the practice of his Art to specu- 
 lative theory, to make him a mere connoisseur instead of a Painter, I cannot but 
 remark, that he will certainly find an account in considering once for all, on what 
 ground the fabric of our art is built. Uncertain, confused, or erroneous opinions, 
 are not only detrimental to an Artist in their immediate operation, but may pos- 
 sibly have very serious consequences; affect his conduct, and give a peculiar 
 character (as it may be called) to his taste, and to his pursuits, through his whole 
 life. 
 
 I was acquainted at Rome, in the early part of my life, with a Student of the 
 French Academy, who appeared to me to possess all the qualities requisite to 
 make a great Artist, if he had suffered his taste and feelings, and I may add even 
 his prejudices, to have fair play. He saw and felt the excellencies of the great 
 works of Art with which we were surrounded, but lamented that there was not 
 to be found that Nature which is so admirable in the inferior schools; and he 
 supposed with Felibien, Du Piles, and other Theorists, that such an union of 
 different excellencies would be the perfection of Art. He was not aware, that 
 the narrow idea of Nature 3 of which he lamented the absence in the works of 
 those great artists, would have destroyed the grandeur of the general ideas which 
 he admired, and which was indeed the cause of his admiration. My opinions 
 being then confused and unsettled, I was in danger of being borne down by this 
 kind of plausible reasoning, though I remember I then had a dawning of suspicion 
 that it was not sound doctrine; and, at the same time, I was unwilling obsti- 
 nately to refuse assent to what I was unable to confute. 
 
 That the young Artist may not be seduced from the right path, by following 
 what, at first view, he may think the light of reason, and which is indeed reason 
 in part, but not in the whole, has been much the object of these Discourses. 
 
 I have taken every opportunity of recommending a rational method of study, 
 as of the last importance. The great, I may say the sole, use of an Academy is, 
 to put, and for some time to keep, Students in that course; that too much indul- 
 gence may not be given to peculiarity, and that a young man may not be taught 
 to believe, that what is generally good for others is not good for him. 
 
 1 have strongly inculcated in my former Discourses, as I do in this my last, 
 the wisdom and necessity of previously obtaining the appropriated instruments 
 of the Art, in a first correct design, and a plain manly colouring, before any thing 
 more is attempted. But by this I would not wish to cramp and fetter the mind, 
 or discourage those who follow (as most of us may at one time have followed) 
 the suggestion of a strong inclination: something must be conceded to great and 
 irresistible impulses: perhaps every Student must not be strictly bound to general 
 methods, if they strongly thwart the peculiar turn of his own mind. I must 
 
THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 149 
 
 confess, that it is not absolutely of much consequence, whether he proceeds in 
 the general method of seeking first to acquire mechanical accuracy, before he 
 attempts poetical flights, provided he diligently studies to attain the full per - 
 fection of the style he pursues; whether, like Parmegiano, he endeavours at grace 
 and grandeur of manner before he has learned correctness of drawing, if like 
 him he feels his own wants, and will labour, as that eminent Artist did, to supply 
 those wants; whether he starts from the East or from the West, if he relaxes in 
 no exertion to arrive ultimately at the same goal. The first public work of Par- 
 megiano is the St. Eustachius, in the Church of St. Petronius in Bologna, and 
 was done when he was a boy; and one of the last of his works is the Moses 
 breaking the tables in Parma. In the former there is certainly something of 
 grandeur in the outline, or in the conception of the figure, which discovers the 
 dawnings of future greatness: of a young mind impregnated with the sublimity 
 of Michael Angelo, whose style he here attempts to imitate, though he could not • 
 then draw the human figure with any common degree of correctness. But this 
 same Parmegiano, when in his more mature age he painted the Moses, had so 
 completely supplied his first defects, that we are here at a loss which to admire 
 most, the correctness of drawing, or the grandeur of the conception. As a con- 
 firmation of its great excellence, and of the impression which it leaves on the 
 minds of elegant spectators, I may observe, that our great Lyric Poet, when he 
 conceived his sublime idea of the indignant Welch Bard, acknowledged, that 
 though many years had intervened, he had warmed his imagination with the 
 remembrance of this noble figure of Parmegiano. 
 
 When we consider that Michael Angelo was the great archetype to whom 
 Parmegiano was indebted for that grandeur which we find in his works, and 
 from whom all his contemporaries and successors have derived whatever they 
 have possessed of the dignified and the majestic ; that he was the bright luminary 
 from whom Painting has borrowed a new lustre ; that under his hands it assumed 
 a new appearance, and is become another and superior art; I may be excused if 
 I take this opportunity, as I have hitherto taken every occasion, to turn your 
 attention to this exalted Founder and Father of Modern Art, of which he was 
 not only the inventor, but which, by the divine energy of his own mind, he carried 
 at once to its highest point of possible perfection. 
 
 The sudden maturity to which Michael Angelo brought our Art, and the com- 
 parative feebleness of his followers and imitators, might perhaps be reasonably, 
 at least plausibly explained, if we had time for such an examination. At present 
 I shall only observe, that the subordinate parts of our Art, and perhaps of other 
 Arts, expand themselves by a slow and progressive growth ; but those which de- 
 pend on a native vigour of imagination generally burst forth at once in fulness of 
 beauty. Of this Homer probably, and Shakspeare more assuredly, are signal 
 examples. Michael Angelo possessed the poetical part of our art in a most 
 eminent degree: and the same daring spirit, which urged him first to explore the 
 unknown regions of the imagination, delighted with the novelty, and animated 
 by the success of his discoveries, could not have failed to stimulate and impel 
 him forward in his career beyond those limits, which his followers, destitute of 
 the same incentives, had not strength to pass. 
 
 To distinguish between correctness of drawing, and that part which respects 
 
150 
 
 THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 the imagination, we may say the one approaches to the mechanical (which, in its 
 way, too, may make just pretensions to genius) and the other to the poetical. To 
 encourage a solid and vigorous course of study, it may not be amiss to suggest, 
 that perhaps a confidence in the mechanic produces a boldness in the poetic. 
 He that is sure of the goodness of his ship and tackle, puts out fearlessly from 
 the shore ; and he who knows that his hand can execute whatever his fancy can 
 ■suggest, sports with more freedom in embodying the visionary forms of his own 
 creation. I will not say Michael Angelo was eminently poetical, only because 
 he was greatly mechanical; but I am sure that mechanic excellence invigorated 
 and emboldened his mind to carry painting into the regions of poetry, and to 
 emulate that art in its most adventurous flights. Michael Angelo equally pos- 
 sessed both qualifications. Yet of mechanic excellence there were certainly great 
 examples to be found in Ancient Sculpture, and particularly in the fragment 
 . known by the name of the Torso of Michael Angelo; but of that grandeur of char- 
 acter, air, and attitude, which he threw into all his figures, and which so well 
 corresponds with the grandeur of his outline, there was no example ; it could 
 therefore proceed only from the most poetical and sublime imagination. 
 
 It is impossible not to express some surprise, that the race of Painters who 
 preceded Michael Angelo, men of acknowledged great abilities, should never 
 have thought of transferring a little of that grandeur of outline which they could 
 not but see and admire in Ancient Sculpture, into their own works; but they 
 appear to have considered Sculpture as the later Schools of Artists look at the 
 inventions of Michael Angelo, — as something to be admired, but with which they 
 have nothing to do: quod super nos, nihil ad nos. The Artists of that age, even 
 Raffaelle himself, seemed to be going on very contentedly in the dry manner of 
 Pietro Perugino; and if Michael Angelo had never appeared, the Art might still 
 have continued in the same style. 
 
 Beside Pome and Florence, where the grandeur of this style was first displayed, 
 it was on this foundation that the Caracci built the truly great Academical Bo- 
 lognian School, of which the first stone was laid by Pellegrino Tibaldi. He first 
 introduced this style amongst them; and many instances might be given in which 
 he appears to have possessed, as by inheritance, the true, genuine, noble, and 
 elevated mind of Michael Angelo. Though we cannot venture to speak of him 
 with the same fondness as his countrymen, and call him, as the Caracci did, 
 Nostro Michael Angelo riformato, yet he has a right to be considered amongst 
 the first and greatest of his followers: there are certainly many drawings and 
 inventions of his of which Michael Angelo himself might not disdain to be sup- 
 posed the author, or that they should be, as in fact they often are, mistaken for 
 his. I will mention one particular instance, because it is in a book which is in 
 every young Artist's hands, — Bishop's Ancient Statues. He there has introduced 
 a print, representing Polyphemus, from a drawing of Tibaldi, and has inscribed 
 it with the name of Michael Angelo, to whom he has also in the same book 
 attributed a Sybil of Raffaelle. Both these figures, it is true, are professedly in 
 Michael Angelo 's style and spirit, and even worthy of his hand. But we know 
 that the former is painted in the Institute a Bologna by Tibaldi, and the other 
 in the Pace by Raffaelle. 
 
 The Caracci, it is acknowledged, adopted the mechanical part with sufficient 
 
THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 151 
 
 success. But the divine part which addresses itself to the imagination, as pos- 
 sessed by Michael Angelo or Tibaldi, was beyond their grasp: they formed, 
 however, a most respectable school, a style more on the level, and calculated to 
 please a greater number; and if excellence of this kind is to be valued according 
 to the number, rather than the weight and quality of admirers, it would assume 
 even an higher rank in Art. The same, in some sort, may be said of Tintoret, 
 Paolo Veronese, and others of the Venetian Painters. They certainly much 
 advanced the dignity of their style by adding to their fascinating powers ' of 
 colouring something of the strength of Michael Angelo; at the same time it may 
 still be a doubt, how far their ornamental elegance would be an advantageous 
 addition to his grandeur. But if there is any manner of painting which may be 
 said to unite kindly with his style, it is that of Titian. His handling, the man- 
 ner in which his colours are left on the canvass, appears to proceed (as far as 
 that goes) from a congenial mind, equally disdainful of vulgar criticism. 
 
 Michael Angelo's strength thus qualified, and made more palatable to the 
 general taste, reminds me of an observation which I heard a learned critic * 
 make, when it was incidentally remarked, that our translation of Homer, how- 
 ever excellent, did not convey the character, nor had the grand air of the ori- 
 ginal. He replied, that if Pope had not cloathed the naked Majesty of Homer, 
 with the graces and elegancies of modern fashions, — though the real dignity of 
 Homer was degraded by such a dress, his translation would not have met with 
 such a favourable reception, and he must have been contented with fewer readers. 
 
 Many of the Flemish Painters, who studied at Rome in that great era of our 
 art, such as Francis Floris, Hemskerk, Michael Coxis, Jerom Cock, and others, 
 returned to their own country with as much of this grandeur as they could carry. 
 But like seeds falling on a soil not prepared or adapted to their nature, the man- 
 ner of Michael Angelo thrived but little with them; perhaps, however, they 
 contributed to prepare the way for that free, unconstrained, and liberal outline, 
 which was afterwards introduced by Rubens, through the medium of the Venetian 
 Painters. 
 
 This grandeur of style has been in different degrees disseminated over all 
 Europe. Some caught it by living at the time, and coming into contact with 
 the original author, whilst others received it at a second hand; and being every 
 where adopted, it has totally changed the whole taste and style of design, if there 
 could be said to be any style before his time. Our art, in consequence, now as- 
 sumes a rank to which it could never have dared to aspire, if Michael Angelo had 
 not discovered to the world the hidden powers which it possessed. Without his 
 assistance we never could have been convinced that Painting was capable of 
 producing an adequate representation of the persons and actions of the heroes of 
 the Iliad. 
 
 I would ask any man qualified to judge of such works, whether he can look 
 with indifference at the personification of the Supreme Being in the centre of the 
 Capella Sestina, or the figures of the Sybils which surround that chapel, to which 
 we may add the statue of Moses; and whether the' same sensations are not ex- 
 
 * Dr Johnson, 
 
152 
 
 THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 cited by those works, as what he may remember to have felt from the most sublime 
 passages of Homer ? I mention those figures more particularly ,jls they come 
 nearer comparison with his Jupiter, his demigods, and heroes: those Sybils and 
 Prophets being a kind of intermediate beings between men and angels. Though 
 instances may be produced in the works of other Painters, which may justly 
 stand in competition with those I have mentioned, such as the Isaiah, and the 
 vision of Ezekiel, by Raffaelle, the St. Mark of Frate Bartolomeo, and many 
 others; yet these, it must be allowed, are inventions so much in Michael Ange- 
 lo's manner of thinking, that they may be truly considered as so many rays, which 
 discover manifestly the centre from whence they emanated. 
 
 The sublime in Painting, as in Poetry, so overpowers, and takes such a posses- 
 sion of the whole mind, that no room is left for attention to minute criticism. 
 The little elegancies of art in the presence of these great ideas thus greatly ex- 
 pressed, lose all their value, and are, for the instant at least, felt to be unworthy 
 of our notice. The correct judgment, the purity of taste, which characterise 
 Raffaelle, the exquisite grace of Correggio and Parmegiano, all disappear before 
 them. 
 
 That Michael Angelo was capricious in his inventions, cannot be denied; and 
 this may make some circumspection necessary in studying his works ; for though 
 they appear to become him, an imitation of them is always dangerous, and will 
 prove sometimes ridiculous. " Within that circle none durst walk but he." To 
 me, I confess, his caprice does not lower the estimation of his genius, even though 
 it is sometimes, I acknowledge, carried to the extreme: and however those ec- 
 centric excursions are considered, we must at the same time recollect, that those 
 faults, if they are faults, are such as never could occur to a mean and vulgar 
 mind ; that they flowed from the same source which produced his greatest beau- 
 ties, and were therefore such as none but himself was capable of committing : 
 they were the powerful impulses of a mind unused to subjection of any kind, and 
 too high to be controled by cold criticism. 
 
 Many see his daring extravagance who can see nothing else. A young Artist 
 finds the works of Michael Angelo so totally different from those of his own 
 master, or of those with whom he is surrounded, that he may be easily persuaded 
 to abandon and neglect studying a style, which appears to him wild, mysterious, 
 and above his comprehension, and which he therefore feels no disposition to ad- 
 mire ; a good disposition, which he concludes that he should naturally have, if 
 the style deserved it. It is necessary therefore that Students should be prepared 
 for the disappointment which they may experience at their first setting out; and 
 they must be cautioned, that probably they will not, at first sight, approve. 
 
 It must be remembered, that this great style itself is artificial in the highest 
 degree, it presupposes, in the spectator, a cultivated and prepared artificial state 
 of mind. It is an absurdity therefore to suppose that we are born with this 
 taste, though we are with the seeds of it, which, by the heat and kindly influ- 
 ence of his genius, may be ripened in us. 
 
 A late Philosopher and Critic * has observed, speaking of taste, that we are 
 
 * James Harris, Esq. E. 
 
THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 153 
 
 on no account to expect that fine things should descend to us — our taste, if possi- 
 ble, must be made to ascend to them. The same learned writer recommends to 
 us even to feign a relish, till we find a relish come ; and feel, that what began in 
 fiction, terminates in reality. If there be in our Art any thing of that agreement 
 or compact, such as I apprehend there is in music, with which the Critic is neces- 
 sarily required previously to be acquainted, in order to form a correct judgment : 
 the comparison with this art will illustrate what I have said on these points, and 
 tend to shew the probability, we may say the certainty, that men are not born 
 with a relish for those arts in their most refined state, which, as they cannot un- 
 derstand, they cannot be impressed with their effects. This great style of 
 Michael Angelo is as far removed from the simple representation of the common 
 objects of nature, as the most refined Italian music is from the inartificial notes 
 of nature, from whence they both profess to originate. But without such a sup- 
 posed compact, we may be very confident that the highest state of refinement in 
 either of those arts will not be relished without a long and industrious attention. 
 
 In pursuing this great Art, it must be acknowledged that we labour under 
 greater difficulties than those who were born in the age of its discovery, and 
 whose minds from their infancy were habituated to this style; who learnt it as 
 language, as their mother tongue. They had no mean taste to unlearn; they 
 needed no persuasive discourse to allure them to a favourable reception of it, no 
 abstruse investigation of its principles to convince them of the great latent truths 
 on which it is founded. We are constrained, in these latter days, to have re- 
 course to a Sort of Grammar and Dictionary, as the only means of recovering a 
 dead language. It was by them learned by rote, and perhaps better learned 
 that way than by precept. 
 
 This style of Michael Angelo, which I have compared to language, and which 
 may, poetically speaking, be called the language of the Gods, now no longer 
 exists, as it did in the fifteenth century; yet, with the aid of diligence, we may 
 in a great measure supply the deficiency which I mentioned, — of not having his 
 works so perpetually before our eyes, — by having recourse to casts from his mo- 
 dels and designs in Sculpture ; to drawings or even copies of those drawings ; to 
 prints, which, however ill executed, still convey something by which this taste 
 may be formed, and a relish may be fixed and established in our minds for this 
 grand style of invention. Some examples of this kind we have in the Academy, 
 and I sincerely wish there were more, that the younger Students might in their 
 first nourishment imbibe this taste; whilst others, though settled in the practice 
 of the common-place style of Painters, might infuse, by this means, a grandeur 
 into their works. 
 
 I shall now make some remarks on the course which I think most proper to be 
 pursued in such a study. I wish you not to go so much to the derivative streams, 
 as to the fountainhead; though the copies are not to be neglected, because they 
 may give you hints in what manner you may copy, and how the genius of one 
 man may be made to fit the peculiar manner of another. 
 
 To recover this lost taste, I would recommend young Artists to study the 
 works of Michael Angelo, as he himself did the works of the ancient Sculptors ; 
 he began when a child, a copy of a mutilated Satyr's head, and finished in his 
 model what was wanting in the original. In the same manner, the first exercise 
 
 D 2 
 
154 
 
 THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 that I would recommend to the young artist when he attempts invention, is to 
 select every figure, if possible, from the inventions of Michael Angelo. If such 
 borrowed figures will not bend to his purpose, and he is constrained to make a 
 change to supply a figure himself, that figure will necessarily be in the same 
 style with the rest; and his taste will by this means be naturally initiated, and 
 nursed in the lap of grandeur. He will sooner perceive what constitutes this 
 grand style by one practical trial than by a thousand speculations, and he will 
 in some sort procure to himself that advantage which in these later ages has been 
 denied him: the advantage of having the greatest of Artists for his master and 
 instructor. 
 
 The next lesson should be, to change the purpose of the figures without chang- 
 ing the attitude, as Tintoret has done with the Sampson of Michael Angelo. 
 Instead of the figure which Sampson bestrides, he has placed an eagle under him ; 
 and instead of the jaw-bone, thunder and lightning in his right hand; and thus 
 it becomes a Jupiter. Titian, in the same manner, has taken the figure which 
 represents God dividing the light from the darkness in the vault of the Capella 
 Sestina, and has introduced it in the famous battle of Cadore, so much celebrated 
 by Vasari; and extraordinary as it may seem, it is here converted to a general 
 falling from his horse. A real judge who should look at this picture, would im- 
 mediately pronounce the attitude of that figure to be in a greater style than any 
 other figure of the composition. These two instances may be sufficient, though 
 many more might be given in their works, as well as in those of other great 
 Artists. 
 
 When the Student has been habituated to this grand conception of the Art, 
 when the relish for this style is established, makes a part of himself, and is 
 woven into his mind, he will, by this time, have got a power of selecting from 
 whatever occurs in nature that is grand, and corresponds with that taste which 
 he has now acquired ; and will pass over whatever is common-place and insipid. 
 He may then bring to the mart such works of his own proper invention as may 
 enrich and increase the general stock of invention in our Art. 
 
 I am confident of the truth and propriety of the advice which I have recom- 
 mended ; at the same time I am aware, how much by this advice I have laid my- 
 self open to the sarcasms of those critics who imagine our Art to be a matter of 
 inspiration. But I should be sorry it should appear even to myself that I want- 
 ed that courage which I have recommended to the students in another way: 
 equal courage perhaps is required in the adviser and the advised; they both must 
 equally dare and bid defiance to narrow criticism and vulgar opinion. 
 
 That the Art has been in a gradual state of decline, from the age of Michael 
 Angelo to the present, must be acknowledged; and we may reasonably impute 
 this declension to the same cause to which the ancient Critics and Philosophers 
 have imputed the corruption of eloquence. Indeed the same causes are likely at 
 all times and in all ages to produce the same effects : indolence, — not taking the 
 same pains as our great predecessors took, — desiring to find a shorter way, — are 
 the general imputed causes. The words of Petronius* are very remarkable. 
 
 * Pictura quoque non alium exitum fecit, postquam -3Egyptiorum audacia tarn magna; artis 
 compendiaiiam invenit. R. 
 
THE FIFTEENTH DISCOUKSE. 
 
 155 
 
 After opposing the natural chaste beauty of the eloquence of former ages to the 
 strained inflated style then in fashion, " neither," says he, " has the art of Paint- 
 " ing had a better fate after the boldness of the Egyptians had found out a coni- 
 " pendious way to execute so great an art. 
 
 By compendious, I understand him to mean a mode of Painting, such as has 
 infected the style of the later Painters of Italy and France ; common-place, 
 without thought, and with as little trouble, working as by a receipt ; in contra- 
 distinction to that style for which even a relish cannot be acquired without care 
 and long attention, and most certainly the power of executing cannot be obtained 
 without the most laborious application. 
 
 I have endeavoured to stimulate the ambition of Artists to tread in this 
 great path of glory, and, as well as I can, have pointed out the track which 
 leads to it, and have at the same time told them the price at which it may be ob- 
 tained. It is an ancient saying, that labour is the price which the Gods have 
 set upon every thing valuable. 
 
 The great Artist who has been so much the subject of the present Discourse, 
 was distinguished even from his infancy for his indefatigable diligence ; and this 
 was continued through his whole life, till prevented by extreme old age. The 
 poorest of men, as he observed himself, didjiot labour from necessity, more than 
 he did from choice. Indeed, from all the circumstances related of his life, he 
 appears not to have had the least conception that his art was to be acquired by 
 any other means than great labour; and yet he, of all men that ever lived, might 
 make the greatest pretensions to the efficacy of native genius and inspiration. I 
 have no doubt that he would have thought it no disgrace, that it should be said 
 of him, as he himself said of Raffaelle, that he did not possess his art from na- 
 ture, but by long study 54 . He was conscious that the great excellence to which 
 he arrived was gained by dint of labour, and was unwilling to have it thought 
 that any transcendent skill, however natural its effects might seem, could be pur- 
 chased at a cheaper price than he had paid for it. This seems to have been the 
 true drift of his observation. We cannot suppose it made with any intention of 
 depreciating the genius of Raffaelle, of whom he always spoke, as Condivi says, 
 with the greatest respect: though they were rivals, no such illiberality existed 
 between them; and Raffaelle on his part entertained the greatest veneration for 
 Michael Angelo, as appears from the speech which is recorded of him, that he 
 congratulated himself, and thanked God that he was born in the same age with 
 that painter. 
 
 If the high esteem and veneration in which Michael Angelo has been held by 
 all nations and in all ages, should be put to the account of prejudice, it must 
 still be granted that those prejudices could not have been entertained without a 
 cause : the ground of our prejudice then becomes the source of our admiration. 
 But from whatever it proceeds, or whatever it is called, it will not, I hope, be 
 thought presumptuous in me to appear in the train, 1 cannot say of his imitators, 
 but of his admirers. I have taken another course, one more suited to my abili- 
 ties, and to the taste of the times in which I live. Yet however unequal I feel 
 
 * Che Raffaelle non ebbe quest' arte da natura, ma per lungo studio. E. 
 
156 
 
 THE FIFTEENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 myself to that attempt, were 1 now to begin the world again, I would tread in 
 the steps of that great master: to kiss the hem of his garment, to catch the slight- 
 est of his perfections, would be glory and distinction enough for an ambitious 
 man. 
 
 I feel a self-congratulation in knowing myself capable of such sensations as he 
 intended to excite. I reflect, not without vanity, these Discourses bear testi- 
 mony of my admiration of that truly divine man; and I should desire that the 
 last words which I should pronounce in this Academy, and from this place, 
 might be the name of Michael Angelo*. 
 
 * Unfortunately for mankind, these were the last words pronounced by this great Painter 
 from the Academical chair. He died about fourteen months after this Discourse was de- 
 livered. M. 
 
 END OP THE DISCOURSES, 
 
THREE LETTERS 
 
 TO 
 
 THE IDLER. 
 
THE IDLER. 
 
 Number 76. —Saturday, September 29, 1759, 
 
 TO THE IDLER. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I was much pleased with your ridicule of those shallow critics, whose judgment, 
 though often right as far as it goes, yet reaches only to inferior beauties; and 
 who, unable to comprehend the whole, judge only by parts, and from thence 
 determine the merit of extensive works. But there is another kind of critic still 
 worse, who judges by narrow rules, and those too often false, and which, though 
 they should be true, and founded on nature, will lead him but a very little way 
 towards the just estimation of the sublime beauties in works of genius; for what- 
 ever part of an art can be executed or criticised by rules, that part is no longer 
 the work of genius, which implies excellence out of the reach of rules. For my 
 own part, 1 profess myself an Idler, and love to give my judgment, such as it 
 is, from my immediate perceptions, without much fatigue of thinking; and I am 
 of opinion, that if a man has not those perceptions right, it will be vain for him 
 to endeavour to supply their place by rules; which may enable him to talk more 
 learnedly, but not to distinguish more acutely. Another reason which has lessen- 
 ed my affection for the study of criticism is, that critics, so far as I have observed, 
 debar themselves from receiving any pleasure from the polite arts, at the same 
 time that they profess and admire them: for these rules being always uppermost, 
 give them such a propensity to criticise, that instead of giving up the reins of 
 their imagination into their author's hands, their frigid minds are employed in 
 examining whether the performance be according to the rules of art. 
 
 To those who are resolved to be critics in spite of nature, and at the same 
 time have no great disposition to much reading and study, I would recommend 
 to assume the character of connoisseur, which may be purchased at a much 
 cheaper rate than that of a critic in poetry. The remembrance of a few names 
 of Painters, with their general characters, and a few rules of the Academy, which 
 they may pick up among the Painters, will go a great way towards making a 
 very notable connoissuer. 
 
 With a Gentleman of this cast, I visited last week the Cartoons at Hampton 
 Court; he was just returned from Italy, a connoisseur, of course, and of course 
 his mouth full of nothing but the grace of Raffaelle, the purity of Domenichino, 
 the learning of Poussin, the air of Guido, the greatness of taste of the Carraccis, 
 and the sublimity and grand Contorno of Michael Angelo; with all the rest of 
 the cant of criticism, which he emitted with that volubility which generally those 
 orators have who annex no ideas to their words. 
 
160 
 
 THE IDLER . 
 
 As we were passing through the rooms, in our way to the Gallery, I made him 
 observe a whole length of Charles the First, by Vandyck, as a perfect representa- 
 tion of the character as well as the figure of the man: he agreed it was very fine, 
 but it wanted spirit and contrast, and had not the flowing line, without which a 
 figure could not possibly be graceful. When we entered the Gallery, I thought 
 I could perceive him recollecting his rules by which he was to criticise Raffaelle. 
 I shall pass over his observation of the boats being too little, and other criticisms 
 ©f that kind, till we arrived at St Paul Preaching. " This, (says he,) is esteemed 
 the most excellent of all the Cartoons: what nobleness, what dignity there is in 
 that figure of St Paul! and yet what an addition to that nobleness could Raffaelle 
 have given, had the art of contrast been known in his time ; but above all, the 
 flowing line, which constitutes grace and beauty. You would not then have seen 
 an upright figure standing equally on both legs, and both hands stretched for- 
 ward in the same direction, and his drapery, to all appearence, without the least 
 art of disposition." The following Picture is the Charge to Peter. " Here, (says 
 he,) are twelve upright figures ; what a pity it is that Raffaelle was not acquainted 
 with the pyramidal principle! he would then have contrived the figures in the 
 middle to have been on higher ground, or the figures at the extremities stooping 
 or lying; which would not only have formed the group into the shape of a pyra- 
 mid, but likewise contrasted the standing figures. Indeed, added he, I have 
 often lamented that so great a genius as Raffaelle had not lived in this enlightened 
 age, since the art has been reduced to principles, and had his education in one of 
 the modern Academies; what glorious works might we then have expected from 
 his divine pencil!" 
 
 I shall trouble yon no longer with my friend's observations, which, 1 suppose, 
 you are now able to continue by yourself. It is curious to observe, that at the 
 same time that great admiration is pretended for a name of fixed reputation, 
 objections are raised against those very qualities by which that great name was 
 acquired. 
 
 These critics are continually lamenting that Raffaelle had not the colouring 
 and harmony of Rubens, or the light and shadow of Rembrandt, without con- 
 sidering how much the gay harmony of the former, and affectation of the latter, 
 would take from the dignity of Raffaelle; and yet Rubens had great harmony, 
 and Rembrandt understood light and shadow ; but what may be an excellence 
 in a lower class of painting, becomes a blemish in a higher; as the quick, spritely 
 turn, which is the life and beauty of epigrammatic compositions, would but ill 
 suit with the majesty of heroic poetry. 
 
 To conclude, I would not be thought to infer from any thing that has been said, 
 that rules are absolutely unnecessary, but to censure scrupulosity, a servile 
 attention to minute exactness, which is sometimes inconsistent with higher ex- 
 cellence, and is lost in the blaze of expanded genius. 
 
 I do not know whether you will think painting a general subject. By insert- 
 ing this letter, perhaps you will incur the censure a man would deserve, whose 
 business being to entertain a whole room, should turn his back on the company, 
 and talk to a particular person. 
 
 I am, Sir, &c. 
 
Number 79. Saturday, October 20, 1759. 
 
 TO THE IDLER. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Your acceptance of a former letter on Painting, gives me encouragement to offer 
 a few more sketches on the same subject. 
 
 Amongst the Painters and the writers on Painting, there is one maxim uni- 
 versally admitted, and continually inculcated. Imitate Nature, is the invaria- 
 ble rule; but I know none who have explained in what manner this rule is to be 
 understood; the consequence of which is, that every one takes it in the most ob- 
 vious sense, — that objects are represented naturally, when they have such relief 
 that they seem real. It may appear strange, perhaps, to hear this sense of the 
 rule disputed; but it must be considered, that if the excellency of a Painter con- 
 sisted only in this kind of imitation, Painting must lose its rank, and be no longer 
 considered as a liberal art, and sister to Poetry; this imitation being merely me- 
 chanical, in which the slowest intellect is always sure to succeed best; for the 
 Painter of genius cannot stoop to drudgery, in which the understanding has no 
 part ; and what pretence has the art to claim kindred with Poetry, but by its 
 power over the imagination % To this power the Painter of genius directs his 
 aim; in this sense he studies Nature, and often arrives at his end, even by being 
 unnatural, in the confined sense of the word. 
 
 The grand style of Painting requires this minute attention to be carefully 
 avoided, and must be kept as separate from it as the style of Poetry from that of 
 History. Poetical ornaments destroy that air of truth and plainness which ought 
 to characterise History ; but the very being of Poetry consists in departing from 
 this plain narration, and adopting every ornament that will warm the imagina- 
 tion. To desire to see the excellencies of each style united, to mingle the Dutch 
 with the Italian School, is to join contrarieties which cannot subsist together, 
 and which destroy the efficacy of each other. The Italian attends only to the 
 invariable, the great, and general ideas which are fixed and inherent in universal 
 Nature ; the Dutch, on the contrary, to literal truth and a minute exactness in 
 the detail, as I may say, of Nature modified by accident. The attention to 
 these petty peculiarities is the very cause of this naturalness so much admired 
 in the Dutch pictures, which, if we suppose it to be a beauty, is certainly of a 
 lower order, that ought to give place to a beauty of a superior kind, since one 
 cannot be obtained but by departing from the other. 
 
 If my opinion were asked concerning the works of Michael Angelo, whether 
 they would receive any advantage from possessing this mechanical merit, I should 
 not scruple to say, they would lose, in a great measure, the effect which they now 
 have on every mind susceptible of great and noble ideas. His works may be 
 
 E 2 
 
162 
 
 THE IDLER. 
 
 said to be all genius and soul ; and why should they be loaded with heavy 
 matter, which can only counteract his purpose by retarding the progress of the 
 imagination % 
 
 If this opinion should be thought one of the wild extravagancies of enthu- 
 siasm, I shall only say, that those who censure it are not conversant in the works 
 of the great Masters. It is very difficult to determine the exact degree of en- 
 thusiasm that the arts of Painting and Poetry may admit. There may perhaps 
 be too great an indulgence, as well as too great a restraint of imagination; 
 and if the one produces incoherent monsters, the other produces what is full 
 as bad, lifeless insipidity. An intimate knowledge of the passions, and good 
 sense, but not common sense, must at last determine its limits. It has been 
 thought, and I believe with reason, that Michael Angelo sometimes transgressed 
 those limits; and I think I have seen figures by him, of which it was very diffi- 
 cult to determine whether they were in the highest degree sublime or extremely 
 ridiculous. Such faults may be said to be the ebulition of Genius; but at least 
 he had this merit, that he never was insipid; and whatever passion his works 
 may excite, they will always escape contempt. 
 
 What I have had under consideration is the sublimest style, particularly that of 
 Michael Angelo, the Homer of Painting. Other kinds may admit of this natural- 
 ness, which of the lowest kind is the chief merit ; but in Painting, as in Poetry, 
 the highest style has the least of common nature. 
 
 One may safely recommend a little more enthusiasm to the modern Painters; 
 too much is certainly not the vice of the present age. The Italians seem to have 
 been continually declining in this respect from the time of Michael Angelo to 
 that of Carlo Maratti, and from thence to the very pathos of insipidity to which 
 they are now sunk; so that there is no need of remarking, that where I men- 
 tioned the Italian Painters in opposition to the Dutch, I mean not the moderns, 
 but the heads of the old Roman and Bolognian Schools: nor did I mean to in- 
 clude, in my idea of an Italian Painter, the Venetian School^ which may be 
 said to be the Dutch part of the Italian Genius. I have only to add a word of 
 advice to the Painters, — that however excellent they may be in painting natu- 
 rally, they would not flatter themselves very much up©n it; and to the Connois- 
 seurs, that when they see a cat or a fiddle painted so finely, that, as the phrase 
 is, it looks as if you could take it up, they would not for that reason immedi- 
 aiely compare the Painter to Raffaelle and Michael Angelo. 
 
Number 82. Saturday, November 10, 1759. 
 
 TO THE IDLER. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Discoursing in my last letter on the different practice of the Italian and Dutch 
 Painters, T ohserved that " the Italian Painter attends only to the invariable, 
 the great, and general ideas, which are fixed and inherent in universal nature." 
 
 I was led into the subject of this letter by endeavouring to fix the original 
 cause of this conduct of the Italian Masters. If it can be proved that by this 
 choice they selected the most beautiful part of the creation, it will shew how 
 much their principles are founded on reason, and, at the same time, discover the 
 origin of our ideas of beauty. 
 
 I suppose it will be easily granted, that no man can judge whether any animal 
 be beautiful in its kind, or deformed, who has seen only one of that species; this 
 is as conclusive in regard to the human figure ; so that if a man, born blind, were 
 to recover his sight, and the most beautiful woman were brought before him, he 
 could not determine whether she was handsome or not; nor if the most beautiful 
 and most deformed were produced, could he any better determine to which he 
 should give the preference, having seen only those two. To distinguish beauty, 
 then, implies the having seen many individuals of that species. If it is asked, 
 how is more skill acquired by the observation of greater numbers ? I answer, 
 that, in consequence of having seen many, the power is acquired, even without 
 seeking after it, of distinguishing between accidental blemishes and excrescences 
 which are continually varying the surface of Nature's works, and the invariable 
 general form which Nature most frequently produces, and always seems to intend 
 in her productions. 
 
 Thus amongst the blades of grass or leaves of the same tree, though no two 
 can be found exactly alike, the general form is invariable : A Naturalist, before 
 he chose one as a sample, would examine many; since if he took the first that 
 occurred, it might have, by accident or otherwise, such a form as that it would 
 scarce be known to belong to that species; he selects as the Painter does, the 
 most beautiful, that is, the most general form of nature. 
 
 Every species of the animal as well as the vegetable creation may be said to 
 have a fixed or determined form, towards which Nature is continually inclining, 
 like various lines terminating in the centre; or it may be compared to pendulums 
 vibrating in different directions over one central point: and as they all cross the 
 centre, though only one passes through any other point, so it will be found that 
 perfect beauty is oftner produced by Nature than deformity ; I do'not mean than 
 deformity in general, but than any one kind of deformity. To instance in a 
 particular part of a feature: the line that forms a ridge of the nose is beautiful 
 
164 
 
 THE IDLEE. 
 
 when it is straight; this, then, is the central form, which is oftener found than 
 either concave, convex, or any other irregular form that shall be proposed. As 
 We are then more accustomed to beauty than deformity, we may conclude that to 
 be the reason why we approve and admire it, as we approve and admire customs 
 and fashions of dress for no other reason than that we are used to them ; so 
 that though habit and custom cannot be said to be the cause of beauty, it is cer- 
 tainly the cause of our liking it: and I have no doubt but that if we were more 
 used to deformity than beauty, deformity would then lose the idea now annexed 
 to it, and take that of beauty: as if the whole world should agree, that yes and 
 no should change their meaning; yes would then deny, and no would affirm. 
 
 Whoever undertakes to proceed further in this argument, and endeavours to 
 fix a general criterion of beauty respecting different species, or to shew why one 
 species is more beautiful than another, it will be required from him first to prove 
 that one species is really more beautiful than another. That we prefer one to 
 the other, and with very good reason, will be readily granted; but it does not 
 follow from thence that we think it a more beautiful form ; for we have no cri- 
 terion of form by which to determine our judgment. He who says a swan is 
 more beautiful than a dove, means little more than that he has more pleasure in 
 seeing a swan than a dove, either from the stateliness of its motions, or its being 
 a more rare bird ; and he who gives the preference to the dove, does it from some 
 association of ideas of innocence which he always annexes to the dove ; but if he 
 pretends to defend the preference he gives to one or the other by endeavouring to 
 prove that this more beautiful form proceeds from a particular gradation of mag- 
 nitude, undulation of a curve, or direction of a line, or whatever other conceit of 
 his imagination he shall fix on, as a criterion of form, he will be continually con- 
 tradicting himself, and find at last that the great Mother of Nature will not be 
 subjected to such narrow rules. Among the various reasons why we prefer one 
 part of her works to another, the most general, I believe, is habit and custom; 
 custom makes, in a certain sense, white black, and black white; it is custom 
 alone determines our preference of the colour of the Europeans to the Ethiopians, 
 and they, for the same reason, prefer their own colour to ours, I suppose no 
 body will doubt, if one of their Painters were to paint the Goddess of Beauty, 
 but that he would represent her black, with thick lips, flat nose, and woolly hair ; 
 and it seems to me, he would act very unnaturally if he did not: for by what 
 criterion will any one dispute the propriety of his idea ! We, indeed, say, that 
 the form and colour of the European is preferable to that of the Ethiopian: but 
 I know of no other reason we have for it, but that we are more accustomed to it. 
 It is absurd to say, that beauty is possessed of attractive powers, which irresisti- 
 bly seize the corresponding mind with love and admiration, since that argument 
 is equally conclusive in favour of the white and the black philosophers. 
 
 The black and white nations must, in respect of beauty, be considered as of 
 different kinds, at least a different species of the same kind : from one of which 
 to the other, as I observed, no inference can be drawn. 
 
 Novelty is said to be one of the causes of beauty. That novelty is a very suf- 
 ficient reason why we should admire, is not denied; but because it is uncommon, 
 is it therefore beautiful ? The beauty that is produced by colour, as when we 
 prefer one bird to another, though of the same form, on account of its colour, has 
 
THE IDLER. 
 
 166 
 
 nothing to do with the argument which reaches only to form. I have here consider- 
 ed the word Beauty as being properly applied to form alone. There is a necessity 
 of fixing this confined sense, for there can be no argument if the sense of the word 
 is extended to every thing that is approved. A rose may as well be said to be 
 beautiful, because it has a fine smell, as a bird because of its colour. When we 
 apply the word Beauty, we do not mean always by it a more beautiful form, but 
 something valuable on account of its rarity, usefulness, colour, or any other pro- 
 perty. A horse is said to be a beautiful animal; but had a horse as few good 
 qualities as a tortoise, I do not imagine that he would then be deemed beautiful. 
 
 A fitness to the end proposed, is said to be another cause of beauty; but sup- 
 posing we were proper judges of what form is the most proper in an animal to 
 constitute strength or swiftness, we always determine concerning its beauty, be- 
 fore we exert our understanding to judge of its fitness. 
 
 From what has been said, it may be inferred, that the works of Nature, if we 
 compare one species with another, are all equally beautiful, and that preference 
 is given from custom or some association of ideas: and that, in creatures of the 
 same species, beauty is the medium or centre of all its various forms. 
 
 To conclude, then, by way of corollary: if it has been proved that the Painter, 
 by attending to the invariable and general ideas of Nature, produce beauty, he 
 must, by regarding minute particularities, and accidental discriminations, deviate 
 from the universal rule, and pollute his canvass with deformity. 
 
JOUENEY 
 
 TO 
 
 FLANDERS AND HOLLAND, 
 
 IN THE YEAR MDCCLXXXI. 
 
A 
 
 JOURNEY 
 
 TO 
 
 FLANDERS AND HOLLAND, 
 
 IN THE YEAR MDCCLXXXI* 
 
 At Ostend, where we landed, July 27, 1781, there are no pictures, and even 
 Bruges affords but a scanty entertainment to a Painter; however, there are a few, 
 which, though not of the first rank, may be worth the attention of a traveller 
 who has time to spare, 
 
 BRUGES. 
 
 In the Cathedral. — The high altar ; the Adoration of the Magi, by Segers. 
 This picture is justly considered as one of the best of that painter's works. The 
 part which first obtrudes itself on your attention is one of the kings, who is placed 
 in the front: this figure, notwithstanding its great fame, and its acknowledged 
 
 * Our author, accompanied by Philip Metcalfe, Esq. left London on Tuesday, July 24, 1781, 
 went to Margate, and embarked there for Ostend; proceeded from thence to Ghent, Brussels, 
 Antwerp, Dort, the Hague, Leyden, Amsterdam, Dusseldorp, Aix-la-chapelle, Liege ; returned 
 to Brussels again; from thence to Ostend; landed at Margate, and arrived in London on Sunday, 
 September 16. 
 
 To Mr Metcalfe he intended to have dedicated his account of this tour, but he had only written 
 the following introductory paragraphs : 
 
 " I send you, put together in as much order as the little time I can spare from my business will 
 permit, the notes that I made abroad on the pictures that we saw together. I present them to you 
 as properly your due; for if I had been accompanied by a person of less taste, or less politeness, 
 they probably would not have been made. The pleasure that a mere dilettante derives from 
 seeing the Works of Art, ceases when he has received the full effect of each performance ; but the 
 Painter has the means of amusing himself much longer, by investigating the principles on which 
 the Artist wrought. To which ever of your good qualities I am to attribute your long and 
 patient attendance, while I was employed in examining the various works which we saw, it 
 merits my warmest acknowledgments. Nor is it an inconsiderable advantage to see such works 
 in company with one, who has a general rectitude of taste, and is not a professor of the art. We 
 are too apt to forget that the art is not intended solely for the pleasure of professors. The opi- 
 nions of others are certainly not to be neglected ; since by their means the received rules of art 
 may be corrected : at least a species of benefit may be obtained, which we are not likely to derive 
 from the judgment of painters ; who being educated in the same manner, are likely to judge from 
 the same principles, are liable to the same prejudices, and may sometimes be governed by the 
 influence of an authority which perhaps has no foundation in nature." M. 
 
 F 2 
 
170 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 excellence in many respects, lias one great defect ; it appears to have nothing to 
 do with the rest of the composition, and has too much the air of a whole-length 
 portrait. What gives it so much this appearance is, the eyes looking out of the 
 picture ; that is, he is looking at the person who looks at the picture. This always 
 has a bad effect, and ought never to be practised in a grave historical composition, 
 however successfully it may be admitted in ludicrous subjects, where no business 
 of any kind, that requires eagerness of attention, is going forward. 
 
 The second altar on the right from the door is the nativity, by Otho Venius. 
 Many parts of this picture bring to mind the manner of Rubens, particularly the 
 colouring of the arm of one of the shepherds; but in comparison of Rubens it is 
 but a lame performance, and would not be worth mentioning here, but from its 
 being the work of a man who had the honour to be the master of Rubens, 
 
 Otho Venius published two books of Emblems, explained by prints of children: 
 it was from him Rubens imbibed that predilection in favour of emblematical 
 representation, which has afforded so much subject for criticism; particularly his 
 introducing them in the Luxemburgh gallery. 
 
 In the sacristy is a picture, painted by John Van Eyck, of the Virgin and 
 Child, with St George and other Saints; one of those figures which is dressed in 
 white, and which undoubtedly was taken from the life, according to the custom 
 of the painters of those times, has great character of nature, and is very minutely 
 finished, though the painter was sixty- six years old when it was done; for the 
 date on it is 1436. This picture claims perhaps more attention from its being 
 painted by a man who has been said to be the first inventor of the art of painting 
 in oil, than from any intrinsic merit in the work itself. However, his claim to 
 this invention, which was first attributed to him by Vasari, and from his authority 
 propagated in the world, has been justly disputed by the learned antiquarian Mr 
 Raspe, who has proved, beyond all contradiction, that this art was invented and 
 practised many ages before Van Eyck was born. 
 
 The art is here in its infancy ; but still having the appearance of a faithful 
 representation of individual nature it does not fail to please. To a certain degree 
 the painter has accomplished his purpose ; which is more than can be said of two 
 heads by Rubens of St Peter and St Paul, in the same sacristy, which are neither 
 a good representation of individual or general nature : however, each of these 
 heads is enshrined in a rich tabernacle of silver, locked up, and shewn only on 
 high festivals. The great reputation which Rubens has so justly acquired, is here 
 extended to pictures slightly painted, and which perhaps he himself would be 
 ashamed to acknowledge as his: they appear to have nothing to recommend them, 
 but a tint of colour and lightness of pencil ; a merit which indeed Rubens seldom 
 wanted: they are insipid, without grace, dignity, or character of any kind. 
 
 CHURCH OF NOTRE DAME. 
 The Virgin and Christ (Bambino) in marble, said to be of Michael Angelo. 
 It has certainly the air of his school, and is a work of considerable merit ; it was 
 a prize taken by a Dutch Corsair going from Civita Vecchia to Genoa. 
 
 GHENT. — THE CATHEDRAL. 
 In this great Church is the St Bavon of Rubens. This picture was formerly 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 171 
 
 the ornament of the high altar of this cathedral, but was displaced to make room 
 for an ordinary piece of sculpture. When Rubens was thus degraded, one may 
 conclude his fame was then not established : he had not been dead long enough 
 to be canonized, as he may be said to be at present. It is now placed in a chapel 
 behind the great altar. The saint is represented in the upper part of the picture, 
 in armour, kneeling, received by a priest at the door of a church: below is a man 
 who may be supposed to be his steward, giving money to the poor. Two women 
 are standing by, dressed in the fashion of the times when Rubens lived; one of 
 them appears to be pulling off a chain which falls from her neck, as if she 
 intended to follow the example before her. This picture, for composition, colour- 
 ing, richness of effect, and all those qualities in which Rubens more particularly 
 excelled, claims a rank amongst his greatest and best works. It is engraved by 
 Pilsen. 
 
 In a chapel is a work of the brothers Hubert and John Van Eyck, represent- 
 ing the Adoration of the Lamb, a story from the Apocalypse: it contains a great 
 number of figures in a hard manner, but there is great character of truth and 
 nature in the heads; and the landscape is well coloured. 
 
 In the third Chapel on the right, is a picture of St Sebastian, by Gerard 
 Honthorst (1663). This picture is mentioned, not for any great excellence that 
 it possesses, but from its being much talked of here : people fancy they see great 
 expression of tenderness in the woman who is drawing the anwvs from the saint's 
 body; but she appeared to me perfectly insipid, and totally without expression of 
 any kind: the head of St Sebastian is hard and disagreeable; the body indeed is 
 well drawn, and not ill coloured, and is the only part of the picture that deserves 
 any commendation. 
 
 ST MICHAEL'S CHURCH. 
 
 In this church is, or rather was, the celebrated Crucifixion of Vandyck; for it 
 is almost destroyed by cleaning. It is well known by the fine print of Bolswert, 
 and it appears by what remains to have been one of his most capital works. 
 
 Vandyck has here introduced a most beautiful horse in an attitude of the ut- 
 most grace and dignity. This is the same horse on which he drew Charles the 
 Fifth, which is in the gallery at Florence ; the head of the Emperor he copied 
 from Titian. 
 
 St John's hand in this picture comes round the Virgin Mary's neck, and falls 
 on the other shoulder. The first impression of Bolswert's plate has this circum- 
 stance; but it was afterwards changed,, being supposed to be too familiar an 
 attitude. 
 
 Christ scourged, by Segers; the arm finely drawn, and the body well coloured, 
 but too large. 
 
 St Hubert, a well painted and well composed picture, by Lang Jan. 
 
 THE RECOLLETS. 
 The high altar: a profane allegorical picture by Rubens. Christ with Jupiter's 
 thunder and lightning in his hand denouncing vengeance on a wicked world, re- 
 presented by a globe lying on the ground with the serpent twined round it: this 
 globe St Francis appears to be covering and defending with his mantle. The 
 
112 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 Virgin is holding Christ's hand, and shewing her breasts; implying, as I suppose, 
 the right she has to intercede and have an interest with him whom she suckled. 
 The Christ, which is ill drawn, in an attitude affectedly contrasted, is the most 
 ungracious figure that can be imagined: the best part of the picture is the head 
 of St Francis. 
 
 Mary Magdalen expiring, supported by ill drawn angels, by Rubens; the saint 
 herself old and disagreeable. 
 
 St Francis receiving the Stimate, likewise by Rubens; a figure without dignity, 
 and more like a beggar: though his dress is mean, he ought surely to be repre- 
 sented with the dignity and simplicity of a Saint. Upon the whole, Rubens 
 would appear to no great advantage at Ghent, if it was not for the picture of 
 St Bavon. 
 
 ST NICHOLAS CHURCH. 
 
 The great altar, representing some history of this saint, is painted by N. Roose, 
 a painter of no great merit; but this is far superior to any other of his works, 
 which are plentifully dispersed over Flanders. It is of a mellow colour, and has 
 great force and brilliancy: it is illuminated by torch light, but so well managed, 
 as to have nothing of that disagreeable effect which Honthorst, Segers, Schalcken, 
 and others, gave to their pictures, when they represented night-pieces. 
 
 St Joseph advertised by an angel, by Rombouts. The angel is an upright 
 figure, and treads the air with great grace; his countenance is likewise beautiful., 
 as is also that of the Virgin. 
 
 ALOST ST MARTIN. 
 St Rock interceding with Christ for the diseased of the plague, by Rubens. 
 The composition is upon the same plan as that of St Bavon at Ghent. The 
 picture is divided into two parts; the Saint and Christ are represented in the 
 upper part, and the effects of the plague in the lower part of the picture. In 
 this piece the grey is rather too predominant, and the figures have not that union 
 with their ground which is generally so admirable in the works of Rubens. I 
 suspect it has been in some picture-cleaner's hands, whom I have often known to 
 darken every part of the ground about the figure, in order to make the flesh look 
 brighter and clearer; by which the general effect is destroyed. There is a print 
 from this picture, by P. Pontius. 
 
 BRUSSELS. ST GUDULE. 
 Christ's charge to Peter with two of the Apostles. The characters heavy, 
 without grace or dignity; the handling on a close examination appears tame 
 even to the suspicion of its being a copy: the colouring is remarkably fresh. 
 The name of Rubens would not stand high in the world, if he had never produced 
 other pictures than such as this. On the same pillar is a Pieta of B. Van Orlay, 
 with six portraits of the family who presented this picture to the church. The 
 old man who appears to be the father, has great nature, but hard, as the whole 
 picture is in a dry gothic style. 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 173 
 
 UNSHOD CARMELITES. 
 The high altar; the Assumption, by Rubens. The principal figure, the Virgin, 
 is the worst in the composition, both in regard to the character of the countenance, 
 the drawing of the figure, and even its colour; for she is dressed, not in what is 
 the fixed dress of the Virgin, blue and red, but entirely in a colour between blue 
 and grey, heightened with white ; and this, coming on a white glory, gives a dead- 
 ness to that part of the picture. The Apostles and the two women are in Rubens' 
 best manner; the angels are beautifully coloured, and unite with the sky in per- 
 fect harmony; the masses of light and shade are conducted with the greatest 
 judgment, and excepting the upper part where the Virgin is, it is one of Rubens' 
 rich pictures. 
 
 Here are about the Church pretty good copies, making in all ten pictures, of 
 that great work of Rubens, the Triumph of the Church. The originals were 
 destroyed by fire, when the Prince's palace was burnt in 1731. 
 
 On the left side of the high altar, Christ and St Theresa with two angels; one 
 supports her, and the other presents to her bosom a flaming arrow; neither are 
 very angelical: the head of the saint is finely drawn and painted; the Christ is 
 likewise well drawn for Rubens; but the effect is rather hard, proceeding from its 
 being wrought up too highly: it is smooth as enamel, which takes off that suppleness 
 which appears in his other works: this is certainly not in his best manner, though 
 it seems to have cost him the most trouble. 
 
 In the sacristy is a fine portrait by Rubens. 
 
 CAPUCHINS. 
 
 The high altar by Rubens: Christ dead, lying on the lap of the Virgin; two 
 angels holding the lance ; near is a St Francis and St Elizabeth with a handker- 
 chief to her eyes. This was probably one of Rubens' best pictures, but it ap- 
 pears to have suffered much from cleaning; the mezzotints of the flesh of Christ 
 are quite blue, as is the linen : upon the whole it has the appearance of the 
 coloured prints of Le Blond. The drapery of the Magdalen at the feet of Christ 
 is execrable; the angels have been totally repainted. There are prints of this 
 picture both by Pontius and Bolswert. 
 
 On the pillar on the right hand near the choir is St Antony of Padua, holding 
 the Christ in his arms, by Vandyck; and on the left hand its companion, St 
 Francis: both those figures have great expression; but they are slightly painted, 
 and certainly not intended for public pictures. Prints of these by Krafft. 
 
 ST GERY. 
 
 The entombing of Christ, by Koeberger, 1606: an admirable picture in the 
 style of the Roman school. The character elegant, well drawn and coloured; 
 the blue drapery of the Virgin is the only defective part; it is ill folded, and the 
 colour does nor harmonize with the rest. This picture is equal to the best of Do- 
 menichino. I was much surprised to find such excellence in a painter of whom 
 I knew little more than seeing a print of his portrait among Vandyck's heads. I 
 have since seen more of his works, but none equal to this; which I would place 
 in the first rank of all the pictures at Brussels. 
 
 The fascinating power of Rubens' pencil has prevented this picture from pos- 
 
174 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 sessing such reputation as it undoubtedly deserves : simplicity is no match against 
 the splendour of Rubens, at least at first sight ; and few stay to consider longer. 
 The best pictures of the Italian school, if they ornamented'the churches of Ant- 
 werp, would be overpowered by the splendour of Rubens; they certainly ought 
 not to be overpowered by it; but it resembles eloquence, which bears down every 
 thing before it, and often triumphs over superior wisdom and learning. 
 
 In the first Chapel on the right hand, is the birth of Christ, by Bernard Van 
 Orlay : it is a chapel belonging to this painter's family, in which they all lie buried. 
 Under this picture is another, in which are portraits of himself and his family; 
 nine figures on their knees, as praying; but these must have been painted by his 
 descendants, who were likewise painters, the date on the picture being 1590 : 
 thirty years after Bernard's death. Both pictures are painted in the old dry 
 manner; but there is great truth in the countenance of the portraits, and the 
 nativity shews it came from a good school, that of Raffaelle; there is a simplicity 
 and earnestness in one of the shepherds, which is admirable. 
 
 In the second Chapel, a good picture of Christ mocked by the Jews, by M. 
 Coxis. 
 
 MR DANOOT'S. 
 
 Among the private cabinets at Brussels, that of Mr Danoot, the Banker, claims 
 particular attention. He has appropriated little more than one room of his house 
 for pictures, and has therefore been very attentive in the choice of what he has 
 admitted. 
 
 To mention only a few of the most striking: — Two sketches by Rubens; the 
 Rape of the Sabines, and the women endeavouring to prevent the Roman and 
 Sabine soldiers from joining battle: this last has more novelty, and is the most 
 interesting of the two. The women are here placed between the two armies, 
 some hanging on the soldiers' arms, others pressing the horses backward, and 
 others holding up their infants at arms' length, and showing them to the soldiers 
 to excite their compassion. The whole composition is full of animation, to which 
 the air of the horses, thus pressed backwards, does not a little contribute. Both 
 these sketches are admirably composed, and in every respect excellent; few pic- 
 tures of Rubens, even of his most finished works, give a higher idea of his 
 genius. All the parts are more determined than is usual in sketches. They are 
 what I apprehend he put into the hands of his scholars, from which they ad- 
 vanced and carried on the great picture, which he afterwards retouched and 
 finished. 
 
 Another sketch of the same master; the finding of Romulus and Remus. 
 
 A Child in a Cradle, with three women, by Rubens; the scene a landscape, 
 the figures somewhat less than life. This picture has not so much force as his 
 works in general, and appears not to have received his last touches. 
 
 Rembrandt's portrait, by himself, half length, when he was old, in a very un- 
 finished manner, but admirable for its colour and effect: his pallet and pencils 
 and mahlstick are in his hand, if it may be so called; for it is so slightly touched, 
 that it can scarce be made out to be a hand. 
 
 A Woman with a sprig of jessamy in her hand, by Lionardo da Vinci. There 
 is beauty in the countenance, but it is in a hard manner. A small picture by 
 
PL ANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 175 
 
 young Teniers, of Boors shooting at a but or target; in his best manner. His 
 name and the date are on it, which I took down to mark the part of his life 
 when he was in his zenith of perfection: the date is 1645 ; he was then 35 years 
 old, being born in 1610. 
 
 Another picture of old David Teniers, which has a good landscape, but it has 
 not the neat and elegant touch of young David ; it seems to have proceeded from 
 a more clumsy workman. 
 
 PRINCE DE LIGNE'S. 
 
 There is nothing here worth attention, except a whole-length portrait of John 
 Count of Nassau, by Vandyck. The head of this picture is engraved in Van- 
 dyck's book of portraits. The character and drawing are admirable; the face 
 seems to have lost a little of its brilliancy: it is much in the manner of Lord 
 Strafford's picture in the possession of the Duke of Grafton. 
 
 A Picture of Minerva and Mercury, bridling or taming Pegasus. It appears 
 to be a Vandyck, or a copy after him: as it hangs between two windows, I could 
 not determine which was the case. 
 
 A Pieta of Vandyck, in the manner of Rubens; the same as one at Dussel- 
 dorp, but not so good ; and it is there disputed whether their picture is of Rubens 
 or Vandyck. The Virgin's eyes are disagreeably red; the whole without beauty 
 of any kind, except in regard to its colour. 
 
 About half a dozen Luca Giordanos. 
 
 MR ORION'S. 
 
 A country town pillaged by Soldiers, by D. Ryckaert. It is painted in a 
 colder manner than I expected from the sketch which I have in my possession 
 in colours. 
 
 A sketch by Rubens, of three saints on their knees: likewise two admirable 
 sketches of the two ends of the cieling of the Banqueting-house*; the middle 
 part was in Lord Orford's collection, which is now in Russia. 
 
 A painter drawing after a plaister-figure of a child; perfect in its kind. 
 
 A Nativity, by Jordaens; a capricious composition in the manner of Tintoret. 
 
 Many excellent small pictures of Teniers, Van Uden, Asselyn Crabbetje, and 
 others. 
 
 He has two Rembrandts; The wrestling of Jacob and the Angel, and a por- 
 trait; but neither of them excellent. 
 
 My friend remarked, that Mr Orion was almost the only gentleman who 
 shewed his own pictures, that did not pester us by prating about their merit. 
 He certainly has pictures which well deserve to be praised, but he left that 
 part to us. 
 
 MECHLIN.— THE CATHEDRAL. 
 The Last Supper, by Rubens. The Heads of the Apostles and style of dra- 
 
 * These two sketches were afterwards purchased hy our author. M. 
 
176 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 pery are in Rubens' best manner; but tbe picture is in bad condition, as it is 
 mildewed: the Christ, the worst head. The principal figure is here, as is gene- 
 rally the case, the worst figure in the composition. Perhaps this is unavoidable: 
 it is here as in poetry: a perfect character makes but an insipid figure; the genius 
 is cramped and confined, and cannot indulge itself in those liberties which give 
 spirit to the character, and of course interest the spectator. It has been observ- 
 ed, that Milton has not succeeded in the speeches which he has given to God the 
 Father, or to Christ, so well as in those which he has put in the mouths of the 
 rebel angels. Under the table is a dog gnawing a bone ; a circumstance mean 
 in itself, and certainly unworthy such a subject, however properly it might fill a 
 corner of such a picture as the Marriage at Cana, by Paul Veronese. Beside 
 the impropriety, one does not see how the dog came by his bone, nothing of that 
 kind being on the table; but the word supper was excuse enough for Rubens, 
 who was always glad of an opportunity of introducing animals into his pictures. 
 There is a print of this picture by Bolswert. 
 
 On one side hangs a small picture of Christ washing the Disciples' feet, and 
 on the other a picture of the same size, of Christ entering Jerusalem, likewise 
 by Rubens; they are both well composed, and that appears to be their whole 
 merit. 
 
 There is a circumstance belonging to the Altar-piece, which may be worth 
 relating, as it shews Rubens' manner of proceeding in large works. The person 
 who bespoke this picture, a citizen of Mechlin, desired, to avoid the danger of 
 carriage, that it might be painted at Mechlin; to this the painter easily con- 
 sented, as it was very near his country-seat at Steen. Rubens, having finished 
 his sketch in colours, gave it as usual to one of his scholars, (Van Egmont,) and 
 sent him to Mechlin to dead-colour from it the great picture. The gentleman, 
 seeing this proceeding, complained that he bespoke a picture of the hand of the 
 master not of the scholar, and stopped the pupil in his progress. However, 
 Rubens satisfied him that this was always his method of proceeding, and that this 
 piece would be as completely his work as if he had done the whole from the 
 beginning. The Citizen was satisfied, and Rubens proceeded with the picture, 
 which appeared to me to have no indications of neglect in any part; on the con- 
 trary, I think it has been one of his best pictures, though those who know this 
 circumstance pretend to see Van Egmont's inferior genius transpire through 
 Rubens' touches. 
 
 RECOLLETS. 
 
 The great altar, in the church of the Recollets, is Christ crucified between 
 the two Thieves, by Vandyck. This, perhaps, is the most capital of all his 
 works, in respect to the variety and extensiveness of the design, and the judi- 
 cious disposition of the whole. In the efforts which the thieves make to disen- 
 gage themselves from the cross, he has successfully encountered the difficulty of 
 the art; and the expression of grief and resignation in the Virgin is admirable. 
 This picture, upon the whole, may be considered as one of the first pictures in 
 the world, and gives the highest idea of Vandyck's powers : it shews that he had 
 truly a genius for history-painting, if it had not been taken off by portraits. 
 The colouring of this picture is certainly not of the brightest kind, but it seems 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 177 
 
 as well to correspond with the subject as if it had the freshness of Rubens. St 
 John is a mean character, the only weak part in the picture, unless we add 
 another circumstance, though but a minute one : the hair of the Magdalen, at 
 the feet of Christ, is too silky, and indeed looks more like silk drapery than 
 hair. There is a print of the head of this Magdalen, to which is added a 
 skull. 
 
 The altar on the right, by Vandyck; St Bonavent, supported by an angel, 
 whilst another is giving him the Sacrament. The Priest at the altar is without 
 dignity; he is looking over his shoulder, as if he was only satisfying his curiosity 
 to see what they were about: the Saint is likewise poorly imagined, and makes 
 but a despicable figure in comparison of the manner in which the same kind of 
 subject has been treated by Domenichino and Agostino Caracci, in their pictures 
 of the communion of St Jerome. The colouring is not brilliant; a reddish 
 colour being too predominant in the flesh, particularly in the shadows. This, as 
 I have before observed, is the case with many of Vandyck's pictures. A print 
 by Franciscus Vanden Wyngaerde. 
 
 THE CHURCH OF ST JOHN. 
 
 The great Altar, the Adoration of the Magi, by Rubens; a large and rich 
 composition; but there is a want of force in the Virgin and Child: they appear of 
 a more shadowy substance than the rest of the picture, which has his usual 
 solidity and richness. One of the Kings holds an incense-vase. This circumstance 
 is mentioned to distinguish this picture from the many others which Rubens has 
 painted of this subject. It is engraved by L. Vostermans. 
 
 On the inside of one of the doors is the Decollation of St John the Baptist, 
 on the other St John the Evangelist in the cauldron of boiling oil. The figures, 
 which are putting him into the cauldron, want energy, which is not a common 
 defect of Rubens : the character of the head of the Saint is vulgar, which, 
 indeed, in him, is not an uncommon defect. The whole is of a mellow and rich 
 colouring. On the outside of those doors is John baptizing Christ, and St John 
 the Evangelist in the Isle of Patmos, writing the Apocalypse: both of these 
 are in his best manner: the Eagle of St John is remarkably well painted; the 
 baptism is much damaged. Under these are three pannels, on which are the 
 Nativity, the Crucifix, and the Resurrection. Though they are all of Rubens, 
 they have very little merit, except an air of facility of hand. Of the Nativity 
 there is a print by Vostermans, which appears as if engraved after a finished 
 picture. Probably the drawing which the engraver made from the picture was 
 corrected by Rubens: what seems to confirm this, is the print being dedicated by 
 Rubens himself to his friend Petrus Venius " Testem hanc exanimo," &c. 
 Rubens was paid for these eight pictures eighteen hundred Florins of Brabant, 
 about 180 pounds English, as appears by the receipt preserved in the Sacristy; 
 and the whole was begun and finished in eighteen days, 
 
 AUGUST INS. 
 
 In the church of the Augustins was the famous picture by Rubens of the 
 Virgin and Christ, St Catharine, St Agnes, Christine Marguerite, and other 
 female Saints ; which was sold to Verhalst at Brussels, and bought at his sale 
 
 G 2 
 
1 78 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 by the Duke of Rutland, in whose possession it now is. A print of this pic- 
 ture by Jode. 
 
 ANTWERP. — THE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 On entering the great door on the right, is the Last Judgment, said to be 
 by B. Van Or] ay, but I suspect it to be by some of his descendants: it is much 
 inferior to what we saw of him at Brussels. On the folding-doors are the 
 seven acts of Mercy; it has no excellence of any kind, to make amends for its 
 extreme hardness of manner. 
 
 The altar of the Archers; St Sebastian, by Keoberger. There are good parts 
 in this picture, but it is not equal to his Pieta at Brussels: the boy in half shadow, 
 who holds a bow and arrows, and the priest who holds an image in his hand, 
 the face seen by a reflected light, are the best part of the picture. The body of 
 the Saint is well coloured, and in a broad manner. Two women's heads are in- 
 troduced very awkwardly in the bottom of the picture. 
 
 THE CHAPEL OF ST MICHAEL. 
 The fall of the Angels by F. Floris, 1554; which has some good parts, but 
 without masses, and dry. On the thigh of one of the figures he has painted a 
 fly for the admiration of the vulgar ; there is a foolish story of this fly being 
 painted by J. Matsys, and that it had the honour of deceiving Floris. 
 
 THE CHAPEL BELONGING TO THE COMPANY OF ARQUEBUSE. 
 
 The famous descent of the Cross : this picture, of all the works of Rubens, is 
 that which has the most reputation. I had consequently conceived the highest 
 idea of its excellence; knowing the print, I had formed in my imagination what 
 such a composition would produce in the hands of such a Painter. I confess I 
 was disappointed. However, this disappointment did not proceed from any 
 deficiency in the picture itself ; had it been in the original state in which Rubens 
 left it, it must have appeared very different; but it is mortifying to see to what 
 degree it has suffered by cleaning and mending: that brilliant effect, which it 
 undoubtedly once had, is lost in a mist of varnish, which appears to be chilled 
 or mildewed. The Christ is in many places retouched, so as to be visible at a 
 distance; the St John's head repainted; and other parts, on a close inspection, 
 appear to be chipping off, and ready to fall from the canvass. However, there 
 is enough to be seen to satisfy any connoisseur, that in its perfect state it well 
 deserved all its reputation. 
 
 The composition of this picture is said to be borrowed from an Italian print : 
 This print I never saw; but those who have seen it, say, that Rubens has made 
 no deviation from it, except in the attitude of the Magdalen. On the print is 
 written, "Peter Passer invenit; Hieronymus Wirix sculpsit." 
 
 The greatest peculiarity of this composition is the contrivance of the white 
 sheet, on which the body of Jesus lies: this circumstance was probably what in- 
 duced Rubens to adopt the composition. He well knew what effect Avhite linen, 
 opposed to flesh, must have, with his powers of colouring ; a circumstance 
 which was not likely to enter into the mind of an Italian painter, who probably 
 would have been afraid of the linen's hurting the colouring of the flesh, and 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 179 
 
 have kept it down of a low tint. And the truth is, that none but great colour- 
 ists can venture to paint pure white linen near flesh ; but such know the advan- 
 tage of it: so that possibly what was stolen by Rubens, the possessor knew not 
 how to value; and certainly no person knew so well as Rubenshow to use. After 
 all, this may perhaps turn out another Lauder's detection of plagiarism. I 
 could wish to see this print, if there is one, to ascertain how far Rubens was in- 
 debted to it for his Christ, which I consider as one of the finest figures that ever 
 was invented : it is most correctly drawn, and I apprehend in an attitude of the 
 utmost difficulty to execute. The hanging of the head on his shoulder, and the 
 falling of the body on one side, gives such an appearance of the heaviness of 
 death, that nothing can exceed it. 
 
 - Of the three Maries, two of them have more beauty than he generally bestow 
 ed on female figures; but no great elegance of character. The St Joseph of 
 Arimathea is the same countenance which he so often introduced in his works ; 
 a smooth fat face, — a very unhistorical character. 
 
 The principal light is formed by the body of Christ and the white sheet; there 
 is no second light which bears any proportion to the principal: in this respect it 
 has more the manner of Rembrandt's disposition of light than any other of Ru- 
 bens's works; however, there are many little detached lights distributed at some 
 distance from the great mass, such as the head and shoulders of the Magdalen, 
 the heads of the two Maries, the head of St Joseph, and the back and arm of the 
 figure leaning over the Cross; the whole surrounded with a dark sky, except a 
 little light in the horizon, and above the Cross. 
 
 The historical anecdote relating to this picture, says, that it was given in ex- 
 change for a piece of ground, on which Rubens built his house; and that the 
 agreement was only for a picture representing their patron, St Christopher, with 
 the Infant Christ on his shoulders. Rubens, who wished to surprise them by 
 his generosity, sent five pictures instead of one: a piece of gallantry on the 
 side of the painter, which was undoubtedly well received by the Arquebusers ; 
 since it was so much to their advantage, however expensive to the maker of it. 
 
 All those pictures were intended to refer to the nam© of their patron Christopher, 
 
 In the first place, the body of Christ on the Altar is borne by St John, St 
 Joseph of Arimathea, Ma,ry Magdalen, &c. 
 
 On one side of the left door, is the Salutation of Mary and Elizabeth. The 
 Virgin here bears Christ before he is born. 
 
 On the reverse of the same door is St Christopher himself, bearing the 
 Infant on his shoulders. The picture which corresponds with this on the other 
 side, is the only one which has no reference to the word Christopher. It re- 
 presents an Hermit with a lantern, to receive Christ when he arrives at the 
 other side of the river. The hermit appears to be looking to the other side ; 
 one hand holds the lantern, and the other is very naturally held up to prevent 
 the light from coming upon his eyes. But on the reverse of this door we have 
 another Christopher; the Priest Simeon bearing Christ high in his arms, and 
 looking upwards. This picture, which has not suffered, is admirable indeed, 
 the head of the priest more especially, which nothing can exceed: the expression, 
 drawing, and colouring, are beyond all description, and as fresh as if the piece 
 were just painted. 
 
180 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 The colouring of the St Christopher is too red and bricky, and the outline is 
 not flowing. This figure was all that the company of the Arquebusers expected ; 
 but Rubens justly thought that such a figure would have made but a poor sub- 
 ject for an Altar. 
 
 There is a print of the Descent by Luc Vostermans, of the St Christopher by 
 Remy Eyndhout; of Simeon by P. Pontius: those which have a dedication to 
 Gasp. Hubert are bad impressions, and retouched. The Visitation is engraved 
 by P. de Jode. The Hermit has not been engraved. 
 
 On the side of the choir are the monuments of the two celebrated printers of 
 Netherlands, John Baptist Morteus and Martin Plantin; that of the former is 
 ornamented with an admirable picture by Rubens, about half the size of life ; 
 Christ coming out of the Sepulchre in great splendour, the soldiers terrified, and 
 tumbling one over the other: the Christ is finely drawn, and of a rich colour. 
 The St John the Baptist on the door is likewise in his best manner; only his left 
 leg is something too large. On the other door is St Barbara; the figure without 
 character, and the colouring without brilliancy. The predominant colour in her 
 dress is purple, which has but a heavy effect. 
 
 The monument of Plantin has for its ornament the last Judgment, by Backer, 
 correctly drawn, but without any skill in disposition of light and shadow. 
 
 THE CHAPEL OF THE SCHOOL-MASTERS. 
 
 Christ among the Doctors, by Francis Franck; called the young Franck. 
 There are some fine heads in this picture; particularly the three men that are 
 looking on one book, are admirable characters: the figures are well drawn, and 
 well grouped; the Christ is but a poor figure. 
 
 On a pillar opposite, and not far from the Descent from the Cross, is the Ador- 
 ation of the Magi. The Virgin and the infant Christ are admirable. It appears 
 to be the work of B. Van Orlay. On the doors on each side are portraits well 
 painted, the woman especially. On one of the pillars is a picture of Rubens, 
 which serves as a monument for the family of Goubau: He and his wife are re- 
 presented, half- length, at prayers, addressing themselves to the Virgin and Infant 
 Christ: the old man is well painted, the Virgin but indifferently. 
 
 CORDWA1NERS' CHAPEL. 
 The martyrdom of St Crepin and Crepinianus, by Ambrose Franck, has some 
 good heads, but in a dry manner. 
 
 THE CONFRERES DE D'ARBULETRE. 
 
 The martyrdom of St George, by Schut. It is well composed and well drawn, 
 and is one of his best pictures; but the Saint has too much of that character 
 which Painters have fixed for Christ. There is a want of brilliancy from its 
 having too much harmony : to produce force and strength, a stronger opposition 
 of colours is required. 
 
 Passing by the Chapels in which are altars by Martin and Simon de Vos, and 
 others, which have nothing worth attention, we come to 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 181 
 
 THE CHAPEL OF THE CIRCUMCISION. 
 Where is the famous work of Qnintin Matsys, the blacksmith. The middle 
 part is what the Italians call a Pieta; a dead Christ on the knees of the Virgin, 
 accompanied with the usual figures. On the door on one side is the daughter of 
 Herod bringing in St John's head at the banquet; on the other, the Saint in the 
 cauldron. In the Pieta the Christ appears as if starved to death; in which man- 
 ner it was the custom of the painters of that age always to represent a dead 
 Christ; but there are heads in this picture not exceeded by Raffaelle, and indeed 
 not unlike his manner of painting portraits; hard and minutely finished. The 
 head of Herod, and that of a fat man near the Christ, are excellent. The 
 painter's own portrait is here introduced. In the banquet, the daughter is rather 
 beautiful, but too skinny and lean ; she is presenting the head to her mother, who 
 appears to be cutting it with a knife. 
 
 THE ALTAR OF THE GARDENERS. 
 
 A Nativity, a large composition of Francis Floris, and perhaps the best of his 
 works. It is well composed, drawn, and coloured; the heads are in general finely 
 painted, more especially St Joseph, and a woman in the fore-ground. 
 
 A Pieta by Rubens, which serves as a monument of the family of Michielsens, 
 and is fixed on one of the pillars: this is one of his most careful pictures; the 
 characters are of a higher style of beauty than usual, particularly the Mary 
 Magdalen, weeping, with her hand clenched. The colouring of the Christ and 
 the Virgin is of a most beautiful and delicate pearly tint, opposed by the strong 
 high colouring of St J oseph. 
 
 I have said in another place that Rubens does not appear to advantage but 
 in large works ; this picture may be considered as an exception. 
 
 The Virgin and Infant Christ on one of the doors is the same as one at Marl- 
 borough House. The Virgin is holding Christ, who stands on a table; the infant 
 appears to be attentively looking at something out of the picture : the vacant 
 stare of a child is very naturally represented; but it is a mean ordinary looking 
 boy, and by no means a proper representation of the Son of God. The only 
 picture of Christ in which Rubens succeeds, is when he represents him dead; as 
 a child, or as a man engaged in any act, there is no divinity; no grace or dignity 
 of character appears. 
 
 On the other door is St John, finely coloured; but this character is likewise 
 vulgar. 
 
 On the outside of the door are two pictures in black and white ; one of a 
 Christ, and the other the Virgin and child; these, as well as the two above men- 
 tioned, by Rubens. 
 
 THE GREAT ALTAR. 
 The Assumption of the Virgin. She is surrounded by a choir of angels; below 
 are the Apostles, and a great number of figures. This picture has not so rich an 
 appearance in regard to colour as many other pictures of Rubens; proceeding, I 
 imagine, from there being too much blue in the sky: however, the lower part of 
 the picture has not that defect. It is said to have been painted in sixteen days. 
 The print is by Bolswert. 
 
182 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 ST WALBURGE. 
 
 The great altar of the choir is the first public work which Rubens executed 
 after he returned from Italy. In the centre is Christ nailed to the cross, with a 
 number of figures exerting themselves in different ways to raise it. One of the 
 figures appears flushed, all the blood rising into his face from his violent efforts ; 
 others in intricate attitudes, which at the same time that they shew the great 
 energy with which the business is done, give that opportunity which painters 
 desire, of encountering the difficulties of the art, in foreshortening, and in repre- 
 senting momentary actions. This subject, which was probably of his own choos- 
 ing, gave him an admirable opportunity of exhibiting his various abilities to his 
 countrymen; and it is certainly one of his best and most animated compositions. 
 
 The bustle which is in every part of the picture, makes a fine contrast to the 
 character of resignation in the crucified Saviour. The sway of the body of Christ 
 is extremely well imagined. The taste of the form in the Christ, as well as in 
 the other figures, must be acknowledged to be a little inclinable to the heavy ; 
 but it has a noble, free, and flowing outline. The invention of throwing the cross 
 obliquely from one corner of the picture to the other, is finely conceived; some- 
 thing in the manner of Tintoret; it gives a new and uncommon air to his subject, 
 and we may justly add, that it is uncommonly beautiful. The contrast of the 
 body with the legs is admirable, and not overdone. 
 
 The doors are a continuation of the subject. That on the right has a group 
 of women and children, who appear to feel the greatest emotion and horror at 
 the sight: the Virgin and St John, who are behind, appear very properly with 
 more resignation. On the other door are the officers on horse-back; attending 
 behind them are the two thieves, whom the executioners are nailing to the cross. 
 
 It is difficult to imagine a subject better adapted for a painter to exhibit his 
 art of composition than the present; at least Rubens has had the skill to make 
 it serve, in an eminent degree, for that purpose. In the naked figures of the 
 Christ, and of the executioners, he had ample room to shew his knowledge of 
 the anatomy of the human body in different characters. There are likewise 
 women of different ages, which is always considered as a necessary part of every 
 composition, in order to produce variety; there are, besides, children and horse- 
 men; and to have the whole range of variety, he has even added a dog, which 
 he has introduced in an animated attitude, with his mouth open, as if panting ; 
 admirably well painted. His animals are always to be admired: the horses here 
 are perfect in their kind, of a noble character, animated to the highest degree. 
 Rubens, conscious of his powers in painting horses, introduced them in his 
 pictures as often as he could. This part of the work, where the horses are repre- 
 sented, is by far the best in regard to colouring ; it has a freshness which the 
 other two pictures want : but those appear to have suffered by the sun. This 
 picture of the horseman is situated on the south-east side, whereas the others, 
 being east and south-east, are more exposed; however, at present there is no 
 longer danger, the fathers having taken the precaution to have a fixed window- 
 blind, which the rays of the sun cannot penetrate. 
 
 The central picture, as well as that of the group of women, does not, for what- 
 ever reason, stand so high for colour as every other excellence. There is a dry- 
 ness in the tint; a yellow okery colour predominates over the whole; it has too 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 183 
 
 much the appearance of a yellow chalk- drawing. I mean only to compare 
 Rubens with himself; they might be thought excellent even in this respect, were 
 they the work of almost any other painter. The flesh, as well as the rest of the 
 picture, seems to want grey tints, which is not a general defect of Rubens; on 
 the contrary, his mezzotints are often too grey. 
 
 The blue drapery, about the middle of the figure at the bottom of the Cross, 
 and the grey colour of some armour, are nearly all the cold colours in the picture ; 
 which are certainly not enough to qualify so large a space of warm colours. The 
 principal mass of light is on the Christ's body; but in order to enlarge it, and 
 improve its shape, a strong light comes on the shoulder of the figure with a bald 
 head: the form of this shoulder is somewhat defective; it appears too round. 
 
 Upon the whole, this picture must be considered as one of Rubens's principal 
 works, and that appearance of heaviness which it has, when seen near, entirely 
 vanishes when the picture is viewed from the body of the church, to which you 
 descend from the choir by twenty stairs. 
 
 On the other side of the two doors, which turn round, are likewise two pictures, 
 by Rubens; St Catharine with a sword, and St Eloi with a female Saint and 
 Angels, as usual finely painted; but the figure of St Eloi appears too gigantic. 
 
 Of the elevation of the Cross and its appendages, there is a print in three sheets 
 by Withous; of St Eloi by Remoldus Eynhovedts, and of the St Catharine by 
 Bolswert. 
 
 In this church, on the left hand of the choir, is another picture by Rubens, of 
 Christ after his resurrection sitting on his sepulchre, trampling on the symbol of 
 death: it is a picture of no force of colouring, which possibly proceeds from its 
 having been much damaged. A print of this by Remoldus Eynhovedts. 
 
 THE CHURCH OF THE JACOBINES*. 
 
 The great altar, a crucifixion by Vandyck. St Rosaria at the feet of Christ, 
 and St Dominick. A sepulchral lamp, and a flambeau reversed, are here intro- 
 duced, to shew that Christ is dead: two little angels are represented on each side 
 of the Cross, and a larger angel below. The two little ones look like embryoes, 
 and have a bad effect; and the large angel is not painted with equal success, as 
 many other parts of the picture. The shadows are too red, and the locks of the 
 hair are all painted in a hard and heavy manner. For its defects ample amends 
 is made in the Christ, which is admirably drawn and coloured; and a breadth 
 of light preserved over the body with the greatest skill ; at the same time, that 
 all the parts are distinctly marked. The form and character are of a more elegant 
 kind than those we see commonly of Rubens. 
 
 The idea of St Rosaria closing her eyes is finely imagined, and gives an un- 
 common and delicate expression to the figure. 
 
 The conduct of the light and shadow of this picture is likewise worth the at- 
 tention of a Painter. To preserve the principal mass of light, which is made by 
 the body of Christ, of a beautiful shape, the head is kept in half shadow. The 
 
 * Nuns of the order of St Dominick. Jl. 
 
184 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 under garment of St Dominick and the angel make the second mass; and the 
 St Rosaria's head, handkerchief, and arm, the third. 
 
 The sketch for this picture is said to be within the convent, but I could not see 
 it. A print by Bolswert. 
 
 UNSHOD CARMELITES. 
 
 In a recess on the right, on entering the church, is St Anne, and the Virgin 
 with a book in her hand, by Rubens. Behind St Anne is a head of St Joachim ; 
 two angels in the air with a crown. This picture is eminently well coloured, 
 especially the angels; the union of their colour with the sky is wouderfully 
 managed. It is remarkable that one of the angels has Psyche's wings, which 
 are like those of a butterfly. This picture is improperly called St Anne teaching 
 the Virgin to read, who is represented about fourteen or fifteen years, too old to 
 begin to learn to read. The white silk drapery of the Virgin is well painted, 
 but not historical; the silk is too particularly distinguished, a fault of which 
 Rubens is often guilty, in his female drapery: but by being of the same colour 
 as the sky it has a soft harmonious effect. The rest of the picture is of a 
 mellow tint. A print by Bolswert. 
 
 At an altar on the opposite little nich on the left, Christ relieving souls out of 
 purgatory by the intercession of St Therese. The Christ is a better character, 
 has more beauty and grace, than is usual with Rubens; the outline remarkably 
 undulating, smooth, and flowing. The head of one of the women in purgatory is 
 beautiful, in Rubens's way; the whole has great harmony of colouring and free- 
 dom of pencil: it is in his best manner. A print by Bolswert. 
 
 The Alter in the choir, by Segers. The subject is the marriage of the Virgin ; 
 larger than life. This is one of his best pictures; much in the manner of 
 Rubens. 
 
 On the left of the choir is a Pieta, by Rubens. The body of Christ is here 
 supported by St John, instead of the Virgin, who is stooping forward to kiss 
 Christ's cheek, whilst the Magdalen is kissing his hand. Of this picture there 
 is no print, though it well deserves to be engraved. Perhaps the subject is 
 handled too much in the same manner as that in the church of the Capuchins 
 at Brussels. 
 
 THE GREAT CARMELITES, OR SHOED CARMELITES. 
 On the right, as you enter the choir, Christ lying dead on the lap of God the 
 Father, by Rubens: on each side an angel, with the instruments of crucifixion. 
 The Christ is foreshortened with great skill in drawing. Engraved by Bolswert. 
 
 CHURCH OF THE FACONS (NUNS.) 
 In a little chapel the Virgin and Infant Christ, by Vandyck; a priest kneel- 
 ing; an angel behind directing his attention to the Virgin. The drapery seems 
 to be by another hand. There is nothing in this picture very much to be 
 admired. 
 
 ST MICHAEL. 
 
 The great altar, the Adoration of the Magi; a large and magnificent com- 
 position of near twenty figures, in Ruben's best manner. Such subjects seem to 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 185 
 
 be more peculiarly adapted to the manner and style of Rubens : his excellence, 
 his superiority, is not seen in small compositions. 
 
 One of the kings, who holds a cap in his hand, is loaded with drapery ; his 
 head appears too large, and upon the whole he makes but an ungraceful figure. 
 The head of the ox is remarkably well painted. Engraved by Lommeli. 
 
 On the left of the great altar is another picture of Rubens, St Gregory with 
 the Dove, dressed in his sacerdotal robes; behind him is St George in armour, 
 both noble figures; and the female saint, who is likewise in the front of the 
 picture, is, for Rubens, uncommonly beautiful. Behind is St Sebastian, and 
 other saints, and above are angels bearing a picture in a frame, of the Virgin and 
 Child. The print by Remoldus Eynhovedts. 
 
 Near this is a monument of Rubens's brother Philip, with an inscription and 
 a portrait in oval, by Rubens. 
 
 In this church are many fine portraits inserted in monuments. 
 
 St Norbert receiving the Sacrament, by Simon de Vos ; in which are introduced 
 a great number of portraits extremely well painted. De Vos was particularly 
 excellent in portraits. There is in the poor-house in this city, his own portrait 
 by himself, in black, leaning on the back of a chair, with a scroll of blue paper 
 in his hand, so highly finished, in the broad manner of Correggio, that nothing 
 can exceed it. 
 
 On the right cross is an immense large picture, by Erasmus Quellinus, con- 
 taining some good heads, and figures not ill drawn, but it is an ill-conducted 
 picture, and in bad condition. 
 
 THE MINIMES. 
 
 There is nothing curious in the church, but in passing to the cloisters are forty 
 pieces of glass pane, by Diepenbeke, of the life of St Francis, and in an adjoining 
 room a crucifix of Jordaens, admirable for its colouring, and the expression is 
 better than usual, but the drawing of the limbs of Christ is defective. 
 
 THE CHURCH OF THE JACOBINS. 
 
 The altar of the choir is painted by Rubens, the subject the same as one men- 
 tioned before in the church of the Recollects at Ghent, Christ lancing thunder 
 on the world, the Virgin interceding; below are many saints, male and female, 
 bishops and cardinals. Rubens acquired a predilection for allegories from his 
 master, Otho Venius, but it may be doubted whether such fancies in a Christian 
 church are not out of their proper place. St Francis is here, as in the picture 
 at Ghent, the best head. This picture has been much damaged, and St Sebastian 
 in particular has been repainted by some ignorant person, the sky has likewise 
 been badly repaired. God the Father, who is leaning on a globe, has something 
 majestic in the attitude. 
 
 A Council composed of saints, popes, cardinals, and bishops, by Rubens, the 
 same subject as RafFaelle's, in the Vatican, called The Dispute of the Sacra- 
 ment. God the Father is represented alone in the distant sky ; boy angels with 
 labels. Engraved by Snyers. The sky has been ill repainted, and does not 
 harmonize with the rest of the work. The whole picture indeed seems to have 
 suffered, for there is not that brilliancy which might be expected, nor indeed any 
 
 ii 2 
 
186 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 extraordinary character of heads, the best is that immediately behind the bishops 
 on the fore-ground. A print by Snyers. 
 
 At an altar on the entrance to the choir, Christ carrying the cross, said to be 
 one of the most early pictures of Vandyck. It is, in many parts, like the works 
 of Rubens, particularly the figure with his back towards the spectator, which is 
 well drawn. 
 
 The drapery of the Christ being dark, having become so probably by time, is 
 scarcely at all seen, which makes the head look like that taken by St Veronica. 
 This picture is much cracked, particularly the blue drapery of the Virgin, and 
 the naked back of the figure above-mentioned. A print by Alexander Voct. 
 
 The altar of the chapel of St Dominic, a black picture by Caravaggio; the 
 Virgin and Christ with St Dominic, and other saints. 
 
 About the church are represented the mysteries of St Rosaria, and other 
 subjects painted by various painters ; the best of these pictures are those by 
 Rubens and Jordaens. The flagellation of Christ is by Rubens. This picture, 
 though admirably painted, is disagreeable to look at ; the black and bloody stripes 
 are marked with too much fidelity, and some the figures are awkwardly scourg- 
 ing with their left hand. A print by Pontius. 
 
 The picture of Jordaens is the Crucifixion, with the Virgin, St John, Mary 
 Magdalen, and St Elizabeth; much in the manner of Rubens. 
 
 The Adoration of the Shepherds. The light coming from Christ is said to be 
 of Rubens, but there is nothing in the picture by which his manner can be with 
 certainty recognized; there are parts which were certainly not painted by him, 
 particularly the drapery of the Virgin. 
 
 St AUGXJSTIN. 
 
 The Altar of the Choir is by Rubens. From the size of the picture, the great 
 number of figures, and the skill with which the whole is conducted, this picture 
 must be considered as one of the most considerable works of Rubens. 
 
 The Virgin and Infant Christ are represented at one distance, seated on high 
 on a sort of pedestal, which has steps ascending to it ; behind the Virgin is St 
 Joseph. On the right is St Catharine, receiving the ring from Christ. St Peter 
 and St Paul are in the back-ground, and on the left, on the steps, St John the 
 Baptist, with the Lamb and Angels. Below are St Sebastian, St Augustin, St 
 Laurence, Paul the Hermit, and St George in armour. By way of link to unite 
 the upper and the lower part of the picture, are four female saints half way up 
 the steps. The subject of this picture, if that may be called a subject where no 
 story is represented, has no means of interesting the spectator: its value there- 
 fore must arise from another source; from the excellence of art, from the elo- 
 quence, as it may be called, of the artist. And in this the painter has shewn the 
 greatest skill, by disposing of more than twenty figures, without composition, and 
 without crowding. The whole appears as much animated, and in motion, as it is 
 possible for a picture to be, where nothing is doing, and the management of the 
 masses of light and shade in this picture is equal to the skill shewn in the dis- 
 position of the figures. 
 
 There is a similar subject to this painted by Titian, which was in the church 
 of St Nicola de Fiari at Venice, where he has represented the same saints which 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 187 
 
 are placed all in a line, without any connection with each other, and above is 
 the Virgin and Infant, equally unconnected with the rest of the picture. It is so 
 completely separated, that it has been since made into two distinct pictures; the 
 lower part forming that which is now in the Pope's collection in the capital. 
 
 By the disposition, Titian has certainly saved himself a great deal of that 
 trouble of contrivance which composition requires. This artless manner is by 
 many called simplicity, but that simplicity, which proceeds either from ignorance 
 or laziness cannot deserve much commendation. As ignorance cannot be im- 
 puted to Titian, we may conclude it was inattention, and indeed he has suffi- 
 ciently shewn that it did not proceed from ignorance by another picture of the 
 same kind of subject in the church de Frari at Venice, where it is treated in a 
 very different manner. Here the Virgin and child are placed on an altar, instead 
 of a pedestal ; St Peter with an open book leaning on the altar, and looking at 
 St George, and another figure, which is kneeling. On the other side is St Francis 
 looking up to Christ, and recommending to his protection a noble Venetian, with 
 four other figures, who are on their knees. Nothing can exceed the simplicity 
 and dignity of these figures. They are drawn in profile, looking straight forward 
 in the most natural manner, without any contrast or affectation of attitude what- 
 ever. The figure on the other side is likewise in profile, and kneeling, which, 
 while it gives an air of formality to the picture, adds also to its grandeur and 
 simplicity. This must be acknowledged to be above Rubens, that is, I fear he 
 would have renounced it, had it occurred. Rubens's manner is often too artificial 
 and picturesque for the grand style. Titian knew very well that so much 
 formality or regularity, as to give the appearance of being above all the tricks of 
 art, which we call picturesque, is of itself grandeur. 
 
 There is a quiet dignity in the composition of Titian, and an animation and 
 bustle in that of Rubens ; one is splendid, the other is grand and majestic. These 
 two pictures may be considered among the best works of those great painters, 
 and each characterises its respective author. They may therefore be properly 
 opposed to each other, and compared together. I confess I was so overpowered 
 with the brilliancy of this picture of Rubens, whilst I was before it, and under 
 its fascinating influence, that I thought 1 had never before seen so great powers 
 exerted in the art. It was not till I was removed from its influence, that I 
 could acknowledge any inferiority in Rubens to any other painter whatever. 
 
 The composition of Titian is of that kind which leaves the middle space void, 
 and the figures are ranged round it In this space is the white linen that covers 
 the altar, and it is for the sake of this white linen, I apprehend, that he has 
 made an altar instead of a pedestal, in order to make the linen the principal light, 
 which is about the middle of the picture. The second light is the Virgin, and 
 Christ, and the heads of the figures. 
 
 The principal light in the lower part of Rubens's picture, is the body of St 
 Sebastian, that of the upper part is the light in the sky: in this point there is no 
 apparent superiority on either side. 
 
 Of both these pictures there are prints; of Titian's picture the print is by 
 Lefebre, and the Rubens is engraved by Snyers, and by Remoldus Eynhovedts; 
 in the first impression of that of Snyers, there are parts of the Virgin, and St 
 Catharine, and the lap of St Augustin, which are unfinished. 
 
188 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 One is so much used to anachronisms in church pictures, that it ceases to be 
 an object of criticism. From the frequency of seeing pictures peopled with men 
 who lived in different ages, this impropriety may habitually become less offensive; 
 introducing, however, St John the Baptist, as an elderly man, in the same picture 
 where Christ is still an infant, though it may be said to be a crime of less mag- 
 nitude, not being so violent a breach of chronology, yet appears to the spectator 
 even more unpardonable, perhaps from his being so often used to see them repre- 
 sented together as children. 
 
 The altar on the left hand; St Augustin in ecstacy, by Vandyck. This picture 
 is of great fame, but in some measure disappointed my expectations, at least on 
 just parting from the Rubens, the manner appeared hard and dry. The colour- 
 ing is of a reddish kind, especially in the shadows, without transparency. The 
 colours must have suffered some change, and are not now as Vandyck left them. 
 This same defect of the red shadows I have observed in many of his pictures. 
 The head of an elderly woman, said to be the saint's mother, is finely drawn, and 
 is the best part of the picture, and the angel sitting on a cloud is the best of that 
 group. The boy with the sceptre is hard, and has no union with the blue sky. 
 
 This picture has no effect, from the want of a large mass of light; the two angels 
 make two small masses of equal magnitude. 
 
 The St Augustin is dressed in black, though in the print of P. de Jode (accord- 
 ing to the usual liberty of these engravers after Rubens and Vandyck) it makes 
 the principal light, and a light is thrown on the other figures in the print, which 
 are quite dark in the picture. 
 
 An altar in the right aisle; the martyrdom of St Apollonius by J. Jordaens. 
 There is nothing much to be admired in this picture, except the grey horse fore- 
 shortened, biting his knee, which is indeed admirable. Jordaens' horses are little 
 inferior to those of Rubens. 
 
 On the sides of the church are hung many pictures of the inferior painters of 
 the Flemish school, the best are two of J. Jordaens, The Last Supper, in which 
 are some excellent heads in the manner of Rubens, and Christ praying in the 
 garden, but the angels here are truly Flemish. There is likewise a crucifixion 
 by Backereel, which has some merit. 
 
 In the sacristy is a small crucifix by Vandyck, well drawn especially the head, 
 which is a fine character. 
 
 RECOLLETS. 
 
 The altar of the choir is the famous crucifixion of Christ between the two 
 thieves, by Rubens. To give animation to this subject, he has chosen the point 
 of time when an executioner is piercing the side of Christ, whilst another with 
 a bar of iron is breaking the limbs of one of the malefactors, who in his convulsive 
 agony, which his body admirably expresses, has torn one of his feet from the tree 
 to which it was nailed. The expression in the action of this figure is wonderful, 
 the attitude of the other is more composed, and he looks at the dying Christ with 
 a countenance perfectly expressive of his penitence. This figure is likewise 
 admirable. The Virgin, St John, and Mary the wife of Cleophas, are standing 
 by with great expression of grief and resignation, whilst the Magdalen, who is 
 at the feet of Christ, and may be supposed to have been kissing his feet, looks at 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 189 
 
 the horseman with the spear with a countenance of great horror; as the expres- 
 sion carries with it no grimace or contortion of the features, the beauty is not 
 destroyed. This is by far the most beautiful profile I ever saw of Rubens, or, 
 I think of any other painter, the excellence of its colouring is beyond expression. 
 To say that she may be supposed to have been kissing Christ's feet, may be 
 thought too refined a criticism, but Rubens certainly intended to convey that 
 idea, as appears by the disposition of her hands, for they are stretched out 'to- 
 wards the executioner, and one of them is before and the other behind the cross, 
 which gives an idea of her hands having been round it, and it must be remember- 
 ed, that she is generally represented kissing the feet of Christ, it is her place and 
 employment in those subjects. The good Centurion ought not to be forgotten, 
 who is leaning forward, one hand on the other, resting on the mane of his horse, 
 while he looks up to Christ with great earnestness. 
 
 The genius of Rubens no where appears to more advantage than here, it is the 
 most carefully finished picture of all his works. The whole is conducted with 
 the most consummate art, the composition is bold and uncommon, with circum- 
 stances which no other painter had ever before thought of, such as the breaking 
 of the limbs, and the expression of the Magdalen, to which we may add the 
 disposition of the three crosses, which are placed prospectively in an uncommon 
 picturesque manner, the nearest bears the thief whose limbs are breaking, the 
 next the Christ, whose figure is straighter than ordinary, as a contrast to the others, 
 and the furthermost the penitent thief : this produces a most picturesque effect, 
 but it is what few but such a daring genius as Rubens would have attempted. It 
 is here, and in such compositions, we properly see Rubens, and not in little pictures 
 of Madonnas and Bambinos. It appears that Rubens made some changes in this 
 picture, after Bolswert had engraved his print from it. The horseman who is in 
 the act of piercing the side of Christ, holds the spear, according to the print, in a 
 very tame manner, with the back of the hand over the spear, grasping it with 
 only three "fingers, the forefinger straight lying on the spear, whereas in the 
 picture, the back of the hand comes under the spear, and he grasps it with his 
 whole force. 
 
 The other defect which is remedied in the picture, is the action of the execu- 
 tioner, who breaks the legs of the criminal ; in the print, both his hands are over 
 the bar of iron, which makes a false action ; in the picture the whole disposition 
 is altered to the natural manner in which every person holds a weapon, which 
 requires both hands, the right is placed over, and the left under it. 
 
 This print was undoubtedly done under the inspection of Rubens himself. It 
 may be worth observing, that the keeping of the masses of light in the print 
 differs much from the picture: this change is not from inattention, but design: a 
 different conduct is required in a composition with colours, from what ought to 
 be followed when it is in black and white only. We have here the authority of 
 this great master of light and shadow, that a print requires more and larger 
 masses of light, than a picture. 
 
 In this picture the principal and the strongest light is the body of Christ, which 
 is of a remarkably clear and bright colour; this is strongly opposed by the very 
 brown complexion of the thieves, (perhaps the opposition here is too violent,) who 
 make no great effect as light. The Virgin's outer drapery is dark blue, and the 
 
190 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 inner a dark purple, and St John is in dark strong red ; no part of these two 
 figures is light in the picture, but the head and hands of the Virgin; but in the 
 print they make the principal mass of light of the whole composition. The 
 engraver has certainly produced a fine effect; and I suspect it is as certain, that 
 if this change had not been made, it would have appeared a black and heavy 
 print. 
 
 When Rubens thought it necessary in the print to make a mass of light of the 
 drapery of the Virgin and St John, it was likewise necessary that it should be 
 of a beautiful shape, and be kept compact; it therefore became necessary to 
 darken the whole figure of the Magdalen, which in the picture is at least as light 
 as the body of Christ ; her head, linen, arms, hair, and the feet of Christ, make 
 a mass as light as the body of Christ: it appears therefore that some parts are to 
 be darkened, as well as other parts made lighter : this consequently is a science 
 which an engraver ought well to understand, before he can presume to venture 
 on any alteration from the picture which he means to represent. 
 
 The same thing may be remarked in many other prints by those engravers, 
 who were employed by Rubens and Vandyck ; they always gave more light than 
 they were warranted by the picture: a circumstance which may merit the at- 
 tention of engravers. 
 
 1 have dwelt longer on this picture than any other, as it appears to me to 
 deserve extraordinary attention : it is certainly one of the first pictures in the 
 world, for composition, colouring, and what was not to be expected of Rubens, 
 correctness of drawing. 
 
 On one side of the great altar is a small crucifix, painted likewise by Rubens, 
 which is admirable. A print by H. Sneyers. 
 
 In the same choir is another crucifixion by F. Floris, with a great number of 
 figures, many of them portraits, in which there is great nature, especially in the 
 women. 
 
 The altar of St Francis, painted by Rubens. The Saint is receiving the com- 
 munion, accompanied with many of his order, he is nearly naked, without dignity, 
 and appears more like a lazar than a Saint. Though there are good heads in 
 this picture, yet the principal figure being so disgustful, it does not deserve much 
 commendation. A print by Hendrick Sneyers. 
 
 The Virgin kneeling on a reversed crescent, crowned by God the Father and 
 Christ, over her is the dove, below is a group of angels. There is nothing here 
 to be admired, but what relates to colouring, the splendour of the light indeed, 
 that is behind those three figures, is very striking. A print by Paulus Pontius. 
 
 A Pieta by Vandyck, with St John and two angels. This has been one of his 
 most chaste pictures, but the colouring is gone. The expression of the Virgin is 
 admirable, at least equal to that of Annibale Caracci, in the Duke of Orlean's 
 collection: it conveys an idea that she is petitioning with an earnest agony of 
 grief. St John is shewing or directing the attention of an angel to Christ, the 
 other angel is hiding his face. 
 
 The Virgin's drapery and the sky, being exactly of the same colour, has a bad 
 effect ; the linen is remarkably well folded. 
 
 Behind the great altar is the chapel of the family of the Burgo-master Rockox, 
 the altar of which is St Thomas's incredulity, by Rubens. The head of the 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 191 
 
 Christ is rather a good character, but the body and arms are heavy, it has been 
 much damaged. On the inside of the two folding doors are portraits of the 
 Burgo-master and his wife, half-lengths: his is a fine portrait, the ear is remark- 
 ably well painted, and the anatomy of the forehead is well understood. Her 
 portrait has no merit but that of colour. Vandyck likewise has painted a portrait 
 of Rockox, a print of which is in his book of heads of eminent men. It should 
 seem that he was a great patron of the arts: he gave to this church the picture 
 of the great altar, which has been already mentioned. 
 
 Here is a whole length of Alexander Scaglia which appears to be of Vandyck. 
 It is at too great a distance to determine with certainty in regard to its origin- 
 ality. I have seen a print of this picture. 
 
 CAPUCHINS. 
 
 On entering on the right hand is an altar by W. Koeberger; angels support- 
 ing a dead Christ. It has merit, but not equal to his picture at Brussels: the 
 outline is not enough undulating or flowing. 
 
 The apparition of the Virgin to St Francis by Rubens. St Francis is on his 
 knees receiving the Infant Christ from his mother: angels above, and another 
 figure behind. The Virgin and Christ are in a wretched hard manner, and the 
 characters are vulgar: there is indeed nothing excellent in this picture but the 
 head of St Francis, and that is exquisite. The entire picture is engraved by 
 Zoutman. There is a print of the head of St Francis alone by Cor. Vischer. 
 
 In the following chapel is an altar by Backereel; the apparition of the Virgin 
 appearing to St Felix and another Friar. This is a successful imitation of Van- 
 dyck; the head of the Friar is excellent. 
 
 The great altar is the same subject as that of the Recollets ; Christ between 
 the two thieves: this is likewise by Rubens. 
 
 On each side hang two whole-lengths of St Peter and St Paul, not much to 
 be admired on any account; they have not even harmony of colouring. St 
 Peter's yellow drapery does not unite sufficiently with its ground, which is of 
 a cold colour; and that of St Paul, which is purple, unites too much with its 
 ground, which is a blue sky: this gives a heavy appearance in the picture. 
 Whenever one sees a picture of Rubens that wants union, it may be justly sus- 
 pected that it has been in the hand of some picture-cleaner, by whom it has 
 been retouched. These two figures are engraved in one print, by Rem. Eyn- 
 hovedts. 
 
 ANNUNCIATION NUNS. 
 St Justus, with two other figures, who appear astonished at seeing him with 
 his head in his hands. Of this untoward subject Rubens has made an admirable 
 picture, correctly drawn, and coloured in a more chaste manner than usual. 
 The surprise of the two men is admirably expressed. The union between the 
 figures and the ground is in the highest perfection. Some horsemen are seen at 
 a distance in very spirited attitudes. Every part of this picture is touched in 
 such a style that it may be considered as a pattern for imitation. Engraved by 
 J. Witdonck, 
 
192 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 An altar; St Francis in ecstacy, by Segers. The head and attitude of the 
 Saint are well imagined; he is turning his head, as if he had been looking up to 
 heaven; but the eyes are closed. 
 
 Another altar; — two angels, bearing a linen cloth, on which is the face of 
 Christ, called Veronica; a good imitation of Vandyck, by Langen Jan. 
 
 THE CHURCH OF BEQUINAGE. 
 
 The great altar; a Pieta, by Vandyck. The Christ is not, as usual, support- 
 ed on the Virgin's knees; Mary Magdalen is kissing his hand: St John behind 
 as if bringing in a garment. The Virgin's head is admirable for drawing and 
 expression. The figure of Christ is likewise finely drawn, every part carefully 
 determined, but the colouring of this figure, and indeed of the picture in general, 
 is a little too cold; there is likewise something defective in one of the hands of 
 the Virgin. I have the study which Vandyck made for the Christ. There are 
 too prints, by Pontius and Sneyers. 
 
 A Crucifixion by J. Jordaens; one of his best coloured pictures. The head 
 of the Christ is lost in the shade, which perhaps was not ill-judged, unless he 
 could have succeeded better in the St John and the Magdalen, which are abom- 
 inable characters. 
 
 The Ascension by Ruckhorst, alias Langen Jan; extremely well coloured, in 
 the manner of Vandyck. 
 
 THE CHURCH OF ST JAMES. 
 
 On the first pillar on the right as you enter the great door, is the Resurrection, 
 by Van Balen, in the style of Rubens; it is his best work: above are the por- 
 traits of himself and his wife. 
 
 A Pieta by C. Schut, well drawn and coloured, something in the manner of 
 Rubens. 
 
 Behind the choir is the chapel of the family of Rubens. The subject of the 
 altar is the Virgin and infant Christ, St Jerome, St George, Mary Magdalen, 
 and other Saints, male and female. Under the character of St George, it is 
 supposed, is Rubens' own portrait; and Mary Magdalen and the Saint near 
 her, are said to be the portraits of his two wives. For effect of colours this 
 yields to none of Rubens' works, and the characters have more beauty than is 
 common with him. 
 
 To a painter who wishes to become a colourist, or learn the art of producing 
 a brilliant effect, this picture is as well worth the studying as any in Antwerp; 
 it is as bright as if the sun shone on it. There are two prints of this picture, 
 one by P. Pontius, and the other by Rem. Eynhovedts; the last has more of the 
 effect of the picture. 
 
 The Last Judgment, by Van Heemsen. It has no effect from the figures not 
 being disposed in groups, and from the light being equally dispersed over the 
 picture. On the doors are portraits; on one side the father with four sons, on 
 the other the mother with ten daughters, and a tall figure with a sword, pro- 
 bably St Catharine. The old woman looks pleased, and is a very natural coun- 
 tenance; all of them are handsome and admirably drawn: but the manner is 
 very dry, like that of Holbein. The old Gothic school succeeds much better in 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 193 
 
 portraits than history; the reason is plain; imitating exactly what we see in 
 mature, makes but a poor historical picture, but an admirable portrait, 
 
 THE ACADEMY OF PAINTERS. 
 
 We found here an Holy Family by Rubens, which is far from being one of 
 his best pictures; it is that in which there is a parrot on the pedestal of a pillar, 
 biting vine tendrils. By what accident this picture came here I never heard: it 
 is scarce worthy to be considered as a pattern for imitation, though it must be 
 acknowledged to be as well as many others of Rubens, which are dispersed 
 about the world; its merit consists solely in being well coloured. It is not by 
 such pictures Rubens acquired his reputation. — A print by Bolswert. 
 
 Here is a good portrait of a priest, by Vandyck, and the portraits of Francis 
 Floris, and Quintin Matsys, by themselves. There are likewise some ordinary 
 pictures of Otho Venius, Jordaens, Schut, and other less considerable painters: 
 the Academy therefore is scarce worth seeing for any excellency in works of art. 
 Here is shewn Rubens 's chair with his name on it. 
 
 The Cabinets make but a very inconsiderable figure in Antwerp, in comparison 
 of what is to be found in the churches. Those of M. Peters and M. Dasch are 
 two of the most considerable. 
 
 THE CABINET OF M. PETERS. 
 A Roman Charity by Rubens, in his very best manner: the woman who is 
 suckling her father is one of his most beautiful heads, and it has likewise great 
 expression. 
 
 The inside of a stable by Rubens, in which he has introduced the Prodigal 
 Son feeding with hogs: the whole has too much of a monotony; there wants 
 variety of colours. 
 
 The unbelieving Priest, and another figure, attending at the altar, by Rubens: 
 it is about half-life ; of great harmony of colouring. 
 
 A Chancellor of Brabant, and another half-length, by Rubens. 
 Three whole-lengths, by Vandyck. 
 
 A half-length portrait, by Vandyck, of a lady gathering flowers: she is turn- 
 ing her back, and looking over her shoulder, with a very genteel air. 
 St John preaching in the wilderness, by Mola. 
 
 THE CABINET OF M. DASCH. ' 
 
 At Mr Dasch's is an admirable picture of Rubens; the story of Seleucus and 
 Stratonice. The languishing air of the son, who is lying on a bed, is eminently 
 beautiful: the whole is well composed. 
 
 A woman with a black veil, and a gentleman, by Rubens; both fine portraits, 
 especially the woman. 
 
 Two Rembrandts, but not in his best style. 
 
 Opposite to the Rubens, is a Jupiter and Antiope, by Vandyck, (his first 
 manner,) in perfect preservation. I think it impossible for colours to exceed 
 this picture in brilliancy. 
 
 I 2 
 
194 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 CABINET OF M. VAN HAVEREN. 
 M. Van Haveren has an admirable portrait by Rubens, known by the name 
 of Chapeau de Paile, from her having on her head a hat and feather, airily put 
 on; it has a wonderful transparency of colour, as if seen in the open air: it is 
 upon the whole a very striking portrait but her breasts are as ill drawn as they 
 are finely coloured. 
 
 Its companion, though equally well painted, from not having the same advan- 
 tage of dress receives no attention. 
 
 MR STEVENS'S CABINET. 
 We must not forget a fine portrait of a gentleman by Rubens, which we saw 
 at the house of Mr Stevens. And at the house of 
 
 M. LE CHANOINE VAN PARYS, 
 a portrait of Helena Forman, (Kitcat,) by Rubens; it is beautifully coloured, 
 but a painter would say tamely painted, from the long continued lines of the eyes 
 and mouth: this however appears only on a close inspection; for at a distance it 
 seems perfectly well drawn, and an animated countenance ; the hands are 
 across, or rather one over the other, finely coloured and drawn; the ends of the 
 fingers a little too thick for a fine hand: sh® is dressed in black with slashed 
 sleeves, 
 
 THE CABINET OF M. DIRXENS. 
 Judas betraying Christ, by Vandyck: it is in his first manner, but not equal 
 to others which I have seen of that age; the colouring is disagreeable from 
 being too red. 
 
 AT MADAM BOSCHAERTS, 
 The Rape of the Sabines, by Rubenc, is finely coloured and well composed, 
 This picture is to be sold, if any body chooses to give for it 22,000 guilders, 
 about two thousand two hundred pounds. 
 
 Taking leave of Flanders, we bade adieu at the same time to History Paint- 
 ing. Pictures are no longer the ornament of churches, and perhaps for that 
 reason no longer the ornament of private houses. We naturally acquire a taste 
 for what we have frequently before our eyes. No great historical picture is put 
 up, which excites the curiosity of the town to see, and tempts the opulent to pro- 
 cure as an ornament to his own house: nothing of this kind being seen, histori- 
 cal paintings are not thought of, and go out of fashion ; and the genius of the 
 country, which, if room were given it, would expand itself, is exercised in small 
 curious high-finished cabinet pictures. 
 
 It is a circumstance to be regretted, by painters at least, that the protestant 
 countries have thought proper to exclude pictures from their churches: how far 
 this circumstance may be the cause that no protestant country has ever produced 
 a history-painter, may be worthy of consideration. 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 195 
 
 When we separated from the Church of Rome, many customs, indifferent in 
 themselves, were considered as wrong, for no other reason, perhaps, but because 
 they were adopted by the Communion from which we separated. Among the 
 excesses which this sentiment produced, may be reckoned the impolitic exclusion 
 of all ornaments from our churches. The violence and acrimony with which 
 the separation was made, being now at an end, it is high time to assume that 
 reason, of which our zeal seemed to have bereaved us. Why religion should not 
 appear pleasing and amiable in its appendages, why the house of God should 
 not appear as well ornamented and as costly as any private house made for man, 
 no good reason I believe can be assigned. The truth is acknowledged, in regard 
 to the external building, in Protestant as well as in Roman Catholic countries : 
 churches are always the most magnificent edifices in every city: and why the 
 inside should not correspond with its exterior, in this and every other 
 Protestant country, it would be difficult for Protestants to state any reasonable 
 cause. 
 
 Many other causes have been assigned, why history has never flourished in 
 this country; but with such a reason at hand we need not look farther. Let 
 there be buyers, who are the true Maecenases, and we shall soon see sellers, 
 vying with each other in the variety and excellence of their works. To those 
 who think that wherever genius is, it must, like fire, blaze out, this argument is 
 not addressed; but those who consider it not as a gift, but a power acquired by 
 long labour and study, should reflect that no man is likely to undergo the fatigue 
 required to carry any art to any degree of excellence, to which after he has done, 
 the world is likely to pay no attention. 
 
 Sculpture languishes for the same reason, being, not with us, made subservient 
 to our religion, as it is with the Roman Catholics. Almost the only demand for 
 considerable works of sculpture arises from the monuments erected to eminent 
 men. It is to be regretted that this circumstance does not produce such an ad- 
 vantage to the art as it might do, if, instead of Westminster- Abbey, the custom 
 were once begun of having monuments to departed worth erected in St Paul's 
 Cathedral. Westminster- Abbey is already full; and if the House of Commons 
 should vote another monument at the public expense, there is no place, no proper 
 place certainly, in the Abbey, in which it can be placed. Those which have 
 been lately erected, are so stuck up in odd holes and corners, that it begins to 
 appear truly ridiculous: the principal places have been long occupied, and the 
 difficulty of finding a new nook or corner every year increases. While this 
 Gothic">tructure is encumbered and overloaded with ornaments which have no 
 agreement or correspondence with the taste and style of the building, St Paul's 
 looks forlorn and desolate, or at least destitute of ornaments suited to the mag- 
 nificence of thelfabric. There are places designed by Sir Christopher Wren for 
 monuments, which might become a noble ornament to the building, if properly 
 adapted to their situations. Some parts might contain busts, some single figures, 
 some* groups of figures, some bas-reliefs, and some tablets with inscriptions only, 
 according to the expense intended by him who should cause the monument to be 
 erected. All this might be done under the direction of the Royal Academy, who 
 
196 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 should determine the size of the figures, and where they should be placed, so &s 
 to be ornamental to the building.* 
 
 THE HAGUE. 
 
 Passing by Dort, Rotterdam, and Delft, where we saw no pictures, we pro- 
 ceeded to the Hague. The principal collection here is in the gallery of the 
 Prince of Orange, in which are many excellent pictures, principally of the 
 Dutch School. 
 
 GALLERY OF THE PRINCE OF ORANGE. 
 
 Hebe are many of the best works of Wouvermans, whose pictures are well 
 worthy the attention and close examination of a Painter. One of the most re- 
 markable of them is known by the name of the hay-cart; another in which 
 there is a coach and horses, is equally excellent. There are three pictures hang- 
 ing close together in his three different manners: his middle manner is by much 
 the best; the first and last have not that liquid softness which characterises his 
 best works. Beside his great skill in colouring, his horses are correctly drawn, 
 very spirited, a beautiful form, and always in unison with their ground. 
 Upon the whole, he is one of the few painters, whose excellence in his way is 
 such as leaves nothing to be wished for. 
 
 A study of a Susanna, for the picture by Rembrandt, which is in my posses- 
 sion: it is nearly the same action, except that she is here sitting. This is the 
 third study I have seen for this figure. I have one myself, and the third was in 
 the possession of the late Mr Blackwood. In the drawing which he made for this 
 picture, which I have, she is likewise sitting ; in the picture she is on her legs, 
 but leaning forward. It appears very extraordinary that Rembrandt should 
 have taken so much pains, and have made at last so very ugly and ill-favoured 
 a figure; but his attention was principally directed to the colouring and effect, 
 in which it must be acknowledged he has attained the highest degree of excel- 
 lence. 
 
 A picture of Dutch gallantry, by Mieris; a man pinching the ear of a dog 
 which lies on his mistress's lap. 
 A boy blowing bubbles. 
 Two Vandeveldes. 
 
 Two portraits, Kitcat size, by Rubens, of his two wives; both fine portraits, 
 but Eleanor Forman is by far the most beautiful, and the best coloured. 
 
 A portrait by Vandyck of Simon the painter. This is one of the very few 
 pictures that can be seen of Vandyck, which is in perfect preservation: and on 
 
 * Our author considered the plan which he has here sketched, as likely to be extremely bene- 
 ricial to the Arts, and was so desirous that it should be carried into execution, that after it had 
 been determined to erect a monument to Dr Johnson in Westminster-Abbey, and a place had 
 been assigned for that purpose, he exerted all his influence with his friends, to induce them to 
 relinquish "the scheme proposed, and to consent that the monument of that excellent man should 
 be erected in St Paul's; where it has since been placed — In conformity with these sentiments 
 our author was buried in that cathedral ; in which, I trust, Monuments to him, and to his illus- 
 trious friend, Mr Burke, will ere long be erected. M. 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 197 
 
 examining it closely it appeared to me a perfect pattern of portrait-painting: 
 every part is distinctly marked, but with the lightest hand, and without destroy- 
 ing the breadth of light: the colouring is perfectly true to nature, though it has 
 not the brilliant effect of sun-shine, such as is seen in Rubens's wife: it is nature 
 seen by common day-light. 
 
 A portrait of a young man by Rembrandt, dressed in a black cap and feathers, 
 the upper part of the face over-shadowed: for colouring and force nothing can 
 exceed it. 
 
 A portrait by Holbein; admirable for its truth and precision, and extremely 
 well coloured. The blue flat ground which is behind the head, gives a general 
 effect of dryness to the picture : had the ground been varied, and made to har- 
 monise more with the figure, this portrait might have stood in competition with 
 the works of the best portrait-painters. On it is written, — " Henry Chessman, 
 1533." 
 
 A whole-length portrait of Charles the First, about a foot long, dressed in 
 black, the crown and globe lying on the table, tolerably well painted by Henry 
 Pott, a name I am unacquainted with: — the date on it 1632.* 
 
 The flight into Egypt, by Vanderwerf ; one of his best: the back-ground is 
 much cracked, an accident not unfrequent in his pictures. 
 
 A conversation by Terburg, a woman sitting on the ground leaning her elbow 
 on a man's knee, and resting her head on her hand. 
 
 A kitchen by Teniers. 
 
 Two Ostades. 
 
 A landscape by Rubens; light and airy. It is engraved among the set of 
 prints of Rubens's landscapes; it is that where two men are sawing the trunk 
 of a tree. 
 
 The Virgin and Christ, by Yandyck, coloured in the manner of Rubens; so 
 much so, as to appear at first sight to be of his hand; but the character of the 
 child shews it to be Vandyck's. 
 
 Venus asleep on the bank of a canal, her reflection seen in the water; a satyr 
 drawing off the drapery; two Cupids: she is lying with her back upwards. 
 
 Cattle, finely painted by Potter, remarkable for the strong reflection of one of 
 them in the water: — dated 1648. 
 
 Two pictures of flowers and fruits with animals by Brueghel: one serves for 
 a border to a bad portrait; the other to a picture of Rothenamer: the frames are 
 much better than the pictures. 
 
 The inside of Delft church, by Hoogest, in which is represented the tomb of 
 William Prince of Orange ; it is painted in the manner of Dewit, but T think 
 better: — dated 1651. 
 
 Fruit by De Heem; done with the utmost perfection. 
 
 * Henry Pott, according to Descamps, was of Harlem, and drew portraits of the King and 
 Queen of England, and of the principal nobility ; but at what time is not specified. Lord Orford, 
 (Aneod. of Paint, iii. 293, 8vo.) suggests that he probably drew Charles II. in his exile ; but 
 the date here given shews that he was in England in the early part of his father's reign. 
 
198 
 
 A JOUBNEY TO 
 
 A portrait of a lady, with a feather in her hand, by Vandyck; of which there 
 is a print. 
 
 A woman with a candle, by Gerard Dow: engraved by Captain Baillie. 
 
 A woman writing, looking up, and speaking to another person; by Metzu. 
 
 Here are many of Jan Steen, excellently well painted, but I think they have 
 less character and expression than is usual in his pictures. 
 
 There are some large pictures which take up too much room in this small gal- 
 lery, more than their merit gives them any claim to; among which is a very large 
 picture of Adam and Eve, said to be of Andrea Sacchi, which has been so much 
 repaired, that no judgment can be formed who is the author. 
 
 A large hunting by Snyders, well painted, but it occupies too much space. 
 His works, from the subjects, their size, and we may add, from their being so 
 common, seem to be better suited to a hall or ante-room, than any other place. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 
 In the house in the Wood, about a mile out of town, we saw no pictures ex- 
 cept those in the hall, which is painted on every side; and every recess and 
 corner has some allegorical story, by Jordaens, Van Tulden, Lievens, or Hon- 
 thorst. The different hands that have been here employed, make variety it is 
 true; but it is variety of wretchedness. A triumphal entry, by Jordaens, 
 is the best, and this is but a confused business; the only part which deserves any 
 commendation is, the four horses of the chariot, which are well painted: it is re- 
 markable that the fore leg of each of the horses is raised, which gives them the 
 formality of trained soldiers. 
 
 GREFFIER FAGEL. 
 Charles the First, the same as that in the gallery of the Prince: to this is 
 added the Queen, and a child sitting on a table; the child is admirable. 
 A man driving cattle. 
 
 A girl receiving a letter from an old woman. 
 
 A woman asleep, a man putting aside her handkerchief ; another laughing. 
 
 A family, by Brower. 
 
 A chymist, by Teniers. 
 
 A portrait of a lady, by Vandyck. 
 
 The Greffier has likewise a large and choice collection of drawings, many of 
 which were bought in England, as appears from the marks of Sir Peter Lely 
 and Richardson; and those are in general much superior to what he purchased 
 from Baron Stosck. 
 
 THE CABINET OF M. VAN HECHEREN. 
 Two pictures by Ostade. 
 A Berghem. 
 Two of I. Steen. 
 A Vanderheyden. 
 A Wouvermans. 
 
 Birds small, mushrooms and weeds. 
 
 Flowers by Huysum, Mignon, and De Heem; the last the best. 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 199 
 
 A skirmish, where there is a mill on fire ; admirable. 
 A Vanderwerf. 
 A Metzu. 
 
 A sketch of Rubens; Christ carrying the Cross. 
 
 A Bega, and a Polemburg. 
 
 A figure in white satin, by Terburg. 
 
 A Landscape, by Paul Potter; the animals admirably painted, the trees too 
 much like wire. 
 A Du Jardin. 
 
 AMSTERDAM.— THE STADTHOUSE. 
 
 The best picture of this house is painted by Vander Heist. It represents a 
 company of trained bands, about thirty figures, whole-length; among which the 
 Spanish Ambassador is introduced shaking hands with one of the principal 
 figures. This is perhaps the first picture, of portraits, in the world, comprehend- 
 ing more of those qualities which make a perfect portrait, than any other I have 
 seen: they are correctly drawn, both head and figures, and well coloured; and 
 have a great variety of action, characters and countenances, and those so lively 
 and truly expressing what they are about, that the spectator has nothing to wish 
 for. Of this picture 1 had before heard great commendations; but it as far ex- 
 ceeded my expectation, as that of Rembrandt fell below it. So far indeed am I 
 from thinking that this last picture deserves its great reputation, that it was with 
 difficulty I could persuade myself that it was painted by Rembrandt : it seemed 
 to me to have more of the yellow manner of Boll. The name of Rembrandt, 
 however, is certainly upon it, with the date, 1642. It appears to have been 
 much damaged, but what remains seems to be painted in a poor manner. There 
 are here many more large pictures of the same kind, with thirty or forty heads 
 in each; they are as old as the time of Holbein, in his manner, and many of 
 them nearly as well painted. I wished to learn the names of the artists, as they 
 are doubtless the works of painters well known in the history of the art; but I 
 could get no information. 
 
 A Freize over one of the doors in chiaro oscuro, by De Witt, is not only one of 
 the best deceptions 1 have seen, but the boys are well drawn; the cieling and 
 side of the room in colours are likewise by him, but a poor performance. The 
 academy of painting is a part of this immense building: in it are two admirable 
 pictures, composed entirely of portraits, one by Rembrandt, and the other by 
 Bartholomew Vander Heist. That of Rembrandt contains six men dressed in 
 black; one of them who has a book before him, appears to have been reading a 
 lecture; the top of the table not seen. The heads are finely painted, but not su- 
 perior to those of his neighbour. The subject of Vander Heist is the society of 
 archers bestowing a premium: they appear to be investing some person with an 
 order. The date on this is 1657 ; on the Rembrandt 1661. 
 
 THE WHARF OFFICE. 
 At the office of the Commissary of the Wharfs is one of Vandervelde's most 
 capital pictures: it is about twelve feet long; a view of the Port of Amsterdam, 
 with an infinite quantity of shipping. 
 
200 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 SURGEONS' HALL. 
 
 The Professor Tulpius dissecting a corpse which lies on the table, by Rem- 
 brandt. To avoid making it an object disagreeable to look at, the figure is but 
 just cut at the wrist. There are seven other portraits coloured like nature itself, 
 fresh and highly finished. One of the figures behind has a paper in his hand, 
 on which are written the names of the rest: Rembrandt; has also added his own 
 name, with the date, 1672. The dead body is perfectly well drawn, (a little 
 fore-shortened,) and seems to have been just washed. Nothing can be more truly 
 the colour of dead flesh. The legs and feet, which are nearest the eye, are in 
 shadow: the principal light, which is on the body, is by that means preserved of 
 a compact form. All these figures are dressed in black. 
 
 Above stairs is another Rembrandt, of the same kind of subject; Professor Dee- 
 man standing by a dead body, which is so much fore-shortened, that the hands 
 and the feet almost touch each other: the dead man lies on his back with his 
 feet towards the spectator. There is something sublime in the character of the 
 head, which reminds one of Michael Angelo; the whole is finely painted, the 
 colouring much like Titian. 
 
 THE CABINET OF MR HOPE. 
 Two swans, ducks, and peacocks; admirable. 
 Merry making, two of the figures dancing. 
 
 A dead swan, and dead hare; perfect every way: beyond Hondekoeter. 
 An excellent Vanderheyden. 
 
 A Du Jardin; like Potter, but better than that which hangs below it. 
 Two little beautiful Vanderveldes. 
 A Rothenamer. 
 
 Three figures, very natural ; by Ostade. 
 
 A woman asleep; a figure tickling her nose; a man lighting his pipe; a lantern, 
 and a woman with a candle, behind. 
 
 The Virgin in the clouds surrounded with angels, by Vandyck. 
 
 Cattle and a shepherd, by Albert Cuyp, the best I ever saw of him; and the 
 figure is likewise better than usual: but the employment which he has given the 
 shepherd in his solitude is not very poetical: it must, however, be allowed to be 
 truth and nature ; he is catching fleas or something worse. 
 
 A Vandervelde. 
 
 A Terburg. A lady playing on a guitar, dressed as usual in a white satin 
 petticoat, and a red gown edged with ermine. 
 
 A Wouvermans. — A Gabriel Metzu. — A Berghem. — A Metzu. 
 
 Dead game, small, by P Gyzsen; highly finished, and well coloured. 
 
 A Wouvermans, the best I ever saw. A gentleman and lady on horseback; 
 he has an umbrella in his hand, and he is talking to another horseman who has 
 his hat off: a man before them playing on a bagpipe, followed by a man and a 
 woman dancing: behind at a distance, other figures dancing to another musician, 
 who stands elevated against a great tree. 
 
 A Landscape by Adrian Vandervelde; very fine. 
 
 A view of a church by Vander Heyden, his best; two black friars going up 
 steps. Notwithstanding this picture is finished as usual very minutely, he has 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 201 
 
 not forgot to preserve at the same time a great breadth of light. His pictures 
 have very much the effect of nature, seen in a camera obscura. 
 
 The inside of the great church at Antwerp, by Peter Neess. 
 
 A Landscape by Adrian Vandervelde; the outside of a garden: the highest 
 and most successfully finished picture that perhaps there is in the world, of this 
 painter; it is beautifully coloured, and has vast force. The cattle are finely 
 drawn, and in very difficult attitudes. 
 
 A view of Campo Vaccino, by Linglebach. 
 
 The death of Cleopatra, by Lairesse. Her figure is well drawn, and in an 
 attitude of great grace; but the style is degraded by the naturalness of the white 
 satin, which is thrown over her. A woman lies dead at the feet of the bed. 
 This picture is as highly finished as a Vanderwerf, but in a much better style, 
 excepting the drapery, which is not equal to Vanderwerf. Vanderwerf painted 
 what may be truly called drapery ; this of Lairesse is not drapery, it is white 
 satin. 
 
 A dead stag, by Weeninx. 
 
 An oyster-feast by J. Steen, in which is introduced an excellent figure of old 
 Mieris, standing with his hands behind him. 
 
 A woman reading a letter; the milk-woman who brought it, is in the meantime 
 drawing a curtain a little on one side, in order to see the picture under it, which 
 appears to be a sea-view. 
 
 A large and capital picture of Backhuysen. 
 
 Three pictures of Vanderwerf; a Magdalene, Lot and his daughters, Christ 
 and St Thomas. The drapery of St Thomas is excellent; the folds long con- 
 tinued unite with each other, and are varied with great art. 
 
 A woman at a window with a hare in her hand; bright colouring, and well 
 drawn; a dead coek, cabbage, and carrots, lying before her. The name of Gerard 
 Dow is written on the lantern which hangs on one side. The space under the 
 window is filled with the bas-relief of boys with a goat, which he so often paint- 
 ed, after Fiamingo. This part is at least equally well painted with the figure. 
 
 An old man by Mieris, with a glass of wine and shrimps on the table: a wo- 
 man behind, scoring the reckoning; a fiddle lying in the window. 
 
 Christ asleep in the storm, by Rembrandt. In this picture there is a great 
 effect of light, but it is carried to a degree of affectation. 
 
 The assumption of the Virgin, by Vandyck; a faint picture, at least it appears 
 so in comparison of those contiguous: it unluckily hangs near a Rembrandt. She 
 is surrounded by little angels; one of them is peeping archly at you under a 
 bundle of drapery, with which he has covered himself: this comicalness is a little 
 out of its place. There is a print by Vosterman. 
 
 THE CABINET OF M. GART. 
 This house is full of pictures, from the parlour to the upper story. We begin 
 at the top. 
 
 Two fine pictures of Terburg; the white satin remarkably well painted. He 
 seldom omitted to introduce a piece of white satin in his pictures. As I repro- 
 bated the white satin in the picture of the death of Cleopatra by Lairesse, and 
 make no objection here, it must be remembered that the subject of Lairesse 's 
 
 K 2 
 
202 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 picture is heroic, and he has treated it in the true historical style, in every re- 
 spect, except in his white satin, but in such pictures as Terburg painted, the 
 individuality and naturalness of the representation makes a considerable part of 
 the merit. 
 
 Dead swans by Weeninx, as fine as possible. I suppose we did not see less 
 than twenty picture of dead swans by this painter. 
 A harvest, by Wouvermans. 
 
 A Canal by Vanderheyden, highly finished and finely coloured. 
 Snick and See, by Jan Steen. 
 
 A butcher's shop, an ox hanging up, opened, by Rembrandt ; a woman looking 
 over a hatch, so richly coloured, that it makes all the rest of the pictures seem dry. 
 
 The pillaging of a village by Turks, a soldier driving off the cattle ; well com 
 posed and finely coloured. 
 
 A trumpeter at a window, by G. Dow; his face in shadow; his hand receives 
 the principal light; admirably drawn and coloured. 
 
 St Peter and St Paul curing the lame man, by Eeckhout. Some parts of this 
 picture are so exactly like Rembrandt, that a connoisseur might without disgrace 
 at first sight mistake it for his. 
 
 An old woman with a large book before her, looking up at a bird in a cage, by 
 Metzu, one of the best of this master. 
 
 Travellers resting on the road, their galled horses grazing by them, a Wou- 
 vermans. 
 
 Two Hondekoeters. 
 
 A conversation of portraits, by Vanderhelst. 
 Cattle, by Adrian Vandervelde. 
 Bacchanalians, by Jordaens. 
 
 Drinking and Gaming, by J. Steen, a large composition of about twenty 
 figures, well drawn and coloured, one of the women who has thrown her leg 
 over a bagpipe-player, has a great degree of beauty. 
 
 Two Teniers, guard-rooms. 
 
 A Paul Potter. 
 
 Another Jan Steen. 
 
 Still-life, by Van de Hende, a wonderful instance of patience in finishing, 
 particularly a globe, on which is seen the map of Europe. 
 Flowers, by V. Huysum. 
 A Bamboccio. 
 
 An admirable portrait by Rubens. 
 A portrait, by Frank Hals. 
 A portrait, by Rembrandt. 
 
 THE CABINET OF MR LE BRUN. 
 Dead hare, &c, by Weeninx. 
 
 Tobias taking leave of his father, his mother with a spinning wheel. 
 A fresh gale, by Everdingen, like Backhuysen, but the light mellower. 
 A woman pouring milk from one vessel to another, by D. Vandermeere. 
 Cattle, by Vander Does, admirable, with great facility. 
 A nativity, by Polemberg. 
 
 A Linglebach, a Vanderheyden, and a Crabache. 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 203 
 
 A group of ships, by Vandervelde, a calm, admirable. 
 Flower pieces, by Rachael Roos. 
 
 A view of a country house, by Berkheyden, a little harder than Vanderhey- 
 den. 
 
 St John writing the Apocalypse, two boy angels, the Virgin in the clouds. It 
 is a rare instance to see an Italian picture here. 
 
 Portraits of Terburg and his wife, small whole-lengths. 
 
 A woman with a child sacking, a boj beating a drum; behind, figures drinking; 
 over a door is written — Salus Patriae, with Jan Steen's name in gold letters. 
 There is great force in this picture. 
 
 The pillaging of a village, by Wouvermans. 
 
 Inside of a room, with a woman and child. Its companion, a woman sweep- 
 ing. 
 
 The account which has now been given of the Dutch pictures is, I confess, 
 more barren of entertainment, than I expected. One would wish to be able to 
 convey to the reader some idea of that excellence, the sight of which has afforded 
 so much pleasure ; but as their merit often consists in the truth of representation 
 alone, whatever praise they deserve, whatever pleasure they give when under the 
 eye, they make but a poor figure in description. It is to the eye only that the 
 works of this school are addressed ; it is not therefore to be wondered at, that 
 what was intended solely for the gratification of one sense, succeeds but ill, when 
 applied to another. 
 
 A market-woman with a hare in her hand, a man blowing a trumpet, or a boy 
 blowing bubbles, a view of the inside or the outside of a church, are the subjects 
 of some of their most valuable pictures; but there is still entertainment, even in 
 such pictures, however uninteresting their subjects, there is some pleasure in the 
 contemplation of the truth of the imitation. But to a painter they afford like- 
 wise instruction in his profession; here he may learn the art of colouring and 
 composition, a skilful management of light and shade, and indeed all the me- 
 chanical parts of the art, as well as in any other school whatever. The same 
 skill which is practised by Rubens and Titian in their large works, is here ex- 
 hibited, though on a smaller scale. Painters should go to the Dutch school to 
 learn the art of painting, as they would go to a grammar school to learn lan- 
 guages. They must go to Italy to learn the higher branches of knowledge. 
 
 We must be contented to make up our idea of perfection from the excellencies 
 which are dispersed over the world. A poetical imagination, expression, char- 
 acter, or even correctness of drawing, are seldom united with that power of 
 colouring, which would set off those excellencies to the best advantage, and in 
 this, perhaps, no school ever excelled the Dutch. An artist, by a close examina- 
 tion of their works, may in a few hours make himself master of the principles on 
 which they wrought, which cost them whole ages, and perhaps the experience of 
 a succession of ages, to ascertain. 
 
 The most considerable of the Dutch school are, Rembrandt, Teniers, Jan Steen, 
 Ostade, Brouwer, Gerard Dow, Mieris, Metzu, and Terburg, these excel in small 
 conversations. For landscapes and cattle, Wouvermans, P. Potter, Berghem, 
 and Ruysdael; and for buildings, Vanderheyden. For sea-views, W. Vander- 
 
20-1 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 velde, jun. and Backhuysen. For dead game, Weeninx and Hondekoeter. For 
 flowers, De Heem, Vanhnysum, Rachael Roos, and Brueghel. These make the 
 bulk of the Dutch school, 
 
 I consider those painters as belonging to this school, who painted only small 
 conversations, landscapes, &c. Though some of those were born in Flanders, 
 their works are principally found in Holland; and to separate them from the 
 Flemish School, which generally painted figures as large as life, it appears to 
 me more reasonable to class them with the Dutch painters, and to distinguish 
 those two schools rather by their style and manner, than by the place where the 
 artist happened to be born. 
 
 Rembrandt may be considered as belonging to both or either, as he painted 
 both large and small pictures. 
 
 The works of David Teniers, jun. are worthy the closest attention of a painter, 
 who desires to excel iu the mechanical knowledge of his art. His manner of 
 touching, or what we call handling, has perhaps never been equalled; there is in 
 his pictures that exact mixture of softness and sharpness, which is difficult to 
 execute. 
 
 Jan Steen has a strong manly style of painting, which might become even the 
 design of RafFaelle, and he has shewn the greatest skill in composition, and 
 management of light and shadow, as well as great truth in the expression and 
 character of his figures. 
 
 The landscapes of Ruysdael have not only great force, but have a freshness 
 which is seen in scarce any other painter. What excellence in colouring and 
 handling is to be found in the dead game of Weeninx. 
 
 A clearness and brilliancy of colouring may be learned by examining the 
 flower-pieces of De Heem, Huysum, and Mignon, and a short time employed in 
 painting flowers would make no improper part of a painter's study. Rubens's 
 pictures strongly remind one of a nosegay of flowers, where all the colours are 
 bright, clear, and transparent. 
 
 I have only to add, that in this account of the Dutch pictures, which is indeed 
 little more than a catalogue, I have mentioned only those which I considered 
 worthy of attention. It is not to be supposed that those are the whole of the 
 Cabinets described, perhaps in a collection of near a hundred pictures, not ten 
 are set down; their being mentioned at all, therefore, though no epithet may be 
 added, implies excellence. 
 
 I have been more particular in the account of Mr Hope's Cabinet, not only 
 because it is acknowledged to be the first in Amsterdam, but because I had an 
 opportunity (by the particular attention and civility of its possessors) of seeing 
 it oftener, and considering it more at my leisure, than any other collection. 
 
 DUSSELDORP GALLERY. 
 
 This gallery is under the care of Mr Lamburt Kraye, who likewise is the 
 director of the Academy. 
 
 The easy access which you have to this collection of pictures, seeing it as often, 
 and staying in it as long as you please, without appearing to incommode any 
 body, cannot but be very pleasing to strangers, and very advantageous to the 
 students in painting, who seem to have the same indulgence, for we found many 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 205 
 
 copying in the gallery, and others in a large room above stairs, which is allotted 
 for that purpose. I could not help expressing to Mr Kraye the pleasure I felt, 
 not only at the great conveniency with which I saw the gallery, but likewise at 
 the great indulgence granted to the students. He said it was the Elector's wish 
 to afford the most perfect accommodation to those who visit the collection, but 
 in regard to the students, he took some credit to himself in procuring for them 
 that advantage. When he first asked the Elector's leave for students to copy 
 the pictures in the gallery, the Prince refused, and the reason he assigned was, 
 that those copies afterwards would be sold for originals, and thus, by multiplying, 
 depreciate the value of the collection. Mr Kraye answered, that those who could 
 make such copies were not persons who spent their time in copying at all, but 
 made originals of their own invention; that the young students were not likely 
 to make such copies as would pass for originals with any but the ignorant, and 
 that the mistakes of the ignorant were not worth attention; he added, that as 
 his Highness wished to produce artists in his own country, the refusing such 
 advantages to young students would be as unwise, as if a patron of learning, who 
 wished to produce scholars, should refuse them the use of a library. The Elector 
 acquiesced, and desired him to do whatever he thought would contribute to ad- 
 vance the art. 
 
 FIRST ROOM. 
 
 The first picture which strikes the eye on entering the gallery, is a Merry- 
 making of Jordaens, which is by far the best picture I ever saw of his hand. 
 There is a glow of colours throughout, and vast force, every head and every part 
 perfectly well drawn; vulgar tumultuous merriment was never better expressed, 
 few pictures of Rubens are superior. There is a little grey about the women's 
 dress, the rest are all warm colours, and strong shades. 
 
 Four whole-length pictures by Vandyck, all dressed in black, three men and 
 one woman. They are all fine portraits, in his high-finished manner. 
 
 Christ with a cross, receiving the four penitents, Mary Magdalen, Peter, David, 
 and the penitent thief. This picture does no great honour to Vandyck; the head 
 of the Magdalen is badly drawn, and David is but a poor character, he looks as 
 much like a thief, as the thief here represented, the naked arm of Christ is badly 
 drawn, the outline quick and short, not flowing ; the only excellence which this 
 picture possesses is the general effect, proceeding from the harmony of colour- 
 ing. 
 
 Here is an immense picture of Gaspar de Crayer, mentioned not on account of 
 its excellence in my own opinion, but from its being in such high estimation in 
 this country, and it is certainly one of his largest works. Though it cannot be 
 said to be defective in drawing or colouring, yet it is far from being a striking 
 picture. There is no union between his figures and the ground, the outline is 
 every where seen, which takes away the softness and richness of effect, the men 
 are insipid characters, and the women want beauty. The composition is some- 
 thing on the plan of the great picture of Rubens in the St Augustins at Antwerp, 
 that is, the subject is of the same kind, but there is a great difference indeed in 
 their degree of merit. The dead and cold effect of this picture, as well as many 
 others of modern masters in this gallery, sets off those of Rubens to great ad- 
 
206 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 vantage. It would be a profitable study for a young painter to look from those 
 pictures to Rubens, and compare them again and again, till he has investigated 
 and fixed in his mind the cause and principles of such brilliant effects in one in- 
 stance, and of failure (when there is failure) in the other. 
 
 Dead game, boar and stag-hunting, by Snyders, De Vos, Fytt, and Weeninx, 
 the Weeninx is the most remarkably excellent. 
 
 " Take up thy bed and walk," by Vandyck, in the manner of Rubens. This 
 picture appears to be painted about the time when he did that of the four peni- 
 tents, it has the same defects and the same beauties. A print by Pontius. 
 
 Soldiers playing at Moro ', a duplicate of one in the gallery of the Duke of 
 Rutland. 
 
 A pieta, by Vandyck, in the manner of Rubens. Mr Kraye is of opinion, that 
 it is painted by Rubens, this difference of opinion among connoisseurs shews- 
 sufficiently how much the first manner of Vandyck was like that of Rubens. He 
 is almost the only instance of a successful imitation, however, he afterwards had 
 a manner of his own. 
 
 St John is blubbering in a very ungracious manner. The attitude of the Christ 
 would be admirable, if the head had not so squalid an appearance. The whole 
 figure of Christ is equally light, which, with the help of the white linen on the 
 Virgin's knee, makes a large mass of light, her head and the head of Mary Mag- 
 dalen make the lesser lights. St John's drapery, which is a light red, makes 
 the light lose itself by degrees in the ground. 
 
 SECOND ROOM. 
 
 In the next room are three admirable pictures by Vandyck, St Sebastian, Sus- 
 anna, and a Pieta. The first two were done when he was very young, highly 
 coloured, in the same manner as the Jupiter and Antiope at Mr Dasch's at An- 
 twerp, a picture on the same subject in the possession of Lord Coventry, his own 
 portrait at the Duke of Grafton's, and the portrait of Rubens in my possession, 
 he never afterwards had so brilliant a manner of colouring, it kills every thing 
 near it. Behind are figures on horseback, touched with great spirit. This is 
 Vandyck's first manner, when he imitated Rubens and Titian, which supposes 
 the sun in the room ; in his pictures afterwards he represented the effects of com- 
 mon day-light, both were equally true to nature, but his first manner carries a 
 superiority with it, and seizes our attention, whilst the pictures painted in his 
 latter manner run a risk of being overlooked. 
 
 The Pieta is also finely coloured, (though not of that splendid kind,) correctly 
 drawn, and finished with the utmost care and precision. 
 
 There are likewise three other pictures of Vandyck in this room, one of them 
 is the Virgin and Child, and St John, the Virgin looking down on the St J ohn, 
 who is presenting his label to Christ. The two others are small pictures ; the 
 assumption of St Rosalia, and the Virgin presenting St Rosalia to the Trinity ; 
 both very indifferent performances. 
 
 Two whole-length portraits of ladies. Of that in black the colours are flown- 
 her face is whiter than her linen. 
 
 A girl sleeping on the ground, by Amoroso; simple, and natural. 
 
 But the picture which is most valued here, and which gives name to the room 
 
DENMARK AND HOLLAND. 
 
 201 
 
 is the Gerard Dow; a Mountebank haranguing from his stage to figures of different 
 ages, but I cannot add — of different characters, for there is in truth no character 
 in the picture. It is very highly finished, but has nothing interesting in it. 
 Gerard Dow himself is looking from a window with his palette and pencils in his 
 hand. The heads have no character, nor are any circumstances of humour in- 
 troduced. The only incident is a very dirty one, which every one must wish had 
 been omitted, that of a woman clouting a child. The rest of the figures are 
 standing round, without invention or novelty of any kind. This is supposed to 
 be the largest composition that he ever made, his other works being little more 
 than single figures, and it plainly appears that this was too much for him, — 
 more than he knew how to manage. Even the accessories in the back -ground 
 are ill managed and disproportioned ; a stump of a tree is too small, and the 
 weeds are too large, and both are introduced with as much formality as if they 
 were principal objects. Upon the whole the single figure of the woman holding 
 a hare in Mr Hope's collection, is worth more than this large picture, in which 
 perhaps there is ten times the quantity of work. 
 
 THIRD ROOM. 
 
 Noli me tangere, of Barocci. The figures have not much grace ; the Mag- 
 dalen looks as if she was scratching her head, it is, however, finely coloured. 
 There is a print of this picture. 
 
 A holy family, of Raffaelle, Christ and St John attending to each other, the 
 Virgin sitting on the ground looking at Elizabeth, St Joseph behind with both 
 hands on his staff, which all together make a very regular pyramid. The Virgin 
 is beautiful, as are likewise the children, indeed the whole is to be admired, but 
 the colouring has a disagreeable yellow cast, it is in his first manner. 
 
 An immense picture of the Ascension of the Virgin, by Carlo Cignani, heavy 
 and in no point excellent; a proper companion for the large picture of Gaspar 
 de Crayer. 
 
 Susanna and the two Elders, by Domenichino. She is sitting at a fountain, 
 the two Elders are behind a balustrade; her head is fine, as are those of the old 
 men, but it is/ upon the whole, but a poor barren composition. There is as much 
 expression in the Susanna as perhaps can be given, preserving at the same time 
 beauty, but the colour is inclinable to chalk, at least it appears so after looking 
 at the warm splendid colours of Rubens, his full and rich composition makes this 
 look cold and scanty. She is awkwardly placed by herself in the corner of the 
 picture, which appears too large for the subject, the canvas not being sufficiently 
 filled. 
 
 Here are many Luca Giordanos, which are composed in a picturesque manner, 
 and some very ordinary pictures of Paolo Veronese. 
 
 At the further end are two picturesque compositions of Luca Giordano, the 
 feeding of the Multitude, and the Elevation of the Cross, where he has disposed 
 of a vast mob of people with great skill, in Tintoret's manner, and if they had 
 his, or rather Paul Veronese's colouring, these would be considered as very ex- 
 traordinary pictures, but there is here a want of briskness and brilliancy of colour 
 a kind of clay colour seems to predominate in his pictures. When one looks at 
 
208 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 Luca Giordano, and sees a work well composed, well drawn, and with good keep - 
 ing, one wonders how he has missed being a great name. 
 
 A crucifixion of Tintoret, with a great number of figures, but ill composed, 
 and full of small spots of light; parts of this picture, however, are not ill painted. 
 
 A fine portrait of Vesalius the Anatomist when young, by Tintoret. He has 
 a skirrous bone in his left hand, the other holds a compass, he looks at the spec- 
 tator with a most penetrating eye. It is apparently the same countenance as the 
 engraved portrait prefixed to his works, but much younger. 
 
 Christ putting in the Sepulchre, by Annibal Caracci. This appears to have 
 been one of his best works, it is finely drawn and composed, and the Christ is in 
 graceful attitudes. 
 
 Under this picture is an ecce homo, a head only, said to be of Correggio, but 
 apparently of Domenico Feti. It should seem by this mistake that there is a 
 resemblance in the manner of Domenico Feti to that of Correggio; what there is, 
 which is very little, lies in the colouring; there is something of a transparent and 
 pearly tint of colour in this head, but the character is much inferior to Correg- 
 gio ; it is in heads or small parts of pictures, only, that perhaps some resem- 
 blance may be discovered; in the larger works of Domenico Feti nobody can be 
 deceived. 
 
 A Carlo Dolci ; Madonna and Bambino with a lily. This is one of his best 
 works, the expression of the Virgin is very beautiful ; the Christ, which is a little 
 figure at length, though not excellent, is still better than his children generally 
 are. 
 
 Two portraits dressed in rags, like beggars, by Luca Giordano, in imitation of 
 Spagnolet's manner, well painted. They are said to be his own and his father's 
 picture. I have seen a portrait by Caravaggio, painted by himself, in the same 
 style, it is difficult to find out the wit or humour of this conceit of being drawn 
 in the character of beggars. 
 
 A holy-family by Camillo Procaccini, his best, finely coloured, the Christ's 
 head admirable. 
 
 St Jerome, said to be by Paul Veronese, but certainly by Giacomo Bassan. 
 
 FOURTH ROOM. 
 The most distinguished pictures in this room are the Vanderwerfs, which are 
 twenty -four in number. Three of them are as large as life, a Magdalen, whole- 
 length, and two portraits. The Magdalen was painted as a companion to the 
 St John of Raffaelle, but it was not thought even by his friends and admirers 
 that he had succeeded, however, he certainly has spared no pains, it is as smooth 
 and as highly finished as his small pictures, but his defects are here magnified, 
 and consequently more apparent. His pictures, whether great or small, certainly 
 afford but little pleasure. Of their want of effect it is worth a painter's while 
 to enquire into the cause. One of the principal causes appears to me, his having 
 entertained an opinion that the light of a picture ought to be thrown solely on 
 the figures, and little or none on the ground or sky. This gives great coldness 
 to the effect, and is so contrary to nature and the practice of those painters with 
 whose works he was surrounded, that we cannot help wondering how he fell 
 into this mistake. 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 209 
 
 His naked figures appear to be of a much harder substance than flesh, though 
 his outline is far from cutting, or the light not united with the shade, which are 
 the most common causes of hardness; but it appears to me that, in the present 
 instance, the hardness of manner proceeds from the softness and union being too 
 general; the light being everywhere equally lost in the ground or its shadow, 
 for this is not expressing the true effect of flesh, the light of which is sometimes 
 losing itself in the ground, and sometimes distinctly seen, according to the rising 
 or sinking of the muscles : an attention to these variations is what gives the ' 
 effect of suppleness, which is one of the characteristics of a good manner of 
 colouring. 
 
 There is in nature a certain proportion of bluntness and sharpness : in the 
 medium between those two extremes, the true and perfect art of imitating con- 
 sists. If the sharp predominate, it gives a dry manner; if the blunt predominate, 
 it makes a manner equally removed from nature; it gives what painters call 
 woolliness and heaviness, or that kind of hardness which is found in those 
 pictures of Vanderwerf. 
 
 In describing Vanderwerf's manner, were I to say that all the parts every- 
 where melt into each other, it might naturally be supposed that the effect would 
 be a high degree of softness, but it is notoriously the contrary, and I think for 
 the reason that has been given, his flesh has the appearance of ivory, or plaister, 
 or some other hard substance. What contributes likewise to give this hardness, 
 is a want of transparency in this colouring, from his admitting little or no reflec- 
 tions of light. He has also the defect which is often found in Rembrandt ; that 
 of making his light only a single spot. However, to do him justice, his figures 
 and his heads are generally well drawn, and his drapery is excellent ; perhaps 
 there are in his pictures as perfect examples of drapery as are to be found in any 
 other painter's works whatever. 
 
 There are likewise in this room eight Rembrandts; the chief merit of which 
 consists in his peculiarity of manner, — of admitting but little light, and giving 
 to that little a wonderful brilliancy. The colouring of Christ in the Elevation 
 of the Cross, cannot be exceeded; it is exactly the tint of Vandyck's Susanna in 
 the other room; but whether the ground of this picture has been repainted, or 
 the white horse, which was certainly intended to make the mass of light broader, 
 has lost its brightness, at present the Christ makes a disagreeable string of light. 
 
 In reality here are too many Rembrandts brought together : his peculiarity 
 does not come amiss, when mixed with the performances of other artists of more 
 regular manners ; the variety then may contribute to relieve the mind, fatigued 
 with regularity. 
 
 The same may be said of the Vanderwerfs : they also are too numerous. These 
 pictures, however, tire the spectator for reasons totally opposite to each other ; 
 the Rembrandts have too much salt, and the Va nderwerfs too much water, on 
 
 neither of which we can live. These Rembrandts are now engraving by . 
 
 The storm at Mr Hope's seems to belong to this set. 
 
 A portrait of a Gentleman by Titian, a Kitcat : one hand a-kembo, the hand 
 itself not seen, only a bit of the ruffle ; the other, the left, rests on what appears 
 to be his sword ; he is looking off. This portrait has a very pleasing counte- 
 nance, but is not painted with much facility, nor is it at all mannered, the sha- 
 
 L 2 
 
210 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 do.ws are of no colour; the drapery being black, and the ground being very near 
 as dark as it, prevents the arm a-kembo from having a bad effect. It is no small 
 part of our art to know what to bring forward in the light, and what to throw 
 into shade. 
 
 The portraits of Flink and his Wife, said to be of Rembrandt, but I think, from 
 the yellow bad taste of colouring, that they are rather by Flink himself. 
 
 The rest of the pictures in this room are but ordinary, if we except a picture 
 by Jordaens, of the Satyr blowing hot and cold, which is equally well painted 
 with the feast above mentioned. He ought never to have attempted higher 
 subjects than satyrs, or animals, or men little above beasts ; for he had no idea 
 of grace or dignity of character ; he makes therefore a wretched figure in grand 
 subjects. He certainly, however, understood very well the mechanical part of 
 the art ; his works are generally well coloured, and executed with great freedom 
 of hand. 
 
 Over the door, the tribute money, by Pietro Genoese : the characters as usual, 
 wretched ; particularly St Peter. It is wonderful by what fatality this painter 
 finds his way into great collections : he has no merit in drawing or colouring, 
 that is by any means sufficient to compensate for the meanness and vulgarity of 
 his ideas. 
 
 A Susanna and the two Elders, the same as the Duke of Devonshire's ; this 
 likewise appears original. 
 
 .A Virgin and child, and St Joseph, by Pietro da Cortona, painted in guazzo ; 
 the child is of a red brick colour, and the whole wants harmony. 
 
 The Assumption of the Virgin, said to be by Guido, but it is undoubtedly a 
 copy. It has that regularity of composition, which is frequent with Guido; two 
 large angels and two little angels on each side, and two cherubims, regularly 
 placed in the middle, under the Virgin's feet. This formality is certainly a de- 
 fect in Guido, however it might become other painters who have adopted a style 
 of more dignity. 
 
 The upper part of three sides of this room are surrounded with a continued 
 picture in chiaro-oscuro, as large as life, said to be by Polydore; but it is in 
 the wretched taste of Goltzius. 
 
 FIFTH ROOM. 
 
 The fifth room is furnished almost entirely with the works of Rubens. On the 
 right hand, Silenus with satyrs ; one of Rubens' highest coloured pictures, but 
 not superior to that on the same subject at Blenheim. The composition of this 
 varies in many points; the naked Bacchante is here omitted, and there is an ad- 
 dition of a female satyr lying with her children drunk on the ground. 
 
 The companion is, Diogenes with a lantern, looking for an honest man, among 
 a multitude of insipid half length figures: this is not in Rubens' best manner of 
 painting. 
 
 The nativity, with many angels; admirably composed: the nearest shepherd is 
 particularly well drawn and coloured. One of the angels, who has her arms 
 crossed on her breast, with curled hair, like the Antinous, seems to be copied from 
 Parmigiano: it is much out of Rubens' common manner. 
 
 Boys by Rubens, playing with or carrying a festoon of fruit, painted by 
 Snyders; some of the boys the same as those in the banquetting-house: it is one 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 211 
 
 of Rubens' best pictures both for colouring and drawing; it is indeed soft and 
 rich as flesh itself. 
 
 Though the flowers are painted with all that beauty of colour which is in 
 nature, yet Rubens has preserved such brightness and clearness in his flesh, though 
 in contact with those flowers, as perhaps no other painter could have done. This 
 picture is now engraving by Mr Schimdz, who is an excellent artist, and there is 
 no doubt of the prints being well done; but more than half its merit must be 
 lost for want of Rubens' colour, though some of the boys, particularly that lying 
 on the ground, are extremely well drawn. 
 
 We now come to the last four pictures of Rubens which are in this gallery, 
 and which make a considerable part of it. Two of these represent the Last 
 Judgment, and the other two the expulsion of the rebel angels. 
 
 The largest of these four is the Last Judgment, which almost fills the end of 
 the gallery. There is nothing very interesting in this picture : perhaps there is 
 too great a quantity of flesh to have an agreeable effect. Three naked women, 
 and a naked man, join together to make the great mass of light of the picture. One 
 of the women, who is looking out of the picture, has for that reason the appear- 
 ance of a portrait, and is said to be one of Rubens' wives; and a figure rising- 
 out of a grave, in the foreground, is said to be his own portrait ; but certainly 
 neither of these suppositions is well founded. 
 
 The next large picture is, Michael combating the Fallen Angels. Michael is 
 but an ungraceful figure: his red mantle has but a heavy appearance ; it seems 
 as if it were only laid in flat, to be afterwards finished. The picture has certain- 
 ly suffered by cleaning: there wants upon the whole a solidity of effect. 
 
 The next is called the small Last Judgment. As in the large picture the 
 blessed are the most conspicuous: here the damned make in a manner the sub- 
 ject of the composition: the blessed are faintly represented at a distance in the 
 upper part of the picture, near Christ and the Virgin Mary. This picture is far 
 superior to the large one on the same subject in every respect. 
 
 But there is another picture of the Fallen Angels, of the same size as this, 
 which even exceeds it. It is impossible to form an adequate idea of the powers 
 of Rubens, without having seen this picture: he seems here to have given a loose 
 to the most capricious imagination in the attitudes and invention of his fallen 
 angels, who are tumbling one over the other, " with hideous ruin and combustion, 
 down to bottomless perdition" 
 
 If we consider the fruitfulness of invention which is discovered in this work, 
 or the skill which is shewn in composing such an infinite number of figures, or 
 the art of the distribution of the light and shadow, the freedom of hand, the 
 facility with which it seems to be performed, and what is still more extraordin- 
 ary, the correctness and admirable taste of drawing of figures fore-shortened, in 
 attitudes the most difficult to execute, we must pronounce this picture to be one 
 of the greatest efforts of genius that ever the art has produced. 
 
 RUBENS' ROOM. 
 Here are three large pictures; Labau reconciled to his brother, the Ascension 
 of the Virgin and the Cloven Tongues, (both fine compositions,) and St Law- 
 rence, the same as the print; the colouring of the latter appears raw. 
 
212 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 The Battle of the Amazons, (not much larger than the print,) painted in Tar- 
 nish. The woman who lies dead at the bottom, with her head downwards, is 
 beautifully coloured, in the manner of the women in the picture of fallen angels; 
 and though not of a correct form, has a grand free open outline. This appears 
 to be painted at the same time of his life that he painted the fall of the angels, 
 which is in his best manner: it is a pity that the date is not known. Its com- 
 panion is Sampson and Dalila. 
 
 A small picture of the fall of St Paul, "much in the same style as his own 
 picture. The horse of St Paul is in a remarkable fine attitude, and there is great 
 spirit and bustle through the whole picture. Tameness or insipidity is not the 
 character of Rubens: in whatever he employs his figures, they do their business 
 with great energy. 
 
 A Madonna and Bambino, by Rubens, with flowers by Brueghel, and eleven 
 boy angels surrounding the garland, who are beautifully coloured, equally bril- 
 liant with the flowers. 
 
 A landscape with a double rainbow quite across the picture, very slight: the 
 varnish seems to be off this picture likewise. 
 
 A finished small picture of the St Christopher, the same as on the door of the 
 descent from the Cross at Antwerp. 
 
 Rubens and his Wife, when he was a young man, for his portrait here appears 
 not above two or three and twenty: his wife is very handsome, and has an agree- 
 able countenance. She is by much the best part of the picture, which is rather in 
 a hard manner. The linen is grey: he was at this period afraid of white. 
 
 Over the door is a portrait of a lady, whole-length, with her hand on a dog's 
 head; a gentleman behind: a boy (her son) by her side, with a hawk, and a 
 dwarf behind the dog. This is called Lord and Lady Arundel, but certainly 
 does not contain their portraits. The arms on the curtain have a lion and uni- 
 corn for supporters, and the Garter as a label under. 
 
 On the right side is Castor and Pollux, with two horses carrying away two 
 women: it is a fine piece of colouring, but the composition too artful. 
 
 Its companion is, Fame crowning Mars: the Fame is too red, as well as the 
 rest of the picture. 
 
 Seneca dying, copied from the statue: it is much to be suspected that this pic- 
 ture was not painted by Rubens. The companion to this is, the four repentant 
 sinners coming to Christ. 
 
 The Battle of Senacherib is the companion to the fall of St Paul. In this 
 picture there is a great repose of shadow in large masses; the figures and horses 
 are full of animation. 
 
 About ten portraits by Rubens: the best are, De Ney, a priest, with a skull 
 in his hand, and Dr Van Tulden in black, holding in his hand a book shut. 
 
 Rubens's Wife, a head; the same as that at Marlborough house. 
 
 Philip the Fourth of Spain, and his Queen. 
 
 On one of the window-shutters, (if they may be so called,) which open in- 
 wardly, on purpose to hang small pictures on them, and turn back like doors, so 
 as to place the pictures on them, in any light, is a portrait, (three quarters,) by 
 Vandyck; dressed in black, looking off, with part of his right hand appearing, 
 which holds his cloak. It is as finely drawn as that which we saw at the Prince 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 213 
 
 of Orange's gallery, in as perfect preservation, and of a brighter tint: more like 
 the colouring of Rubens: it is finished, like enamel; the nose and eyes remarkably 
 finely drawn. Mr Kraye told me that there was a print of this portrait by 
 Sandrart, and that he was a worker in silver. 
 
 An ecce homo on another window, by Johannes de Hemissen, dated 1544: not 
 mentioned for its excellence, but because we see many pictures of his, and 
 particularly his children, which are attributed in every collection to Lionardo da 
 Vinci. 
 
 COLOGNE. 
 
 St Peter crucified with his head downwards, by Rubens; painted a little 
 time before his death. The body and head of the Saint are the only good parts 
 in the picture, which is finely coloured, (broad light and shade,) and well drawn; 
 but the figure bends too suddenly from the thighs, which are ill drawn, or rather 
 in a bad taste of drawing; as is likewise his arm, which has a short interrupted 
 outline. The action of the malefactors has not that energy which he usually 
 gave to his figures. Rubens, in his letter to Geldorp, expresses his own approba- 
 tion of this picture, which he says was the best he ever painted: he likewise ex- 
 presses his content and happiness in the subject, as being picturesque: this is 
 likewise natural to such a mind as that of Rubens, who was perhaps too much 
 looking about him for the picturesque, or something uncommon. A man with 
 his head downwards is certainly a more extraordinary object than in its natural 
 place. Many parts of this picture are so feebly drawn, and with so tame a pen- 
 cil, that I cannot help suspecting that Rubens died before he had completed it, 
 and that it was finished by some of his scholars. 
 
 This picture is of great fame, I suppose from the letter of Rubens, where he 
 says, it was or would be his best work. We went from Dusseldorp to Cologne 
 on purpose to see it; but it by no means recompensed us for our journey. From 
 Cologne we made an excursion to Bernsburgh, a hunting-seat of the Elector 
 Palatine, which we found very different from what we had been taught to expect. 
 The three rooms painted by Weeninx, however excellent in their kind, are not 
 better, nor even so good as what we had seen before of his hand, in the gallery 
 of Dusseldorp. His figures as large as life, which he is fond of introducing, 
 are very indifferent, if not bad. His dead game certainly cannot be too much 
 admired ; but a sample is enough : here is too much of it. His portraits are such 
 as no one would hang up in his house, if they were not accompanied with his 
 birds and animals. 
 
 The Frescos on the walls and ceiling are by Belluci Pellegrino, and other 
 late painters, not worth a minute's attention. We saw a picture of the Slaughter 
 of the Innocents, by old Brueghel, the same as one I had seen before in some 
 part of Holland ; and I have another myself. This painter was totally ignorant 
 of all the mechanical art of making a picture ; but there is here a great quantity 
 of thinking, a representation of variety of distress, enough for twenty modern 
 pictures. In this respect he is like Donne, as distinguished from the modern 
 versifiers, who, carrying no weight of thought, easily fall into that false gallop 
 of verses which Shakspeare ridicules in " As you like it." 
 
 There is the same difference between the old portraits of Albert Durer or 
 
214 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 Holbein, and those of the modern painters: the moderns have certainly the ad- 
 vantage in facility, but there is a truth in the old painters, though expressed in a 
 hard manner, that gives them a superiority. 
 
 At Cologne, in the possession of one of the family of Jabac, is the famous 
 picture by Le Brun, containing the portrait of Jabac, his wife, and four children*. 
 It is much superior to what I could conceive Le Brun capable of doing in the 
 Portrait style. She is sitting on his left hand, with four children about her, 
 and a greyhound, equally correct and well painted with the rest. Jabac himself 
 is much in shadow, except the face. Le Brun is represented by his picture on a 
 canvas which is placed on an easel: before him lie prints, drawings, port-crayons, 
 and a large gold bust of Alexander. The portraits are equal to the best of 
 Vandyck; but there is a heaviness in the effect of the picture, which Vandyck 
 never had, and this is its only defect. 
 
 AT AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, 
 in the church of the Capuchins, is the Adorations of the Shepherds, by Rubens: 
 it appears to be much damaged, but it never was a very striking picture. — There 
 
 is a print of it by . A Shepherdess, not a very poetical one, is making an 
 
 offering of an hen's egg to the Virgin, having already given three eggs, which lie 
 by the infant Christ, who is sucking the Virgin: neither of them take any notice 
 of the shepherdess: if the Virgin may be said to be looking at any thing, it is 
 at the egg in the woman's hand. A shepherd with his hand to his hat, as if 
 going to pull it off, appears to be well painted; and the ox is admirably well 
 done. 
 
 St Francis receiving the stimata, seems likewise to be by Rubens, but is not 
 much to be admired. 
 
 LIEGE. 
 
 In the great church is the Ascension of the Virgin, by Lairesse. Parts of this 
 picture are well painted, but it has no effect upon the whole, from the want of 
 large masses. His manner is not open, and appears too restrained for large pic- 
 tures. The same defect is observable in pictures of Poussin, where the figures 
 are as large as life, and in those of Vanderwerf. We are creatures of habit, 
 and a painter cannot change his habits suddenly; he cannot, like the fallen angels 
 of Milton, increase or diminish at pleasure. 
 
 LOUVAIN. 
 
 Aux Dames Blanches— The Adoration of the Magi, by Rubens: a slight per 
 formance. The Virgin holds the Infant but awkwardly, appearing to pinch the 
 thigh. This picture is said to have been painted in eight days, and he was paid 
 for it 800 florins; about £80 English. A print by Lauvers. The Virgin and 
 Christ, and the principal of the Magi, are much the same as in my sketch, except 
 that he kneels instead of standing. 
 
 * This picture is now (1797) in the collection of Mr Hope, late of Amsterdam. M. 
 
FLANDERS AND HOLLAND. 
 
 215 
 
 In the church of St Pierre are some pictures of the old masters; one said to 
 be of Quintin Matsys; another about the same age, representing some Saint, 
 who appears to refuse a mitre, which is placed before him; a composition of near 
 an hundred figures, many in good attitudes, natural and well invented. It is much 
 m,ore entertaining to look at the works of these old masters, than slight com- 
 mon-place pictures of many modern painters. 
 
 CHARACTER OF RUBENS. 
 The works of men of genius alone, where great faults are united with great 
 beauties, afford proper matter for criticism. Genius is always eccentric, bold, 
 and daring; which, at the same time that it commands attention, is sure to provoke 
 criticism. It is the regular, cold, and timid composer, who escapes censure, and 
 deserves no praise. 
 
 The elevated situation on which Rubens stands in the esteem of the world is 
 alone a sufficient reason for some examination of his pretensions. 
 
 His fame is extended over a great part of the Continent, without a rival; and 
 it may be justly said that he has enriched his country, not in a figurative sense 
 only, by the great examples of art which he left, but by what some would think 
 a more solid advantage, the wealth arising from the concourse of strangers whom 
 his works continually invite to Antwerp, which would otherwise have little to 
 reward the visit of a connoisseur. 
 
 To the city of Dusseldorp he has been an equal benefactor. The gallery of 
 that city is considered as containing one of the greatest collections of pictures in 
 the world ; but if the works of Rubens were taken from it, I will venture to 
 assert, that this great repository would be reduced to at least half its value. 
 
 To extend his glory still further, he gives to Paris one of its most striking 
 features, the Luxembourg Gallery*: and if to these we add the many towns, 
 
 * This was written before France had been disgraced, and plundered, and desolated, by the 
 unparalleled atrocities of those sanguinary and ferocious savages, who for seven years past 
 have deluged that country with blood ; while they have waged war against every principle 
 that binds man to man, against all the arts and all the elegancies of life ; against beauty, 
 virtue, law, social order, true liberty, religion, and even humanity itself. The collection 
 of the Luxembourg Gallery, representing Henry the Fourth, Mary of Medicis, and then- 
 children, with all the splendour of royalty, has without doubt long since fallen a sacrifice 
 to their barbarous rage, and shared the same fate with the fine statue of that monarch, which 
 formerly stood on the Pont Neuf, and which has been battered to pieces. — The other great 
 collection of pictures, however, of which Paris formerly boasted, that of the Palais Royal, 
 has not suffered among the numerous works of art which have been destroyed; having 
 been fortunately saved from their merciless fangs by the necessities and precaution of the 
 owner, the detestable author and fomenter of their iniquities ; who, happily for the world, 
 though most cruelly, basely, and unjustly, so far as regards the perpetrators of the act, was some 
 time since worried and mangled by those hell-hounds which he let loose against mankind. — 
 Previously to his being murdered by his fellow-regicides, the Duke of Orleans contrived to dis- 
 pose of the whole of his great collection, which was sent to England. The Flemish part of it 
 was sold in London in the year 1793, and the pictures of the Italian sehool are safely preserved 
 in the same metropolis. M. 
 
216 
 
 A JOURNEY TO 
 
 churches, and private cabinets, where a single picture of Rubens confers emi- 
 nence, we cannot hesitate to place him in the first rank of illustrious painters. 
 
 Though I still entertain the same general opinion both in regard to his excel- 
 lencies and his defects, yet having now seen his greatest compositions, where he 
 has more means of displaying those parts of his art in which he particularly ex- 
 celled, my estimation of his genius is of course raised. It is only in large com- 
 positions that his powers seem to have room to expand themselves. They really 
 increase in proportion to the size of the canvas on which they are to be displayed. 
 His superiority is not seen in easel pictures, nor even in detached parts of 
 his greater works; which are seldom eminently beautiful. It does not lie in an 
 attitude, or in any peculiar expression, but in the general effect, in the genius 
 which pervades and illuminates the whole. 
 
 I remember to have observed in a picture of Diatreci, which I saw in a private 
 cabinet at Brussels, the contrary effect. In that performance there appeared to 
 be a total absence of this pervading genius; though every individual figure was 
 correctly drawn, and to the action of each as careful an attention was paid, as 
 if it were a set Academy figure. Here seemed to be nothing left to chance: all 
 the nymphs (the subject was the Bath of Diana) were what the ladies call in 
 attitudes: yet, without being able to censure it for incorrectness or any other de- 
 fect, I thought it one of the coldest and most insipid pictures I ever beheld. 
 
 The works of Rubens have that peculiar property always attendant on genius, 
 to attract attention, and enforce admiration in spite of all their faults. It is 
 owing to this fascinating power that the performances of those painters with 
 which he is surrounded, though they have perhaps fewer defects, yet appears 
 spiritless, tame, and insipid; such as the altar-pieces of Grayer, Schut, Segers, 
 Huysum, Tyssens, Van Balen, and the rest. They are done by men whose hands, 
 and indeed all their faculties, appear to have been cramped and confined: and 
 it is evident that every thing they did was the effect of great labour and pains. 
 The productions of Rubens, on the contrary, seem to flow with a freedom and 
 prodigality, as if they cost him nothing; and to the general animation of the 
 composition there is always a correspondent spirit in the execution of the work. 
 The striking brilliancy of his colours, and their lively opposition to each other, 
 the flowing liberty and freedom of his outline, the animated pencil with which 
 every object is touched, all contribute to awaken and keep alive the attention of 
 the spectator; awaken in him, in some measure, correspondent sensations, and 
 make him feel a degree of that enthusiasm with which the painter was carried 
 away. To this we may add the complete uniformity in all the parts of the work, 
 so that the whole seems to be conducted, and grow out of one mind; every thing 
 is of a piece, and fits its place. Even his taste of drawing and of form appears 
 to correspond better with his colouring and composition, than if he had adopted 
 any other manner, though that manner, simply considered, might be better: it is 
 here as in personal attractions; there is frequently found a certain agreement and 
 correspondence in the whole together, which is often more captivating than mere 
 regular beauty. 
 
 Rubens appears to have had that confidence in himself, which it is necessary 
 for every artist to assume, when he has finished his studies, and may venture in 
 some measure to throw aside the fetters of authority; to consider the rules as 
 
DENMARK AND HOLLAND. 
 
 211 
 
 subject to his control, and not himself subject to the rules ; to risk and to dare 
 extraordinary attempts without a guide, abandoning himself to his own sensa- 
 tions, and depending upon them. To this confidence must be imputed that 
 originality of manner by which he may be truly said to have extended the limits 
 of the art. After Rubens had made up his manner, he never looked out of him- 
 self for assistance: there is consequently very little in his works, that appears to be 
 taken form other masters. If he has borrowed any thing, he has had the address to 
 change and adapt it so well to the rest of his work, that the theft is not discoverable. 
 
 Beside the excellency of Rubens in these general powers, he possessed the 
 true art of imitating. He saw the objects of nature with a painter's eye; he 
 saw at once the predominant feature by which every object is known and dist- 
 inguished; and as soon as seen, it was executed with a facility that is astonish- 
 ing: and let me add, this facility is to a painter, when he closely examines a 
 picture, a source of great pleasure. How far this excellence may be perceived 
 or felt by those who are not painters, I know not: to them certainly it is not 
 enough that objects be truly represented; they must likewise be represented with 
 grace; which means here, that the work is done with facility, and without effort. 
 Rubens was, perhaps, the greatest master in the mechanical part of the art, the 
 best workman with his tools, that ever exercised a pencil. 
 
 This part of the art, though it does not hold a rank with the powers of inven- 
 tion, of giving character and expression, has yet in it what may be called genius. 
 It is certainly something that cannot be taught by words, though it may be learn- 
 ed by frequent examination of those pictures which possess this excellence. It 
 is felt by very few Painters : and it is as rare at this time among the living 
 Painters as any of the higher excellencies of the art. 
 
 This power, which Rubens possessed in the highest degree, enabled him to 
 represent whatever he undertook better than any other painter. His animals, 
 particularly lions and horses, are so admirable, that it may be said they were 
 never properly represented but by him. His portraits rank with the best works 
 of the Painters who have made that branch of the art the sole business of their 
 lives; and of those he has left a great variety of specimens. The same may be 
 said of his landscapes; and though Claude Lorrain finished more minutely, as be- 
 comes a Professor in any particular branch, yet there is such an airiness and fa- 
 cility in the landscapes of Rubens, that a Painter would as soon wish to be the 
 author of them, as those of Claude, qt any other artist whatever. 
 
 The pictures of Rubens have this effect on the spectator, that he feels himself 
 in no wise disposed to pick out and dwell on his defects. The criticisms which 
 are made on him are indeed often unreasonable. His style ought no more to be 
 blamed for not having the sublimity of Michael Angelo, than Ovid should be 
 censured because he is not like Virgil. 
 
 However, it must be acknowledged that he wanted many excellencies, which 
 would have perfectly united with his style. Among those we may reckon beauty 
 in his female characters: sometimes indeed they make approaches to it; they are 
 healthy and comely women, but seldom, if ever, possess any degree of elegance: 
 the same may be said of his young men and children : his old men have that sort 
 of dignity which a bushy beard will confer; but he never possessed a poetical 
 conception of character. In his representations of the highest characters in the 
 
 M 2 
 
218 
 
 A JOURNEY TO DENMARK AND HOLLAND, 
 
 christian or the fabulous world, instead of something above humanity, which 
 might fill the idea which is conceived of such beings, the spectator finds little 
 more than mere mortals, such as he meets with every day. 
 
 The incorrectness of Rubens in regard to his outline oftener proceeds from 
 haste and carelesness, than from inability: there are in his great works, to which 
 he seems to have paid more particular attention, naked figures as eminent for 
 their drawing as for their colouring. He appears to have entertained a great ab- 
 horrence of the meagre dry manner of his predecessors, the old German and Flemish 
 Painters; to avoid which, he kept his outline large and flowing: this, carried to 
 an extreme, produced that heaviness which is so frequently found in his figures. 
 Another defect of this great Painter is his inattention to the foldings of his drapery, 
 especially that of his women: it is scarcely ever cast with any choice or skill. 
 
 Carlo Maratti and Rubens are in this respect in opposite extremes; one dis- 
 covers too much art in the disposition of drapery, and the other too little. 
 Rubens' drapery, besides, is not properly historical ; the quality of the stuff of which 
 it is composed, is too accurately distinguished, resembling the manner of Paul Vero- 
 nese. This drapery is less offensive in Rubens than it would be in many other 
 painters, as it partly contributes to that richness which is the peculiar character of 
 his style, which we do not pretend to set forth as of the most simple and sublime kind. 
 
 The difference of the manner of Rubens, from that of any other painter before 
 him, is in nothing more distinguishable than in his colouring, which is totally differ- 
 ent from that of Titian, Correggio, or any of the great colourists. The effect of 
 his pictures may be not improperly compared to clusters of flowers; all his colours 
 appear as clear and as beautiful: at the same time he has avoided that tawdry effect 
 which one would expect such gay colours to produce ; in this respect resembling 
 Barocci more than any other painter. What was said of an ancient painter, may 
 be applied to those two artists, — that their figures look as if they fed upon roses. 
 
 It would be a curious and a profitable study for a painter to examine the dif- 
 ference and the cause of that difference of effect in the works of Correggio and 
 Rubens, both excellent in different ways. The preference probably would be 
 given according to the different habits of the connoisseur: those who had re- 
 ceived their first impressions from the works of Rubens would censure Correggio 
 as heavy; and the admirers of Correggio would say Rubens wanted solidity of 
 effect. There is lightness, airiness, and facility in Rubens, his advocates will 
 urge, and comparatively a laborious heaviness in Correggio ; whose admirers will 
 complain of Rubens' manner being careless and unfinished, whilst the works of 
 Correggio are wrought to the highest degree of delicacy: and what may be ad- 
 vanced in favour of Correggio's breadth of light will by his censurers be called 
 affected and pedantic. It must be observed that we are speaking solely of the 
 manner, the effect of the picture; and we may conclude, according to the custom 
 in pastoral poetry, by bestowing on each of these illustrious painters a garland, 
 without attributing superiority to either. 
 
 To conclude ; I will venture to repeat in favour of Rubens, what I have before 
 said in regard to the Dutch school, — that those who cannot see the extraordin- 
 ary merit of this great painter, either have a narrow conception of the variety 
 of art, or are led away by the affectation of approving nothing but what comes 
 from the Italian school. 
 
THE 
 
 ART OF PAINTING, 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLES ALPHONSE DU FRESNOY; 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE 
 
 BY WILLIAM MASON, M.A. 
 
 WITH ANNOTATIONS 
 
 BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
EPISTLE 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 When Dry den, worn with sickness, bow'd with years, 
 Was doom'd (my friend, let pity warm thy tears,) 
 The galling pang of penury to feel, 
 For ill-placed loyalty, and courtly zeal, 
 To see that laurel which his brows o'erspread, 
 Transplanted droop on Shadwell's barren head, 
 The Bard oppress'd, yet not subdued by fate, 
 For very bread descended to translate : 
 And he, whose fancy, copious as his phrase, 
 Could light at will expression's brightest blaze, 
 On Fresnoy's lay employ'd his studious hour ; 
 But niggard there of that melodious power, 
 Hia pen in haste the hireling task to close 
 Transform'd the studied strain to careless prose, 
 Wliich, fondly lending faith to French pretence, 
 Mistook its meaning, or obscur'd its sense. 
 
 Yet still he pleas'd, for Dryden still must please, 
 Whether with artless elegance and ease 
 He glides in prose, or from its tinkling chime, 
 By varied pauses, purifies his rhyme, 
 
 And mounts on Maro's plumes, and soars his heights sublime. 
 
 This artless elegance, this native fire 
 Provok'd his tuneful heir * to strike the lyre, 
 Who, proud his numbers with that prose to join, 
 Wove an illustrious wreath for friendship's shrine. 
 
 How oft, on that fair shrine when Poets bind 
 The flowers of song, does partial passion blind 
 Their judgment's eye ! How oft does truth disclaim 
 The deed, and scorn to call it genuine fame ! 
 
 * Mr Pope, in his Epistle to Jervas, has these lines : 
 
 Read these instructive leaves, in which conspire 
 Fresnoy's close art with Dryden's native fire. 
 
EPISTLE, ETC. 
 
 .How did she here, when Jervas was the theme, 
 Waft thro' the ivory gate the Poet's dream! 
 How view, indignant, error's hase alloy 
 The sterling lustre of his praise destroy. 
 Which now, if praise like his my Muse could coin, 
 Current through ages, she would stamp for thine ! 
 
 Let friendship, as she caus'd, excuse the deed ; 
 With thee, and such as thee, she must succeed. 
 
 But what, if fashion tempted Pope astray ? 
 The witch has spells, and Jervas knew a day 
 When mode-struck Belles and Beaux were proud to come 
 And buy of him a thousand years of bloom.* 
 
 Ev'n then I deem it but a venal crime : 
 Perish alone that selfish sordid rhyme, 
 AVhich flatters lawless sway, or tinsel pride ; 
 Let black Oblivion plunge it in her tide. 
 
 From fate like this my truth-supported lays, 
 Ev'n if aspiring to thy pencil's praise, 
 Would flow secure : but humbler aims are mine ; 
 Know, when to thee I consecrate the line, 
 'Tis but to thank thy genius for the ray 
 Which pours on Fresnoy's rules a fuller day : 
 Those candid strictures, those reflections new, 
 Befin'd by taste, yet still as nature true, 
 Which, blended here with his instructive strains, 
 Shall bid thy art inherit new domains ; 
 Give her in Albion as in Greece to rule 
 And guide (what thou hast form'd) a British School. 
 
 And, O, if aught thy Poet can pretend 
 Beyond his favourite wish to call thee friend, 
 Be it that here his tuneful toil has drest 
 The Muse of Fresnoy in a modern vest ; 
 And, with that skill his fancy could bestow, 
 Taught the close folds to take an easier flow ; 
 Be it, that here thy partial smile appro v'd 
 The pains he lavish'd on the art he lov'd. 
 
 W. MASON. 
 
 Oct. 10, 1732. 
 
 * Alluding to another couplet in the same Epistle : 
 Beauty, frail flower, that every season fears, 
 Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The poem of M. du Fresnoy, when considered as a treatise on Painting, . 
 may unquestionably claim the merit of giving the leading principles of 
 the art with more precision, conciseness, and accuracy, than any work of 
 the kind that has either preceded or followed it; yet as it was published 
 about the middle of the seventeenth esntury, many of the precepts it con- 
 tains have been so frequently repeated by later writers, that they have 
 lost the air of novelty, and will, consequently, now be held common ; 
 some of them too may, perhaps, not be so generally true as to claim the 
 authority of absolute rules : Yet the reader of taste will always be pleased 
 to see a Frenchman holding out to his countrymen the study of nature, 
 and the chaste models of antiquity, when (if we except Le Seur and 
 Nicolo Poussin, who were Fresnoy's contemporaries) so few painters of 
 that nation have regarded either of these archetypes. The modern artist 
 also will be proud to emulate that simplicity of style, which this work has 
 for more than a century recommended; and which, having only very 
 lately got the better of fluttering drapery and theatrical attitude, is become 
 one of the principal tests of picturesque excellence. 
 
 But if the text may have lost somewhat of its original merit, the notes 
 of M. du Piles, which have hitherto accompanied it, have lost much more. 
 Indeed it may be doubted whether they ever had merit in any consider- 
 able degree. Certain it is that they contain such a parade of common 
 place quotation, with so small a degree of illustrative science, that I have 
 thought proper to expel them from this edition, in order to make room for 
 their betters. 
 
 As to the poetical powers of my author, I do not suppose that these 
 alone would ever have given him a place in the numerous libraries which 
 he now holds; and I have, therefore, often wondered that M. de Voltaire, 
 when he gave an account of the authors who appeared in the age of Louis 
 XIV. should dismiss Fresnoy, with saying, in his decisive manner, that 
 " his poem has succeeded with such persons as could bear to read Latin 
 verse," not of the Augustan age.* This is the criticism of a mere poet. 
 Nobody, I should suppose, ever read Fresnoy to admire, or even criticise 
 his versification, but either to be instructed by him as a painter, or im- 
 proved as a Virtuoso. 
 
 * Du Frenoi (Charles) ne a Paris 1611, peintre & poete. Son poeme de la 
 peinture a reussi aupres de ceux qui peuvent lire d'autres vers Latins que ceux 
 du siecle d'Auguste. 
 
 Siecle de Louis XIV. Tom. I. 
 
224 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It was this latter motive only, I confess, that led me to attempt the 
 following translation, which was begun in very early youth, with a 
 double view of implanting in my own memory the principles of a favourite 
 art, and of acquiring a habit of versification, for which purpose the close 
 and condensed style of the original seemed peculiarly calculated, especi- 
 ally when considered as a sort of school exercise. However, the task 
 proved so difficult, that when I had gone through a part of it I remitted 
 of my diligence, and proceeded at such separate intervals, that I had 
 passed many posterior productions through the press before this was 
 brought to any conclusion in manuscript ; and after it was so, it lay long 
 neglected, and would certainly have never been made public, had not Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds requested a sight of it, and made an obliging offer of 
 illustrating it by a series of his own notes. This prompted me to revise 
 it with all possible accuracy ; and as I had preserved the strictures which 
 my late excellent friend Mr Gray had made many years before on the 
 version, as it then stood, I attended to each of them in their order with 
 that deference which every criticism of his must demand. Besides this, 
 as much more time was now elapsed since I had perused the copy, my 
 own eye was become more open to its defects. I found the rule which 
 my author had given to his painter full as useful to a writer : 
 
 (Ast ubi consilium deerit sapientis amici, 
 
 Id tempus dabit, atque mora intermissa labori.) 
 And I may say, with truth, that having become from this circumstance, 
 as impartial, if not as fastidious, to my own work, as any other critic 
 could possibly have been, I hardly left a single line in it without giving 
 it, what I thought, an emendation. It is not, therefore, as a juvenile work 
 that I now present it to the public, but as one which I have improved to 
 the utmost of my mature abilities, in order to make it more worthy of its 
 Annotator. 
 
 In the preceding epistle I have obviated, I hope, every suspicion of 
 arrogance in attempting this work after Mr Dry den. The single con- 
 sideration that his version was in prose were in itself sufficient ; because, 
 as Mr Pope has justly observed, verse and even rhyme is the best mode 
 of conveying preceptive truths, " as in this way they are more shortly 
 expressed and more easily retained Still less need I make an apology 
 for undertaking it after Mr Wills, who in the year 1754, published a 
 translation of it in metre without rhyme f . 
 
 This gentleman, a painter by profession, assumed for Ins motto, 
 Tractant fabrilia fabri ; 
 
 * See his advertisement before his Essay on Man. 
 
 f I call it so rather than blank verse, because it was devoid of all harmony of 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 225 
 
 but however adroit lie might be in handling the tools of his own art, can- 
 dour must own that the tools of a Poet and a translator were beyond his 
 management : attempting also a task absolutely impossible, that of ex- 
 pressing the sense of his author in an equal number of lines, he produced 
 a version, which (if it was ever read through by any person except my- 
 self) is now totally forgotten. Nevertheless I must do him the justice to 
 own, that he understood the original text ; that he detected some errors 
 in Mr Dryden's translation, which had escaped Mr Jervas (assisted, as it 
 is said, by his friend Mr Pope) in that corrected edition which Mi- 
 Graham inscribed to the Earl of Burlington : and that I have myself 
 sometimes profited by his labours. It is also from his edition that I 
 reprint the following Life of the Author, which was drawn up from 
 F elibien and other Biographers by the late Dr. Birch, who, with his 
 usual industry, has collected all they have said on Fresnoy's subject. 
 
 numbers. The beginning, which I shall here insert, is a sufficient proof of the 
 truth of this assertion : — 
 
 As painting, poesy, so similar 
 
 To poesy be painting : emulous 
 
 Alike, each to her sister doth refer, 
 
 Alternate change the office and the name ; 
 
 Mute verse is this, that speaking picture calPd. 
 
 From this little specimen the reader will easily form a judgment of the whole. 
 
 n2 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 HONS. DU FRESNO Y. 
 
 Charles Alphonse du Fresnoy was born at Paris in the year 1611. 
 His father, who was an eminent apothecary in that city, intending him 
 for the profession of physic, gave him as good an education as possible. 
 During the first year, which he spent at the college, he made a very 
 considerable progress in his studies : but as soon as he was raised to the 
 higher classes, and began to contract a taste of poetry, his genius for it 
 opened itself, and he carried all the prizes in it, which were proposed 
 to excite the emulation of his fellow-students. His inclination for it was 
 heightened by exercise ; and his earliest performances showed that he 
 was capable of becoming one of the greatest poets of his age, if his love 
 of painting, which equally possessed him, had not divided his time and 
 application. At last he laid aside all thoughts of the study of physic, 
 and declared absolutely for that of painting, notwithstanding the oppo 
 sition of his parents, who, by all kinds of severity, endeavoured to divert 
 him from pursuing his passion for that art, the profession of which they 
 unjustly considered in a very contemptible light. But the strength of 
 his inclination defeating all the measures taken to suppress it, he took 
 the first opportunity of cultivating his favourite study. 
 
 He was nineteen or twenty years of age when he began to learn to de- 
 sign under Francis Perier ; and having spent two years in the school of 
 that painter, and of Simon Voiiet, he thought proper to take a journey 
 into Italy, where he arrived in the end of 1633, or the beginning of 
 1634. 
 
228 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 As he had, during his studies, applied himself very much to that of 
 geometry, he began, upon his coming to Rome, to paint landscapes, 
 buildings, and ancient ruins. But, for the first two years of his residence 
 in that city, he had the utmost difficulty to support himself, being aban- 
 doned by his parents, who resented his having rejected their advice in the 
 choice of his profession ; and the little stock of money which he had pro- 
 vided before he left France, proving scarce sufficient for the expences of 
 his journey to Italy. Being destitute, therefore, of friends and acquain- 
 tance at Borne, he was reduced to such distress, that his chief subsistence 
 for the greatest part of that time was bread and a small quantity of cheese. 
 But he diverted the sense of uneasy circumstances by an intense and 
 indefatigable application to painting, till the arrival of the celebrated 
 Peter Mignard, who had been the companion of his studies under Voiiet, 
 set him more at ease. They immediately engaged in the strictest friend- 
 ship, living together in the same house, and being commonly known at 
 Rome by the name of the Inseparables ; they were employed by the 
 Cardinal of Lyons in copying all the best pieces in the Farnese Palace. 
 But their principal study was the works of Raffaelle and other great masters, 
 and the antiques ; and they were constant in their attendance every even- 
 ing at the Academy, in designing after models. Mignard had superior 
 talents in practice ; but Du Fresnoy was a greater master of the rules, 
 history, and theory of his profession. They communicated to each other 
 their remarks and sentiments ; Du Fresnoy furnishing his friend with 
 noble and excellent ideas, and the latter instructing the former to paint 
 with greater expedition and ease. 
 
 Poetry shared with Painting the time and thoughts of Du Fresnoy, who, 
 as he penetrated into the secrets of the latter art, wrote down Ms obser- 
 vations ; and having at last acquired a full knowledge of the subject, 
 formed a design of writing a Poem upon it, which he did not finish till 
 many years afterwards, when he had consulted the best writers, and ex- 
 amined with the utmost care the most admired pictures in Italy. 
 
 While he resided there he painted several pictures, particularly the Ruins 
 of the Campo Vaccino, with the City of Rome in the figure of a 
 woman ; a young woman of Athens going to see the monument of a 
 lover ; iEneas carrying his father to his tomb ; Mars finding Lavinia 
 sleeping on the banks of the Tyber descending from his chariot, and lifting 
 up the veil which covered her, which is one of his best pieces : the birth 
 of Venus, and that of Cupid. He had a peculiar esteem for the works of 
 Titian, several of which he copied, imitating that excellent Painter in his 
 colouring, as he did Caracci in his design. 
 
 About the year 1653, he went with Mignard to Venice", and travelled 
 
 * This is the account of Mons. Felibien, Entretiens sur les vies et sur les 
 outrages cles plus excellens pelutres, torn. 11. edit. Lond. 1705, p. 333. But the 
 
M. DU FRESNOY. 
 
 229 
 
 throughout Lombardy ; and during his stay in that city painted a Venus 
 for Signor Mark Paruta, a noble Venetian, and a Madonna, a half-length. 
 These pictures showed that he had not studied those of Titian without 
 success. Here the two friends separated, Mignard returning to 
 Home, and Du Fresnoy to France. He had read his poem to the best 
 painters in all places through which he passed, and particularly to Albano 
 and Guercino, then at Bologna ; and he consulted several men famous 
 for their skill in polite literature. 
 
 He arrived at Paris in 1656, where he lodged with Mons. Potel, Greffier 
 of the Council, in the street Beautreillis, where he painted a small room ; 
 afterwards a picture for the Altar of the church of St Margaret in the su- 
 burb St Antoine. Mons. Bordier, Intendant of the Finances, who was 
 then finishing his house of Rinci, now Livry, having seen this picture, 
 was so highly pleased with it, that he took Du Fresnoy to that house, 
 which is but two leagues from Paris, to paint the Salon. In the ceiling 
 was represented the burning of Troy ; Venus is standing by Paris, who 
 makes her remark how the fire consumes that great city ; in the front is 
 the God of the River, which runs by it, and other deities ; this is one of 
 his best performances, both for disposition and colouring. He afterwards 
 painted a considerable number of pictures for the cabinets of the curious, 
 particularly an altar-piece for the church of Lagni, representing the As- 
 sumption of the Virgin and the twelve Apostles, all as large as life. At 
 the Hotel d'Erval (now d'Armenonville) he painted several pictures, and 
 among them a ceiling of a room with four beautiful landscapes, the figures 
 of which were by Mignard. As he understood architecture very well, he 
 drew for Mons. de Vilargele all the designs of a house which that gentle- 
 man built four leagues from Avignon ; as likewise those for the Hotel de 
 Lyonne, and for that of the Grand Prior de Souvre. The high altar of 
 the Filles-Dieu, in the street of St Denis, was also designed by him. 
 
 Though he had finished his poem before he had left Italy, and com- 
 municated it, as has been already mentioned, to the best judges of that 
 country, yet, after his return to France, he continued still to revise it, 
 with a view to treat more at length of some things, which did not seem 
 to him sufficiently explained. This employment took up no small part 
 of his time, and was the reason of his not having finished so many 
 pictures as he might otherwise have done. And though he was desirous 
 to see his work in print, he thought it improper to publish it without a 
 French translation, which he deferred undertaking from time to time, 
 out of diffidence of his own skill in his native language, which he had in 
 
 late author of Abrege de les vies des plus fameux peintres, part. 11. p. 284, edit. 
 Par. 1745, in 4 to, says, that Fresnoy went to Venice without Mignard ; and that 
 the latter, being importuned by the letters of the former, made a visit to him in 
 that city. 
 
230 
 
 THE LIFE OF M. DU FRESNOY. 
 
 some measure lost by his long residence in Italy. Mons. de Piles was 
 therefore at last induced, at Ins desire, and by the merit of the Poem, to 
 translate it into French, his version being revised by Du Fresnoy him- 
 self : and the latter had begun a commentary upon it, when he was 
 seized with a palsy, and after languishing four or five months under it, 
 died at the house of one of his brothers at Villiers-le-bel, four leagues 
 from Paris, in 1665, at the age of fifty-four, and was interred in the 
 parish-church there. He had quitted his lodgings at Mons. Potel's, upon 
 Mignard's return to Paris in 1658, and the two friends lived together from 
 that time till the death of Du Fresnoy. 
 
 His poem was not published till three years after his death, when it 
 was printed at Paris in duodecimo, with the French version and remarks 
 of Mons. de Piles, and has been justly admired for its elegance and 
 perspicuity. 
 
THE 
 
 ART OF PAINTING, 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 OKIGINAL TEXT SUBJOINED. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 True poetry the Painter's power displays; 
 True Painting emulates the Poet's lays ; 
 The rival sisters, fond of equal fame, 
 Alternate change their office and their name ; 
 Bid silent Poetry the canvas warm, 
 The tuneful page with speaking picture charm. 
 
 What to the ear sublimer rapture brings, 
 That strain alone the Genuine Poet sings ; 
 That form alone where glows peculiar grace, 
 The genuine Painter condescends to trace : 
 No sordid theme will verse or paint admit, 
 Unworthy colours, if unworthy wit. 
 
 From you, blest Pair ! Religion deigns to clai 
 Her sacred honours; at her awful name 
 High o'er the stars you take your soaring flight, 
 And rove the regions of supernal light ; 
 Attend to lays that flow, from tongues divine, 
 Undazzled gaze where charms seraphic shine ; 
 Trace beauty's beam to its eternal spring, 
 And pure to man the fire celestial bring. 
 
 DE ARTE GRAPHIC A. 
 
 Ut Pictura Poesis erit ; similisque Poesi 
 Sit Pictura ; refert par semula quseque sororem, 
 Alternantque vices et nomina ; muta Poesis 
 Dicitur haec, Pictura loquens solet ilia vocari. 
 
 Quod fuit auditu gratum cecinere Poetse ; 
 Quod pulchruni aspectu Pictores piugere curant : 
 Quseque Poetarum numeris indigna fue're, 
 Non eadem Pictorum operam studiumque merentur 
 
 Ambse quippe sacros ad religionis honores 
 Sidereos superant ignes, aularaque tonantis 
 Ingressse, Divum aspectu, alloquioque fruuntur ; 
 Oraque magna Deum, et dicta observata reportant, 
 Coelestemque suorum operum mortalibus ignem. 
 
231 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 Then round this globe on joint pursuit ye stray, 
 Time's ample annals studiously survey ; 
 And from the eddies of Oblivion's stream 
 Propitious snatch each memorable theme. 
 
 Thus to each form, in heaven, and earth, and sea, 
 That wins with grace, or awes with dignity, 
 To each exalted deed, which dares to claim 
 The glorious meed of an immortal fame, 
 That meed ye grant. Hence, to remotest age, 
 The Hero's soul darts from the Poet's page, 
 Hence from the canvas still, with wonted state, 
 He lives, he breathes, he braves the frown of Fate, 
 Such powers, such praises, heaven-born Pair belong 
 To magic colouring, and creative song. 
 
 But here I pause, nor ask Pieria's train, 
 Nor Phoebus self to elevate the strain ; 
 Vain is the flow'ry verse, when reasoning sage 
 And sober precept fill the studied page ; 
 Enough if there the fluent numbers please, 
 With native clearness, and instructive ease. 
 
 Nor shall my rules the Artist's hand confine, 
 Whom practice gives to strike the free design ; 
 Or banish fancy from her fairy plains, 
 Or fetter Genius in didactic chains : 
 
 Inde per hunc Orbem studiis coeuntibus errant, 
 Carpentes quse digna sui, revolutaque luetrant 
 Tempora, quasrendis consortibus argumentis. 
 
 Denique quaecunque in ccelo, terraque, marique 
 Longius in tenipus durare, ut pulchra merentur, 
 Nobilitate sua, claroque insignia casu, 
 Dives et ampla manet Pictores atque Poetas 
 Materies ; inde alta sonant per ssecula mundo 
 Nomina, magnanimis Heroibus inde superstes 
 Gloria, perpetuoque operum miracula restant : 
 Tantus inest divis honor artibus atque potestas. 
 
 Non mihi Pievidum chorus hie, nec Apollo vocandus, 
 Majus ut eloquium numeris, aut gratia fandi 
 Dogmaticis illustret opus rationibus horrens : 
 Cum nitida tantum et facili digesta loquela, 
 Ornari prsecepta negent, contenta doceri. 
 
 Nec mihi mens animusve fuit constringere nodos 
 Artificum manibus, quos tantixm dirigit usus ; 
 Tndolis ut vigor inde potens obstrictus hebescat, 
 Normarum numero immani, Geniumque moretur : 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 235 
 
 No, 'tis their liberal purpose to convey 
 That scientific skill which wins its way 
 On docile nature and transmits to youth, 
 Talents to reach, and taste to relish truth ; 
 While inborn Genius from their aid receives 
 Each supplemental art that practice gives. 
 
 (a) 'Tis Painting's first chief business to explore, 
 What lovelier forms in Nature's boundless store 
 Are best to art and ancient taste allied, 
 For ancient taste those forms has best applied. 
 
 Till this be learn'd, how all things disagree ! 
 How all one wretched, blind barbarity ! 
 
 The fool to native ignorance confin'd, 
 No beauty beaming on his clouded mind ; 
 Untaught to relish, yet too proud to learn, 
 He scorns the grace his dulness can't discern. 
 Hence reason to caprice resigns the stage, 
 And hence that maxim of the ancient Sage, 
 " Of all vain fools with coxcomb talents curst, 
 " Bad painters and bad poets are the worst." 
 
 When first the orient rays of beauty move 
 The conscious soul, they light the lamp of love ; 
 Love wakes those warm desires that prompt our chace, 
 To follow and to fix each flying grace ; 
 But earth-born graces sparingly impart 
 The symmetry supreme of perfect art : 
 
 Sed rerum ut pollens ars cognitione, gradatim 
 
 Naturae sese insinuet, verique capace 
 
 Transeat in Genium ; Geniusque usu induat artem. 
 
 (6) Prsecipua imprimis artisque potissima pars est, 
 Nosse quid in rebus natura crearit ad artem 
 Pulchrius, idque modum juxta, mentemque vetustam ; 
 
 Qua. sine barbaries cseca et temararia pulchrum 
 Negligit, insultans ignotse audacior arti, 
 Ut curare nequit, quae non modo noverit esse ; 
 Illud apud veteres fuit unde notabile dictum, 
 " Nil Pictore malo securius atque Poeta." 
 
 Cognita amas, et amata cupis, sequerisque cupita ; 
 Passibus assequeris tandem quae fervidus urges : 
 Ilia tamen quoe pulchra decent ; non omnia casus 
 Qualiacumque dabunt, etiamve simillima veris : 
 
 {a) I. Of the Beautiful. 
 
 (6) I. De Pulcbro. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 For tlio' our causal glance may sometimes meet 
 
 With charms that strike the soul, and seem complete, 
 
 Yet if those charms too closely we define, 
 
 Content to copy nature line for line, 
 
 Our end is lost. Not such the Master's care, 
 
 Curious he culls the perfect from the fair ; 
 
 Judge of his art, thro' beauty's realm he flies, 
 
 Selects, combines, improves, diversifies ; 
 
 With nimble step pursues the fleeting throng, 
 
 And clasps each Venus as she glides along. 
 
 (c) Yet some there are who indiscreetly stray, 
 Where purblind practice only points the way ; 
 Who every theoretic truth disdain, 
 And blunder on mechanically vain. 
 Some too there are, within whose languid breasts 
 A lifeless heap of embryo knowledge rests, 
 When nor the pencil feels their drowzy art, 
 Nor the skill'd hand explains the meaning heart. 
 In chains of sloth such talents droop confin'd : 
 'Twas not by words Apelles charm'd mankind. 
 
 Hear then the Muse ; tho' perfect beauty towers 
 Above the reach of her descriptive powers, 
 Yet will she strive some leading rules to draw 
 From sovereign Nature's universal law ; 
 Stretch her wide view o'er ancient Art's domain, B 
 Again establish reason's legal reign, 
 
 Nam quamcumque modo servili haud sufficit ipsam 
 Naturam exprimere ad vivum : sed ut arbiter artis, 
 Seliget ex ilia tantum pulcherrima Pictor ; 
 Quodque minus pulchrum, aut mendosum, corriget ipse 
 Marte suo, formse Veneres captando fugaces. 
 
 {d) Utque manus grandi nil nomine practica dignum 
 Assequitur, primum arcanse quam deficit artis 
 Lumen, et in prseceps abitura ut cseca vagatur ; 
 Sic nihil ars opera manuum privata supremum 
 Exequitur, sed languet iners uti vincta lacertos f 
 Dispositumque typum non lingua pinxit Apelles. 
 
 Ergo licet tota normam haud possimus in arte 
 Ponere, (cum nequeant quae sunt pulcherrima dici,) 
 Nitimur hsec paucis, scrutati summa magistrse 
 Dogmata Natura3, artisque exemplaria prima 
 Altius intuiti ; sic mens habilisque faculta 
 
 (c) II. Of Theory and Practice. 
 
 (d) II. De Speculatione et Praxi. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 237 
 
 Genius again correct with science sage, 
 And curb luxuriant fancy's headlong rage. 
 " Eight ever reigns its stated bounds between, 
 " And taste, like morals, loves the golden mean/' 
 
 (e) Some lofty theme let judgment first supply. 
 Supremely fraught with grace and majesty ; 
 For fancy copious, free to every charm 
 That lines can circumscribe or colours warm ; 
 Still happier, if that artful theme dispense 
 A poignant moral and instructive sense, 
 
 (/) Then let the virgin canvas smooth expand, 
 To claim the sketch and tempt the Artist's hand ; 
 Then, bold Invention, all the powers diffuse, 
 Of all thy sisters thou the noblest Muse : 
 Thee every art, thee every grace inspires, 
 Thee Phoebus fills with all his brightest fires. 
 
 (g) Choose such judicious force of shade and light 
 As suits the theme, and satisfies the sight ; 
 Weigh part with part, and with prophetic eye 
 The future power of all thy tints descry ; 
 And those, those only on the canvas place, 
 Whose hues are social, whose effect is grace. 
 
 Indolis excoliter, Geniumque Scientia complet ; 
 Luxuriansque in monstra furor compescitur &rte. 
 u Est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines, 
 *' Quos ultra citraque nequit consistere rectum." 
 
 (h) His positis, erit optandum theraa, nobile, pulchruiiij 
 Qnodque venustatum, circa formam atque colorem, 
 Sponte capax, amplam emeritae mox praebeat Arti 
 Materiam, retegens aliquid salis et documenti. 
 
 (i) Tandem opus aggredior ; primoque occurrit in albo 
 Disponenda typi, concepta potente Minerva, 
 
 Machina, quae nostris Inventio dicitur oris 
 Ilia quidem prius ingenuis instructa sororum 
 Artibus Aonidum, et Phcebi sublimior sestu. 
 
 (k) Quserendasque inter posituras, luminis, umbrae, 
 Atque futurorum jam prassentire colorum 
 Par erit harmoniam, captando ab utrisque venustum. 
 
 (e) III. Of the Subject. 
 
 (f) Invention the first part 
 
 of painting. 
 
 (g) IV. Disposition or eco- 
 nomy of the whole. 
 
 (h) III. De Argumento. 
 
 (i) Inventio prima Picturae 
 
 pars. 
 
 (k) IV. Dispositio, sive 
 
 operis totius osconomia. 
 
238 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 (I) Vivid and faithful to the historic page, 
 Express the customs, manners, forms, and age ; 
 (m) Nor paint conspicuous on the foremost plain 
 Whate'er is false, impertinent, or vain ; 
 But like the Tragic Muse, thy lustre throw, 
 Where the chief action claims its warmest glow. 
 This rare, this arduous task no rules can teach, 
 No skill'd preceptor point, no practice reach ; 
 'Tis taste, 'tis genius, 'tis the heav'nly ray 
 Prometheus ravish'd from the car of day. 
 
 In Egypt first the infant art appear'd, 
 Rude and unform'd ; but when to Greece she steer'd 
 Her prosperous course, fair Fancy met the Maid. 
 Wit, Reason, Judgment, lent their powerful aid ; 
 Till all complete the gradual wonder shone, 
 And vanquish'd Nature own'd herself outdone. 
 
 'Twas there the Goddess fix'd her blest abodes, 
 There reign'd in Corinth, Athens, Sicyon, Rhodes, 
 Her various vot'ries various talents crown'd : 
 
 (n) Sit thematis genuina ac viva expressio juxta 
 Textum antiquornm, propriis cum tempore formis. 
 
 (o) Nec quod inane, nihil facit ad rem, sive videtur 
 Improprium, minime'que urgens, potiora tenebit 
 Ornamenta operis ; Tragicse sed lege sororis, 
 Summa ubi res agitur, vis summa requiritur Artis. 
 Ista labore gravi, studio, monitisque magistri 
 Ardua pars nequit addisci : rarissima namque, 
 Ni prius setliereo rapuit quod ab axe Prometheus 
 Sit jubar infusum menti cum flamine vitae. 
 Mortali haud cuivis divina hsec munera dantur ; 
 Non uti Dsedaleam licet omnibus ire Corinthum. 
 
 /Egypto informis quondam pictura reperta 
 Grsecorum studiis, et mentis acumine crevit ; 
 Egregiis tandem illustrata et adulta magistris, 
 Naturam visa est miro superare labore. 
 
 Quos inter, Graphidos Gymnasia prima fuere 
 Portus Athenarum, Sicyon, Rhodes, atque Corinthus, 
 Disparia inter se modicum ratione laboris ; 
 
 (l) V. The Subject to be («) V. Fidelitas Argument!. 
 
 treated faithfully. 
 («/) VI. Every foreign orna- (o) VI. Inane rejiciendum. 
 
 ment to be rejected. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 239 
 
 Yet each alike her inspiration own'd : 
 Witness those marble miracles of grace, 
 Those tests of symmetry where still we trace 
 All art's perfection : With reluctant gaze 
 To these the genius of succeeding days 
 Looks dazzled up, and, as the glories spread, 
 Hides in his mantle his diminish'd head. 
 
 (p) Learn then from Greece, ye youths, Proportion's law, 
 Inform'd by her, each j ust Position draw ; 
 Skilful to range each large unequal part, 
 With varied motion and contrasted art : 
 Full in the front the nobler limbs to place, 
 And poise each figure on its central base, 
 
 But chief from her that flowing outline take. 
 Which floats, in wavy windings, like the snake, 
 Or lambent flame ; which, ample, broad, and long, 
 Eeliev'd not swell'd, at once both light and strong, 
 Glides thro' the graceful whole. Her art divine 
 Cuts not, in parts minute, the tame design. 
 But by a few bold strokes, distinct and free, 
 Calls forth the charms of perfect symmetry. 
 True to anatomy, more true to grace ; 
 She bids each muscle know its native place : 
 Bids small from great in just gradation rise, 
 
 Ut patet ex veterum Statuis, formse atque decoris 
 Archetypis ; queis posterior nil protulit setas 
 Condignum, et non inferius longe, arte modoque. 
 
 (q) Horum igitur vera ad normam positura legetur : 
 Grandia, insequalis, formosaque partibus amplis 
 Anteriora dabit membra, in contraria motu 
 Diverso, variata, suo librataqe centro ; 
 Membrorumque sinus ignis flammantis ad instar, 
 Serpenti undantes flexu; sed lsevi, plana, 
 Magnaque signa, quasi sine tubere subdita tactu, 
 Ex longo deducta fluant, non secta minutim. 
 Insertisque toris sint nota ligamina, juxta 
 Compagem anatomes, et membrificatio Gra?co. 
 Deformana modo, paucisque expressa lacertis, 
 Qualis, apud veteres ; totoque Eurythmia partes 
 Componat ; genitumque suo generante sequenti 
 
 {p) VII. Design or Position, (q) VII. Graphis seu Posi- 
 tive second part of Painting. tura secunda Picturse pars. 
 
240 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 And, at one visual point, approach the eyes, 
 
 Yet deem not, youths, that perspective can give 
 Those charms complete by which your works shall live ; 
 What tho' her rules may to your hand impart 
 A quick mechanic substitute for art, 
 Yet formal, geometric shapes she draws; 
 Hence the true Genius scorns her rigid laws ; 
 By Nature taught he strikes th' unerring lines, 
 Consults his eye, and as he sees designs. 
 
 (r) Man's changeful race, the sport of chance and time, 
 Varies no less in aspect than in clime ; 
 Mark well the difference, and let each be seen 
 Of various age, complexion, hair, and mien. 
 
 (s) Yet to each separate form adapt with care 
 Such limbs, such robes, such attitude and air, 
 As best befit the head, and best combine 
 To make one whole, one uniform design : 
 (t) Learn action from the dumb ; the dumb shall teach 
 How happiest to supply the want of speech. 
 
 (a) Fair in the front, in all the blaze of light, 
 The Hero of thy peace should meet the sight, 
 
 Sit minus, et puncto videantur cuncta sub uno, 
 
 Regula certa licet nequeat prospectica dici, 
 Aut complimentum graphidos ; sed in arte juvanem, 
 Et modus accelerans operandi : at corpora falso 
 Sub visu in multis referens, mendosa labascit : 
 Nam Geometralem nunquam sunt corpora juxta 
 Mensuram depicta oculis, sed qualia visa. 
 
 {v) Non eadem formse species, non omnibus setas 
 iEqualis, similesque color, crinesque figuris : 
 Nam, variis velut orta plagis, gens dispare vultu est. 
 
 (w) Singula membra, suo capiti conformia, fiant 
 Unum idemque simul corpus cum vestibus ipsis : 
 (x) Mutorumque silens positura imitabiter actus, 
 
 (y) Prima figurarum : seu princeps dramatis, ultrd 
 Prosiliat media in tabula, sub lumine primo 
 
 (r) VIII. Variety in the Figures. (v) VIII. Varietas in Figuris. 
 
 (s) IX. Conformity of the Limbs (w) IX. Figura sit una membris et vestibus. 
 
 and Drapery to the Head. 
 
 (t) X. Action of the Mutes to be imitated. (.r) X. Mutorum actiones imitandse. 
 
 u) XI. The principal Figure. (y) XI. Figura princeps. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 241 
 
 Supreme in beauty : lavish here thine art, 
 
 And bid him boldly from the canvas start : 
 
 (z) While round that sov'reign form th' inferior train 
 
 In groups collected fill the pictur'd plain ; 
 
 Fill, but not crowd ■ for oft some open space 
 
 Must part their ranks and leave a vacant place, 
 
 Lest artlessly dispers'd the sever'd crew 
 
 At random rush on our bewilder'd view ; 
 
 Or parts with parts, in thick confusion bound, 
 
 Spread a tumultuous chaos o'er the ground. 
 
 (a) In every figur'd group the judging eye 
 Demands the charms of contrariety ; 
 
 In forms, in attitudes, expects to trace 
 Distinct inflections, and contrasted grace, 
 Where art diversely leads each changeful line, 
 Opposes, breaks, divides the whole design : 
 Thus, when the rest in front their charms display 
 Let one with face averted turn away ; 
 Shoulders oppose to breasts, and left to right, 
 With parts that meet and parts that shun the sight 
 This rule in practice uniformly true 
 Extends alike to many forms or few. 
 
 (b) Yet keep thro' all the piece a perfect poize : 
 If here in frequent troops the figures rise, 
 
 Pulchrier ante alias, reliquis nec operta figuris. 
 
 (c) Agglomerata simul sint membra, ipsseque figures 
 Stipenter, ciscumque globos locus usque vacabit ; 
 
 Ne, male dispersis dum visus ubique figuris 
 Dividitur, unctisque operis fervente tumultu 
 Partibus implicitis, crepitans confusio surgat. 
 
 (d) Inque figurarum cumulis non omnibus idem 
 Corporis inflexus, motusque ; vel artubus omnes 
 Conversis pariter non connitantur eodem ; 
 
 Sed qusedam in diversa trahant contraria membra, 
 Tranverseque aliis pugnent, et csetera frangant. 
 Pluribus adversis ayersam oppone figuram, 
 Pectoribusque humeros, et dextera membra sinistris, 
 Seu multis constabit opus, paucisve figuris. 
 
 (e) Altera pars tabulae vacuo neu frigida campo 3 
 Aut deserta siet, dum pluribus altera formis 
 
 (z) XII. Groups of Figures. (c) XII. Figurarum globi seu cumuli. 
 
 <a) XIII. Diversity of Attitude iu Groups. (d) XIII. Positurarum diversitas. in cumulis. 
 
 (b) XIV, A Balance to be kept in the Picture, (e) XIV. Tabulae libramentum, 
 
 p 2 
 
212 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 There let some object tower with equal pride ; 
 And so arrange each correspondent side, 
 That, thro' the well-connected plan, appear 
 No cold vacuity, no desert drear. 
 
 (f) Say does the Poet glow with genuine rage, 
 Who crowds with pomp and noise his bustling stage ? 
 Devoid alike of taste that Painter deem, 
 
 Whose fluttering works with num'rous figures teem ; 
 
 A task so various how shall art fulfil, 
 
 When oft the simplest forms elude our skill ? 
 
 But, did the toil succeed, we still should lose 
 
 That solemn majesty, that soft repose, 
 
 Dear to the curious eye, and only found, 
 
 Where few fan- objects fill an ample ground. 
 
 Yet if some grand important theme demand 
 
 Of many needful forms a busy band, 
 
 Judgment will so the several groups unite, 
 
 That one compacted whole shall meet the sight. 
 
 (g) The joints in each extreme distinctly treat 
 Nor e'er conceal the outline of the feet ; 
 
 (h) The hands alike demand to be exprest 
 In half-shown figures rang'd behind the rest ; 
 
 Fervida mole sua supremam exsurgit ad oram. 
 Sed tibi sic positis respondeat utraque rebus, 
 Ut si aliquid sursum se parte attollat in una, 
 Sic aliquid parte ex alia consurgat, et ambas 
 ^Equiparet, geminas cumulando tequaliter oras. 
 
 (i) Pluribus implicitum personis drama supremo 
 In genere, ut rarum est, multis ita densa figuris 
 Rarior est tabula excellens ; vel adliuc fere nulla 
 Pra?stitit in multis, quod vix bene prsestat in una 
 Quippe solet rerum nimio dispersa tumultu, 
 Majestate carere gravi, requieque decora ; 
 Nec speciosa nitet, vacuo nisi libera campo. 
 Sed si opere in magno, plures thema grande requirat 
 Esse figurarum cumulos, spectabitur una 
 Machina tota rei ; non singula quseque seorsim. 
 
 (fc) PrpGcipua extremis raro internodia membris 
 Abdita sint ; sed summa pedum vestigia nunquam. 
 (I) Gratia nulla manet, motusque, vigorque figuras 
 Retra aliis subter majori ex parte latentes. 
 
 ( /') XV. Of the Number of Figures. 
 (.7) XVI. The Joints of the Feet. 
 (h) XVII. The motion of the Hands with 
 the H< ad. 
 
 (>) XV. Numerus Figurarum. 
 (k) XVI. Internodia et Pedes. 
 (/) XVII. Motus manuum motui capitis 
 jungendus. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 2i3 
 
 Nor can such forms with force or beauty shine, 
 Save when the head and hands in action join. 
 
 (m) Each air constrain'd and forc'd, each gesture rude, 
 Whate'er contracts or cramps the attitude, 
 With scorn discard. When squares or angles join, 
 When flows in tedious parallel the line, 
 Acute, obtuse, whene'er the shapes appear, 
 Or take a formal geometric air, 
 These all displease, and the disgusted eye 
 Nauseates the tame and irksome symmetry. 
 Mark then our former rule ; * with contrast strong 
 And mode transverse the leading lines prolong ; 
 For these in each design, if well exprest, 
 Give value, force, and lustre to the rest. 
 
 (n) Nor yet to nature such strict homage pay, 
 As not to quit when genius leads the way ; 
 Nor yet tho' genius all his succour sends, 
 Her mimic powers tho' ready memory lends, 
 Presume from nature wholly to depart, 
 For nature is the arbi tress of art. 
 In Error's grove ten thousand thickets spread, 
 Ten thousand devious paths our steps mislead; 
 
 Ni capitis motum manibus comitentur agendo. 
 
 (o) Difficiles fugito aspectus, contractaque visu 
 Membra sub ingrato, motusque, setusque coactos ; 
 Quodque refert signis, rectos quodammodo tractus, 
 Sive parallelos plures simul, et vel acutas, 
 Vel geometrales (ut quadra, triangula formas ; 
 Ingratamque pari signorum ex ordine quandam 
 Symmetriam : sed prsecipua in contraria semper 
 Signa volunt duci transversa, ut diximis ante * 
 Summa igitur ratio signorum habeatur in omni 
 Composito ; dat enim reliquis pretium, atque vigorem. 
 
 (p) Non ita naturae astanti sis cuique revinctus, 
 Hanc praeter nihil ut genio studioque relinquas ; 
 Nec sine teste rei natura, artisque magistra, 
 Quidlibet ingenio, memor ut tantummodo rerum, 
 Pingere posse putes errorum est plurima sylva, 
 
 (m) XVIII. What things are to be avoided (o) XVIII. Quae fugienda in distributione 
 in the distribution of the Piece. et compositione. 
 
 * Page 43, Rule xiii. 
 
 (n) XIX. Nature to be accommodated to (p) XIX. Natura genio accommodanda. 
 Genius. 
 
214 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 'Mid curves, that vary in perpetual twine, 
 Truth owns but one direct and perfect line. 
 
 (q) Spread then her genuine charms o'er all the piece, 
 Sublime and perfect as they glow'd in Greece. 
 Those genuine charms to seize, with zeal explore 
 The vases, medals, statues, form'd of yore, 
 Relievos high that swell the column's stem, 
 Speak from the marble, sparkle from the gem ; 
 Hence all-majestic on th' expanding soul, 
 In copious tide the bright ideas roll ; 
 Fill it with radiant forms unknown before, 
 Forms such as demigods and heroes wore r 
 Here pause and pity our enervate days, 
 Hopeless to rival their transcendent praise. 
 
 (r) Peculiar toil on single forms bestow, 
 There let expression lend its finished glow ; 
 There each variety of tint unite 
 With the full harmony of shade and light. 
 
 (s) Free o'er the limbs the flowing vesture cast. 
 The light broad folds with grace majestic placed ; 
 And as each figure turns a different way, 
 Give the large plaits their corresponding play 
 
 Multiplicesque viae, bene agendi terminus unus, 
 Linea recta velut sola est, et mille recurvse. 
 
 (t) Sed juxta antiques naturam imitabere pulcbram, 
 Q,ualem forma rei propria, objectumque requirit. 
 Non te igitur lateant antiqua numismata, gemmae, 
 Vassa, typi, statuse, eselataque mar mora signis, 
 Quodque refert specie veterum post ssecula mentem j 
 Splendidior quippe ex illis assurgit imago, 
 Magnaque se rerum facies aperit meditanti : 
 Tunc nostri tenuem saecli miserebere sortem, 
 Cum spes nulla siet rediturse sequalis in sevum, 
 
 (u) Exquisita siet forma, dum sola figura 
 Pingitur ; et multis variata coloribus esto. 
 
 (w) Lati, amplique sinus pannorum, et nobilis ordo 
 Membra sequens, subter latitantia lumine et umbra 
 Exprimet ; ille licet transversus S83pe feratur, 
 Et circumfusos pannorum porrigat extra 
 Membra sinus, non contiguos, ipsisque figurse 
 
 (q) XX. The Antique the Model to be copied. 
 
 (r) XXI. How to paint a single Figure, 
 (s) XXII. Of Drapery. 
 
 (<) XX. Signa antiqua Naturae modum 
 
 constituunt. 
 {it) XXI. Sola Figura quomodo tvactanda. 
 (it-) XXII. Quid in Pannis observandum. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 245 
 
 Yet devious oft and swelling from the part, 
 The flowing robe with ease should seem to start ; 
 Not on the form in stiff adhesion laid, 
 But well reliev'd by gentle light and shade. 
 
 Where'er a flat vacuity is seen, 
 There let some shadowy bending intervene, 
 Above, below, to lead its varied line, 
 As best may teach the distant folds to join ; 
 And as the limbs by few bold strokes exprest 
 Excel in beauty, so the liberal vest 
 In large, distinct, unwrinkled folds should fly, 
 Beauty's best handmaid is simplicity. 
 
 To different ranks adapt their proper robe ; 
 With ample pall let monarchs sweep the globe ; 
 In garb succinct and coarse array the swain ; 
 In light and silken veils the virgin train. 
 
 Where in black shade the deeper hollow lies, 
 Assisting art some midway fold supplies, 
 That gently meets the light, and gently spreads 
 To break the hardness of opposing shades. 
 
 (x) Each nobler symbol classic Sages use, 
 To mark a virtue, or adorn a Muse. 
 Ensigns of war, of peace, or rites divine, 
 These in thy work with dignity may shine; 
 
 Partibus impressos, quasi pannus adhaereat illis ; 
 Sed modice expressos cum luniine servet et umbris : 
 Quasque intermissis passim sunt dissita vanis, 
 Copulet, inductis subtdrve, superve lacernis. 
 Et membra, ut magnis, paucisque expressa lacertis, 
 Majestate aliis praestant, forma, atque decore : 
 Haud secus in pannis, quos supra optavimus amplos, 
 Prepaucos sinuum flexus, rugasque, striasque, 
 Membra super, versu faciles, inducere prsestat. 
 
 Naturseque rei proprius sit pannus, abundans 
 Patriciis; succinctus erit, crassusque bubulcis, 
 Mancipiisque ; levis, teneris, gracilisque puellis. 
 
 Inque cavis maculisque umbrarum aliquando tumescet, 
 Lumen ut excipiens, operis qua massa requirit, 
 Latius extendat, sublatisque aggreget umbris. 
 
 (y) Nobilia arma juvant Virtutum ornantque figuras, 
 Qualia Musarum, Belli, cultusque Deorum. 
 
 (x) XXIII. Of Picturesque Ornament. 
 
 (y) XXIII. Tabula; Ornamentum 
 
246 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 (z) But sparingly thy earth-bom stores unfold, 
 Nor load with gems, nor lace with tawdry gold ; 
 Rare things alone are dear in custom's eye, 
 They lose their value as they multiply. 
 
 (a) Of absent forms the features to define, 
 Prepare a model to direct thy line ; 
 
 (b) Each garb, each custom, with precision trace, 
 Unite in strict decorum time with place ; 
 
 (c) And emulous alone of genuine fame, 
 Be Grace, be Majesty thy constant aim, 
 That Majesty, that Grace so rarely given 
 
 To mortal man, nor taught by art but Heaven. 
 
 (d) In all to sage propriety attend, 
 
 Nor sink the clouds, nor bid the waves ascend ; 
 Lift not the mansions drear of hell or night 
 Above the thunderer's lofty arch of light ; 
 Nor build the column on an osier base ; 
 But let each object know its native place. 
 
 (e) Thy last, thy noblest task remains untold, 
 Passion to paint, and sentiment unfold ; 
 
 Yet how these motions of the mind display ! 
 Can colours catch them, or can lines pourtray ? 
 Who shall our pigmy pencils arm with might 
 
 (/) Nec sit opus minium gemmis auroque refertum; 
 Rara etenim magno in pretio, sed plurima vili. 
 
 (g) Quse deinde ex vero nequeant prsosente videri, 
 Prototypum prius illorum formare juvabit. 
 
 (h) Conveniat locus, at que habitus; ritusque decusque 
 (i) Servetur : Sit nobilitas, Charitumque venustas, 
 (Rarum homini munus, Coelo, non arte petendum.) 
 
 Naturae sit ubique tenor, ratioque sequenda. 
 (k) Non vicina pedum tabulata excelsa Tonantis 
 Astra domus depicta gerent, nubesque, notosque; 
 Nec mare depressum laquearia summa, vel Orcum; 
 Marmoreamque feret cannis vaga pergula molem; 
 Congrua sed propria semper statione locentur. 
 
 (I) Hsec pi'Eeter, motus animorum, et corde repostos 
 Exprimere affectus, paucisque coloribus ipsam 
 
 (z) XXIV. Ornament of gold and jewels. 
 
 (a) XXV. Of the Model. 
 
 (b) XXVI. Union of the piece. 
 
 (c) XXVII. Grace and Majesty. 
 
 (d) XXVIII. Every thing in its proper place. 
 (e) XXIX. The Passions. 
 
 (,/') XXIV. Ornamentum Auri et Gemmarum. 
 
 (g) XXV. Prototypus. 
 
 (h) XXVI, Convenientia rerum cum Scena, 
 
 (i) XXVII. Charitos et Nobilitas. 
 
 [k) XXVIII. Res qusepie locum suum teueat. 
 {1) XXIX. Aflfectus. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 247 
 
 To seize the soul, and force her into sight ? 
 Jove, Jove alone ; his highly favour'd few- 
 Alone can call such miracles to view. 
 
 But this to rhet'ric and the schools I leave, 
 Content from ancient lore one rule to give : 
 " By tedious toil no passions are exprest, 
 " His hand who feels them strongest paints them best." 
 
 (m) Yet shall the muse with all her force proscribe 
 Of base and barbarous forms that gothic tribe, 
 Which sprung to birth, what time, thro' lust of sway, 
 Imperial Latium bade the world obey : 
 Fierce from the north the headlong demons flew, 
 The wreaths of Science wither'd at their view ; 
 Plagues were their harbingers, and war accurst, 
 And luxury, of every fiend the worst ; 
 Then did each Muse behold her triumphs fade, 
 Then pensive Painting droop'd the languished head ; 
 And sorrowing Sculpture, while the ruthless flame 
 Involv'd each trophy of her sister's fame, 
 Fled to sepulchral cells her own to save, 
 And lurk'd a patient inmate of the grave. 
 Meanwhile beneath the frown of angry Heaven 
 Unworthy every boon its smile had given. 
 Involv'd in error's cloud, and scorn'd of light, 
 The guilty Empire sunk. Then horrid Night, 
 
 Pingere posse animam, atque oculis prsebere videndam, 
 " Hoc opus, hie labor est. Pauci, quos cequus amavit 
 " Jupiter, aut ardens avexit ad osthera virtus, 
 " Dis similes potuere " manu miracula tanta. 
 
 Hos ego rhetoribus tractandos desero ; tantum 
 Egregii antiquum memorabo sophisma magistri : 
 " Verius affectus animi vigor exprimit ardens, 
 " Soliciti nimium quam sedula cura laboris." 
 
 (n) Denique nil sapiat Gothorum barbara trito 
 Ornamenta modo, sseclorum et monstra malorum ; 
 Qneis ubi bella, famem, et pestem, discordia, luxus, 
 Et Romanorura res grandior intulit orbi, 
 Ingenuse periere arfces, periere suberbse 
 Artificum moles ; sua tunc miracula vidit 
 Ignibus absumi Pictura, latere coacta 
 Fornicibus, sortem et reliquam confidere cryptis ; 
 Marmoribusque diu Sculptura jacere sepultis. 
 Imperium interea, scelerum gravitate fatiscens, 
 
 (m) XXX Gothic Ornament to be avoided. 
 
 («) XXX. Gothorum Ornamenta fugienda. 
 
248 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 And Dulness drear their murky vigils kept, 
 
 In savage gloom the impious Ages slept, 
 
 Till Genius, starting from his rugged bed, 
 
 Full late awoke, the ceaseless tear to shed 
 
 For Perish'd art ; for those celestial hues, 
 
 Which Zeuxis, aided by the Attic Muse, 
 
 (o) Gave to the wond'ring eye : She bade his name, 
 
 "With thine, Apelles, gild the lists of fame ; 
 
 With thine to colouring's brightest glories soar, 
 
 The Gods applaud him, and the world adore. 
 
 Alas ! how lost those magic mixtures all ! 
 No hues of this now animate the wall ; 
 How then shall modern art those hues apply, 
 How give design its finish'd dignity? 
 Return fair Colouring ! all thy lures prepare, 
 Each safe deception, every honest snare, 
 Which brings new lovers to thy sister's train, 
 Skilful at once to charm, and to retain. 
 Come, faithful Siren ! chaste seducer ! say, 
 What laws control thee, and what powers obey. 
 Know first, that light displays and shade destroys 
 Refulgent Nature's variegated dyes. 
 
 Horrida nox totum invasit, donoque superni 
 
 Luminis indignum, errorum caligine mersit, 
 
 Impiaque ignaris damnavit ssecla tenebris. 
 
 Unde coloratum Graiis hue usque magistris 
 
 Nil superest tantorum liominum, quod mente modoque, 
 
 Nostrates juvet artifices deceatque laborem ; 
 
 (p) Nec qui Chromatices nobis, hoc tempore, partes 
 
 Restituat, quales Zeuxis tractaverat olim 
 
 Hujus quando maga velut arte sequavit Apellem 
 
 Pictorum archigraphum, meruitque coloribus altam 
 
 Nominis seterni famam, toto orbe sonantem. 
 
 Hsec quidem ut in tabulis fallax, sed grata venustas, 
 
 Et complementum graphidos, mirabile visu, 
 
 Pulchra vocabatur, sed subdola, lena sororis : 
 
 Non tamen hoc lenocinium, fucusque, dolusque 
 
 Dedecori fuit unquam ; illi sed semper honori, 
 
 Laudibus et meretis ; banc ergo nosse juvabit. 
 
 Lux varium, vivumque dabit, nullum umbra, colorem. 
 
 (o) Colouring the third 
 Part of Painting, 
 
 (p) Chromatices tertia Pars 
 Picturae 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 2-10 
 
 Thus bodies near the light distinctly shine 
 
 With rays direct, and as it fades decline. 
 
 Thus to the eye oppos'd with stronger light 
 
 They meet its orb, for distance dims the sight. 
 
 (q) Learn hence to paint the parts that meet the view 
 
 In spheric forms, of bright and equal hue ; 
 
 While, from the light receding or the eye, 
 
 The sinking outlines take a fainter dye. 
 
 Lost and confus'd progressively they fade. 
 
 Not fall precipitate from light to shade. 
 
 This nature dictates, and this taste pursues, 
 
 Studious in gradual gloom her lights to lose; 
 
 The various whole with soft'ning tints to fill, 
 
 As if one single head employ'd her skill. 
 
 Thus if bold fancy plan some proud design, 
 
 Where many various groups divide or join, 
 
 (Tho' sure from more than there confusion springs,} 
 
 One globe of light and shade o'er all she flings; 
 
 Yet skill'd the separate masses to dispose, 
 
 Where'er, in front, the fuller radiance glows, 
 
 Behind, a calm reposing gloom she spreads, 
 
 Relieving shades with light, and light with shades. 
 
 And as the centre of some convex glass, 
 
 Quo magis adversum est corpus, lucique propinquum. 
 Clarius est lumen ; nam debilitatur eundo. 
 Q,uo magis est corpus directum, oculisque propinquum, 
 Conspicitur melius ; nam visus hebescit eundo. 
 (r) Ergo in corporifous, quae visa adversa, rotundis, 
 Integra sunt, extrenia abscedant perdita signis 
 Confusis, non prsecipiti labentur in umbram 
 Clara gradu, nec adumbrata in clara alta repente 
 Prorumpant ; sed irit sensim hinc atque inde meatus 
 Lucis et umbrarum ; capitisque unius ad instar, 
 Totum opus, ex multis quanquam sit partibus, unus 
 Luminis umbrarumque globus tantummodo Set, 
 Sive duas, vel tres ad summum, ubi grandius esset 
 Divisum pegma in partes statione remotas. 
 Sintque ita discreti inter se, ratione colorum, 
 Luminis, umbrarumque, antrorsum ut corpora clara 
 Obscura umbrarum requies spectanda relinquat ; 
 Claroque exiliant umbrata atque aspera campo. 
 
 (q) XXXI. The conduct of the Tints (r) XXXI. Tonorurn Luminum et 
 
 of Light, and Shadow, Umbrarum ratio. 
 
 Q 2 
 
250 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 Draws to a point the congregated mass 
 
 Of dazzling rays, that, more than nature bright, 
 
 Reflect each image in an orb of light, 
 
 While from that point the scatter'd beams retire, 
 
 Sink to the verge, and there in shade expire; 
 
 So strongly near, so softly distant throw 
 
 On all thy rounded groups the circling glow. 
 
 As is the sculptor's, such the painter's aim, 
 Their labour different, but their end the same; 
 What from the marble the rude chissel breaks, 
 The softer pencil from the canvas takes : 
 And, skill'd remoter distances to keep, 
 Surrounds the outline pale in shadows deep ; 
 While on the front the sparkling lustre plays, 
 And meets the eye in full meridian blaze. 
 True colouring thus, in plastic power excels, 
 Fair to the visual point her forms she swells, 
 And lifts them from their flat aerial ground 
 Warm as the life, and as the statue round. 
 
 (s) In silver clouds in ether's blue domain, 
 Or the clear mirror of the wat'ry plain, 
 
 Ac veluti in speculis convexis, eminet ante 
 Asperior reipsa vigor, et vis aucta colorum 
 Partibus adversis ; magis et fuga rupta retrorsum 
 Illorum est, (ut visa minus vergentibus oris,) 
 Corporibus dabimus formas hoc more rotundas. 
 
 Mente modoque igitur plastes, et pictor, eodem 
 Dispositum tractabit opus ; quse sculptor in orbem 
 Atterit, hsec rupto procul abscedente colore 
 Assequitur pictor, fugientiaque ilia retrorsum 
 Jam signata minus confasa coloribus aufert : 
 Anteriora quidem directe adversa, colore 
 Integra vivaei, summo cum lumine et umbra 
 Antrorsum distincta refert, velut aspera visu ; 
 Sicque super planum inducit leucoma colores, 
 Hos velut ex ipsa natura immotus eodem 
 Intuitu circum statuas daret inde rotundas. 
 
 (t) Densa figurarum solidis quae corpora formis 
 Subdita sunt tactu, non translucent, sed opaca 
 In translucendi spatio ut super aera, nubes, 
 Limpida stagna undarum, et inania csetera debent 
 
 (s) XXXII, Den.se and opaque bodies with (/) XXXII. Corpora densa et opaca trans- 
 translucent ones, lucentibus. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 251 
 
 If chance some solid substance claim a place, 
 Firm and opaque amid the lucid space, 
 Rough let it swell and boldly meet the sight, 
 Mark'd with peculiar strength of shade and light ; 
 There blend each earthly tint of heaviest sort, 
 At once to give consistence and support, 
 While the bright wave, soft cloud, or azure sky, 
 Light and pellucid from that substance fly. 
 
 (v) Permit not two conspicuous lights to shine 
 With rival radiance in the same design ; 
 But yield to one alone the power to blaze 
 And spread the extensive vigour of its rays, 
 There where the noblest figures are displayed ; 
 Thence gild the distant parts, and lessening fade: 
 As fade the beams which Phoebus from the East 
 Flings vivid forth to light the distant West, 
 Gradual those vivid beams forget to shine, 
 So gradual let thy pictur'd lights decline. 
 
 The sculptor'd forms which some proud Circus grace. 
 In Parian marble or Corinthian brass, 
 Illumin'd thus, give to the gazing eye 
 Th' expressive head in radiant Majesty, 
 While to each lower limb the fainter ray 
 Lends only light to mark, but not display : 
 
 Asperiora illis prope circumstantibus esse ; 
 Ut distincta magis firmo cum lumine et umbra, 
 Et gravioribus ut sustenta coloribus, inter 
 Aerias species subsistant semper opaca : 
 Sed contra, procul abscedant prelucida densis, 
 Corporibus leviora ; uti nubes, aer, et undse. 
 
 (w) Non poterunt diversa locis duo lumina eadem 
 In tabula paria admitti, aut sequalia pingi : 
 Majus at in mediam lumen cadet usque tabellam 
 Latius infusum, primis qua summa figuris 
 Res agitur, circumque oras minuetur eundo i 
 Utque in progressu jubar attenuatur ab ortu 
 Solis, ad occasum paulatim, et cessat eundo; 
 Sic tabulis lumen, tota in compage colorum, 
 Primo a fonte, minus sensim declinat eundo. 
 
 Majus ut in statuis, per compita stantibus urbis, 
 Lumen habent partes superse, minus inferioris; 
 
 (v) XXXIII. There must not be two equal 
 Lights in the Picture. 
 
 (u>) XXXIII. Non duo ex ccelo Lumina in 
 tabulam sequalia. 
 
252 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 So let thy pencil fling its beams around, 
 
 Nor e'er with darker shades their force confound. 
 
 For shades too dark, dissever'd shapes will give, 
 
 And sink the parts their softness would relieve : 
 
 Then only well reliev'd, when like a veil 
 
 Round the full lights the wand'ring shadows steal ; 
 
 Then only justly spread, when to the sight 
 
 A breadth of shade pursues a breadth of light, 
 
 This charm to give, great Titian wisely made 
 
 The cluster'd grapes his rule of light and shade. 
 
 (a?) White, when it shines with unstain'd lustre clear 
 May bear an object back, or bring it near ; 
 Aided by black it to the front aspires, 
 That aid withdrawn it distantly retires ; 
 But black unmix'cl, of darkest midnight hue, 
 Still calls each object nearer to the view. 
 (y) Whate'er we spy thro' colour'd light or air, 
 A stain congenial on their surface bear, 
 While neighb'ring forms by joint reflection give 
 And mutual take the dyes that they receive. 
 (z) But where on both alike one equal light 
 Diffusive spreads, the blending tints unite 
 For breaking colours thus (the ancient phrase 
 By Artists used) fair Venice claims our praise : 
 
 Idem erit in tabulis; majorque nec umbra, vel ater 
 Membra figurarum intrabit color, atque secabit: 
 Corpora sed circum umbra cavis latitabit oberrans; 
 Atque ita quseretur lux opportuna figuris, 
 Ut late infusum lumen lata umbra sequatur. 
 Unde, nec immerito, fertur Titianus ubique 
 Lucis et umbrarum normam appellasse racemum. 
 
 (a) Purum album esse potest propriusque magisque remotum: 
 Cum nigro antevenit proprius ; fugit absqu remotum ; 
 Purum autem nigrum antrorsum venit usque propinquum. 
 Lux fucata suo tingit miscetque colore 
 Corpora, sicque suo, per quern lux funditur, aer. 
 
 (b) Corpora juncta simul, circumfusosque colores 
 Excipiunt, propriumque aliis radiosa reflectunt. 
 
 (c) Pluribus in solidis liquida sub luce propinquis, 
 Participes, mixtosque simul decet esse colores. 
 Hanc normam Veneti pictores rite sequuti, 
 (Quse fuit antiquis corruptio dicta colorum,) 
 
 (x) XXXIV. Of White and Black. 
 (i/) XXXV. The Reflection of Colours 
 (z) XXX VI. The Union of Colours. 
 
 (a) XXX I V. Album et Nigrum. 
 
 (b) XXXV. Colorum Reflectio. 
 
 (c) XXXVI. Unio Colorum. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 253 
 
 She, cautious to transgress so sage a rule, 
 Confin'd to soberest tints her learned school ; 
 For tho' she lov'd by varied mode to join 
 Tumultuous crowds in one immense design, 
 Yet there we ne'er condemn such hostile hues 
 As cut the parts or glaringly confuse ; 
 In tinsel trim no foppish form is drest. 
 Still flows in graceful unity the vest ; 
 And o'er that vest a kindred mantle spreads, 
 Unvaried but by power of lights and shades, 
 Which mildly mixing, ever}*- social dye, 
 Unites the whole in loveliest harmony. 
 
 (d) When small the space, or pure the ambient air, 
 Each foim is seen in bright precision clear ; 
 
 But if thick clouds that purity deface, 
 If far extend that intervening space, 
 There all confus'd the objects faintly rise, 
 As if prepar'd to vanish from our eyes. 
 
 (e) Give them each foremost part a touch so bright, 
 That, o'er the rest, its domineering light 
 
 May much prevail ; yet, relative in all, 
 Let greater parts advance before the small. 
 (/) Minuter forms, when distantly we trace, 
 
 Cum plures opere in magno posuere figuras, 
 Ne conjuncta simul variorum inimica colorum 
 Congeries formam implicitam, et concisa minutis 
 Membra daret pannis, totam unamquamque figuram 
 Affini, aut uno tantiim vestire colore, 
 Sunt soliti ; variando tonis tunicamque, togamque, 
 Carbaseosque sinus, yel amicum in lumine et umbra 
 Contiguis circum rebus sociando colorem. 
 
 (g) Qua minus est spatii ae'rei, aut qua purior aer, 
 Cuncta magis distincta patent, speciesque reservant : 
 Quaque magis densus nebulis, aut plurimus aer 
 
 (h) Amplum inter fuerit spatium porrectus, in auras 
 Confundet rerum species, et perdet inanes. 
 Anteriora magis semper finita, remotis 
 
 Incertis dominentur et abscedentibus, idque 
 More relativo, ut majora minoribus extent. 
 
 (i) Cuncta minuta procul massam densantur in unam ; 
 
 (tZ) XXXVII. Of the Interposition of Air. 
 (e) XXXVIII. The Relation of 
 
 Distances. 
 (J) XXXIX Of bodies which are 
 
 distanced. 
 
 (g) XXXVII Aer interpositus, 
 
 (h) XXXVIII. Distantiarum 
 
 Relatio. 
 
 (i) XXXIX. Corpora procul 
 
 distantia. 
 
254 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 Are mingled all in one compacted mass ; 
 Such the light leaves that clothe remoter woods, 
 And such the waves on wide extended floods. 
 (Jc) Let each contiguous part he firm allied, 
 Nor lahour less the separate to divide ; 
 Yet so divide that to th' approving eye 
 They "both at small and pleasing distance lie. 
 (Z) Forbid two hostile colours close to meet, 
 And win with middle tints their union sweet : 
 Yet varying all thy tones, let some aspire, 
 (m) Fiercely in front, some tenderly retire 
 (n) Vain is the hope by colouring to display 
 The bright effulgence of the noon-tide ray, 
 Or paint the full-orb'd Ruler of the skies 
 Wi th pencils dipp'd in dull terrestrial dyes : 
 But when mild Evening sheds her golden light; 
 When morn appears array'd in modest white ; 
 When soft suffusion of the vernal shower 
 Dims the pale sun ; or, at the thund 'ring hour, 
 When, wrapt in crimson clouds, he hides his head, 
 Then catch the glow and on the canvas spread, 
 (o) Bodies of polish'd or transparent tone, 
 Of metal, crystal, iv'ry, wood, or stone : 
 
 Ut folia arboribus sylvarum, et in aquore fluctus. 
 (p) Contigua inter se coeant, sed dissita distent, 
 Distabuntque tamen grato, et discrimine parvo. 
 {q) Extrema extremis contraria jungere noli ; 
 Sed medio sint usque gradu sociata col oris. 
 (r) Corporum erit tonus atque color variatus ubique ; 
 Q,userat amicitiam retro ; ferus emicet ante, 
 (s) Supremum in tabulis lumen captare diei, 
 Insanus labor artificum ; cum attingere tantum 
 Non pigmenta queant : auream sed vespere lucem, 
 Seu modicum mane albentem ; sive setheris actam 
 Post hyemen nimbis transfuso sole caducam ; 
 Seu nebulis fultam accipient, tonitruque rubentem, 
 (t) Lsevia quae lucent, veluti crystalla, metalla, 
 
 (k) XL. Of contiguous and separated 
 Bodies. 
 
 (I) XL I. Colours very opposite, to each 
 
 other never to be joined. 
 (w>) XL1I. Diversity of Tints and Colours. 
 (n) XL1II. The Choice of Light, 
 (o) XLIV. Of certain Things relating 
 
 to the practical part. 
 
 (p) XL. Contigua et Dissita. 
 
 {q) XLI, Contraria extrema fugienda. 
 
 (r) XL II. Tonus et Color varii. 
 
 (s) XLI 1 1. Luminis delectus. 
 
 (t) XLIV. Qusedam circa Praxani. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 255 
 
 And all whose rough unequal parts are rear'd, 
 
 The shaggy fleece, thick fur, or bristly beard ; 
 
 The liquid too ; the sadly melting eye, 
 
 The well-comb'd locks that wave with glossy dye ; 
 
 Plumage and silks ; a floating form that take, 
 
 Fair Nature's mirror, the extended lake ; 
 
 With what immers'd thro' its calm medium shines 
 
 By reflex light, or to its surface joins; 
 
 These first with thin and even shades pourtray, 
 
 Then, on their flatness strike th' enlivening ray, 
 
 Bright and distinct, — and last, with strict review, 
 
 Kestore to every form its outline true. 
 
 (v) By mellowing skill thy ground at distance cast, 
 Free as the air, and transient as its blast ; 
 There all thy liquid colours sweetly blend, 
 There all the treasures of thy palette spend, 
 And every form retiring to that ground 
 Of hue congenial to itself compound. 
 
 (w) The hand that colours well, must colour bright ; 
 Hope not that praise to gain by sickly white ; 
 (x) But amply heap in front each splendid dye, 
 Then thin and light withdraw them from the eye, 
 (y) Mix'd with that simple unity of shade, 
 As all were from one single palette spread. 
 
 Ligna, ossa, et lapides ; villosa, ut vellera, pelles, 
 Barbee, aqueique oculi, crines, holoserica, plumse ; 
 Et liquida, ut stagnans aqua, reflexseque sub undis 
 Corporese species, et aquis contermina cuncta, 
 Subter ad extremum liquide sint picta, superque 
 Luminibus percussa suis, signisque repostis. 
 
 (2) Area, vel campus tabulse vagus esto, levisque 
 
 Abscedat latus, liquideque bene unctus araicis 
 
 Tota ex mole coloribus, una sive patella; 
 
 QuEeque cadunt retro in campum, confinia campo. 
 (a) Vividus esto color, nimio non pallidus albo; 
 
 Adversisque locis ingestus plurimus, ardens : 
 
 Sed leviter parceque datus vergentibus oris. 
 (6) Cuncta labore simul coeant, velut umbra in eadem, 
 
 (c) Tota siet tabula ex una depicta patella. 
 
 ( v) XLV. The Field of the Picture. 
 
 (w) XLVI. Of the vivacity of colours. 
 
 (x) XLVII. Of Shadows. 
 
 (y) XL VIII. The picture to be of one piece. 
 
 (2) XLV. Campus Tabulae. 
 
 (a) XLVI. Color vividus non tamen pallidus. 
 
 (b) XLVII. Umbra. 
 
 (c) XLV III. Ex una patella sit tabula. 
 
256 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 (d) Much will the mirror teach, or evening grey, 
 When o'er some ample sjtace her twilight ray 
 Obscurely gleams ; hence art shall best perceive 
 On distant parts what fainter hues to give. 
 
 (e) Whate'er the form which our first glance commands, 
 Whether in front or in profile he stands, 
 Whether he rule the group, or singly reign, 
 Or shine at distance on some ample plain, 
 On that high-finish'd form let paint bestow 
 Her midnight shadow, her meridian glow. 
 
 (/) The portrait claims from imitative art 
 Resemblance close in each minuter part, 
 And this to give, the ready hand and eye 
 With playful skill the kindred features ply ; 
 From part to part alternately convey 
 The harmonizing gloom, the darting ray, 
 With tones so just, in such gradation thrown, 
 Adopting Nature owns the work her own. 
 
 (g) Say, is the piece thy hand prepares to trace 
 Ordain'd for nearer sight, or narrow space ? 
 Paint it of soft and amicable hue ; 
 But, if predestin'd to remoter view, 
 Thy strong unequal varied colours blend ; 
 And ample space to ample figures lend, 
 
 Multa ex natura speculum prasclara docebit; 
 (h) Qnasque procul sero spatiis spectantur in amplis, 
 
 (i) Dimidia effigies, quae sola, vel integra plures 
 Ante alias posita ad lucem, stat proxima visu, 
 Et latis spectando locis, oculisque remota, 
 Luminis umbrarumque gradu sit picta supremo. 
 
 (k) Partibus in minimis imitatio justa juvabit 
 Effigiem, alternas referendo tempore eodem 
 Consimiles partes, cum luminis atque coloris 
 Compositis, justisque tonis; tunc parta labore 
 Si facili et vegeto micat ardens, viva videtur. 
 
 (I) Visa loco angusto tenere pingantur, amico 
 Juncta colore, graduque; procul quae picta, feroci 
 Sint et insequali variata colore tonoque. 
 Grandia signa volunt spatia ampla, ferosque colores. 
 
 best master. 
 
 (c) L. A half figure or a whole one before others. 
 
 ( /') LI. A portrait. 
 
 [(/) LI I. The place of the picture. 
 
 (d) XLIX. The looking glass the painter's 
 
 (A) XLIX. Speculum Pictorum Magister. 
 (i) L. Dimidia Figura, vel integra, 
 
 ante alias. 
 
 (k) LI. Effigies. 
 
 {I) LII. Locus Tabular 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 257 
 
 (m) Where to broad lights the circumambient shade 
 
 In liquid play by labour just is laid; 
 
 (n) Alike with liveliest touch the forms pourtray, 
 
 Where the dim window half excludes the day ; 
 
 But, when expos'd in fuller light or air, 
 
 A brown and sober cast the group may bear. 
 
 (o) Fly every foe to elegance and grace, 
 Each yawning hollow, each divided space ; 
 Whate'er is trite, minute, abrupt, or dry, 
 Where light meets shade in flat equality; 
 Each theme fantastic, filthy, vile, or vain, 
 That gives the soul disgust, or senses pain ; 
 Monsters of barbarous birth, Chimeras drear, 
 That pall with ugliness, or awe with fear. 
 And all that chaos of sharp broken parts, 
 Where reigns confusion, or whence discord starts : 
 (p) Yet hear me, youths ! while zealous ye forsake 
 Detected faults, this friendly caution take, — 
 Shun all excess ; and with true wisdom deem, 
 That vice alike resides in each extreme. 
 (q) Know, if supreme perfection be your aim, 
 
 (r) Lumina lata, unctas simul undique copulet umbras 
 (s) Extremus labor. In tabulas deraissa fenestris 
 Si fuerit lux parva, color clarissimus esto : 
 Vividus at contra, obscurusque, in lumine aperto. 
 
 (t) Quae vacuis divisa cavis, vitare memento; 
 Trita, minuta, simul quae non stipata dehiscunt, 
 Barbara, cruda oculis, rugis fucata colorum; 
 Luminis umbrarumque tonis sequalia cuncta ; 
 Foeda, cruenta, cruces, obscoena, ingrata, chimeras, 
 Sordidaque et misera, et vel acuta, vel aspera tactu; 
 Q,uaeque dabunt formse, temere congesta, ruinam, 
 Implicitas aliis confundent mixtaque partes. 
 {■») Dumque fugis vitiosa, cave in contraria labi 
 Damna mali ; vitium extremis nam super inhasret. 
 (w) Pulchra gradu summo, graphidos stabilita vetustse 
 
 (m) LIIT. Large lights. 
 
 (n) LIV. The quantity of light and shade to 
 
 be adapted to the place of the picture. 
 (0} LV. Things which are disagreeable in 
 
 painting to be avoided. 
 \p) LVI. The prudential part of a Painter. 
 (q) LVIL The idea of a beautiful Picture. 
 
 (r) LIII. Lumina lata. 
 
 (s) LIV. Quantitas luminis loci in quo 
 
 tabula est exponenda. 
 (0 LV. Error es et Vitia Picturae. 
 
 (v) LVI, Prudentia in Pictore. 
 
 {>(■) LVII. Elegantium idoea Tabularurn. 
 
 R 2 
 
"8 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 If classic praise your pencil hope to claim, 
 Your noble outlines must be chaste, yet free, 
 Connected all with studied harmony : 
 Few in their parts, yet those distinct and great ; 
 Your Colouring boldly strong, yet softly sweet. 
 (x) Know, he that well begins has half achiev'd 
 His destiu'd work. Yet late shall be retriev'd 
 That time mispent, that labour worse than lost, 
 The young disciple, to his dearest cost, 
 Gives to a dull preceptor's tame designs ; 
 His tawdy colours, his erroneous lines, 
 Will to the soul that poison rank convey, 
 Which life's best length shall fail to purge away. 
 Yet let not your untutor'd childhood strive 
 Of Nature's living charms the sketch to give, 
 Till, skill'd her separate features to design, 
 You know each muscle's site, and how they join. 
 These while beneath some master's eye you trace, 
 Vers'd in the lore of symmetry and grace, 
 Boldly proceed : his precepts shall impart 
 Each sweet deception of the pleasing art : 
 Still more than precept shall his practice teach, 
 And add what self-reflection ne'er can reach. 
 
 Nobilibus signis, sunt grandia, dissita, pura, 
 Tersa, velut minime confusa, labore ligata, 
 Partibus ex magnis paucisque efficta, colorum 
 Corporibus distincta feris, sed semper amicis. 
 (y) Q,ui bene caspit, uti facti jam fertur habere 
 Dimidium ; picturam ita nil sub limine primo 
 Ingrediens, puer offendit damnosius arti, 
 Quam varia errorum genera, ignorante magistro, 
 Ex pravis libare typis, mentemque veneno 
 Inficere, in toto quod non abstergitur apvo. 
 Nec grapliidos rudis artis adhuc cito qualiacunque 
 Corpora viva super studium meditabitur, ante 
 Illorum quam symmetriam, internodia, formam 
 Noverit, inspectis, docto evolvente magistro, 
 Archetypis, dulcesque dolos praesenserit artis. 
 Plusque manu ante oculos quam voce docebitur usis. 
 
 (x) LVIII. Advice to a young Painter. 
 
 (y) LVIII. Pictor Tyro. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 259 
 
 (a) Oft, when alone, the studious hour employ 
 On what may aid your art, and what destroy ; 
 
 (b) Diversity of parts is sure to please, 
 If all the various parts unite with ease ; 
 As surely charms that voluntary style, 
 
 Which careless plays, and seems to mock at toil ; 
 For labour'd lines with cold exactness tire, 
 'Tis freedom only gives the force and fire 
 Etherial ; she, with alchymy divine, 
 Brightens each touch, ennobles every line ; 
 Yet pains and practice only can bestow 
 This facile power of hand, whose liberal flow 
 With grateful fraud its own exertions veils ; 
 He best employs his art who best conceals. 
 
 (c) This to obtain, let taste with judgment join' d 
 The future whole infix upon thy mind ; 
 
 Be there each line in truth ideal drawn, 
 Or ere a colour on the canvas dawn ; 
 Then as the work proceeds, that work submit 
 To sight instinctive, not to doubting wit ; 
 
 (d) The eye each obvious error swift descries, 
 Hold then the compass only in the eyes. 
 
 (e) Give to the dictates of the Leam'd respect, 
 
 (/) Quaere artem quaecunque juvant ; fuge quasque repugnant. 
 
 (g) Corpora diverse natura jimcta placebunt; 
 Sic ea quae facili contempta labore videntur: 
 iEthereus quippe ignis inest et spiritus illis; 
 Mente diu versata, manu celeranda repenti. 
 Arsque laborque operis grata sic fraude latebit : 
 Maxima deinde erit ars, nihil artis inesse videri. 
 
 (A) Nec prius inducas tabulae pigmenta colorum, 
 Expensi quam signa typi stabilita nitescant, 
 Et menti praasens operis sit pegma futuri. 
 
 (i) Prasvaleat sensus rationi, quae officit arti 
 Conspicuae; inque oculis tantummodo circinus esto. 
 
 (/c) Utere doctorum monitis, nec sperne suberbus 
 
 (a) LIX. Art must be subservient to the 
 Painter. 
 
 (b) LX. Diversity and Facility are pleasing. 
 
 (c) XL The Original must be in the Plead, 
 and the Copy on the Cloth 
 
 (d) LXII. The Compass to be in the Eyes, 
 (r) LXIII. Pride an enemy to good Painting. 
 
 (/) LIX. Ars debet servire Pictori,non 
 
 Pictor Arti. 
 (#) LX. Oculos recreant diversitaset operis 
 
 facilitas, quae speciatim Ars dicit. 
 (h) LXT. Archetypus in mente, Apographus 
 
 in tela. 
 
 (i) LXII. Cirsinus in Oculis. 
 
 (A) LXIII. Superbia Pictori nocet plurimum. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 Nor proudly untaught sentiments reject, 
 Severe to self alone : for self is blind, 
 And deems each merit in its offspring join'd: 
 Such fond delusion time can best remove, 
 Concealing for a while the child we love : 
 By absence then the eye impartial grown, 
 Will, tho' no friend assist, each error own ; 
 But these subdued, let thy determin'd mind 
 Veer not with every critic's veering wind, 
 Or e'er submit thy genius to the rules 
 Of prating fops, or self-important fools ; 
 Enough if from the Learn'd applause be won ; 
 Who doat on random praises, merit none. 
 
 (I) By Nature's sympathetic power, we see, 
 As is the parent, such the progeny : 
 Ev'n Artists, bound by their instinctive law, 
 In all their works their own resemblance draw : 
 Learn then " to know thyself ;" that precept sage 
 Shall best allay luxuriant Fancy's rage ; 
 Shall point how far indulgent Genius deigns 
 To aid her flight, and to what point restrains. 
 But as the blushing fruits, the breathing flowers, 
 Adorning Flora's and Pomona's bowers, 
 When forcing fires command their buds to swell, 
 Kefuse their dulcet taste, their balmy smell ; 
 So labour's vain extortion ne'er achieves 
 That grace supreme which willing genius gives, 
 
 Discere, quae de te fuerit sententia vulgi : 
 Est cebcus nam quisque suis in rebus, et expers 
 Judicii, prolemque suam miratur araatque. 
 Ast ubi consilium deerit sapientis amici, 
 Id tempus dabit, atque mora, intermissa labori. 
 Non facilis tamen ad nutus, et inania vulgi 
 Dicta, levis mutabis opus, geniumque relinques : 
 Nam qui parte sua sperat bene posse mereri 
 Multivaga de plebe, irecetsibi, nee placet ulli. 
 
 (m) Cumque opere in proprio soleat se pingere pictor, 
 (Prolem adeo sibi ferre parem natura suevit,) 
 Proderit imprimis pictori yvuGi liuvrov 
 Ut data quae genio colat, abstineatque negatis. 
 Fructibus utque suus nunquam est sapor, atque venustas 
 Floribus, insueto in fundo, prsecoce sub anni 
 
 (m) Nosce teipsum. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 261 
 
 (n) Thus tho' to pains and practice much we owe, 
 Tho' thence each line obtains its easy flow, 
 Yet let those pains, that practice, ne'er be join'd 
 To blunt the native vigour of the mind. 
 
 (o) When shines the morn, when in recruited course 
 The spirits flow, devote their active force 
 To every nicer part of thy design, 
 (p) But pass no idle day without a line: 
 (q) And wand'ring oft the crowded streets along, 
 The native gestures of the passing throng- 
 Attentive mark ; for many a casual grace, 
 Th' expressive lines of each impassion'd face 
 That bears its joys or sorrows undisguis'd, 
 May by observant taste be there surpris'd. 
 Thus, true to art, and zealous to excel, 
 Ponder on Nature's powers, and weigh them well ! 
 Explore thro' earth and heaven, thro' sea and skies, 
 The accidental graces as they rise ; 
 
 (r) And while each present form the fancy warms, 
 Swift on thy tablets fix its fleeting charms, 
 
 To temperance all our liveliest powers we owe, 
 She bids the judgment wake, the fancy flow; 
 
 (s) Tempore, quos cultus violentus et ignis adegit: 
 Sic nunquam, nimio quae sunt extorta labore, 
 Et picta invito genio, numquam ilia placebunt. 
 
 Vera super meditando, rnanus labor improbus adsit ; 
 Nec tamen obtundat genium, mentisque vigorem. 
 
 (t) Optima nostrorum pars matutina dierum, 
 Difficili hanc igitur potiorem impende labori. 
 
 (v) Nulla dies abeat, quin linea ducta supersit: 
 
 {id) Perque vias, vultus hominum, motusque notabis 
 Libertate sua proprios, positasque figuras 
 Ex sese faciles, ut inobservatus, habebis. 
 
 (x) Mox quodcumque mari, terris, et in aere pulchrum 
 Contigerit, chartis propera mandare paratis, 
 
 (m) LXV. Perpetually practice, and do easily 
 
 what you have conceived, 
 (o) LXVI. The Morning most proper for 
 
 work. 
 
 fpj LXVU. Every day do something. 
 
 (q) LXVIII. The method of catching natural 
 
 Passions. 
 (r) LXIX. Of the Table Book 
 
 (s) LXV. Quod mente conceperis manua 
 comproba. 
 
 (0 LXVI. Matutinum Tempus labori aptum. 
 
 (v) LXVII. Singulis diebus aliquid facien- 
 dum. 
 
 (w) LXVIII. Affectus inobservati et naturale. 
 (x) LXIX. Non desint pugillares. 
 
262 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING, 
 
 For her the Artist shuns the fuming feast, 
 The midnight roar, the Bacchanalian guest, 
 And seeks those softer opiates of the soul, 
 The social circle, the diluted bowl ; 
 , Crown' d with the freedom of a single life, 
 He flies domestic din, litigious strife ; 
 Abhors the noisy haunts of bustling trade, 
 And steals serene to solitude and shade ; 
 There calmly seated in his village bower, 
 He gives to noblest themes the studious hour, 
 While genius, practice, contemplation join 
 To warm his soul with energy divine ; 
 For paltry gold let pining misers sigh, 
 His soul invokes a nobler deity ; 
 Smit with the glorious avarice of fame, 
 He claims no less than an immortal name ; 
 Hence on his fancy just conception shines, 
 True judgment guides his hand, true taste refines; 
 Hence ceaseless toil, devotion to his art, 
 A docile temper, and a generous heart ; 
 Docile, his sage preceptor to obey, 
 Generous, his aid with gratitude to pay ; 
 Blest with the bloom of youth, the nerves of health, 
 And competence, a better boon than wealth. 
 
 Dum prsesens animo species tibi fervet hianti. 
 
 Non epulis nimis indulget Pictura, meroque 
 Parcit: Amieorum nisi cum sermone benigno 
 Exhaustam reparet mentem recreata ; sed inde 
 Litibus, et curis, in coelibe libera vita, 
 Secessus procul a turba, strepituque remotos, 
 Villarum, rurisque beata silentia quserit; 
 Namque recollecto, tota iucumbente Minerva, 
 Ingenio, rerum species prsesentior extat; 
 Commodiusque operis compagem amplectitur omnem. 
 
 Infami tibi non potior sit avare peculi 
 Cura, aurique fames, modica quam sorte beato, 
 Nominis seterni, et laudis pruritus habendse, 
 Condignse pulclirorum operum mercedis in sevum. 
 Judicium, docile ingenium, cor nobile, sensus 
 Sublimes, fir mum corpus, florensque juventa, 
 Commoda res, labor, artis amor, doctusque magister: 
 Et quamcumque voles occasio porrigat ansam, 
 Ni genius quidam adfuerit, sydusque benignum, 
 Dotibus his tantis, nec adhuc ars tanta paratur. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 263 
 
 Great blessings these ! yet will not these empower 
 His tints to charm at every labouring hour ; 
 All have their brilliant moments, when alone 
 They paint as if some star propitious shone. 
 Yet then, e'en then, the hand but ill conveys 
 The bolder grace that in the fancy plays : 
 Hence, candid critics, this sad truth confest 
 Accept what least is bad, and deem it best ; 
 Lament the soul in error's thraldom held, 
 Compare life's span with art's extensive field ; 
 Know that, ere perfect taste matures the mind, 
 Or perfect practice to that taste be join'd, 
 Comes age, comes sickness, com.es contracting pain, 
 And chills the warmth of youth in every vein. 
 
 Kise then, ye youths, while yet that warmth inspires, 
 While yet nor years impair, nor labour tires, 
 While health, while strength are yours, while that mild ray 
 Which shone auspicious on your natal day, 
 Conducts you to Minerva's peaceful quire, — 
 Sons of her choice, and shaiers of her fire, 
 Rise at the call of art ; expand your breast, 
 Capacious to receive the mighty guest, 
 While, free from prejudice, your active eye 
 Preserves its first unsullied purity ; 
 While new to beauty's charms, your eager soul 
 Drinks copious draughts of the delicious whole, 
 And memory on her soft, yet lasting page, 
 Stamps the fresh image which shall charm thro' age. 
 
 Distat ab ingenio longe maims. Optima doctis 
 Censentur, quae prava minus; latet omnibus error; 
 Vitaque tarn longae brevior non sufficit arti. 
 Desinimus nam posse senes, cum scire periti 
 lncipimus, doctamque manum gravat segra senectus; 
 Nec gelidis fervet juvenilis in artibus ardor. 
 
 Q,uare agite, O juvenes, placido quos sydere natos 
 Paciferse studia allectant tranquilla Minervse; 
 Quosque suo fovet igne, sibique optavit alumnos ! 
 Eja agite, atque animis ingentem ingentibus artem 
 Exercete alacres, dum strenua corda juventus 
 Viribus exstimulat vegetis, patiensque laborum est 
 Dum vacua errorum, nulloque imbuta sapore 
 Pura nitet mens, et rerum sitibunda novarum, 
 Prsesentes haurit species, atque humida servat ! 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING, 
 
 (a) When duly taught each geometric rule, 
 Approach with awful step the Grecian school, 
 The sculptur'd reliques of her skill survey, 
 Muse on by night, and imitate by clay ; 
 
 No rest, no pause, till, all her graces known, 
 A happy habit makes each grace your own. 
 
 As years advance, to modern masters come, 
 Gaze on their glories in majestic Home ; 
 Admire the proud productions of their skill, 
 Which Venice, Parma, and Bologna fill : 
 And, rightly led by our preceptive lore, 
 Their style, their colouring, part by part, explore, 
 See Raffaelle there his forms celestial trace, 
 Unrivall'd sovereign of the realms of grace; 
 See Angelo, with energy divine, 
 Sieze on the summit of correct design : 
 Learn how, at Julio's birth, the muses smil'd, 
 And in their mystic caverns nurs'd the child ; 
 How, by th' Aonian powers their smile bestow'd, 
 His pencil with poetic fervour giow'd ; 
 When faintly verse Apollo's charms convey'd, 
 He oped the shrine, and all the god display'd : 
 His triumphs more than mortal pomp adorns, 
 With more than mortal rage his battle burns ; 
 
 (b) In geometrali prius arte parumper adulti 
 Signa antiqua super Graioruin addiscite formam; 
 Nec mora, nec recquies, noctuque diuque labori, 
 Illorum raenti atque niodo, vos donee agendi 
 Praxis ab assiduo faciles assueverit usu. 
 
 Mox, ubi judicium emensis adoleverit annis, 
 Singula, quee celebrant primse exemplaria classis, 
 Romaui, Veneti, Parmenses, atque Bononi. 
 Partibus in cunctis pedetentirn, atque ordine recto, 
 Ut monitum supra est, vos expendisse juvabit. 
 
 Hos apud invenit Raphael miracula summo 
 Ducta modo, Veneresque habuit quas nemo deinceps, 
 Quidquid erat fornise scivit Bonarota potenter. 
 
 Julias a puero musorum eductus in antris, 
 Aonias reseravit opes, grapliicaque poesi, 
 Qua? non visa prius, sed tantum audita poetis, 
 Ante oculos spectanda debit sacraria Phoebi; 
 Quaeque coronatis complevit bella triumphis 
 
 («) I.XX. The Method of Studies for a young Painter. (b) Ordo Studiorum. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 265 
 
 His heroes, happy heirs of fav'ring fame, 
 
 More from his art than from their actions claim- 
 
 Bright, beyond all the rest, Correggio flings 
 His ample lights, and round them gently brings 
 The mingling shade. In all his works we view 
 Grandeur of style, and chastity of hue. 
 
 Yet higher still great Titian dar'd to soar, 
 He reach'd the loftiest heights of colouring's power ; 
 His friendly tints in happiest mixture flow, 
 His shades and lights their just gradations know; 
 His were those dear delusions of the art, 
 That round, relieve, inspirit every part ; 
 Hence deem'd divine, the world his merit own'd, 
 With riches loaded, and with honours crown'd. 
 
 From all their charms combin'd, with happy toil, 
 Did Annibal compose his wondrous style ; 
 O'er the fair fraud so close a veil is thrown, . 
 That every borrowed grace becomes his own. 
 
 (c) If then to praise like theirs your souls aspire, 
 Catch from their works a portion of their fire ; 
 Revolve their labours all, for all will teach, — 
 Their finish'd picture, and their slightest sketch, 
 Yet more than these to meditation's eyes 
 Great Nature's self redundantly supplies : 
 Her presence, best of models ! is the source 
 Wlisnce genius draws augmented power and force ; 
 Her precepts, best of teachers ! give the powers, 
 
 Herouni fortuna potens, casusque decoros, 
 Nobilius re ipsa antiqua pinxisse videtur. 
 
 Clarior ante alios Corregius extitit, ampla 
 Luce superfusa, circum coeuntibus umbris, 
 Pingendique modo grandi, et tractando colore 
 Corpora. Amicitiamque, gradusque, dolosque oolorum, 
 Compagemque ita disposuit Titianus ut hide 
 
 Divus sit dictus, magnis et honoribus auctus, 
 Fortuiueque bonis : Q,uos sedulus Hannibal omixes 
 In propriam mentem, atque modum mira arte coegit. 
 
 (d) Plurimus inde labor tabulas imitando juvabit 
 Egregias, operumque typos; sed plura docebit 
 Natura ante ocuios prsesens; nam finnat et auget 
 Vim genii, ex iilaque artem experientia complet. 
 
 (c) LXXI. Nature and Experience 
 perfect Art. 
 
 (d) LXXI. Natura ei Experientia Artem 
 peilioiunt. 
 
 s 2 
 
266 THE ART OF PAINTTNG. 
 
 Whence art, by practice to perfection soars. 
 
 These useful rules from time and chance to save 
 In Latian strains, the studious Fkesnqy gave : 
 On Tiber's peaceful banks the Poet lay, 
 What time the pride of Bourbon urg'd his way, 
 Thro' hostile camps, and crimson fields of slain, 
 To vindicate his race and vanquish Spain ; 
 High on the Alps he took his warrior stand, 
 And thence in ardent volley from his hand 
 His thunder darted ; ( so the flatterer sings 
 In strains best suited to the ear of kings J, 
 And like Alcides, with vindictive tread, 
 Crush'd the Hispanian lion's gasping head. 
 
 Mult a supersileo quce commentaria dice-tit. 
 
 Hsec ego, dum memoror subitura volubilis sevi 
 Cuncta vices, variisque olim pcritura minis, 
 Pauca sophismata sum graphica immortalibus ausos 
 Credere pieriis, Romse nieditatuss ad Alpes, 
 Dum super insauas moles, inimicaque castra 
 Borbonidum decus et yindex Lodoicus avorum, 
 Fulminat ardenti dextra, patriseque resurgens 
 Gallicus Alcides premit Hispani ora leonis. 
 
 But mark the proteus-policy of state : 
 Now, while his courtly numbers I translate, 
 The foes are friends, in social league they dare 
 On Britain to "let slip the Dogs of War." 
 Vain efforts all, which in disgrace shall end, 
 If Britain, truly to herself a friend, 
 Thro' all her realms bids civil discord cease, 
 And heals her Empire's wounds by arts of peace. 
 Rouse, then, fair freedom ! fan that holy flame, 
 From whence thy sons their dearest blessings claim ; 
 Still bid them feel that scorn of lawless sway, 
 Which interest cannot blind, nor power dismay : 
 So shall the throne, thou gav'st the Brunswick line, 
 Long by that race adorn'd, thy dread Paladium shine. 
 
 THE END. 
 
NOTES 
 
 ON THE 
 
 ART OF PAINTING 
 
ifg* The few Notes which the Translator has inserted, and which are 
 marked M, are merely critical, and relate only to the Author's text, or 
 his own version. 
 
N O T E S 
 
 ON THE 
 
 AET OF PADTTDTG-. 
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 Two Sister Muses, with alternate fire, &c. 
 
 M. Du Piles opens his annotations here, with much learned quotation from 
 Tertullian, Cicero, Ovid, and Suidas, in order to show the affinity between the 
 two arts. But it may perhaps be more pertinent to substitute in the place of it 
 all a single passage, by Plutarch ascribed to Simonides, and which our author, 
 after having quoted Horace, has literally translated: Za-^poctHtotu siuoci 
 <&0EITOMENHN mu Tloinaiv, ttoiykjiv fa 2im2AN tyiv ^aypetQtetu. 
 There is a Latin line somewhere to the same purpose, but I know not whether 
 ancient or modern : 
 
 Poema 
 
 Est Pictura loquens, mutum Pictura Poema. M, 
 
 NOTE II.— L. 13, P. 234. 
 
 Such powers, such praises, heav'n-born pair belong 
 To magic colouring, and persuasive song. 
 
 That is to say, they belong intrinsically and of right. Mr Wills, in the preface 
 to his version of our poet, first detected the false translations of Du Piles and 
 Dryden, which say, " so much have these divine arts been honoured : " in conse- 
 quence of which the Frenchman gives a note of four pages, enumerating the 
 instances in which painting and its Professors have been honoured by kings and 
 great men, ancient and modern. Fresnoy had not this in his idea : He says, 
 " tantus inest divis honor artibus atque potestas," which Wills justly and literally 
 translates, 
 
 Such powers, such honours, are in arts divine. M. 
 
^70 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 NOTE III.— L. 7, P. 235. 
 
 'Tis Painting's first chief business to explore 
 What lovelier forms in nature's boundless store, 
 Are best to art and ancient taste allied, 
 For ancient taste those forms has best applied. 
 
 The Poet, with great propriety, begins by declaring what is the chief business 
 of theory, and pronounces it to be a knowledge of what is beautiful in nature : 
 
 That form alone, where glows peculiar grace. 
 
 The genuine Painter condescends to trace. L. 9, P. 233. 
 
 There is an absolute necessity for the Painter to generalize his notions; to paint 
 particulars is not to paint nature, it is only to paint circumstances. When the 
 Artist has conceived in his imagination the image of perfect beauty, or the 
 abstract idea of forms, he may be said to be admitted into the great Council of 
 Nature, and to 
 
 Trace Beauty's beam to its eternal spring. 
 
 And pure to man the fire celestial bring. L. 19 s P. S33. 
 
 To facilitate the acquisition of this ideal beauty, the Artist is recommended to a 
 studious examination of ancient Sculpture. R. 
 
 NOTE IV. — L. 11, P. 235. 
 
 Till this be learn'd how all things disagree, 
 How all one wretched, blind barbarity ! 
 
 The mind is distracted with the variety of accidents, for so they ought to be 
 called rather than forms : and the disagreement of those among themselves will 
 be a perpetual source of confusion and meanness, until, by generalizing his ideas, 
 the painter has acquired the only true criterion of judgment : then with a 
 
 Master's care, 
 
 Judge of his art, thro' beauty's realms he flies, 
 
 Selects, combines, improves, diversifies. L. 7, P. 23G. 
 
 It is better that he should come to diversify on particulars from the large and 
 broad idea of things, than vainly attempt to ascend from particulars to this great 
 general idea : for to generalize from the endless and vicious variety of actual 
 forms, requires a mind of wonderful capacity; it is perhaps more than any one 
 mind can accomplish : but when the other, and, I think, better course is pursued, 
 the Artist may avail himself of the united powers of all his predecessors. He 
 sets out with an ample inheritance, and avails himself of the selection of ages. 
 
 R. 
 
 NOTE V.— L. 19, P. 235. 
 
 Of all vain fools with coxcomb talents curst, — 
 The sententious and Horatian line (says a later French editor), which in the 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING-. 
 
 271 
 
 original, is placed to the score of the Ancients, to give it greater weight, is the 
 Author's own. I suspect, however, that he borrowed the thought from some 
 ancient prose-writer, as we see he borrowed from Plutarch before at the opening 
 of his poem. M. 
 
 NOTE VI. — L. 21, P. 235. 
 
 When first the orient beams of beauty move — ■ 
 
 The original here is very obscure; when I had translated the passage in the 
 clearest manner I was able, but necessarily with some periphrasis, I consulted a 
 learned friend upon it, who was pleased to approve the version, and to elucidate 
 the text in the following manner : " Cognita " (the things known), in line 38: 
 refers to " Nosse quid in Natura pulchrius " (the thing to be learned), in line 31, 
 the main thing is to know what forms are most beautiful, and to know what 
 forms have been chiefly reputed such by the Ancients. In these when once 
 known, '%. <?., attended to and considered, the mind of course takes a pleasure, and 
 thus the conscious soul becomes enamoured with the object, &c, as in the para- 
 phrase. M. 
 
 NOTE VII.— L. 9, P. 236. 
 
 With nimble step pursues the fleeting throng, 
 And clasps each Venus as she glides along. 
 
 The powers of expressing these transitory beauties is perhaps the greatest 
 effort of our art, and which cannot be attained till the Student has acquired a 
 facility of drawing nature correctly in its inanimate state. R. 
 
 NOTE VIII.— L. 11, P. 236. 
 
 Yet some there are who indiscreetly stray, 
 Where purblind practice only points the way. 
 
 Practice is justly called purblind ; for practice, that is tolerable in its way, is 
 not totally blind : an imperceptible theory, which grows out of, accompanies, 
 and directs it, is never wholly wanting to a sedulous practice ; but this goes 
 but a little way with the Painter himself, and is utterly inexplicable to others,, 
 
 To become a great proficient, an artist ought to see clearly enough to enable 
 him to point out to others the principle on which he works ; otherwise he will 
 be confined, and what is worse, he will be uncertain. A degree of mechanical 
 practice, odd as it may seem, must precede theory. The reason is, that if we 
 wait till we are partly able to comprehend the theory of art, too much of life 
 will be passed to permit us to acquire facility and power : something therefore 
 must be done on trust, by mere imitation of given patterns before the theory or 
 art can be felt. Thus we shall become acquainted with the necessities of the art 
 and the very great want of Theory, the sense of which want can alone lead us to 
 take pains to acquire it ; for what better means can we have of knowing to a 
 certainty, and of imprinting strongly on our mind our own deficiencies, than un- 
 successful attempts ? This Theory will be best understood by, and in, practice, 
 
272 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 If Practice advances too far before Theory, her guide, she is likely to lose her 
 way ; and if she keeps too far behind, to be discouraged. 
 
 NOTE IX. — L. 20. P. 28b". 
 
 s Twas not by words Apelles charni'd mankind. 
 
 As Fresnoy has condescended to give advice of a prudential kind, let me be 
 permitted here to recommend to the Artist to talk as little as possible of his 
 own works, much less to praise them ; and this not so much for the sake of 
 avoiding the character of vanity, as for keeping clear of a real detriment; of a real 
 productive cause which prevents his progress in his art, and dulls the edge of 
 enterprize. 
 
 He who has the habit of insinuating his own excellence to the little circle of 
 his friends, with whom he comes into contact, will grow languid in his exer- 
 tions to fill a larger sphere of reputation ; He will fall into the habit of ac- 
 quiescing in the partial opinions of a few ; he will grow restive in his own ; 
 by admiring himself, he will come to repeat himself, and then there is an end of 
 improvement. In a Painter it is particularly dangerous to be too good a 
 speaker ; it lessens the necessary endeavours to make himself master of the 
 language which properly belongs to his art, that of his pencil. This circle of self- 
 applause and reflected admiration, is to him the world, which he vainly imagines 
 he has engaged in his party, and therefore supposes that further enterprize 
 becomes less necessary. 
 
 Neither is it prudent, for the same reason, to talk much of a work before he 
 undertakes it, which will ^probably thus be prevented from being ever begun. 
 Even showing a picture in an unfinished state makes the finishing afterwards 
 irksome ; the artist has already had the gratification which he ought to have 
 kept back, and made to serve as a spur to hasten its completion. R. 
 
 NOTE X.— L. 5. P. 237. 
 
 Some lofty theme let judgment first supply, 
 Supremely fraught with grace and majesty. 
 
 It is a matter of great judgment to know what subjects are or are not fit for 
 painting. It is true that they ought to be such as the verses here direct, full of 
 grace and majesty ; but it is not every such subject that will answer to the 
 Painter. The Painter's theme is generally supplied by the Poet or Historian : 
 but as the Painter speaks to the eye, a story in which fine feeling and curious 
 sentiment is predominant, rather than palpable situation, gross interest, and dis- 
 tinct passion, is not suited to his purpose. 
 
 It should be likewise a story generally known; for the painter, representing 
 one point of time only, cannot inform the spectator what preceded the event, 
 however necessary in order to judge of the propriety and truth of the expression 
 and character of the actors. It may be remarked that action is the principal 
 requisite in a subject for history-painting; and that there are many subjects 
 which, though very interesting to the reader, would make no figure in represen- 
 tation : such are those subjects which consist in any long series of action, the 
 
THE AKT OF PAINTING. 
 
 273 
 
 parts of which have very much dependency each on the other; or where any re- 
 markable point or turn of verbal expression makes a part of the excellence of 
 the story; or where it has its effect from allusion to circumstances not actually 
 present. An instance occurs to me of a subject which was recommended to a 
 painter by a very distinguished person, but who, as it appears, was but little 
 conversant with the art; it was what passed between James II. and the old 
 Earl of Bedford in the council which was held just before the Revolution.* This 
 is a very striking piece of history; but so far from being a proper subject, that it 
 unluckily possesses no one requisite necessary for a picture; it has a retrospect 
 to other circumstances of history of a very complicated nature; it marks no 
 general or intelligible action or passion; and it is necessarily deficient in that 
 variety of heads, forms, ages, sexes, and draperies, which sometimes, by good 
 management, supply by picturesque effect the want of real interest in a history. 
 
 R. 
 
 NOTE XL— L. II, P. 237. 
 
 Then let the virgin canvass smooth expand, 
 
 To claim the sketch and tempt the Artist's hand. 
 
 I wish to understand the last line as recommending to the artist to paint the 
 sketch previously on canvas, as was the practice with Rubens. 
 
 This method of painting the sketch, instead of merely drawing it on paper, 
 will give a facility in the management of colours, and in the handling, which the 
 Italian painters, not having this custom, wanted; by habit he will acquire equal 
 readiness in doing two things at a time as in doing only one. A painter, as I 
 have said on another occasion, if possible, should paint all his studies, and con- 
 sider drawing only as a succedaneum when colours are not at hand. This was 
 the practice of the Venetian painters, and of all those who have excelled in col- 
 ouring; Coreggio used to say, C'havea isuoi dessegni nella stremita de penneli. 
 The method of Rubens was to sketch his composition in colours, with ail the 
 parts more determined than sketches generally are; from this sketch his scholars 
 advanced the picture as far as they were capable : after which, he retouched the 
 whole himself. 
 
 The painter's operation may be divided into three parts; the planning, which 
 implies the sketch of the general composition, the transferring that design to the 
 canvass, and the finishing or retouching the whole. If, for despatch, the artist 
 looks out for assistance, it is in the middle stage only he can receive it: the first 
 and last operation must be the work of his own hand. R. 
 
 NOTE XII.— L. 13, P. 237. 
 
 Then bold invention all thy powers diffuse, 
 Of all thy sisters thou the noblest muse. 
 
 The invention of a painter consists not in inventing the subject, but in a ca- 
 pacity of forming in his imagination the subject in a manner best accommodated 
 to his art, though wholly borrowed from poets, historians, or popular tradition. 
 
 * Dalrymple's Memoirs i. 168. This writer has quotedrio authority for the remarkable anec- 
 dote here alluded to : an inexcusable omission. E. M, 
 
 I 2 
 
274 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 For this purpose, he has full as much to do, and perhaps more than if the very 
 story was invented : for he is bound to follow the ideas which he has received, 
 and to translate them (if I may use the expression) into another art. In this 
 translation the painter's invention lies; he must in a manner new-cast the whole, 
 and model it in his own imagination; to make it a painter's nourishment, it must 
 pass through a painter's mind. Having received an idea of the pathetic and 
 grand in intellect, he has next to consider how to make it correspond with what 
 is touching and awful to the eye, which is a business by itself. But here begins 
 what in the language of painters is called invention, which includes not only the 
 composition, or the putting the whole together, and the disposition of every indi- 
 vidual part, but likewise the management of the back-ground, the effect of light 
 and shadow, and the attitude of every figure or animal that is introduced or 
 makes a part of the work. 
 
 Composition, which is the principal part of the Invention of a Painter, is by 
 far the greatest difficulty he has to encounter. Every man that can paint at 
 all, can execute individual parts; but to keep those parts in due subordination 
 as relative to a whole, requires a comprehensive view of the art, that more 
 strongly implies genius, than perhaps any other quality whatever. R. 
 
 NOTE XIII.— L. I. P. 238. 
 
 Vivid and faithful to the historic page, 
 Express the customs, manners, forms, and age. 
 Though the Painter borrows his subject, he considers his art as not subser- 
 vient to any other. His business is something more than assisting the Historian 
 with explanatory figures: as soon as he takes it into his hands, he adds, re- 
 trenches, transposes, and moulds it anew, till it is made fit for his own art ; he 
 avails himself of the privileges allowed to Poets and Painters, and dares every 
 thing to accomplish his end by means corresponding to that end, — to impress 
 the spectator with the same interest at the sight of his representation, as the 
 Poet has contrived to impress on the Reader by his description: the end is the 
 same in both cases, though the means are, and must be different. Ideas intended 
 to be conveyed to the mind by one sense, cannot always, with equal success, be 
 conveyed by another: our author therefore has recommended to us elsewhere to 
 be attentive 
 
 " On what may aid your art, and what destroy." 1. 2. p. 238. 
 
 Even the Historian takes great liberties with facts, in order to interest his 
 readers, and makes his narration more delightful; much greater right has the 
 Painter to do this, who, though his work is called History-Painting, gives in 
 reality a poetical representation of events. R. 
 
 NOTE XIV. — L. 3. P. 238. 
 Nor paint conspicuous on the foremost plain 
 Whate'er is false, impertinent, or vain. 
 This precept, so obvious to common sense, appears superfluous, till we recol- 
 lect that some of the greatest Painters have been guilty of a breach of it: for, 
 not to mention Paul Veronese or Rubens, whose principles, as ornamental Pain- 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 275 
 
 ters, would allow great latitude in introducing animals, or whatever they might 
 think necessary, to contrast or make the composition more picturesque, we can 
 no longer wonder why the Poet has thought it worth setting a guard against 
 this impropriety, when we find that such men as RafFaelle and the Caracci, in 
 their greatest and most serious works, have introduced on the foreground mean 
 and frivolous circumstances. 
 
 Such improprieties, to do justice to the more modern Painters, are seldom 
 found in their works. The only excuse that can he made for those great 
 Artists, is their living in an age when it was the custom to mix the ludicrous 
 with the serious, and when Poetry as well as Painting gave into this fashion. 
 
 R. 
 
 NOTE XV. — L. 7, P. 233. 
 This rare, this arduous task, no rules can teach. 
 This must he meant to refer to Invention, and not to the precepts immediately 
 preceding; which relating only to the mechanical disposition of the work, can- 
 not he supposed to be out of the reach of the rules of art, or not to be acquired 
 but by the assistance of supernatural power. R. 
 
 NOTE XVI. — L. 10, P. 238. 
 
 Prometheus ravish'd from the car of day. 
 
 After the lines in the original of this passage, there comes in one of a pro- 
 verbial cast, taken from Horace*: Non uti Daedaliam licet omnibus ire Corin- 
 thurn." I could not introduce a version of this with any grace into the con- 
 clusion of the sentence; and indeed I do not think it connects well in the 
 original. It certainly conveys no truth of importance, nor adds much to what 
 went before it. I suppose, therefore, I shall be pardoned for having taken no 
 notice of it in my translation. 
 
 Mr Ray, in his collection of English proverbs, brings this of Horace as a par- 
 allel to a ridiculous English one, viz. Every marl's nose will not make a shoeing- 
 horn. It is certain, were a proverb here introduced, it ought to be of English 
 growth to suit an English translation; but this, alas! would not fit my purpose, 
 and Mr Ray gives us no other. I hold myself, therefore, excusable for leaving 
 the line untranslated. 
 
 NOTE XVII.— L. 15. P. 238. 
 
 Till all complete the gradual wonder shone, 
 And vanquished Nature own'd herself outdone. 
 In strict propriety, the Grecian Statues only excel nature by bringing together 
 such an assemblage of beautiful parts as Nature was never known to bestow on 
 one subject: 
 
 But earth-born graces sparingly impart 
 
 The symmetry supreme of perfect art : L. 25, P. 235. 
 
 Horace's line runs thus, (Epistle 17, Book I. line 36.) 
 Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum. 
 
 M. 
 
27Q 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 It must be remembered, that the component parts of the most perfect Statue 
 never can excel nature, — that we can form no idea of beauty beyond her works: 
 we can only make this rare assemblage; an assemblage so rare, that if we are to 
 give the name of Monster to what is uncommon, we might, in the words of the 
 Duke of Buckingham, call it 
 
 A faultless Monster which the world ne'er saw. R. 
 
 NOTE XVIII.— L. 8, P. 239. 
 
 Learn then from Greece ye youths, Proportion's law, 
 Inform'd by her, each just position draw. 
 Da Piles has, in his note on this passage, given the measures of a human body, 
 as taken by Fresnoy from the statues of the ancients which are here trans- 
 cribed: 
 
 " The Ancients have commonly allowed eight heads to their figures, though 
 some of them have but seven ; but we ordinarily divide the figures into ten 
 faces* ; that is to say, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, in the 
 following manner : 
 
 " From the crown of the head to the forehead is the third part of a face. 
 
 " The face begins at the root of the lowest hairs which are upon the forehead 
 and ends at the bottom of the chin. 
 
 " The face is divided into three proportionable parts ; the first contains the 
 forehead, the second the nose, and the third the mouth and the chin ; from the 
 chin to the pit betwixt the collar-bones are two lengths of a nose. 
 
 " From the pit betwixt the collar-bones to the bottom of the breast, one face. 
 
 " From the bottom of the breast to the navel, one face.f 
 
 " From the navel to the genitories, one face. J 
 
 " From the genitories to the upper part of the knee, two faces, 
 
 " The knee contains half a face. 
 
 u From the lower part of the knee to the ankle, two faces. 
 " From the ankle to the sole of the foot, half a face. 
 
 " A man, when his arms are stretched out, is, from the longest fiuger of his 
 right hand to the longest of his left, as broad as he is long. 
 44 From one side of the breast to the other, two faces. 
 
 " The bone of the arm, called Humerus, is the length of two faces from the 
 shoulder to the elbow. 
 
 " From the end of the elbow to the root of the little finger, the bone called 
 Cubitus, with part of the hand, contains two faces. 
 
 " From the box of the shoulder-blade to the pit betwixt the collar-bones, 
 one face. 
 
 <s If you would be satisfied in the measure of breadth, from the extremity of 
 one finger to the other, so that this breadth should be equal to the length of the 
 
 * This depends on the age and quality of the persons. The Apollo and Venus of Medicis 
 have more than ten faces. R. 
 f The Apollo has a nose more. 
 
 $ The Apollo has half a nose more ; and the upper part half of the Venus Je Medicis is to the 
 lower part of the belly, and not to the privy-parts. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 277 
 
 body, you must observe, that the boxes of the elbows with the humerus, and of 
 the humerus with the shoulder blade, bear the proportion of half a face when 
 the arms are stretched out. 
 
 " The sole of the foot is the sixth part of the figure. 
 
 " The hand is the length of a face. 
 
 " The thumb contains a nose. 
 
 " The inside of the arm, from the place where the muscle disappears, which 
 makes the breast (called the Pectoral muscle,) to the middle of the arm, four 
 noses. 
 
 " From the middle of the arm to the beginning of the head, five noses. 
 " The longest toe is a nose long. 
 
 " The two utmost parts of the teats ; and the pit betwixt the collar-bones of a 
 woman, make an equilateral triangle. 
 
 " For the breadth of the limbs, no precise measures can be given, because the 
 measures themselves are changeable, according to the quality of the persons, 
 and according to the movement of the muscles." — Du Piles. 
 
 The measures of the ancient statues, by Audran, appear to be the most use- 
 ful, as they are accompanied with the outline of the figures which are most 
 distinguished for correctness. R. 
 
 NOTE XIX.— L. 14. P. 239. 
 But chief from her that flowing outline take, — 
 The French editor,* who republished this poem in the year 1753, (eighty-five 
 years later than the first edition of Du Piles.) remarks here, that Noeil Coypel, 
 (called Coypel le Poussin,) in a discourse 'which he published and addressed to 
 the French Academy, says, " That all which our Author has delivered concerning 
 outlines (contours) in this passage, does not appear to him to convey any precise 
 or certain rules. He adds, that it is indeed almost a thing impossible to give 
 them, particularly in what regards grace and elegance of outline. Anatomy 
 and proportion, according to hijgi, may enable a person to design with correct- 
 ness, but cannot give that noble part of the art which ought to be attributed to 
 the mind or understanding, according to which it is more or less delicate." I 
 think Fresnoy has hinted the very same thing more than once; and, perhaps, 
 like Coypel, lays too great a stress on the mental faculty, which we call strength 
 of Genius ; but the consideration of this does not come within the province which 
 I have allotted myself in these critical notes. M. 
 
 NOTE XX.— L. 2, P. 240. 
 
 Yet deem not, Youths, that Perspective can give 
 Those charms complete, by which your works shall live. 
 The translator has softened, if not changed the text, which boldly pronounces 
 that Perspective cannot be depended on as a certain rule. Fresnoy was not 
 aware that he was arguing from the abuse of the Art of Perspective, the business 
 of which is to represent objects as they appear to the eye, or as they are 
 
 * He calls himself, in his Paris edition, entitled," IS Ecole d'tTranie," Le SieurM. D. Q. The 
 Abbe De Marsj's Poem, entitled Pictura, is annexed to Du "Fresnoy's in that edition. 
 
278 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 delineated on a transparent plane placed between the spectator and the object. 
 The rules of Perspective, as well as all other rules, may be injudiciously applied; 
 and it must be acknowledged that a misapplication of them is too frequently found 
 even in the works of the most considerable artists. It is not uncommon to see a 
 figure on the foreground represented near twice the size of another which is 
 supposed to be removed but a few feet behind it; this, though true according to 
 rule, will appear monstrous. This error proceeds from placing the point of dis- 
 tance too near the point of sight, by which means the diminution of objects is so 
 sudden as to appear unnatural, unless you stand so near the picture as the point 
 of distance requires, which would be too near for the eye to comprehend the 
 whole picture; whereas, if the point of distance is removed so far as the spectator 
 may be supposed to stand in order to see commodiously, and take within his view 
 the whole, the figures behind would then suffer under no such violent diminution. 
 Du Piles, in his note on this passage, endeavours to confirm Fresnoy in his pre- 
 judice, by giving an instance which proves, as he imagines, the uncertainty of the 
 art. He supposes it employed to delineate the Trajan Pillar, the figures on 
 which, being, as he says, larger at the top than the bottom, would counteract the 
 effects of perspective. The folly of this needs no comment. T shall only observe, 
 by the way, that the fact is not true, the figures on that pillar being all of the 
 same dimensions. R. 
 
 NOTE XXI.— L. 2. P. 240. 
 
 Yet deem not, Youths, that Perspective can give 
 Those charms complete, by which your works shall live. 
 T plead guilty to the charge in the preceding note. I have translated the passage, 
 as if the text had been ad complementum graphidos, instead of aut, and conse- 
 quently might have been thus construed : " Perspective cannot be said to be a 
 sure rule or guide to the complete knowledge of painting, but only an assistance, 
 &c." This I did to make the position more consonant to truth; and I am pleased 
 to find that it agrees much better with Sir Joshua's annotations than the original 
 would have done. Du Piles, in the former part of his note (which I know not 
 for what reason Mr Dry den omitted), says thus: " It is not in order to reject 
 Perspective that the Author speaks thus, for he advises it elsewhere in his 
 poem,* as a study absolutely necessary. Nevertheless, I own this passage is not 
 quite clear, yet it was not my fault that the Author did not make it more intel- 
 ligible : but he was so much offended with some persons who knew nothing of 
 painting in general, save only the part of perspective, in which they made the 
 whole art of it to consist, that he would never be persuaded to recall the expres- 
 sion, though I fully convinced him, that every thing these people said was not of 
 the least consequence." Du Piles seems to tell this tale (so little to the credit of 
 his friend's judgment) merely to make himself of consequence; for my own part, 
 I can hardly be persuaded that a person who has translated a work so inaccu- 
 rately as Du Piles has done this, " did it under the Author's own eye, and cor- 
 rected it till the version was entirely to his own mind," which, in his preface, he 
 asserts was the case. 
 
 * 1 suppose he alludes to the 509th line : 
 In geometrali prius arte parumper adulti. 
 
 M. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 279 
 
 NOTE XXII.—L. 14. P. 240. 
 
 Yet to each separate form adapt with care 
 Such limbs, such robes, such attitude and air, 
 As best befit the head, ■ 
 
 As it is necessary for the sake of variety, that figures not only of different ages, 
 but of different forms and characters, be introduced in a work where many figures 
 are required, care must be taken that those different characters have a certain 
 consonance of parts among themselves, such as is generally found in nature : a 
 fat face, for instance, is usually accompanied with a proportional degree of cor- 
 pulency of body; an aquiline nose for the most part belongs to a thin countenance, 
 with a body and limbs corresponding to it; but these are observations which 
 must occur to every body. 
 
 Yet there are others that are not so obvious; and those who have turned their 
 thoughts this way, may form a probable conjecture concerning the form of the 
 rest of the figure from a part, — from the fingers, or from a single feature of the 
 face : for instance, those who are born crook-backed have commonly a peculiar 
 form of lips and expression in the mouth, that strongly denotes that deformity. 
 
 R. 
 
 NOTE XXIII. — L. 18. P. 240. 
 
 Learn action from the dumb, the dumb shall teach 
 How happiest to supply the want of speech. 
 
 Gesture is a language we are born with", and is the most natural way of ex- 
 pressing ourselves : painting may be said therefore, in this respect to have the 
 superiority over poetry. 
 
 Fresnoy, however, certainly means here, persons either born dumb, or who are 
 become so from accident or violence; and the translator has, therefore, rendered 
 his meaning justly; but persons who are born dumb are commonly deaf also, 
 and their gestures are usually extravagant and forced; and of those who have 
 become dumb by accident or violence, examples are too rare to furnish the 
 painter with sufficient observation. I would wish therefore to understand the 
 rule, as dictating to the artist, to observe how persons, with naturally good ex- 
 pressive features, are affected in their looks and actions by any spectacle or sen- 
 timent which they see or hear, and to copy the gestures which they then silently 
 make use of; but he should ever take these lessons from Nature only, and not 
 imitate her at second hand, as many French painters do, who appear to take 
 their ideas, not only of grace and dignity, but of emotion and passion, from their 
 theatrical heroes; which is imitating an imitation, and often a false or exagger- 
 ated imitation. R. 
 
 NOTE XXIV.-L. 20. P. 340. 
 
 Fair in the front, in all the blaze of light, 
 The Hero of thy piece should meet the sight. 
 There can be no doubt that this figure should be laboured in proportion as it 
 
280 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 claims the attention of the spectator, but there is no necessity that it should be 
 placed in the middle of the picture, or receive the principal light; this conduct, 
 if always observed, would reduce the art of composition to too great a unifor- 
 mity. 
 
 It is sufficient, if the place he holds, or the attention of the other figures to him, 
 denote him the hero of the piece. 
 
 The principal figure may be too principal. The harmony of composition re- 
 quires that the inferior characters bear some proportion, according to their 
 several stations, to the hero of the work. 
 
 This rule, as enforced by Fresnoy, may be said more properly to belong to the 
 art in its infant state, or to be directed to young students as a first precept; but 
 the more advanced know that such an apparent artificial disposition would be 
 in reality for that reason inartificial. R. 
 
 NOTE XXV. — L. 11. P. 240. 
 
 In every figured group the judging eye 
 
 Demands the charms of contrariety. 
 The rule of contrasting figures, or groups, is not only universally known and 
 adopted, but it is frequently carried to such excess, that our author might, per- 
 haps, with more propriety have fixed his caution on the other side, and recom- 
 mended to the artist not to destroy the grandeur and simplicity of his design by 
 violent and affected contrasts. 
 
 The artless uniformity of the compositions of the old Gothic painters is far pre- 
 ferable to this false refinement, this ostentatious display of academic art. A 
 greater degree of contrast and variety may be allowed in the picturesque or or- 
 namental style; but we must not forget that they are the natural enemies of 
 simplicity, and consequently of the grand style, and destroy that solemn majesty, 
 that soft repose, which is produced in a great measure by regularity and unifor- 
 mity. 
 
 An instance occurs to me where those two qualities are separately exhibited 
 by two great painters, Rubens and Titian. The picture of Rubens is in the 
 church of St Augustine at Antwerp; the subject (if that may be called a subject 
 where no story is represented) is the Virgin and infant Christ, placed high in 
 the picture on a pedestal, with many saints about them, and as many below 
 them, with others on the steps, to serve as a link to unite the upper and lower 
 part of the picture. 
 
 The composition of this picture is perfect in its kind; the artist has shown the 
 greatest skill in disposing and contrasting more than twenty figures without con- 
 fusion and without crowding; the whole appearing as much animated and in 
 motion as it is possible, where nothing is to be done. 
 
 The picture of Titian, which we would oppose to this, is in the church of the 
 Frari at Venice. The peculiar character of this piece is grandeur and simplicity, 
 which proceed in a great measure from the regularity of the composition, two of 
 the principal figures being represented kneeling directly opposite to each other, 
 and nearly in the same attitude; this is what few painters would have had the 
 courage to venture; Rubens would certainly have rejected so unpicturesque a 
 mode of composition, had it occurred to him. 
 
THE AET OF PAINTING. 
 
 281 
 
 Both these pictures are equally excellent in their kind, and may be said to 
 characterise their respective authors. There is a bustle and animation in the 
 work of Rubens; a quiet, solemn majesty in that of Titian. The excellence of 
 Rubens is the picturesque effect which he produces. The superior merit of 
 Titian is in the appearance of being above seeking after any such artificial ex- 
 cellence.* 
 
 NOTE XXVI. — L. 11, P. 242. 
 
 we s till should lose 
 
 That solemn majesty, that soft repose, 
 
 Dear to the curious eye, and only found 
 
 Where few fair objects fill aj^ample ground. 
 It is said to have been Annibal Caracci's opinion, that a perfect composition 
 ought not to consist of more than twelve figures, which he thought enough to 
 people three groups, and that more would destroy that majesty and repose so 
 necessary to the grand style of Painting. R- 
 
 NOTE XXVII.— L. 17, P. 242. 
 
 Judgment will so the several groups unite, 
 That one compacted whole shall meet the sight- 
 Nothing so much breaks in upon, and destroys this compactness, as that mode 
 of composition which cuts in the middle the figures on the foreground, though 
 it was frequently the practice of the greatest painters, even of the best age: 
 Michael Angelo has it in the crucifixion of St. Peter; Raffaelle in the Cartoon 
 of the preaching of St. Paul; and Parmigiano often showed only the head and 
 shoulders above the base of the picture. However, the more modern painters, 
 notwithstanding such authorities, cannot be accused of having fallen into this 
 error. 
 
 But suppose we carry the reformation still farther, and that we do not suffer 
 the sides of the picture to cut off any part of the figures, the composition would 
 certainly be more round and compact within itself. All subjects, it is true, will 
 not admit of this: however, we may safely recommend it, unless the circum- 
 stances are very particular, and such as are certain to produce some striking 
 effect by the breach of so just a rule. R. 
 
 NOTE XXVIII.— L. 15, P. 243. 
 
 Nor yet to Nature such strict homage pay, 
 As not to quit when Genius leads the way ; 
 Nor yet, though Genius all his succour sends, 
 Her mimic powers though ready Memory lends, 
 Presume from Nature wholly to depart, 
 For Nature is the Arbitress of Art. 
 
 * See the Journey to Flanders and Holland, p. 186, where the subject of this 
 note is more fully treated. The fair transcript of that journey having been written about the 
 same time that these notes were composed, our author took from thence the illustration which he 
 has made use of here. E. M. 
 
 v2 
 
282 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 Nothing in the art requires more attention and judgment, or more of that 
 power of discrimination which may not improperly be called Genius, than the 
 steering between general ideas and individuality: for though the body of the 
 work must certainly be composed by the first, in order to communicate a 
 character of grandeur to the whole, yet a dash of the latter is sometimes neces- 
 sary to give an interest. An individual model, copied with scrupulous exactness, 
 makes a mean style, like the Dutch: and the neglect of an actual model, and 
 the method of proceeding solely from idea, has a tendency to make the painter 
 degenerate into a mannerist. 
 
 In order to keep the mind in repair, it is necessary to replace and refreshen 
 those impressions of nature which are continually wearing away. 
 
 A circumstance mentioned in the life of Guido is well worth the attention of 
 Artists. He was asked from whence He borrowed his idea of beauty, which is 
 acknowledged superior to that of any other painter; he said he would show all 
 the models he used, and ordered a common porter to sit before him, from whom 
 he drew a beautiful countenance. This was undoubtedly an exaggeration of his 
 conduct; but his intention was to show that he thought it necessary for painters 
 to have some model of nature before them, however they might deviate from it, 
 and correct it from the idea of perfect beauty which they have formed in their 
 minds. 
 
 In Painting it is far better to have a model even to depart from, than to have 
 nothing fixed and certain to determine the idea. When there is a model, there 
 is something to proceed on, something to be corrected; so that even supposing 
 no part is adopted, the model has still been not without use. 
 
 Such habits of intercourse with nature will at least create that variety which 
 will prevent any one from prognosticating, on being informed of the subject, 
 what manner of work the painter is likely to produce ; which is the most dis- 
 agreeable character an Artist can have. R- 
 
 NOTE XXIX. — L. 15, P. 244. 
 
 Peculiar toil on single forms bestow, 
 There let expression lend its finish'd gloAV. 
 
 When the picture consists of a single figure only, that figure must be contrasted 
 in its limbs and drapery with great variety of lines; it should be as much as 
 possible a composition of itself. It may be remarked, that such a complete figure 
 will never unite or make a part of a group; as on the other hand, no figure of a 
 well-conducted group will stand by itself. A composition, where every figure is 
 such as I suppose a single figure ought to be, and those likewise contrasted to 
 each other, which is not uncommon in the works of young artists, produces such 
 an assemblage of artifice and affectation as is in the highest degree unnatural 
 and disgustful. 
 
 There is another circumstance which, though not improper in single figures, 
 ought never to be practised in historical pictures : that of representing any figure 
 as looking out of the picture, that is, looking at the person who views the picture. 
 This conduct in history gives an appearance to that figure of having no connexion 
 with the rest; and ought therefore never to be practised except in ludicrous 
 subjects* 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 283 
 
 It is not certain that the variety recommended in a single figure can with 
 equal success be extended to colouring. The difficulty will be in diffusing the 
 colours of the drapery of this single figure to other distant parts of the picture, 
 for this is what harmony requires; this difficulty, however, seems to be evaded in 
 the works of Titian, Vandyck, and many others, by dressing their single figures 
 in black or white. 
 
 Vandyck, in the famous portrait of Cardinal Bentivoglio, was confined in his 
 dress to crimson velvet and white linen : he has therefore made the curtain in 
 the back -ground of the same crimson colour, and the white is diffused by a letter 
 which lies on the table; and a bunch of flowers is likewise introduced for the 
 same purpose. R. 
 
 NOTE XXX.— L. 3. P. 245. 
 
 Not on the form in stiff adhesion laid, 
 
 But well reliev'd by gentle light and shade. 
 The disposing of the drapery so as to appear to cling close round the limbs, is 
 a kind of pedantry which young painters are very apt to fall into, as it carries 
 with it a relish of the learning acquired from the ancient statues ; but they 
 should recollect there is not the same necessity for this practice in painting as in 
 sculpture. R. 
 
 NOTE XXXI.— L. 1. P. 246.. 
 
 But sparingly thy earth-born stores unfold, 
 Nor load with gems, nor lace with tawdry gold. 
 Finery of all kinds destroys grandeur, which in a great measure proceeds from 
 simplicity; it may, however, without impropriety, be introduced into the orna- 
 mental style, such as that of Rubens and Paul Veronese. R. 
 
 NOTE XXXII.— L. 11. P. 246. 
 
 That majesty, that grace, so rarely given 
 
 To mortal man, not taught by art, but heaven. 
 
 It is undoubtedly true, and perfectly obvious, that every part of the art has a 
 grace belonging to it, which, to satisfy and captivate the mind, must be super- 
 added to correctness. This excellence, however expressed, whether we call it 
 genius, taste, or the gift of heaven, I am confident may be acquired : or the 
 Artist may certainly be put into that train by which it shall be acquired; though 
 he must, in a great measure, teach himself by a continual contemplation of the 
 works of those painters who are acknowledged to excel in grace and majesty: 
 this will teach him to look for it in nature, and industry will give him the power 
 of expressing it on canvas. 
 
 NOTE XXXIII.— L. 19. P. 246. 
 
 Thy last, thy noblest task, remains untold, 
 Passion to paint and sentiment unfold. 
 This is truly the noblest task, and is the finishing of the fabric of the art : to 
 
28-1 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 attempt this summit of excellence, without having first laid the foundation of 
 habitual correctness, may indeed be said to build castles in the air. 
 
 Every part which goes to the composition of a picture, even inanimate objects 
 are capable to a certain degree of conveying sentiment, and contribute their share 
 to the general purpose of striking the imagination of the spectator. The dispo- 
 sition of light, or the folding of drapery, will give sometimes a general air of 
 grandeur to the whole work. R. 
 
 NOTE XXXIV. — L. 6. P. 247. 
 
 By tedious toil no passions are exprest, 
 His hand who feels them strongest paints them best. 
 A painter, whatever he may feel, will not be able to express it on canvas, 
 without having recourse to a recollection of those principles by which the passion 
 required is expressed. The mind thus occupied, is not likely at the same time to 
 be possessed with the passion which he is representing. An image may be 
 ludicrous, and in its first conception make the painter laugh as well as the 
 spectator; but the difficulty of his art makes the painter, in the course of his 
 work, equally grave and serious, whether he is employed on the most ludicrous 
 or the most solemn subject. 
 
 However, we may, without great violence, suppose this rule to mean no more 
 than that a sensibility is required in the Artist, so that he should be capable of 
 conceiving the passion properly before he sets about representing it on canvas. 
 
 R. 
 
 NOTE XXXV. — L. 6. P. 247. 
 
 By tedious toil no passions are exprest, 
 His hand who feels them strongest paints them best. 
 " The two verses of the text, notwithstanding the air of antiquity which they 
 appear to have, seems most probably to be the author's own," says the late 
 French editor : but I suppose, as I did on a similar adage before, that the 
 thought is taken from antiquity. With respect to my translation, 1 beg leave to 
 intimate, that by feeling the passions strongest, I do not mean that a passionate 
 man will make the best painter of the passions, but he who has the clearest con- 
 ception of them, that is, who feels their effect on the countenance of other men, 
 as in great actors on the stage, and in persons in real life strongly agitated by 
 them : perhaps my translation would have been clearer and more consonant with 
 the above judicious explication of Sir Joshua Reynolds, if it had run thus ; 
 He who conceives them strongest paints them best. 
 
 NOTE XXXVL— L. 4. P. 248. 
 
 Fall late awoke the ceaseless tear to shed 
 For perish'd art ; — 
 
 The later French editor, who has modernized the style of Du Piles' translation, 
 says here, that " he has taken the liberty to soften this passage, and has tran- 
 slated Nil superest, by presque rien, instead of Du Piles' version, II ne nous a 
 run rente de leur peinture, being authorised to make this change by the late dis- 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 285 
 
 coveries of ancient painting at Herculaneum;" but I scarce think that, by these 
 discoveries, we have retrieved any thing of ancient colouring, which is the matter 
 here in question, therefore 1 have given my translation that turn. M. 
 
 NOTE XXXVII.— L. 5. P. 248. 
 
 for those celestial hues 
 
 Which Zeuxis, aided by the attic muse, 
 Gave to the wondering eye : 
 
 From the various ancient paintings which have come down to us, we may 
 form a judgment with tolerable accuracy of the excellencies and the defects of 
 the art amongst the ancients. 
 
 There can be no doubt, but that the same correctness of design was required 
 from the painter as from the sculptor ; as if what has happened in the case of 
 sculpture, had likewise happened in regard to their paintings, and we had the 
 good fortune to possess what the ancients themselves esteemed their master- 
 pieces, I have no doubt but we should find their figures as correctly drawn 
 as the Laocoon, and probably coloured like Titian. What disposes me to think 
 higher of their colouring than any remains of ancient painting will warrant, is 
 the account which Pliny gives of the mode of operation used by Apelles ; — that 
 over his finished picture he spread a transparent liquid like ink, of which the 
 effect was to give brilliancy, and at the same time to lower the too great glare 
 of the colour : " Qaod absoluta opera atramento illinebat ita tenui, ut id ipsum 
 repercussu claritates colorum excitaret ; — et cum ratione magna, ne colorum cla- 
 ritas oculorum aciem offenderet." This passage, though it may possibly perplex 
 the critics, is a true and an artist dike description of the effect of glazing or 
 scumbling, such as was practised by Titian and the rest of the Venetian painters. 
 This custom, or mode of operation, implies at least a true taste of that in which 
 the excellence of colouring consists : which does not proceed from fine colours, 
 but true colours; from breaking down these fine colours which would appear too 
 raw, to a deep toned brightness. Perhaps the manner in which Correggio prac- 
 tised the art of glazing was still more like that of Apelles, which was only per- 
 ceptible to those who looked close to the picture ad manum intuenti demum 
 appareret : whereas in Titian, and still more in Bassan and others his imitators, 
 it was apparent on the slightest inspection. Artists who may not approve of 
 glazing, must still acknowledge, that this practice is not that of ignorance. 
 
 Another circumstance, that tends to prejudice me in favour of their colouring, 
 is the account we have of some of their principal painters using but four colours 
 only. I am convinced the fewer the colours, the cleaner will be the effect of 
 those colours, and that four are sufficient to make every combination required. 
 Two colours mixed together will not preserve the brightness of either of them 
 single, nor will three be as bright as two; of this observation, simple as it is, an 
 artist, who wishes to colour bright, will know the value. 
 
 In regard to their power of giving peculiar expression, no correct judgment 
 can be formed; but we cannot well suppose that men, who were capable of giving 
 that general grandeur of character which so eminently distinguishes their works 
 in sculpture, were incapable of expressing peculiar passions. 
 
286 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 As to the enthusiastic commendations bestowed on them by their contempor- 
 aries, I consider them as of no weight. The best words are always employed to 
 praise the best works; admiration often proceeds from ignorance of higher ex- 
 cellence. What they appear to have most failed in is composition, both in regard 
 to the grouping of their figures, and the art of disposing the light and shadow in 
 masses. It is apparent that this., which makes so considerable a part of modern 
 art, was to them totally unknown. 
 
 If the great painters had possessed this excellence, some portion of it would 
 have infallibly been diffused, and have been discoverable in the works of the 
 inferior rank of artists, such as those whose works have come down to us, and 
 which may be considered as on the same rank with the paintings that ornament 
 our public gardens. Supposing our modern pictures of this rank only were pre- 
 served for the inspection of connoisseurs two thousand years hence, the general 
 principles of composition would be still discoverable in those pieces; however 
 feebly executed, there would be seen an attempt to an union of the figure with 
 its ground, and some idea of disposing both the figures and the lights in groups. 
 Now as nothing of this appears in what we have of ancient painting, we may 
 conclude that this part of the art was totally neglected, or more probably un- 
 known. 
 
 They might, however, have produced single figures which approached perfec- 
 tion both in drawing and colouring; they might excel in a Solo, (in the language 
 of musicians), though they were probably incapable of composing a full piece for 
 a concert of different instruments. R. 
 
 NOTE XXXVIII. — L. 9. P. 251. 
 Permit not two conspicuous lights to shine 
 With rival radiance in the same design. 
 The same right judgment which proscribes two equal lights, forbids any two 
 objects to be introduced of equal magnitude or force, so as to appear to be 
 competitors for the attention of the spectator. This is common ; but I do not 
 think it quite so common, to extend the rule so far as it ought to be extended : 
 even in colours, whether of the warm or cold kind, there should be one of each 
 which should be apparently principal, and predominate over the rest. It must 
 be observed, even in drapery ; two folds of the same drapery must not be of 
 equal magnitude. 
 
 NOTE XXXIX.— L. 11. P. 251. 
 But yield to one alone the power to blaze, 
 And spread th' extensive vigour of its rays. 
 Rembrandt frequently practised this rule to a degree of affectation, by allow - 
 ing but one mass of light; but the Venetian Painters, and Rubens, who ex- 
 tracted his principles from their works, admitted many subordinate lights. 
 
 The same rules which have been given in regard to the regulation of groups of 
 figures, must be observed in regard to the grouping of lights ; that there shall 
 be a superiority of one over the rest, that they shall be separated, and varied in 
 their shapes, and that there should be at least three lights ; the secondary lights 
 ought, for the sake of harmony and union, to be of nearly equal brightness, 
 though not of equal magnitude with the principle. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 287 
 
 The Dutch Painters particularly excelled in the management of light and 
 shade, and have shown, in this department, that consummate skill which entirely 
 conceals the appearance of art. 
 
 Jan Steen, Teniers, Ostade, Du Sart, and many others of that school, may be 
 produced as instances, and recommended to the young artist's careful study and 
 attention. 
 
 The means by which the Painter works, and on which the effect of his picture 
 depends, are light and shade, warm and cold colours. That there is an art in 
 the management and disposition of those means will be easily granted, and it is 
 equally certain, that this art is to be acquired by a careful examination of the 
 works of those who have excelled in it. 
 
 I shall here set down the result of the observations which I have made on the 
 works of those Artists who appear to have best understood the management of 
 light and shade, and who may be considered as examples for imitation in this 
 branch of the art. 
 
 Titian, Paul Veronese, and Tintoret, were among the first Painters who re- 
 duced to a system what was before practised without any fixed principle, and 
 consequently neglected occasionally. From the Venetian Painters, Rubens ex- 
 tracted his scheme of composition, which was soon understood and adopted by 
 his countrymen, and extended even to the minor Painters of familiar life in the 
 Dutch school. 
 
 When I was at Venice, the method I took to avail myself of their principles 
 was this. When I observed an extraordinary effect of light and shade in any 
 picture, I took a leaf of my pocket-book, and darkened every part of it in the 
 same gradation of light and shade as the picture, leaving the white paper un- 
 touched to represent the light, and this without any attention to the subject or 
 to the drawing of the figures. A few trials of this kind will be sufficient to give 
 the method of their conduct in the management of their lights. After a few ex- 
 periments I found the paper blotted nearly alike : their general practice appeared 
 to be, to allow not above a quarter of the picture for the light, including in this 
 portion both the principle and secondary lights ; another quarter to be as dark 
 as possible ; and the remaining half kept in mezzotint or half shadow, 
 
 Rubens appears to have admitted rather more light than a quarter, and 
 Rembrandt much less, scarce an eighth ; by this conduct Rembrandt's light is 
 extremely brilliant, but it costs too much ; the rest of the picture is sacrificed 
 to this one object. That light will certainly appear the brightest which is sur- 
 rounded with the greatest quantity of shade, supposing equal skill in the 
 Artist. 
 
 By this means you may likewise remark the various forms and shapes of those 
 lights, as well as the objects on which they are flung ; whether a figure, or the 
 sky, a white napkin, animals, or utensils, often introduced for this purpose only. 
 It may be observed, likewise, what portion is strongly relieved, and how much is 
 united with its ground ; for it is necessary that some part (though a small one is 
 sufficient) should be sharp and cutting against its ground, whether it be light on 
 a dark, or dark on a light ground, in order to give firmness and distinctness to 
 the work ; if on the other hand it is relieved on every side, it will appear as if 
 inlaid on its ground. Such a blotted paper, held at a distance from the eye, 
 
288 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 will strike the spectator as something excellent from the disposition of light and 
 shadow, though he does not distinguish whether it is a history, a portrait, a land- 
 scape, dead game, or any thing else ; for the same principles extended to every 
 branch of the art. 
 
 Whether I have given an exact account, or made a just division of the quantity 
 of light admitted into the works of those Painters, is of no very great conse- 
 quence ; let every person examine and judge for himself : it will be sufficient if 
 I have suggested a mode of examining pictures this way, and one means at least, 
 of acquiring the principle on which they wrought. 
 
 NOTE XL. — L. 7 P. 252. 
 
 Then only justly spread, when to the sight 
 A .breadth of shade pursues a breadth of light. 
 
 The highest finishing is labour in vain, unless at the same time there be preserv- 
 ed a breadth of light and shadow; it is a quality, therefore, that is more frequently 
 recommended to students, and insisted upon, than any other whatever ; and, 
 perhaps, for this reason, because it is most apt to be neglected, the attention of 
 the Artist being so often entirely absorbed in the detail. 
 
 To illustrate this, we may have recourse to Titian's bunch of grapes, which 
 we will suppose placed so as to receive a broad light and shadow. Here, though 
 each individual grape on the light side has its light, and shadow, and reflection, 
 yet altogether they make but one broad mass of light ; the slightest sketch, there- 
 fore, where this breadth is preserved, will have a better effect, will have more 
 the appearance of coming from a master-hand, that is, in other words, will have 
 more the characteristic and generate of nature, than the most laborious finishing 
 where this breadth is lost or neglected. 
 
 NOTE XLI.— Lil. P 253. 
 
 Which mildly mixing, every social dye 
 Unites the whole in loveliest harmony. 
 
 The same method may be used to acquire that harmonious effect of colours, 
 which was recommended for the acquisition of light and shade, the adding 
 colours to the darkened paper ; but as those are not always at hand, it may be 
 sufficient if the picture, which you think worthy of imitating, be considered in 
 this light, to ascertain the quantity of warm, and the quantity of cold colours. 
 
 The predominant colours of the picture ought to be of a warm mellow kind, 
 red or yellow; and no more cold colour should be introduced than will be just 
 enough to serve as a ground or foil to set off and give value to the mellow colours, 
 and never should itself be a principal ; for this purpose a quarter of the picture 
 will be sufficient; those cold colours, whether blue, grey, or green, are to be dis- 
 persed about the ground or surrounding parts of the picture, wherever it has the 
 appearance of wanting such a foil, but sparingly employed in the masses of 
 light. 
 
 I am confident that an habitual examination of the works of those Painters 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING, 
 
 who have excelled in harmony, will, by degrees, give a correctness of eye that 
 will revolt at discordant colours, as a musician's ear revolts at discordant sounds- 
 
 R. 
 
 NOTE XLTl. — L. 13, P. 255. 
 
 By mellowing skill thy ground at distance cast, 
 Free as the air, and transient as its blast. 
 
 By a story told of Rubens, we have his authority for asserting, that to the 
 effect of the picture the back ground is of the greatest consequence. 
 
 Rubens being desired to take under his instruction a young painter, the per- 
 son who recommended him, in order to induce Rubens the more readily to take 
 him, said, that he was already somewhat advanced in the art, and that he would 
 be of immediate assistance in his back-grounds. Rubens smiled at his simplicity 5 
 and told him that if the youth was capable of painting his back-grounds, he 
 stood in no need of his instructions; that the regulation and management of them 
 required the most comprehensive knowledge of the art. This painters know to 
 foe no exaggerated account of a back-ground, being fully apprised how much the 
 effect of the picture depends upon it. 
 
 It must be in union with the figure, so as not to have the appearance of being 
 inlaid, like Holbein's portraits, which are often on a bright green or blue ground. 
 To prevent this effect, the ground must partake of the colour of the figure; or, as 
 expressed in a subsequent line, receive all the treasures of the palette. The back- 
 ground regulates likewise where, and in what part the figure is to be relieved. 
 When the form is beautiful, it is to be seen distinctly; when, on the contrary, it 
 is uncouth or too angular, it may be lost in the ground. Sometimes a light is in- 
 troduced in order to join and extend the light on the figure, and the dark side of 
 the figure is lost in a still darker back -ground; for the fewer the outlines are 
 which cut against the ground, the richer will be the effect ; as the contrary pro- 
 duces what is called the dry manner. 
 
 One of the arts of supplying the defect of a scantiness of dress by means of 
 the back -ground, may be observed in a whole length portrait by Vandyck, which 
 is in the cabinet of the Duke of Montagu : the dress of this figure would have 
 had an ungraceful effect; he has, therefore, by means of a light back-ground 
 .opposed to the light of the figure, and by the help of a curtain that catches the 
 light near the figure, made the effect of the whole together full and rich to the 
 eye R. 
 
 NOTE XLIII. — L. 19, P. 255. 
 
 The hand that colours well must colour bright ; 
 Hope not that praise to gain by sickly white. 
 All the modes of harmony, or of producing that effect of colours which is 
 required in a picture, may be reduced to three; two of which belong to the grand 
 style, and the other to the ornamental. 
 
 The first may be called the Roman manner, where the colours are of a full and 
 strong body, such as are found in the transfiguration : the next is that harmony 
 which is produced by what the ancients called the corruption of the colours, by 
 mixing and breaking them till there is a general union in the whole, without 
 
 w 2 
 
290 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 any thing that shall bring to your remembrance the Painter's palette, or the 
 original colours; this may be called the Bolognian style, and it is this hue and 
 effect of colours which Lodovico Carracci seems to have endeavoured to produce, 
 though he did not carry it to that perfection which we have seen since his time 
 in the small works of the Dutch school, particularly Jan Steen; where art is 
 completely concealed, and the painter, like a great orator, never draws the 
 attention from the subject on himself. 
 
 The last manner belongs properly to the ornamental style, which we call the 
 Venetian, being first practised at Venice, but is perhaps better learned from 
 Rubens; here the brightest colours possible are admitted, with the two extremes 
 of warm and cold, and those reconciled by being dispersed over the picture, till 
 the whole appears like a bunch of flowers. 
 
 As I have given instances from the Dutch school, where the art of breaking 
 colour may be learned, we may recommend here an attention to the works of 
 Watteau for excellence in this florid style of painting. 
 
 To all these different manners, there are some general rules that must never 
 be neglected. First, that the same colour which makes the largest mass, be 
 diffused and appear to revive in different parts of the picture : for a single colour 
 will make a spot or blot. Even the dispersed flesh-colour, which the faces and 
 hands make, requires a principal mass, which is best produced by a naked figure ; 
 but where the subject will not allow of this, a drapery approaching to flesh-colour 
 will answer the purpose ; as in the Transfiguration, where a woman is clothed in 
 drapery of this colour, which makes a principal to all the heads and hands of 
 the picture; and for the sake of harmony, the colours, however distinguished in 
 their light, should be nearly the same in their shadows ; of a 
 
 " simple unity of shade, 
 
 As all were from one single palette spread." 
 
 And to give the utmost force, strength, and solidity to the work, some part of the 
 picture should be as light and some as dark as possible; these two extremes are 
 hen to be harmonised and reconciled to each other. 
 
 Instances where both of them are used, may be observed in two pictures of 
 Rubens, which are equally eminent for the force and brilliancy of their effect ; 
 one is in the cabinet of the Duke of Rutland, and the other in the chapel of 
 Rubens at Antwerp, which serves as his monument. In both these pictures he 
 has introduced a female figure dressed in black satin, the shadows of which are 
 as dark as pure black, opposed to the contrary extreme of brightness, can make 
 them. 
 
 If to these different manners we add one more, that in which a silver-grey or 
 pearly tint is predominant, I believe every kind of harmony that can be produced 
 by colours will be comprehended. One of the greatest examples in this mode is 
 the famous marriage at Cana, in St George's church at Venice, where the sky, 
 which makes a very considerable part of the picture, is of the lightest blue colour, 
 and the clouds perfectly white ; the rest of the picture is in the same key, wrought 
 from this high pitch. We see likewise many pictures of Guido in this tint; and 
 indeed those that are so, are in his best manner. Female figures, angels, and 
 children, were the subjects in which Guido more particularly succeeded; and to 
 such, the cleanness and neatness of this tint perfectly corresponds, and contri- 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 291 
 
 butes not a little to that exquisite beauty and delicacy which so much distin- 
 guishes his works. To see this style in perfection, we must again have recourse 
 to the Dutch school, particularly to the works of the younger Vandervelde, and 
 the younger Teniers, whose pictures are valued by the connoisseurs in proportion 
 as they possess this excellence of a silver tint. Which of these different styles 
 ought to be preferred, so as to meet every man's idea, would be difficult to 
 determine, from the predilection which every man has to that mode which is 
 practised by the school in which he has been educated; but if any pre-eminence 
 is to be given, it must be to that manner which stands in the highest estimation 
 with mankind in general, and that is the Venetian, or rather the manner of 
 Titian; which, simply considered as producing an effect of colours, will certainly 
 eclipse with its splendour whatever is brought into competition with it. But, as 
 I hinted before, if female delicacy and beauty be the principal object of the 
 Painter's aim, the purity and clearness of the tint of Guido will correspond better, 
 and more contribute to produce it than even the glowing tint of Titian. 
 
 The rarity of excellence in any of these styles of colouring sufficiently shows 
 the difficulty of succeeding in them. It may be worth the Artist's attention, 
 while he is in this pursuit, particularly to guard against those errors which 
 seem to be annexed to, or divided by thin partitions from their neighbouring 
 excellence. Thus, when he is endeavouring to acquire the Roman style, if he is 
 not extremely careful, he falls into a hard and dry manner. The flowery colour- 
 ing is nearly allied to the gaudy effect of fan-painting. The simplicity of the 
 Bolognian style requires the nicest hand to preserve it from insipidity. That of 
 Titian, which may be called the golden manner, when unskilfully managed, 
 becomes what the Painters call Foxy ; and the silver degenerates into the 
 leaden and heavy manner. None of them, to be perfect in their way, will 
 bear any union with each other i if they are not distinctly separated, the 
 effect of the picture will be feeble and insipid, without any mark or distinguished 
 character. R. 
 
 NOTE XLIV. — L. 9, P. 256. 
 
 On that high finish'd form let paint bestow 
 
 Her midnight shadow, her meridian glow. 
 It is indeed a rule adopted by many painters to admit in no part of the back- 
 ground, or on any object in the picture, shadows of equal strength with those 
 which are employed on the principal figure; but this produces a false represen- 
 tation. With deference to our author, to have the strong light and shadow 
 there alone, is not to produce the best natural effect; nor is it authorised by the 
 practice of those painters who are most distinguished for harmony of colouring; 
 a conduct therefore, totally contrary to this is absolutely necessary, that the same 
 strength, the same tone of colour, should be diffused over the whole picture. 
 
 I am no enemy to dark shadows. The general deficiency to be observed in 
 the works of the painters of the last age, as well as indeed of many of the present, 
 is a feebleness of effect; they seem to be too much afraid of those midnight 
 shadows, which alone give the power of nature, and without which a picture will 
 appear like one wholly wanting solidity and strength. The lightest and gayest 
 style requires this foil to give it force and brilliancy. 
 
292 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 There is another fault prevalent in the modern painters, — the predominance of 
 a grey leaden colour over the whole picture : this is more particularly to be re- 
 marked when their works hang in the same room with pictures well and power- 
 fully coloured. These two deficiencies, the want of strength, and the want of 
 mellowness or warmth, are often imputed to the want of materials : as if we had 
 not such good colours as those painters whose works we so much admire ! R. 
 
 NOTE XLV. — L. 6, P. 258, 
 
 Know he that well begins has half achiev'd 
 His destin'd work, 
 
 Those masters are the best models to begin with, who have the fewest faults 
 and who are the most regular in the conduct of their work. The first studies 
 ought rather to be made on their performances than on the productions of eccen- 
 tric genius; where striking beauties are mixed with great defects, the student 
 will be in danger of mistaking blemishes for beauties, and perhaps the beauties 
 may be such as he is not advanced enough to attempt. R. 
 
 NOTE XLVI. — L. 11, P. 258. 
 
 ■ his erroneous lines 
 
 Will to the soul that poison rank convey, 
 Which life's best length shall fail to purge away. 
 
 Taste will be unavoidably regulated by what is continually before the eyes, 
 It were therefore well if young students could be debarred the sight of any works 
 that were not free from gross faults, till they had well formed, and, as I may say, 
 hardened their judgment : they might then be permitted to look about them, not 
 only without fear of vitiating their taste, but even with advantage; and would 
 often find great ingenuity and extraordinary invention in works which are under 
 the influence of a bad taste. R. 
 
 NOTE XLVII. — L. 5, P.259. 
 
 As surely charms that voluntary style, 
 
 Which careless plays and seems to mock at toil. 
 
 This appearance of ease and facility may be called the grace or genius of the 
 mechanical or executive part of the art. There is undoubtedly something fasci- 
 nating in seeing that done with careless ease, which others do with laborious 
 difficulty : the spectator unavoidably, by a kind of natural instinct, feels that 
 general animation with which the hand of the artist seems to be inspired. 
 
 Of all painters Rubens appears to claim the first rank for facility, both in the 
 invention and in the execution of his work; it makes so great a part of his ex- 
 cellence, that if we take it away, half at least of his reputation will go with it. 
 
 NOTE XLVIII. — L. 21, P. 259. 
 
 The eye each obvious error swift descries ; 
 Hold then the compass only in the eyes. 
 A painter who relies on his compass, leans on a prop which will not support 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 293 
 
 him ; there are few parts of his figures but what are fore-shortened more or less, 
 and cannot, therefore, be drawn or corrected by measures. Though he begins 
 his studies with the compass in his hand, as we learn a dead language by gram- 
 mar, yet, after a certain time, they are both flung aside, and in their place a 
 kind of mechanical correctness of the eye and ear is substituted, which operates 
 without any conscious effort of the mind. R. 
 
 NOTE XLIX — L. 23, P. 259. 
 Give to the dictates of the learn'd, respect. 
 
 There are few spectators of a Painter's work, learned or unlearned, who, if 
 they can be induced to speak their real sensations, would not be profitable to 
 the Artist. The only opinions of which no use can be made, are those of half- 
 learned connoisseurs, who have quitted nature and have not acquired art. That 
 same sagacity which makes a man excel in his profession must assist him in the 
 proper use to be made of the judgment of the learned, and the opinions of the 
 vulgar. Of many things the vulgar are as competent judges as the most learned 
 connoisseur; of the portrait, for instance, of an animal; or, perhaps, of the truth 
 of the representations of some vulgar passion. 
 
 It must be expected that the untaught vulgar will carry with them the same 
 want of right taste in the judgment they make of the effect or character in a 
 picture as they do in life, and prefer a strutting figure and gaudy colours to the 
 grandeur of simplicity ; but if this same vulgar person, or even an infant, should 
 mistake for dirt what was intended to be a shade, it might be apprehended that 
 the shadow was not the true colour of nature, with almost as much certainty as 
 if the observation had been made by the most able connoisseur. R. 
 
 NOTE L.— L. 11, P. 263. 
 
 Know that ere perfect taste matures the mind, 
 
 Or perfect practice to that taste be join'd, — 
 However admirable his taste may be, he is but half a painter who can only 
 conceive his subject, and is without knowledge of the mechanical part of his art ; 
 as on the other hand his skill may be said to be thrown away, who has employed 
 his colours on subjects that create no interest from their beauty, their character, 
 or expression. One part often absorbs the whole mind, to the neglect of the 
 rest: the young students, whilst at Rome, studying the works of Michael An- 
 gelo and Raffaelle, are apt to lose all relish for any kind of excellence, except 
 what is found in their works. Perhaps going afterwards to Venice they may be 
 induced to think there are other things required, and that nothing but the most 
 superlative excellence in design, character, and dignity of style, can atone for a 
 deficiency in the ornamental graces of the art. Excellence must of course be 
 rare ; and one of the causes of its rarity, is the necessity of uniting qualities 
 which in their nature are contrary to each other; and yet no approaches can be 
 made towards perfection without it. Every art or profession requires this union 
 of contrary qualities, like the harmony of colouring, which is produced by an 
 opposition of hot and cold hues. The Poet and the Painter must unite to the 
 
294 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 warmth that accompanies a poetical imagination, patience and perseverance: 
 the one in counting syllables and toiling for a rhyme, and the other in labouring 
 the minute parts, and finishing the detail of his works, in order to produce the 
 great effect he desires: they must both possess a comprehensive mind that takes 
 in the whole at one view, and at the same time, an accuracy of eye or mind 
 that distinguishes between two things that, to an ordinary spectator, appear 
 the same, whether this consists in tints or words, or the nice discrimination on 
 which expression and elegance depend. 
 
 NOTE LI.— L. 23, P. 263. 
 
 While free from prejudice your active eye 
 Preserves its first unsullied purity. 
 
 Prejudice is generally used in a bad sense, to imply a predilection, not 
 founded on reason or nature, in favour of a particular master, or a particular 
 manner, and therefore ought to be opposed with all our force; but totally to 
 eradicate in advanced age what has so much assisted us in our youth, is a point 
 to which we cannot hope to arrive. The difficulty of conquering this prejudice 
 is to be considered in the number of those causes which makes excellence so 
 very rare. 
 
 Whoever would make a happy progress in any art or science, must begin by 
 having great confidence in, and even prejudice in favour of, his instructor; but 
 to continue to think him infallible, would be continuing for ever in a state of 
 infancy. 
 
 It is impossible to draw a line when the Artist shall begin to dare to examine 
 and criticise the works of his Master, or of the greatest master-pieces of art ; 
 we can only say, that his progress to this capacity will be gradual. In pro- 
 portion as the scholar learns to analyse the excellence of the Masters he 
 esteems, — in proportion as he comes exactly to distinguish in what that excel- 
 lence consists, and refer it to some precise rule and fixed standard, in that pro- 
 portion he becomes free. When he has once laid hold of their principle, he 
 will see when they deviate from it, or fail to come up to it; so that it is in 
 reality through his extreme admiration of, and blind deference to, these masters, 
 (without which he never would have employed an intense application to discover 
 the rule and scheme of their works,) that he is enabled, if I may use the expres- 
 sion, to emancipate himself, even to get above them, and to become the judge of 
 those of whom he was at first the humble disciple. R. 
 
 NOTE L1I. — L. 1, P. 264. 
 
 When duly taught each geometric rule, 
 Approach with awful step the Grecian school. 
 The first business of the student is to be able to give a true representation of 
 whatever object presents itself, just as it appears to the eye, so as to amount to 
 a deception ; and the geometric rules of perspective are included in this study. 
 This is the language of the art ; which appears the more necessary to be taught 
 early, from the natural repugnance which the mind has to such mechanical 
 labour, after it has acquired a relish for its higher departments. 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING 
 
 295 
 
 The next step is to acquire a knowledge of the beauty of form ; for this pur- 
 pose he is recommended to the study of the Grecian Sculpture ; and for composi- 
 tion, colouring, and expression to the great works at Rome, Venice, Parma, 
 and Bologna ; he begins now to look for those excellencies which address them- 
 selves to the imagination, and considers deception as a scaffolding to be now 
 thrown aside, as of no importance to this finished fabric. 
 
 NOTE LIU. — L. 5, P 264. 
 
 No rest, no pause, till all her graces known, 
 A. happy habit makes each grace your own. 
 
 To acquire this excellence, something more is required than measuring statues 
 or copying pictures. 
 
 I am confident the works of the ancient sculptors were produced, not by 
 measuring but in consequence of that correctness of eye which they had acquired 
 by long habit, which served them at all times, and on all occasions, when the 
 compass would fail. There is no reason why the eye should not be capable of 
 acquiring equal precision and exactness with the organs of hearing or speaking. 
 We know that an infant, who has learned its language by habit, will sometimes 
 correct the most learned grammarian who has been taught by rule only; the 
 idiom, which is the peculiarity of language, and that in which its native grace 
 is seated, can be learned by habit alone. 
 
 To possess this perfect habit, the same conduct is necessary in art as in lan- 
 guage, that it should be begun early, whilst the organs are pliable and im- 
 pressions are eassily taken, and that we should accustom ourselves, while this 
 habit is forming, to see beauty only, and avoid as much as possible deformity 
 or what is incorrect. Whatever is got this way may be said to be properly 
 made our own ; it becomes a part of ourselves, and operates unperceived. The 
 mind acquires by such exercise a kind of instinctive rectitude which supersedes 
 all rules. R. 
 
 NOTE LIV. — L. 13, P.264. 
 
 See Raffaelle there his forms celestial trace, 
 UnrivaU'd sovereign of the realms of grace. 
 
 The pre-eminence which Fresnoy has given to those three great Painters, 
 Raffaelle, Michael Angelo, and Julio Romano, sufficiently points out to us what 
 ought to be the chief object of our pursuit. Though two of them were 
 either totally ignorant of, or never practised any of those graces of the art which 
 proceed from the management of colours, or the disposition of light and sha- 
 dow, and the other (Raffaelle) was far from being eminently skilful in these 
 particulars, yet they all justly deserve that high rank in which Fresnoy has 
 placed them ; Michael Angelo, for the grandeur and sublimity of his characters 
 as well as for his profound knowledge of design ; Raffaelle, for the judicious 
 arrangement of his materials, for the grace, the dignity, and the expression of 
 his characters ; and Julio Romano, for possessing the true poetical genius of 
 painting, perhaps, in a higher degree than any other Painter whatever. 
 
296 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 In heroic subjects it will not, I hope, appear too great a refinement of criti - 
 cism to say, that the want of naturalness or deception of the art, which give to 
 an inferior style its whole value, is no material disadvantage : the hours, for 
 instance, as represented by Julio Romano, giving provender to the horses of 
 the Sun, would not strike the imagination more forcibly from their being co- 
 loured with the pencil of Rubens, though he would have represented them more 
 naturally ; but might he not possibly, by that very act, have brought them 
 down from the celestial state to the rank of mere terrestrial animals ? In these 
 things, however, I admit there will always be a degree of uncertainty. Who 
 knows that Julio Romano, if he had possessed the art and practice of colouring 
 like Rubens, would not have given to it some taste of poetical grandeur not 
 yet attained to ? The same familiar naturalness would be equally an imper- 
 fection in characters which are to be represented as demi-gods, or something 
 above humanity. 
 
 Though it would be far from an addition to the merit of those two great 
 painters to have made their works deceptions, yet there can be no reason why 
 they might not, in some degree, and with a judicious caution and selection, have 
 availed themselves of many excellencies which are found in the Venetian, Flem- 
 ish, and even Dutch schools, and which have been inculcated in this poem. 
 There are some of them which are not in absolute contradiction to any style; 
 the happy disposition, for instance, of light and shade; the preservation of 
 breadth in the masses of colours; the union of these with their grounds; and the 
 harmony arising from a due mixture of hot and cold hues, with many other 
 excellencies, not inseparably connected with that individuality which produces 
 deception, would surely not counteract the effect of the grand style; they would 
 only contribute to the ease of the spectator, by making the vehicle pleasing by 
 which ideas are conveyed to the mind, which otherwise might be perplexed and 
 bewildered with a confused assemblage of objects; they would add a certain 
 degree of grace and sweetness to strength and grandeur. Though the merits of 
 those two great painters are of such transcendency as to make us overlook their 
 deficiency, yet a subdued attention to these inferior excellencies must be added 
 to complete the idea of a perfect painter. 
 
 Deception, which is so often recommended by writers on the theory of paint- 
 ing, instead of advancing the arts, is in reality carrying it back to its infant 
 state ; the first essays of painting were certainly nothing but mere imitation of 
 individual objects, and when this amounted to a deception, the artist had ac- 
 complished his purpose. 
 
 And here I must observe, that the arts of painting and poetry seem to have 
 no kind of resemblance in their early stages. The first, or, at least the second 
 stage of poetry in every nation, is removed as far as possible from common life; 
 every thing is of the marvellous kind ; it treats only of heroes, wars, ghosts, en- 
 chantments, and transformations; the poet could not expect to seize and capti- 
 vate the attention, if he related only common occurrences, such as every day 
 produces. Whereas the Painter exhibited what then appeared a great effort 
 of art, by merely giving the appearance of relief to a flat superficies, however 
 uninteresting in itself that object might be ; but this soon satiating, the same 
 entertainment was required from Painting which had been experienced in 
 Poetry. The mind and imagination were to be satisfied, and required to be 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 297 
 
 amused and delighted, as well as the eye; and when the art proceeded to a 
 still higher degree of excellence, it was then found that this deception not only 
 did not assist, hut even in a certain degree counteracted the flight of imagina- 
 tion; hence proceeded the Roman school; and it is from hence that Raffaelle, 
 Michael Angelo, and Julio Romano, stand in that pre- eminence of rank in which 
 Fresnoy has justly placed them. R. 
 
 NOTE LV. L. 3. P. 265. 
 
 Bright beyond all the rest, Correggio flings 
 His ample lights, and round them gently brings 
 The mingling shade. 
 
 The excellency of Correggio's manner has justly been admired by all succeed- 
 ing painters. This manner is in direct opposition to what is called the dry and 
 hard manner which preceded him. 
 
 His colour, and his mode of finishing, approach nearer to perfection than those 
 of any other painter; the gliding motion of his outline, and the sweetness with 
 which it melts into the ground; the cleanness and transparency of his colouring, 
 which stop at that exact medium in which the purity and perfection of taste 
 lies, leave nothing to be wished for. Baroccio, though, upon the whole, one of 
 his most successful imitators, yet sometimes, in endeavouring at cleanness or 
 brilliancy of tint, overshot the mark, and falls under the criticism that was 
 made on an ancient painter, that his figures looked as if they fed upon roses. 
 
 R. 
 
 NOTE LVI. L. 23. P. 265. 
 
 Yet more than these to meditation's eyes 
 Great natm*e's self redundantly supplies. 
 
 Fresnoy, with great propriety, begins and finishes his poem with recommend- 
 ing the study of nature. 
 
 This is in reality, the beginning and the end of theory. It is in nature only 
 we can find that beauty which is the great object of our search; it can be found 
 no where else : we can no more form any idea of beauty superior to nature, than 
 we can form an idea of a sixth sense, or any other excellence out of the limits of 
 the human mind. We are forced to confine our conception even of heaven itself 
 and its inhabitants to what we see in this world; even the Supreme Being, if he 
 is represented at all, the painter has no other way of representing than by re- 
 versing the decree of the inspired Lawgiver, and making God after his own 
 image. 
 
 Nothing can be so unphilosophical as a supposition that we can form any 
 idea of beauty or excellence out of or beyond nature, which is and must be the 
 fountain-head from whence all our ideas must be derived. 
 
 This being acknowledged, it must follow, of course, that all the rules which 
 this theory or any other, teaches, can be no more than teaching the art of seeing 
 nature. The rules of art are formed on the various works of those who have 
 studied nature the most successfully; by this advantage, of observing the various 
 
 x 2 
 
29% 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 manners in which various minds have contemplated her works, the artist en- 
 larges his own views, and is taught to look for and see what otherwise would 
 have escaped his observation. 
 
 It is to be remarked, that there are two modes of imitating nature, one of 
 which refers for its truth to the sensations of the mind, and the other to the 
 eye. 
 
 Some schools, such as the Roman and Florentine, appear to have addressed 
 themselves principally to the mind; others solely to the eye, such as the Venetian 
 in the instances of Paul Veronese, and Tintoret; others again have endeavoured 
 to unite both by joining the elegance and grace of ornament with the strength and 
 vigour of design ; such are the schools of Bologna and Parma. 
 
 All those schools are equally to be considered as followers of Nature. He 
 who produces a work analogous to the mind or imagination of man, is as natural 
 a painter as he whose works are calculated to delight the eye ; the works of 
 Michael Angelo, or Julio Romano, in this sense, may be said to be as natural as 
 those of the Dutch Painters. The study, therefore, of the nature or affections of 
 the mind is as necessary to the theory of the higher department of the art, as 
 the knowledge of what will be pleasing or offensive to the eye, is to the lower 
 style. 
 
 What relates to the mind or imagination, such as invention, character, expres- 
 sion, grace, or grandeur, certainly cannot be taught by rules ; little more can be 
 done than pointing out where they are to be found ; it is a part which belongs 
 to general education, and will operate in proportion to the cultivation of the mind 
 of the Artist. 
 
 The greater part of the rules in this Poem are, therefore, necessarily confined 
 to what relates to the eye ; and it may be remarked, that none of those rules 
 make any pretensions towards improving Nature, or going contrary to her work : 
 their tendency is merely to show what is truly Nature. 
 
 Thus, for instance, a flowing outline is recommended, because beauty (which 
 alone is Nature) cannot be produced without it ; old age or leanness produces 
 strait lines ; corpulency round lines ; but in a state of health, accompanying- 
 youth, the outlines are waving, flowing, and serpentine. Thus again, if we are 
 told to avoid the chalk, the brick, or the leaden colour, it is because real flesh 
 never partakes of those hues, though ill-coloured pictures are always inclinable 
 to one or other of those defects. 
 
 Rules are to be considered likewise as fences, placed only where trespass is ex- 
 pected, and are particularly enforced in proportion as peculiar faults or defects are 
 prevalent at the time, or age, in which they are delivered ; for what may be proper 
 strongly to recommend or enforce in one age, may not with equal propriety be 
 so much laboured in another, when it may be the fashion for Artists to run into 
 the contrary extreme, proceeding from prejudice to a manner adopted by some 
 favourite Painter then in vogue. 
 
 When it is recommended to preserve a breadth of colour or of light, it is not 
 intended that the Artist is to work broader than Nature ; but this lesson is 
 insisted on because we know, from experience, that the contrary is a fault which 
 Artists are apt to be guilty of, who, when they are examining and finishing the 
 detail, neglect or forget that breadth which is observable only when the eye 
 takes in the effect of the whole. 
 
 Thus again, we recommend to paint soft and tender, to make a harmony and 
 
THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 299 
 
 union of colouring and for this end, that all the shadows shall be nearly of 
 the same colour. The reason of these precepts being at all enforced, proceeds 
 from the disposition which Artists have to paint harder than Nature, to make 
 the outline more cutting against the ground, and to have less harmony and 
 union than is found in Nature, preserving the same brightness of colour in the 
 shadows as are seen in the lights : both these false manners of representing 
 Nature were the practice of the Painters when the art was in its infancy, and 
 would be the practice now of every student who was left to himself, and had 
 never been taught the art of seeing Nature. 
 
 There are other rules which may be said not so much to relate to the objects 
 represented as to the eye ; but the truth of these are as much fixed in Nature 
 as the others, and proceed from the necessity there is that the work should be 
 seen with ease and satisfaction : to this end are all the rules that relate to group- 
 ing and the disposition of light and shade. 
 
 With regard to precepts about moderation, and avoiding extremes, little is to 
 be drawn from them. The rule would be too minute that had any exactness 
 at all : a multiplicity of exceptions would arise, so that the teacher would be 
 for ever saying too much, and yet never enough. When a student is instructed 
 to mark with precision every part of his figure, whether it be naked, or in 
 drapery, he probably becomes hard ; if, on the contrary, he is told to paint in 
 the most tender manner, possibly he becomes insipid. But among extremes some 
 are more tolerable than others ; of the two extremes I have just mentioned, the 
 hard manner is the most pardonable, carrying with it an air of learning, as if the 
 Artist knew with precision the true form of Nature, though he had rendered it 
 with two heavy a hand. 
 
 In every part of the human figure, when not spoiled by two great corpulency, 
 will be found this distinctness, the parts never appearing uncertain or confused 
 or, as a musician would say, slurred ; and all those smaller parts which are 
 comprehended in the larger compartment are still to be there, however tenderly 
 marked. 
 
 To conclude. In all minute, detailed, aud practical excellence, general pre- 
 cepts must be either deficient or unnecessary ; for the rule is not known, nor 
 is it indeed to any purpose a rule, if it be necessary to inculcate it on every 
 occasion. R. 
 
 NOTE LVIL—L. 1. P. 266. 
 
 Whence Art, by practice, to perfection soars. 
 After this the Poet says, that he passes over in silence many things which 
 will be more amply treated in his Commentary. 
 
 ' Malta supersileo qute Commentaria dicent,' 
 But as he never lived to write that commentary, his translator has taken the 
 liberty to pass over this line in silence also. 
 
 NOTE LVIXL— L5 P. 266. 
 What time the pride of Bourbon urg'd his way, &c. 
 Du Piles, and after him Dry den, call this Hero Louis XIII, but the later French 
 Editor, whom I have before quoted, will needs have him to be the XIV. His 
 
300 
 
 NOTES ON THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 note is as follows ; at the accession of Louis XIV, Du Fresnoy, had been ten 
 years at Rome, therefore the epoch, marked by the Poet, falls probably upon 
 the first years of that Prince ; that is to say, upon the years 1643 or 1644 
 The thunders which he darts on the Alps, allude to the successes of our arms in 
 the Milanese, and in Piedmont ; and the Alcides, who is born again in France 
 for the defence of his country, is conqueror of Rocroy, the young Duke of 
 Anguien, afterwards called Le Grand Conde.' I am apt to suspect that all 
 this fine criticism is false, though I do not think it worth while to controvert it. 
 Whether the Poet meant to compliment Louis XIII. or the little boy that suc- 
 ceeded him, (for he was only six years old in the year 1644) he was guilty 
 of gross flattery. It is impossible, however, from the construction of 
 the sentence, that Lodovicus Borbonidum Decus, and Gallicus Alcides, 
 could mean any more than one identical person ; and consequently the 
 Editor's notion concerning the Grand Conde is indisputably false. I have, 
 therefore, taken the whole passage in the same sense that Du Piles did ; 
 and have also, like him, used the poet's phrase of the Spanish Lion in the con- 
 cluding line, rather than that of the Spanish Geryon, to which Mr Dryden has 
 transformed him : His reason, I suppose, for doing this was, that the monster 
 Geryon was of the Spanish extraction, and the Nemean Lion, which Hercules 
 killed, was of Peloponnesus ; but we are told by Martial,* that there was a 
 fountain in Spain called Nemea, which, perhaps led Fresnoy astray in this pas- 
 sage. However this be, Hercules killed so many lions, besides that which con- 
 stituted the first of his twelve labours, that either he, or at least some one of 
 his namesakes, may well be supposed to have killed one in Spain. Geryon is 
 described by all the poets as a man with three heads, and therefore could not 
 well have been called a lion by Fresnoy ; neither does the plural Ora mean any 
 more than the Jaws of a single beast. So Lucan, lib. iv. ver. 73.9. 
 
 If this translation should live as many years as the original has done, already, 
 which by its being printed with that original, and illustrated by such a com- 
 mentator, is a thing not impossible, it may not be amiss, in order to prevent an 
 hallucination of some future critic, similar to that of the French Editor, men- 
 tioned in the last note, to conclude with a memorandum that the translation was 
 finished, and these occasional verses added, in the year 1781 ; leaving, however, 
 the political sentiments which they express to be approved or condemned by 
 him, as the annals of the time (written at a period distant enough for history to 
 become impartial) may determine his judgment. M. 
 
 Quippe ubi non sonipes motus clangore tubarum 
 Saxa quatit pulsu ; rigidos vexantia freenos 
 Ora terens, 
 
 M. 
 
 NOTE LIX.— L.23. P. 266. 
 
 But mark the Proteous policy of State. 
 
 * Avidem rigens Dircemia placabit sitim 
 Et Nemea tpj.se vincit nives. 
 
 Mart. lib. i. Ejoig. 50. dc Hipso, toe. 
 
 M. 
 
 THE END OF THE iNOTES. 
 
The Precepts which Sir Joshua Reynolds has illustrated, are marked 
 in the following Table with one or more Asterisks, according to the 
 number of his Notes. 
 
 TABLE OF THE RULES 
 
 CONTAINED IN THE FOREGOING 
 
 POEM. 
 
 I. — Of the Beatiful *** - Page 235 
 
 II. — Of Theory and Practice **----- 236 
 
 III. — Of the Subject* - 237 
 
 Invention, the first part of Painting ** - - - ib. 
 
 IV. — Disposition, or economy of the whole - ib. 
 
 V. — The subject to be treated faithfully * - - 238 
 
 VI. — Every foreign Ornament to be rejected *** - - ib. 
 
 VII. — Design or Position, the second part of Painting ** - - 239 
 
 VIII. — Variety in the Figures - 240 
 
 IX. — Conformity of the Limbs and Drapery to the Head * - - ib. 
 
 X. — Action of Mutes to be imitated * .... ib. 
 XL— The Principal Figure * - ib. 
 
 XII. — Groups of Figures - - 241 
 
 XIII. — Diversity of Attitude in Groups * ib. 
 
 XIV. — A Balance to be kept in the picture - ib. 
 
 XV. — Of the number of Figures ** ----- 242 
 
 XVI. — The Joints and Feet - - ib. 
 
 XVII. — The Motion of the Hands with the Head ... ib. 
 
 XVIII. — What things are to be avoided in the Distribution of the 
 
 Piece - - - - - - 243 
 
 XIX. — Nature to be accommodated to Genius * - - - ib. 
 
 XX. — The Antique the Model to be copied - - 244 
 
 XXI. — How to paint a single Figure * ib. 
 
 XXII. — Of Drapery - - - - - ib. 
 
 XXIII. — Of picturesque Ornament • - 245 
 XXIV— Ornament of Gold and Jewels * •• - 246 
 XXV.— Of the Model - ib. 
 XXVL— Union of the Piece ib. 
 
302 
 
 TABLE OF THE RULES. 
 
 Page 
 
 XXVII. — Grace and Majesty *— - - - - 246 
 
 XXVIII. — Every thing in its proper Place - - ~ - ib. 
 
 XXIX. — The Passions **»'-■- - - - - ib. 
 
 XXX. — Gothic Ornament to be avoided - 247 
 Colouring, the third Part of Painting * 248 
 
 XXXI. — The Conduct of the Tints of Light and Shadow ~ - 249 
 XXXIT. — Dense and Opake Bodies with translucent ones - - 250 
 
 XXXIII. — There must not be two equal Lights in the Picture ** - 251 
 
 XXXIV. — Of White and Black 252 
 
 XXXV. — The Reflection of Colours - ib. 
 
 XXXVI. — The Union of Colours * - - - - - ib. 
 
 XXXVII— Of the Interposition of Air - - - 253 
 
 XXXVIII— The Relation of Distances - ib. 
 XXXIX. — Of Bodies which are Distanced - ib. 
 XL. — Of Contiguous and Separated Bodies 254 
 XLI. — Colours very opposite to each other never to be joined - ib. 
 XLI1. — Diversity of Tints and Colours ■> ib. 
 XLIIL— The Choice of Light - - - - - ib. 
 XL1V. — Of Certain Things relating to the practical part - - ib. 
 XLV.— The Field of the Picture * - - - - - 255 
 XLVL— Of the Vivacity of Colours * - ib. 
 
 XLVIL— Of Shadows - ib. 
 
 XLVIII. — The Picture to be of one Piece - ib. 
 
 XLIX. — The Looking-Glass the Painter's best Master - - 256 
 
 L. — A half Figure, or a whole one before others * - - ib. 
 
 LI„— A Portrait - - = - - - ib. 
 
 LIL— The Place of the Picture - ib. 
 
 L1II. — Large Lights ....... 257 
 
 LIV, — The Quantity of Light and Shade to be adapted to the Place 
 
 of the Picture - - - . - ■> ib. 
 
 LV. — Things which are disagreeable in Painting to be avoided - ib. 
 
 LVI. — The prudential part of a Painter - ib. 
 
 LVII. — The idea of a beautiful Picture - ib. 
 
 LVIII.— Advice to a Young Painter ** - - - 258 
 
 LIX. — Art must be subservient to the Painter - = - 259 
 
 LX. — Diversity and Facility are Pleasing * - - - - ib. 
 
 LXI. — The Original must be in the Head, and the Copy on the Cloth ib. 
 
 LXII. — The Compass to be in the Eyes * ib. 
 
 LXIII. — Pride, an Enemy to good Painting * ib. 
 
 LXI V— Know thyself - - .... . . 260 
 
 LXV. — Perpetually Practise, and do easily what you have conceived 26 1 
 
 LXVI. — The Morning most proper for Work ... j D> 
 
 LXVII. — Every day do something ----- ib. 
 
 LXVIII. — The Method of catching natural Passions - - ib. 
 
 LXIX.— Of the Table Book - ib. 
 
 LXX. — The method of Studies for a young Painter - - 264 
 
 LXXL — Nature and Experience perfect Art * - 265 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
The following little piece has been constantly annexed to M. du Fees- 
 noy's poem. It is here given from the former editions ; but the liberty 
 has been taken of making some alterations in the version, which, when 
 compared with the original in French, appeared either to be done very 
 carelessly by Mr Deyden, or (what is more probable) to be the work of 
 some inferior hand which he employed on the occasion. M. 
 
THE 
 
 SENTIMENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLES ALPHONSE DU FRESNOY, 
 
 ON THE WORKS OF 
 
 THE PRINCIPAL AND BEST PAINTERS OF 
 THE TWO LAST AGES; 
 
 1600 and 1700. 
 
 Y 2 
 
THE 
 
 SENTIMENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLES ALPHONSE DU FRESNO Y, 
 
 ON THE WORKS OF THE 
 
 PRINCIPAL AND BEST PAINTERS OF THE TWO LAST AGES. 
 
 Painting was in its perfection amongst the Greeks. The principal schools were 
 at Sycion, afterwards at Rhodes, at Athens, at Corinth, and at last in Rome. 
 Wars and Luxury having overthrown the Roman Empire, it was totally ex- 
 tinguished, together with all the noble arts, the studies of humanity, and other 
 sciences. 
 
 It began to appear again in the year 1450 amongst some painters at Florence, 
 of which Domenico Ghirlandaio was one, who was master to Michael Angeio, 
 and had some kind of reputation, though his manner was gothic, and very dry. 
 
 Michael Angeio, his disciple, flourished in the times of Julius II. ; Leo X.; 
 and of seven successive Popes. He was a painter, a sculptor, and an architect, 
 both civil and military. The choice which he made of his attitudes was not 
 always beautiful or pleasing; his gusto of design was not the finest, nor his out- 
 lines the most elegant; the folds of his draperies, and the ornaments of his 
 habits, were neither noble nor graceful. He was not a little fantastical or ex- 
 travagant in his compositions; he was bold, even to rashness, in taking liberties 
 against the rules of perspective; his colouring is not over true, or very pleasant; 
 he knew not the artifice of light and shadow; but he designed more learnedly , 
 and better understood all the knittings of the bones, and the office and situation 
 of the muscles, than any of the modern painters. There appears a certain air of 
 greatness and severity in his figures, in both which he has oftentimes succeeded. 
 But above the rest of his excellencies, was his wonderful skill in Architecture, 
 wherein he has not only surpassed all the moderns, but even the ancients also; 
 the St Peter's of Rome, the St John's of Florence, the Capitol, the Palazzo Far- 
 nese, and his own house, are sufficient testimonies of it. His disciples were 
 Marcello Venusti, II Rosso, Georgio Vasari, Fra. Bastiano, (who commonly 
 painted for him,) and many other Florentines. 
 
308 
 
 du fresnoy's account of 
 
 Pietro Perugino designed with sufficient knowledge of nature ; but he is dry, 
 and his manner little. His Disciple was Raffaelle Sanzio, who was born on 
 Good-Friday, in the year 1483, and he died on Good-Friday, in the year 1520 ; 
 so that he lived only thirty-seven years complete. He surpassed all modern 
 painters, because he possessed more of the excellent parts of painting than any 
 other : and it is believed that he equalled the ancients, excepting only that he 
 designed not naked bodies with so much learning as Michael Angelo ; but his 
 gusto of design is purer, and much better. He painted not with so good, so full, 
 and so graceful a manner as Correggio : nor has he any thing of the contrast light 
 and shadow, or so strong and free a colouring as Titian ; but he had a better dis- 
 position in his pieces, without comparison, than either Titian, Correggio, Michael 
 Angelo, or all the rest of the succeeding painters to our days. His choice of 
 attitudes of heads, of ornaments, the arrangement of his drapery, his manner of 
 designing, his variety, his contrast, his expression, were beautiful in perfection ; 
 but above all, he possessed the graces in so advantageous a manner, that he has 
 never since been equalled by any other. There are portraits (or single figures) 
 of his, which are well executed. He was an admirable Architect. He was 
 handsome, well made, civil and good-natured, never refusing to teach another 
 what he knew himself. He had many scholars : amongst others Julio Romano, 
 Polydore, Gaudenzio, Giovanni d'Udine, and Michael Coxis. His Graver was 
 Mark Antonio, whose prints are admirable for the correctness of their out- 
 lines. 
 
 Julio Romano was the most excellent of all RafFaelle's disciples : he had con- 
 ceptions which were more extraordinary, more profound, and more elevated 
 than even his master himself : he was also a great Architect; his gusto was 
 pure and exquisite. He was a great imitator of the ancients, giving a clear 
 testimony in all production that he was desirous to restore to practice the same 
 forms and fabrics which were ancient. He had the good fortune to find great 
 persons, who committed to him the care of edifices, vestibules, and portieoes, 
 all tetrastyles, xistes, theatres, and such other places as are now in use. He 
 was wonderful in his choice of attitudes. His manner was drier and harder 
 than any of Raffaelle's school. He did not exactly understand either light and 
 shadow, or colouring. He is frequently harsh and ungraceful; the folds of his 
 draperies are neither beautiful nor great, easy nor natural, but all of them 
 imaginary, and too like the habits of fantastical comedians. He was well 
 versed in polite learning. His disciples were Pirro Ligorio, (who was admir- 
 able for antique buildings, as towns, temples, tombs, and trophies, and the 
 situation of ancient edifices,) iEneas Vico, Bonasone, Georgio Mantuano, and 
 others. 
 
 Polydore, a disciple of Raffaelle, designed admirably well as to the practical 
 part, having a particular genius for friezes, as we may see by those of white 
 and black, which he has painted at Rome. He imitated the ancients, but his 
 manner was greater than that of Julio Romano ; nevertheless Julio seems to be 
 the truer. Some admirable groups are seen in his works, and such as are not 
 elsewhere to be found. He coloured very seldom, and made landscapes in a 
 tolerably good taste. 
 
 Gio. Bellino, one of the first who was of any consideration at Venice, painted 
 very drily, according to the manner of his time. He was very knowing both 
 
THE PRINCIPAL PAINTERS. 
 
 309 
 
 in Architecture and Perspective. He was Titian's first master ; which may 
 easily be observed in the earlier works of that noble disciple ; in which we 
 may remark that propriety of colours which his master has observed. 
 
 About this time Georgione, the contemporary of Titian, came to excel in 
 portraits and also in greater works. He first began to make choice of glowing 
 and agreeable colours, the perfection and entire harmony of which were after- 
 wards to be found in Titian's pictures. He dressed his figures wonderfully 
 well : and it may be truly said, that but for him, Titian had never arrived to 
 that height of perfection which proceeded from the rivalship and jealousy' 
 which prevailed between them. 
 
 Titian was one of the greatest colourists ever known : he designed with much 
 more ease and practice than Georgione. There are to be seen women and 
 children of his hand which are admirable both for design and colouring ; the 
 gusto of them is delicate, charming, and noble, with a certain pleasing negli- 
 gence in the head-dresses, draperies, and ornaments, which are wholly peculiar 
 to himself. As for the figures of men, he has designed them but moderately 
 well : there are even some of his draperies which are mean, and in little 
 taste. His painting is wonderfully glowing, sweet and delicate. He drew 
 portraits which were extremely noble : the attitudes of them being very 
 graceful, grave, diversified, and adorned after a very becoming fashion. No 
 man ever painted landscape in so great a manner, so well coloured, and with such 
 truth of nature. For eight or ten year's space he copied, with great labour and 
 exactness, whatsoever he undertook ; thereby to make himself an easy way, and 
 to establish some general maxims for his future conduct. Besides the excellent 
 gusto which he had in colouring, in which he excelled all mortal men, he per- 
 fectly understood how to give every thing those touches which were most 
 suitable and proper to them : such as distinguished them from each other, and 
 which gave the greater spirit, and the most of truth. The pictures which he 
 made in his beginning, and in the declension of his age, are of a dry and mean 
 manner. He lived ninety-nine years. His disciples were Paulo Veronese, 
 Giacomo Tintoret, Giacomo da Ponte Bassano, and his son. 
 
 Paulo Veronese was wonderfully graceful in his airs of woman, with great 
 variety of brilliant draperies, and incredible vivacity and ease ; nevertheless 
 his composition is sometimes improper, and his design incorrect: but his colour- 
 ing, and whatsoever depends on it, is so verv charming on his pictures, that it 
 surprises at the first sight, and makes us totally forget those other qualities in 
 which he fails. 
 
 Tintoret was the disciple of Titian ; great in design and practice, but some- 
 times also greatly extravagant. He had an admirable genius for painting, but 
 not so great an affection for his art, or patience in the executive part of it, as 
 he had fire and vivacity of nature. He yet has made pictures not inferior in 
 beauty to those of Titian. His composition and decorations are for the most 
 part rude, and his outlines are incorrect ; but his colouring, and all that depends 
 upon it, is admirable. 
 
 The Bassans had a more mean and poor gusto in painting than Tintoret, and 
 their designs were also less correct than his. They had indeed an excellent 
 manner of colouring, and have touched all kinds of animals with an admirable 
 hand ; but were notoriously imperfect in composition and design. 
 
310 
 
 DU fresnoy's account of 
 
 Correggio painted at Parma too large cupolas in fresco, aud some altar-pieces. 
 This artist struck out certain natural and unaffected graces for his Madonnas, 
 his Saints, and little children, which were peculiar to himself. His manner, 
 design, and execution are all very great, but yet without correctness. He had 
 a most free and delightful pencil ; and it is to be acknowledged, that he painted 
 with a strength, relief, sweetness, and vivacity of colouring, which nothing ever 
 exceeded. He understood how to distribute his lights in such a manner, as was 
 wholly peculiar to himself, which gave a great force and great roundness to 
 his figures. This manner consists in extending a large light, and then making 
 it lose itself insensibly in the dark shado wings, which he placed out of the 
 masses ; and these give them this relief, without our being able to perceive from 
 whence proceeds so much effect, and so vast a pleasure to the sight. It appears 
 that in this part the rest of the Lombard school copied him. He had no great 
 choice of graceful attitudes, or distribution of beautiful groups. His design 
 oftentimes appears lame, and his positions not well chosen : The look of his 
 figures is often unpleasing : but his manner of designing heads, hands, and 
 feet, and other parts, is very great, and well deserves our imitation. In the 
 conduct and finishing of a picture, he has done wonders ; for he painted with 
 so much union, that his greatest works seem to have been finished in the 
 compass of one day : and appear as if we saw them in a looking-glass. His 
 landscape is equally beautiful with his figures. 
 
 At the same time with Correggio, lived and flourished Parmegiano; who, 
 besides his great manner of colouring, excelled also both in invention and de- 
 sign: with a genius full of delicacy and spirit, having nothing that was ungrace- 
 ful in his choice of attitudes, or in the dresses of his figures, which we cannot 
 say of Correggio; there are pieces of Parmegiano's very beautiful and correct. 
 
 These two Painters last mentioned had very good disciples, but they are 
 known only to those of their own province; and besides, there is little to be 
 credited of what his countrymen say, for Painting is wholly extinguished 
 amongst them. 
 
 I say nothing of Leonardo da Vinci, because I have seen but little of his : 
 though he restored the arts at Milan, and had there many scholars. 
 
 Ludovico Carracci, the cousin german of Hannibal and Augustino, studied 
 at Parma after Correggio; and excelled in design and colouring, with a grace 
 and clearness which Guido, the scholar of Hannibal, afterwards imitated with 
 great success. There are some of his pictures to be seen, which are very beauti- 
 ful, and well understood. He made his ordinary residence at Bologna; and 
 it was he who put the pencil into the hands of Hannibal his cousin. 
 
 Hannibal, in a little time, excelled his master in all parts of painting. He 
 imitated Correggio, Titian, and Raffaelle, in their different manners as he 
 pleased; excepting only, that you see not in his pictures the nobleness, the 
 graces, and the charms of Raffaelle: and his outlines are neither so pure, nor 
 so elegant as his. In all other things he is wonderfully accomplished, and of 
 an universal genius. 
 
 Augustino, brother to Hannibal, was also a very good Painter, and an ad- 
 mirable Graver. He had a natural son, called Antonio, who died at the age 
 of thirty five ; and who (according to the general opinion) would have surpassed 
 
THE PRINCIPAL PAINTERS. 
 
 311 
 
 his uncle Hannibal: for, by what he left behind him, it appears that he was 
 of a more lofty genius. 
 
 Guido chiefly imitated Ludovico Carracci, yet retained always somewhat of 
 the manner which his Master Denis Calvert, the Fleming, taught him. This 
 Calvert lived at Bologna, and was competitor and rival to Ludovico Carracci. 
 Guido made the same use of Albert Durer as Virgil did of old Ennius, borrowed 
 what pleased him, and made it afterwards his own; that is, he accommodated 
 what was good in Albert to his own manner; which he executed with so much 
 gracefulness and beauty, that he got more money and reputation in his time 
 than any of his Masters, and than all the scholars of the Carraccis, though they 
 were of greater capacity than himself. His heads yield no manner of precedence 
 to those of Raffaelle. 
 
 Sisto Badolocchi designed the best of all his disciples; but he died young. 
 
 Domenichino was a very knowing Painter, and very laborious, but of no great 
 natural endowments. It is true, he was profoundly skilled in all the parts of 
 Painting, but wantiug genius (as I said) he had less of nobleness in his works 
 than all the rest who studied in the school of the Carraccis. 
 
 Albani was excellent in all the parts of Painting, and a polite scholar. 
 
 Landfranc, a man of a great and sprightly wit, supported his reputation for 
 a long time with an extraordinary gusto of design and colouring : but his foun- 
 dation being only on the practical part, he at length lost ground in point of 
 correctness, so that many of his pieces appear extravagant and fantastical ; and 
 after his decease, the school of the Carraccis went daily to decay in all the parts 
 of Painting. 
 
 Gio. Viola was very old before he learned landscape ; the knowledge of which 
 was imparted to him by Hannibal Carracci, who took pleasure to instruct him ; 
 so that he painted many of that kind, which are wonderfully fine, and well 
 coloured. 
 
 If we cast our eyes towards Germany and the Low Countries, we may there 
 behold Albert Durer, Lucas van Leyden, Holbein, Aldegrave, &c, who were all 
 contemporaries. Amongst these, Albert Durer and Holbein were both of them 
 wonderfully knowing, and had certainly been of the first form of Painters, had 
 they travelled into Italy ; for nothing can be laid to their charge, but only that 
 they had a Gothic gusto. As for Holbein, his execution surpassed even that of 
 Raffaelle ; and I have seen a portrait of his painting, with which one of Titian's 
 could not come in competition. 
 
 Amongst the Flemings, appeared Rubens, who had, from his birth, a lively, 
 free, noble, and universal genius: a genius capable not only of raising him to 
 the rank of the ancient Painters, but also to the highest employments in the 
 service of his country ; so that he was chosen for one of the most important 
 embassies in our time. His gusto of design savours somewhat more of the 
 Flemish than of the beauty of the antique, because he staid not long at Rome. 
 And though we cannot but observe in all his Paintings, ideas which are great 
 and noble, yet it must be confessed, that generally speaking, he designed not 
 correctly ; but for all the other arts of painting, he was as absolute a master of 
 them, and possessed them all as thoroughly as any of his predecessors in that 
 noble art. His principal studies were made in Lombardy, after the works of 
 
312 
 
 du feesnoy's account, etc. 
 
 Titian, Paulo Veronese, aad Tintoret, whose cream he has skimmed, (if you 
 will allow the phrase,) and extracted from their several beauties many general 
 maxims and infallible rules which he always followed, and by which he has 
 acquired in his works a greater facility than that of Titian; more of purity, 
 truth, and science than Paulo Veronese; and more of majesty, repose, and mo- 
 deration than Tintoret. To conclude; his manner is so solid, so knowing, 
 and so ready, that it may seem this rare accomplished genius was sent from 
 heaven to instruct mankind in the Art of Painting. 
 
 His school was full of admirable disciples; amongst whom Vandyck was he 
 who best comprehended all the rules and general maxims of his Master; and 
 who has even excelled him in the delicacy of his carnations, and in his cabinet- 
 pieces; but his taste, in the designing part, was nothing better than that of 
 Rubens. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. DRY DEN TO HIS TRANSLATION, 
 
 CONTAINING A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 POETRY AM) PAINTING. 
 
 z 2 
 
It was thought proper to insert in this place the pleasing* Preface 
 which Mr Deyden printed before his Translation of M. Du Fresnoy's 
 Poem. There is a charm in that great Writer's Prose peculiar to itself; 
 and though, perhaps, the parallel between the two Arts, which he has here 
 drawn, be too superficial to stand the test of strict criticism, yet it will 
 always give pleasure to readers of taste, even when it fails to satisfy 
 their judgment. M. 
 
MR. DRYDEN'S 
 
 PREFACE: 
 
 WITH A PARALLEL OF 
 
 POETRY Am) PAINTING. 
 
 It may be reasonably expected that I should say something on my behalf 
 in respect to my present undertaking. First then, the reader may be pleased 
 to know, that it was not of my own choice that I undertook this work. Many 
 of our most skilful painters, and other artists, were pleased to recommend this 
 Author to me, as one who perfectly understood the rules of painting ; who gave the 
 best and most concise instructions for performance, and the surest to inform 
 the judgment of all who loved this noble art ; that they who before were 
 rather fond of it, than knowingly admired it, might defend their inclination by 
 their reason ; that they might understand those excellencies which they blindly 
 valued so as not to be farther imposed on by bad pieces, and to know when Nature 
 was well imitated by the most able masters. It is true, indeed, and they 
 acknowledge it, that besides the rules which are given in this treatise, or which 
 can be given in any other, to make a perfect judgment of good pictures, and 
 to value them more or less, when compared with another, there is farther re- 
 quired a long conversation with the best pieces, which are not very frequent 
 either in France or England : yet some we have, not only from the hands of 
 Holbien, Rubens, and Vandyck, (one of them admirable for History-painting, 
 and the other two for Portraits,) but of many Flemish masters, and those not in» 
 considerable, though for design not equal to the Italians. And of these latter also, 
 we are not unfurnished with some pieces of Raphael, Titian, Correggio, Michael 
 Angelo, and others. But to return to my own undertaking of this translation ; 
 I freely own that I thought myself uncapable of performing it, either to their 
 satisfaction, or my own credit. Not but that I understood the original Latin, and 
 the French Author perhaps as well as most Englishmen, but I was not suffi- 
 ciently versed in the terms of art : and therefore thought that many of those 
 persons, who put this honourable task on me, were more able to perform it 
 themselves, as undoubtedly they were. But they assuring me of their assis- 
 tance in correcting my faults, where I spoke improperly, I was encouraged to 
 attempt it, that I might not be wanting in what I could to satisfy the desires of 
 so many Gentlemen who were willing to give the world this useful work. They 
 
sin 
 
 A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 have effectually performed their promise to me, and I have been as careful on 
 my side to take their advice on all things ; so that the reader may assure him- 
 self of a tolerable translation ; not elegant, for I proposed not that to myself, 
 but familiar, clear, and instructive : in any of which parts, if I have failed, the 
 fault lies wholly at my door. In this one particular only, I must beg the reader's 
 pardon : the prose translation of the poem is not free from poetical expressions, 
 and I dare not promise that some of them are not fustain, or at least highly 
 metaphorical ; but this being a fault in the first digestion, (that is, the original 
 Latin, was not to be remedied in the second, viz. the translation ; and I may 
 confidently say, that whoever had attempted it, must have fallen into the 
 same inconvenience, or a much greater, that of a false version. When 1 under- 
 took this work, I was already engaged in the translation of Virgil, from whom 
 I have borrowed only two months, and am now returning to that which I ought 
 to understand better. In the mean time, I beg the reader's pardon for enter- 
 taining him so long with myself ; it is an usual part of ill manners in all authors, 
 and almost in all mankind, to trouble others with their business ; and I was so 
 sensible of it before-hand, that I had not now committed it, unless some concern- 
 ments of the readers had been interwoven with my own. But I know not, 
 while I am atoning for one error, if I am not falling into another : for I have 
 been importuned to say something farther of this art; and to make some obser- 
 vations on it, in relation to the likeness and agreement which it has with poetry 
 its sister. But before I proceed, it will not be amiss, if I copy from Bellori 
 (a most ingenious author) some part of his idea of a painter, which cannot be 
 unpleasing, at least, to such who are conversant in the philosophy of Plato ; and 
 to avoid tediousness, I will not translate the whole discourse, but take and leave 
 as I find occasion. 
 
 " God Almighty, in the fabric of the universe, first contemplated himself, and 
 reflected on his own excellencies ; from which he drew and constituted those 
 first forms, which are called Ideas, so that every species which was afterwards 
 expressed, was produced from that first Idea, forming that wonderful contexture 
 of all created beings. But the celestial bodies above the moon being incorrupti- 
 ble, and not subject to change, remained for ever fair and in perpetual order. 
 On the contrary, all things which are sublunary, are subject to change, to 
 deformity, and to decay ; and though Nature always intends a consummate 
 beauty in her productions, yet, through the inequality of the matter, the forms 
 are altered ; and in particular, human beauty suffers alteration for the worse, as 
 we see to our mortification, in the deformities and disproportions which are in us. 
 For which reason, the artful painter, and the sculptor, imitating the Divine 
 Maker, form to themselves, as well as they are able, a model of the superior 
 beauties ; and reflecting on them, endeavour to correct and amend the common 
 nature, and to represent it as it was first created, without fault, either in colour 
 or in lineament. 
 
 " This idea, which we may call the Goddess of Painting and of Sculpture, 
 descends upon the marble and the cloth, and becomes the original of those Arts ; 
 and, being measured by the compass of the intellect, is itself the measure of the 
 performing hand ; and, being animated by the imagination, infuses life into the 
 image. The idea of the Painter and the Sculptor is undoubtedly that perfect 
 
POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
 317 
 
 and exccellent example of the mind, by imitation of which imagined form, 
 all things are represented which fall under human sight : such is the defini- 
 tion which is made by Cicero in his book of the Orator to Brutus. ' As, there- 
 fore, in forms and figures, there is somewhat which is excellent and perfect, to 
 which imagined species all things are referred by imitation, which are the objects 
 of sight ; in like manner we behold the species of eloquence in our minds, the 
 effigies, or actual image of which we seek in the organs of our hearing. This is 
 likewise confirmed by Proclus, in the Dialogue of Plato, called Timseus : If, says 
 he, you take a man as he is made by nature, and compare him with another who 
 is the effect of art, the work of nature will always appear the less beautiful, 
 because art is more accurate than nature.' But Zeuxis, who, from the choice 
 which he made of five virgins, drew that wonderful picture of Helena, which 
 Cicero, in his Orator before mentioned, sets before us as the most perfect example 
 of beauty, at the same time admonishes a Painter to contemplate the ideas of the 
 most natural forms ; and to make a judicious choice of several bodies, all of 
 them the most elegant which we can find : by which we may plainly understand 
 that he thought it impossible to find in any one body all those perfections which 
 he sought for the accomplishment of a Helena, because nature in any individual 
 person makes nothing that is perfect in all its parts. For this reason Maximus 
 Tyrius also says, that the image which is taken by a Painter from several bodies 
 produces a beauty, which it is impossible to find in any single natural body, 
 approaching to the perfection of the fairest statues. Thus nature, on this account, 
 is so much inferior to art, that those Artists who propose to themselves only the 
 imitation or likeness of such or such a particular person, without election of those 
 ideas before mentioned, have often been reproached for that omission. Demetrius 
 was taxed for being too natural ; Dionysius was also blamed for drawing men 
 like us, and was commonly called ' Au^a^roy^efpos, that is, a Painter of Men. 
 In our times, Michael Angelo da Caravaggio was esteemed too natural: he drew 
 persons as they were ; and Bamboccio, and most of the Dutch Painters, have 
 drawn the worst likenesses. Lysippus, of old, upbraided the common sort of 
 Sculptors for making men such as they were found in nature ; and boasted of 
 himself, that he made them as they ought to be ; which is a precept of Aristotle, 
 given as well to Poets as to Painters. Phidias raised an admiration even to 
 astonishment in those who beheld his statues, with the forms which he gave to 
 his gods and heroes, by imitating the idea rather than nature ; and Cicero, 
 speaking of him, affirms, that figuring Jupiter and Pallas, he did not contem- 
 plate any object from whence he took any likeness, but considered in his own 
 mind a great and admirable form of beauty, and according to that image in his 
 soul, he directed the operation of his hand. Seneca also seems to wonder that 
 Phidias, having never beheld either Jove or Pallas, yet could conceive their 
 divine images in his mind. Apollonius Tyanasus says the same in other words, 
 that the fancy more instructs the Painter than the imitation ; for the last makes 
 only the things which it sees, but the first makes also the things which it never 
 sees. 
 
 " Leon Battista Alberti tells us, that we ought not so much to love the likeness 
 as the beauty, and to choose from the fairest bodies severally the fairest parts. 
 Leonardo da Vinci instructs the Painter to form this idea to himself ; and 
 
318 
 
 A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 Raffaelle, the greatest of all modern Masters, writes thus to Castiglione, con- 
 cerning his Galatea : ' To paint a fair one, it is necessary for me to see many 
 fair ones ; but because there is so great a scarcity of lovely women, I am con- 
 strained to make use of one certain idea, which I have formed to myself in my 
 own fancy.' Guido Reni sending to Rome his St Michael, which he had painted 
 for the Church of the Capuchins, at the same time wrote to Monsignor Massano, 
 who was the maestro di casa (or steward of the house) to Pope Urban VIII., in 
 this manner ; ' I wish I had the wings of an angel, to have ascended into Para- 
 dise, and there to have beheld the forms of those beautified spirits, from which I 
 might have copied my Archangel : but not being able to mount so high, it was 
 in vain for me to search his resemblance here below ; so that I was forced to 
 make an introspection into my own mind, and into that idea of beauty, which I 
 have formed in my own imagination. I have likewise created there the contrary 
 idea of deformity and ugliness ; but I leave the consideration of it till I paint the 
 Devil, and, in the meantime shun the very thought of it as much as possibly I 
 can, and am even endeavouring to blot it wholly out of my remembrance.' There 
 was not any lady in all antiquity who was mistress of so much beauty, as was to 
 be found in the Venus of Gnidus, made by Praxiteles, or the Minerva of Athens, 
 by Phidias, which was therefore called the beautiful form. Neither is there any 
 man of the present age equal in the strength, proportion, and knitting of his 
 limbs, to the Hercules of Farnese, made by Glycon ; or any woman who can 
 justly be compared with the Medicean Venus of Cleomenes. And upon this 
 account the noblest poets and the best orators, when they desire to celebrate any 
 extraordinary beauty, are forced to have recourse to statues and pictures, and to 
 draw their persons and faces into comparison : Ovid, endeavouring to express 
 the beauty of Cyllarus, the fairest of the Centaurs, celebrates him as next in per- 
 fection to the most admirable statues : 
 
 Gratus in ore vigor, cervix, humerique, rnanusque, 
 Pectoraque, artificum laudatis proxima signis. 
 
 A pleasing vigour his fair face express'd ; 
 
 His neck, his hands, his shoulders, and his breast, 
 
 Did next in gracefulness and beauty stand, 
 
 To breathing figures of the Sculptor's hand. 
 
 In another place he sets Apelles above Venus : 
 
 Si Venerem Cois nunquam pinxisset Apelles, 
 Mersa sub eequoreis ilia lateret aquis. 
 
 Thus varied, 
 
 One birth to seas the Cyprian Goddess ow'd, 
 A second birth the Painter's art bestow'd: 
 Less by the seas than by his pow'r was giv'n ; 
 They made her live, but he advanc'd to heaven. 
 
 (i The idea of this beauty is indeed various, according to the several forms 
 
POETRY AND PAINTING : 
 
 319 
 
 which the Painter or Sculptor would describe : as one in strength, another in 
 magnanimity ; and sometimes it consists in cheerfulness, and sometimes in 
 delicacy, and is always diversified by the sex and age. 
 
 " The beauty of Jove is one, and that of Juno another : Hercules and Cupid 
 are perfect beauties, though of different kinds ; for beauty is only that which 
 makes all things as they are in their proper and perfect nature, which the best 
 Painters always choose, by contemplating the forms of each. We ought farther 
 to consider, that a picture being the representation of a human action, the Painter 
 ought to retain in his mind the examples of all affections and passions ; as a 
 Poet preserves the idea of an angry man, of one who is fearful, sad, or merry ; 
 and so of all the rest : for it is impossible to express that with the hand, which 
 never entered into the imagination. In this manner, as I have rudely and briefly 
 shown you, Painters and Sculptors choosing the most elegant, natural beauties, 
 perfectionate the idea, and advance their art, even above nature itself, in her 
 individual productions, which is the utmost mastery of human performance. 
 
 " From hence arises that astonishment, and almost adoration, which is paid 
 by the knowing to those divine remains of antiquity. From hence Phidias, Ly- 
 sippus, and other noble sculptors, are still held in veneration; and Apelles, 
 Zeuxis, Protogenes, and other admirable painters, though their works are 
 perished, are and will be eternally admired; who all of them drew after the 
 ideas of perfection; which are the miracles of nature, the providence of the 
 understanding, the exemplars of the mind, the light of the fancy; the sun, which, 
 from its rising, inspired the statue of Memnon, and the fire which warmed into 
 life the image of Prometheus; it is this which causes the graces and the loves to 
 take up their habitations in the hardest marble, and to subsist in the emptiness 
 of light and shadows. But since the idea of eloquence is as inferior to that of 
 painting, as the force of words is to the sight, I must here break off abruptly ; 
 and having conducted the reader, as it were to a secret walk, there leave him in 
 the midst of silence to contemplate those ideas which I have only sketched, and 
 which every man must finish to himself." 
 
 In these pompous expressions, or such as these, the Italian has given you his 
 idea of a painter; and though I cannot much commend the style, I must needs 
 say, there is somewhat in the matter; Plato himself is accustomed to write 
 loftily, imitating, as the critics tell us, the manner of Homer ; but surely, that 
 inimitable poet had not so much of smoke in his writings, though not less of fire. 
 But in short, this is the present genius of Italy. What Philostratus tells us, in 
 the proem of his figures, is somewhat plainer, and therefore I will translate it 
 almost word for word : — " He who will rightly govern the art of painting, ought, 
 of necessity, first to understand human nature. He ought likewise to be endued 
 with a genius to express the signs of their passions whom he represents, and to 
 make the dumb as it were speak ; he must yet further understand what is con- 
 tained in the constitution of the cheeks, in the temperament of the eyes, in the 
 naturalness (if I may so call it) of the eye-brows; and in short, whatsoever be- 
 longs to the mind and thought. He who thoroughly possesses all these things 
 will obtain the whole, and the hand will exquisitely represent the action of every 
 particular person ; if it happens that he be either mad or angry, melancholic or 
 cheerful, a sprightly youth, or a languishing lover; in one word, he will be able 
 
320 
 
 A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 to paint whatsoever is proportionable to any one. And even in all this there is 
 a sweet error without causing any shame; for the eyes and mind of the be- 
 holders being fastened on objects which have no real being, as if they were truly 
 existent, and being induced by them to believe so, what pleasure is it not ca- 
 pable of giving ? The ancients, and other wise men, have written many things 
 concerning the symmetry, which is in the art of painting : constituting as it were 
 some certain laws for the proportion of every member; not thinking it possible 
 for a painter to undertake the expression of those motions which are in the mind 
 without a concurrent harmony in the natural measure; for that which is out of 
 its own kind and measure, is not received from nature, whose motion is always 
 right. On a serious consideration of this matter, it will be found, that the art 
 of painting has a wonderful affinity with that of poetry, and there is betwixt 
 them a certain common imagination. For, as the poets introduce the gods and 
 heroes, and all those things which are either majestical, honest, or delightful ; 
 in like manner, the painters, by the virtue of their outlines, colours, lights, and 
 shadows, represent the same things and persons in their pictures." Thus, as 
 convoy ships either accompany, or should accompany their merchants, till they 
 may prosecute the rest of their voyage without danger; so Philostratus has 
 brought me thus far on my way, and I can now sail on without him. He has 
 begun to speak of the great relation betwixt painting and poetry, and thither the 
 greatest part of this Discourse, by my promise, was directed. I have not engaged 
 myself to any perfect method, neither am I loaded with a full cargo; it is 
 sufficient if I -bring a sample of some goods in this voyage. It will be easy for 
 others to add more, when the commerce is settled; for a Treatise, twice as large 
 as this, of painting, could not contain all that might be said on the parallel of 
 these two sister-arts. I will take my rise from Bellori before I proceed to the 
 author of this book. 
 
 The business of his preface is to prove, that a learned painter should form to 
 himself an idea of perfect nature. This image he is to set before his mind in all 
 his undertakings, and to draw from thence, as from a storehouse, the beauties 
 which are to enter into his work : thereby correcting nature from what actually 
 she is in individuals, to what she ought to be, and what she was created. Now 
 as this idea of perfection is of little use in portraits, or the resemblances of par- 
 ticular persons, so neither is it in the characters of comedy and tragedy, which 
 are never to be made perfect, but always to be drawn with some specks of frailty 
 and deficience; such as they have been described to us in history, if they were 
 real characters; or such as the poet began to show them, at their first appear- 
 ance, if they were only fictitious, or imaginary. The perfection of such stage 
 characters consists chiefly in their likeness to the deficient faulty nature, which is 
 their original ; only (as it is observed more at large hereafter) in such cases there 
 will always be found a better likeness and a worse, and the better is constantly 
 to be chosen; I mean in tragedy, which represents the figures of the highest 
 form among mankind; thus, in portraits, the painter will not take that side of 
 the face which has some notorious blemish in it, but either draw it in profile, as 
 Apelles did Antigonus, who had lost one of his eyes, or else shadow the more 
 imperfect side; for an ingenious flattery is to be allowed to the professors of 
 both arts, so long as the likeness is not destroyed. It is true, that all manner of 
 
POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
 321 
 
 imperfections must not be taken away from the characters; and the reason is, 
 that there may be left some grounds of pity for their misfortunes; we can never 
 be grieved for their miseries who are thoroughly wicked, and have thereby justly 
 called their calamities on themselves; such men are the natural objects of our 
 hatred, not of our commiseration. If, on the other side, their characters were 
 wholly perfect, such as, for example, the character of a saint or martyr in a play, 
 his or her misfortunes would produce impious thoughts in the beholders; they 
 would accuse the heavens of injustice, and think of leaving a religion where piety 
 was so ill requited. I say the greater part would be tempted so to do; I say, 
 not that they ought, and the consequence is too dangerous for the practice. In 
 this I have accused myself for my own St Catharine; but let truth prevail. 
 Sophocles has taken the just medium in his Oedipus; he is somewhat arrogant 
 at his first entrance, and is too inquisitive through the whole tragedy; yet these 
 imperfections being balanced by great virtues, they hinder not our compassion 
 for his miseries, neither yet can they destroy that horror which the nature of his 
 crimes have excited in us. Such in painting are the warts and moles, which, 
 adding a likeness to the face, are not, therefore, to be omitted; but these pro- 
 duce no loathing in us; but how far to proceed, and where to stop, is left to the 
 judgment of the poet and the painter. In comedy there is somewhat more of 
 the worse likeness to be taken, because that is often to produce laughter, which 
 is occasioned by the sight of some deformity; but for this I refer the reader to 
 Aristotle. It is a sharp manner of instruction for the vulgar, who are never well 
 amended till they are more than sufficiently exposed. That I may return to the 
 beginning of this remark, concerning perfect ideas, I have only this to say, that 
 the parallel is often true in epic poetry. 
 
 The heroes of the poets are to be drawn according to this rule ; there is scarce a 
 frailty to be left in the best of them, any more than to be found in a divine nature. 
 And if iEneas sometimes weeps, it is not in bemoaning his own miseries, but 
 those which his people undergo. If this be an imperfection, the Son of God, 
 when he was incarnate, shed tears of compassion over Jerusalem ; and Lentulus 
 describes him often weeping, but never laughing ; so that Virgil is justified 
 even from the Holy Scriptures. I have but one word more, which for once I will 
 anticipate from the author of this book. Though it must be an idea of perfec- 
 tion from which both the Epic Poet and the History Painter draws; yet all per- 
 fections are not suitable to all subjects, but every one must be designed accord- 
 ing to that perfect beauty which is proper to him : An Apollo must he distin- 
 guished from a Jupiter, a Pallas from a Venus ; and so in poetry, an iEneas 
 from any other hero, for piety is his chief perfection. Homer's Achilles is a 
 kind of exception to this rule ; but then he is not a perfect hero, nor so intended 
 by the poet. All his Gods had somewhat of human imperfection, for which he 
 has been taxed by Plato as an imitator of what was bad. But Virgil observed 
 his fault and mended it. Yet Achilles was perfect in the strength of his body, 
 and the vigour of his mind. Had he been less passionate or less revengeful, the 
 poet well foresaw that Hector had been killed, and Troy taken at the first 
 assault : which had destroyed the beautiful contrivance of his Iliad, and the 
 moral of preventing discord amongst confederate princes, which was his princi- 
 pal intention : for the mora l (as Bossu observes) is the first business of the poet, 
 
 3 A 
 
322 
 
 A PAKALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 as being the ground-work of his instruction. This being formed, he contrives, 
 sueh a design or fable, as may be most suitable to the moral; after this he begin? 
 to think of the persons whom he is to employ in carrying on his design, and gives 
 them the manners which are most proper to their several characters. The 
 thoughts and words are the last parts which give beauty and colouring to the 
 piece. When I say that the manners of the hero ought to be good in perfection, 
 I contradict not the Marquis of Normanby's opinion, in that admirable verse, 
 where, speaking of a perfect character, he calls it 
 
 " A faultless monster, which the world ne'er knew;" 
 For that excellent critic intended only to speak of dramatic characters, and not 
 of epic. Thus, at least, I have shown, that in the most perfect poem, which is 
 that of Virgil, a perfect idea was required and followed; and, consequently, that 
 all succeeding poets ought rather to imitate him, than even Homer. I will now 
 proceed, as I promised, to the author of this book ; he tells you, almost in the 
 first lines of it, that "the chief end of painting is to please the eyes; and it is one 
 great end of poetry to please the mind." Thus far the parallel of the arts holds 
 true; with this difference, that the principal end of painting is to please, and the 
 chief design of poetry is to instruct. In this the latter seems to have the advan- 
 tage of the former. But if we consider the artists themselves on both sides, 
 certainly their aims are the very same; they would both make sure of pleasing^ 
 and that in preference to instruction. Next, the means of this pleasure is by 
 deceit : one imposes on the sight, and the other on the understanding. Fiction 
 is of the essence of poetry as well as of painting; there is a resemblance in one, 
 of human bodies, things and actions, which are not real : and in the other, of a 
 true story by a fiction. And as all stories are not proper subjects for an epic 
 poem or a tragedy, so neither are they for a noble picture. The subjects both of 
 the one and of the other ought to have nothing of immortal, low, or filthy in 
 them ; but this being treated at large in the book itself, 1 waive it to avoid repe- 
 tition. Only T must add, that, though Catullus, Ovid, and others, were of an- 
 other opinion, that the subject of poets, and even their thoughts and expressions 
 might be loose, provided their lives were chaste and holy, yet there are no such 
 licences permitted in that art, any more than in painting to design, and colour 
 obscene nudities. Vita jproba est, is no excuse; for it will scarcely be admitted, 
 that either a poet or a painter can be chaste, who give us the contrary examples 
 in their writings and their pictures. We see nothing of this kind in Virgil, that 
 which comes the nearest to it is the Adventure of the Cave, where Dido and 
 iEneas were driven by the storm; yet even there, the poet pretends a marriage 
 before the consummation, and Juno herself was present at it. Neither is there 
 any expression in that story which a Roman matron might not read without a 
 blush. Besides, the poet passes it over as hastily as he can, as if he were afraid 
 of staying in the cave with the two lovers, and of being a witness to their 
 actions. Now I suppose that a painter would not be much commended, who 
 should pick out this cavern from the whole jEneis, when there is not another in 
 the work. He had better leave them in their obscurity, than let in a flash of 
 lightning to clear the natural darkness of the place, by Avhich he must discover 
 himself as much as them. The altar-pieces, and holy decorations of painting, 
 show that art may be applied to Letter uses, as well as poetry; and amongst 
 
POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
 323 
 
 many other instances, the Farnese Gallery, painted by Hannibal Caracci, is a 
 sufficient witness yet remaining; the whole work being morally instructive, and 
 particularly the Hercules Biviuni, which is a perfect triumph of virtue over vice, 
 as it is wonderfully described by the ingenious Bellori. 
 
 Hitherto I have only told the reader what ought not to be the subject of a 
 picture or of a poem. What it ought to be on either side, our author tells us. 
 It must, in general, be great and noble, and in this the parallel is exactly true. 
 The subject of a poet, either in tragedy, or in an epic poem, is a great action of 
 some illustrious hero. It is the same in painting; not every action, nor every 
 person, is considerable enough to enter into the cloth. It must be the anger of 
 an Achilles, the piety of an JEnedLS, the sacrifice of an Iphigenia; for heroines 
 as well as heroes are comprehended in the rule. But the parallel is more com- 
 plete in tragedy than in an epic poem; for as a tragedy may be made out of many 
 particular episodes of Homer or of Virgil, so may a noble picture be designed 
 out of this or that particular story in either author. History is also fruitful of 
 designs, both for the painter and the tragic poet; Curtius throwing himself into 
 a gulph, and the two Decii sacrificing themselves for the safety of their country, 
 are subjects for tragedy and picture. Such is Scipio, restoring the Spanish 
 bride, whom he either loved, or may be supposed to love; by which he gained 
 the hearts of a great nation, to interest themselves for Rome against Carthage ; 
 these are all but particular pieces in Livy's history, and yet are full, complete 
 subjects for the pen and pencil. Now the reason of this is evident; tragedy and 
 picture are more narrowly circumscribed by the mechanic rules of time and place 
 than the epic poem; the time of this last is left indefinite. It is true, Homer 
 took up only the space of eight-and- forty days for his Iliad; but whether Virgil's 
 action was comprehended in a, year, or somewhat more, is not determined by 
 Bossu. Homer made the place of his action Troy, and the Grecian camp be- 
 sieging it. Virgil introduces his iEneas sometimes in Sicily, sometimes in 
 Carthage, and other times at Cumse, before he brings him to Laurentum ; and 
 even after that, he wanders again to the kingdom of Evander, and some parts of 
 Tuscany, before he returns to finish the war by the death of Turnus. But tragedy, 
 according to the practice of the ancients, was always confined within the com- 
 pass of twenty-four hours, and seldom takes up so much time. As for the place 
 of it, it was always one, and that not in a larger sense, as, for example, a whole 
 eity, or two or three several houses in it, but the market, or some other public 
 place, common to the chorus and all the actors; which established law of theirs, 
 I have not an opportunity to examine in this place, because I cannot do it with- 
 out digression from my subject, though it seems too strict at the first appearance, 
 because it excludes all secret intrigues, which are the beauties of the modern 
 stage ; for nothing can be carried on with privacy, when the chorus is supposed 
 to be always present. But to proceed: I must say this to the advantage of 
 painting, even above tragedy, that what this last represents in the space of many 
 hours, the former shows us in one moment. The action, the passion, and the 
 manners of so many persons as are contained in a picture, are to be discerned at 
 once in the twinkling of an eye; at least they would be so, if the sight could 
 travel over so many different objects all at once, or the mind could digest them 
 all at the same instant, or point of time. Thus, in the famous picture of Poussin, 
 
324 
 
 A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 which represents the institution of the blessed sacrament, you see our Saviour 
 and his twelve disciples, all concurring in the same action, after different man- 
 ners, and in different postures, only the manners of Judas are distinguished from 
 the rest. Here is but one indivisible point of time observed; but one action 
 performed by so many persons, in one room, and at the same table; yet the eye 
 cannot comprehend at once the whole object, nor the mind follow it so fast; it is 
 considered at leisure and seen by intervals. Such are the subjects of noble 
 picture, and such are only to be undertaken by noble hands. There are other 
 parts of nature which are meaner, and yet are the subjects both of painters and 
 of poets. 
 
 For to proceed in the parallel; as comedy is a representation of human life in 
 inferior persons and low subjects, and by that means creeps into the nature of 
 poetry, and is a kind of juniper, a shrub belonging to the species of cedar; so is 
 the painting of clowns, the representation of a Dutch Kermis, the brutal sport of 
 Snick-or-Snee, and a thousand other things of this mean invention, a kind of 
 picture which belongs to nature, but of the lowest form. Such is a Lazar in 
 comparison to a Venus; both are drawn in human figures; they have faces alike, 
 though not like faces. There is yet a lower sort of poetry and painting, which 
 is out of nature; for a farce is that in poetry which grotesque is in a picture; the 
 persons and action of a farce are all unnatural, and the manners false; that is, 
 inconsistent with the characters of mankind. Grotesque painting is the just re- 
 semblance of this; and Horace begins his art of poetry by describing such a 
 figure with a man's head, a horse's neck, the wings of a bird, and a fish's tail, 
 parts of different species jumbled together, according to the mad imagination of 
 the dauber; and the end of all this, as he tells you afterward, is to cause 
 laughter; a very monster in Bartholomew Fair, for the mob to gape at for their 
 twopence. Laughter is indeed the propriety of a man, but just enough to dis- 
 tinguish him from his elder brother with four legs. It is a kind of a bastard 
 pleasure, too, taken in at the eyes of the vulgar gazers, and at the ears of the 
 beastly audience. Church-painters use it to divert the honest country-man at pub- 
 lic prayers, and keep his eyes open at a heavy sermon; and farce-scribblers make 
 use of the same noble invention to entertain citizens, country gentlemen, and 
 Covent Garden fops; if they are merry, all goes well on the Poet's side. The 
 better sort go thither too, but in despair of sense and the just image of nature, 
 which are the adequate pleasures of the mind. But the author can give the 
 stage no better than what was given him by nature; and the actors must repre- 
 sent such things as they are capable to perform, and by which both they and the 
 scribbler may get their living. After all, it is a good thing to laugh at any rate ; 
 and if a straw can tickle a man, it is an instrument of happiness. Beasts can 
 weep when they suffer, but they cannot laugh: and, as Sir William Davenant 
 observes, in his preface to Gondibert, " It is the wisdom of a government to per- 
 mit plays, (he might have added farces,) as it is the prudence of a carter to put 
 bells upon his horses to make them carry their burdens cheerfully." 
 
 T have already shown, that one main end of poetry and painting is to please, 
 and have said something of the kinds of both, and of their subjects, in which they 
 bear a great resemblance to each other. I must now consider them as they are 
 great and noble arts: and as they are arts, they must have rules which may 
 direct them to their common end. 
 
POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
 325 
 
 To all arts and sciences, but more particularly to these, may be applied what 
 Hippocrates says of physic, as I find him cited by an eminent French critic. 
 " Medicine has long subsisted in the world; the principles of it are certain, and 
 it has a certain way; by both which there has been found, in the course of many 
 ages, an infinite number of things, the experience of which has confirmed its 
 usefulness and goodness. All that is wanting to the perfection of this art, will 
 undoubtedly be found, if able men, and such as are instructed in the ancient 
 rules, will make a farther inquiry into it, and endeavour to arrive at that which 
 is hitherto unknown by that which is already known. But all, who have re- 
 jected the ancient rules, and taken the opposite ways, yet boast themselves to be 
 masters of this art, do but deceive others, and are themselves deceived ; for that 
 is absolutely impossible." 
 
 This is notoriously true in these two arts; for the way to please being to imi- 
 tate nature, both the poets and the painters in ancient times, and in the best 
 ages, have studied her : and from the practice of both these arts the rules have 
 been drawn, by which we are instructed how to please, and to compass that end 
 which they obtained, by following their example ; for nature is still the same in 
 all ages, and can never be contrary to herself. Thus, from the practice of 
 iEschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, Aristotle drew his rules for tragedy, and 
 Philostratus for painting. Thus, amongst the moderns, the Italian and French 
 critics, by studying the precepts of Aristotle and Horace, and having the ex - 
 ample of the Grecian poets before their eyes, have given us the rules of modern 
 tragedy, and thus the critics of the same countries, in the art of painting, have 
 given the precepts of perfecting that art. It is true, that poetry has one advan- 
 tage over painting in these last ages, that we have still the remaining examples 
 both of the Greek and Latin poets : whereas the painters have nothing left them 
 from Apelles, Protogenes, Parrhasius, Zeuxis, and the rest, but only the testi- 
 monies which are given of their incomparable works. But instead of this, they have 
 some of their best statues, basso-relievos, columns, obelisks, &c, which are saved 
 out of the common ruin, and are still preserved in Italy; and by well distinguish- 
 ing what is proper to sculpture, and what to painting, and what is common to 
 them both, they have judiciously repaired that loss; and the great genius of 
 Raphael and others, having succeeded to the times of barbarism and ignorance, 
 the knowledge of painting is now arrived to a supreme perfection, though the 
 performance of it is much declined in the present age. The greatest age for 
 poetry amongst the Romans, was certainly that of Augustus Caesar; and yet we 
 are told, that painting was then at its lowest ebb, and perhaps sculpture was 
 also declining at the same time. In the reign of Domitian, and some who suc- 
 ceeded him, poetry was but meanly cultivated, but painting eminently flourished. 
 I am not here to give the history of the two arts, how they were both in a 
 manner extinguished by the irruption of the barbarous nations, and both restored 
 about the times of Leo X., Charles V., and Francis I., though I might observe, 
 that neither Ariosto, nor any of his contemporary poets, ever arrived at the ex- 
 cellency of Raphael, Titian, and the rest in painting. But in revenge, at this 
 time, or lately in many countries, poetry is better practised than her sister-art 
 To what height the magnificence and encouragement of the present king of 
 France may carry painting and sculpture is uncertain; but by what he has done 
 
326 
 
 A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 before the war in which he is engaged, we may expect what he will do after the 
 happy conclusion of a peace ; which is the prayer and wish of all those who have 
 not an interest to prolong the miseries of Europe. For it is most certain, as our 
 author, amongst . others, has observed, that reward is the spur of virtue, as well in 
 all good arts, as in all laudable attempts; and emulation, which is the other spur, 
 will never be wanting either amongst poets or painters, when particular rewards 
 and prizes are proposed to the best deservers. But to return from this digres- 
 sion, though it was almost necessary, all the rules of painting are methodically, 
 concisely, and yet clearly delivered in this present treatise which 1 have tran- 
 slated: Bossu has not given more exact rules for the epic poem, nor Dacier for 
 tragedy, in his late excellent translation of Aristotle, and his notes upon him, 
 than our Fresnoy has made for painting : with the parallel of which I must re- 
 sume my discourse, following my author's text, though with more brevity than 
 I intended, because Virgil calls me. 
 
 " The principal and most important part of painting is to know what is most 
 beautiful in nature, and most proper for that art." That which is the most 
 beautiful, is the most noble subject; so in poetry, tragedy is more beautiful than 
 comedy, because, as I said, the persons are greater whom the Poet instructs ; 
 and, consequently, the instructions of more benefit to mankind: the action is 
 likewise greater and more noble, and thence is derived the greater and more 
 noble pleasure. 
 
 To imitate nature well in whatsoever subject, is the perfection of both arts; 
 and that picture, and that poem, which comes nearest the resemblance of nature, 
 is the best: but it follows not, that what pleases most in either kind is therefore 
 good, but what ought to please. Our depraved appetites and ignorance of the 
 arts mislead our judgments, and cause us often to take that for true imitation 
 of nature, which has no resemblance of nature in it. To inform our judgments, 
 and to reform our tastes, rules were invented, that by them we might discern 
 when nature was imitated, and how nearly. I have been forced to recapitulate 
 these things, because mankind is more liable to deceit than it is willing to con- 
 tinue in a pleasing error, strengthened by a long habitude. The imitation of 
 nature is therefore justly constituted as the general, and indeed the only rule 
 of pleasing, both in poetry and painting. Aristotle tells us, that imitation 
 pleases because it affords matter for a reasoner to inquire into the truth or 
 falsehood of imitation, by comparing its likeness or unlikeness with the original ; 
 but by this rule, every speculation in nature, whose truth falls under the in- 
 quiry of a Philosopher, must produce the same delight, which is not true. I 
 should rather assign another reason: truth is the object of our understanding, 
 as good is of our will; and the understanding can no more be delighted with a 
 lie, than the will can choose an apparent evil. As truth is the end of all our 
 speculations, so the discovery of it is the pleasure of them ; and since a true 
 knowledge of nature gives us pleasure, a lively imitation of it, either in poetry 
 or painting, must of necessity produce a much greater: for both these arts, as I 
 said before, are not only true imitations of nature, but of the best nature of that 
 which is wrought up to a nobler pitch. They present us with images more per- 
 fect than the life in any individual, and we have the pleasure to see all the 
 scattered beauties of nature united by a happy chemistry without its deformities 
 or faults. They are imitations of the passions which always move, and there- 
 
POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
 327 
 
 fore consequently please; for without motion there can be no delight, which 
 cannot be considered but as an active passion. When we view these elevated 
 ideas of nature, the result of that view is admiration, which is always the cause 
 of pleasure. 
 
 This foregoing remark, which gives the reason why imitation pleases, was 
 sent me by Mr Waller Moyle, a most ingenious young gentleman, conversant 
 in all the studies of humanity, much above his years. He had also furnished 
 me, according to my request, with all the particular passages in Aristotle and 
 Horace, which are used by them to explain the Art of Poetry, by that of 
 Painting; which, if ever I have time to retouch this essay, shall be inserted in 
 their places. Having thus shown that imitation pleases, and why it pleases in 
 both these arts, it follows, that some rules of imitation are necessary to obtain 
 the end ; for without rules there can be no art, any more than there can be a 
 house without a door to conduct you into it. The principal parts of painting 
 and poetry next follow. 
 
 Invention is the first part and absolutely necessary to them both ; yet no rule 
 ever was or can be given how to compass it. A happy genius is the gift of 
 nature : it depends on the influence of the stars, say the astrologers ; on the 
 organs of the body, say the naturalists ; it is the particular gift of heaven, say 
 the divines, both christians and heathens. How to improve it, many books can 
 teach us ; how to obtain it, none ; that nothing can be done without it, all 
 agree : 
 
 Tu nihil invita dices faciesve Minerva. 
 Without invention a painter is but a copier, and a poet but a plagiary of others 
 Both are allowed sometimes to copy and translate; but, as our author tells you, 
 that is not the best part of their reputation. " Imitators are but a servile kind 
 of cattle," says the poet: or at best, the keepers of cattle for other men: they 
 have nothing which is properly their own; that is a sufficient mortification for 
 me, while I am translating Virgil. But to copy the best author is a kind of 
 praise, if I perform it as I ought, as a copy after Raphael is more to be com- 
 mended than an original of any indifferent painter. 
 
 Under this head of invention is placed the disposition of the work, to put all 
 things in a beautiful order and harmony, that the whole may be of a piece. 
 " The compositions of the Painter should be conformable to the text of ancient 
 authors, to the custom and the times ;" and this is exactly the same in poetry : 
 Homer and Virgil are to be our guides in the Epic ; Sophocles and Euripides in 
 Tragedy : in all things we are to imitate the customs and the times of those 
 persons and things which we represent : not to make new rules of the Drama, as 
 Lopez de Vega has attempted unsuccessfully to do, but to be content to follow 
 our masters, who understood nature better than we. But if the story which we 
 treat be modern, we are to vary the customs, according to the time and the 
 country where the scene of action lies : for this is still to imitate nature, which 
 is always the same, though in a different dress. 
 
 As " in the composition of a picture, the Painter is to take care that nothing 
 enter into it, which is not proper or convenient to the subject ;" so likewise is 
 the Poet to reject all incidents which are foreign to his Poem, and are naturally 
 no parts of it : they are wens, and other excrescences, which belong not to the 
 body, but deform it. No person, no incident in the piece or in the play, but must 
 
328 
 
 A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 be of use to carry on the main design. All things else are like six fingers to 
 the hand, when nature, which is superfluous in nothing, can do her work with 
 five. " A Painter must reject all trifling ornaments ;" — so must a Poet refuse 
 all tedious and unnecessary descriptions. A robe which is too heavy is less an 
 ornament than a burden. In poetry, Horace calls these things, 
 
 Versus inopes rerum, nugseque canorae. 
 These are also the lucus and ara Dianse which he mentions in the same Art of 
 Poetry : but since there must be ornaments, both in Painting and Poetry, if they 
 are not necessary, they must at least be decent ; that is, in their due place, and 
 but moderately used. The Painter is not to take so much pains about the drapery 
 as about the face, where the principal resemblance lies ; neither is the Toet, who 
 is working up a passion, to make similes, which will certainly make it languish^ 
 My Montezuma dies with a fine one in his mouth, but it is out of season. Where 
 there are more figures in a picture than are necessary, or at least ornamental^ 
 our author calls them " Figures to be let," because the picture has no use of 
 them : so T have seen in some modern plays above twenty actors, when the 
 action has not required half the number. In the principal figures of a picture, 
 the Painter is to employ the sinews of his art, for in them consists the principal 
 beauty of his work. Our author saves me the comparison with Tragedy : for he 
 says, that " herein he is to imitate the Tragic Poet, who employs his utmost force 
 in those places, wherein consists the height and beauty of the action. 
 
 Du Fresnoy, whom I follow, makes Design, or Drawing, the second part of 
 painting ; but the rules which he gives concerning the posture of the figures are 
 almost wholly proper to that art, and admit not any comparison, that 1 know, 
 with poetry. The posture of a poetic figure is, as I conceive, the description of 
 his heroes in the performance of such or such an action : as of Achilles just in 
 the act of killing Hector ; or of iEneas who has Turnus under him. Both the 
 Poet and the Painter vary the postures, according to the action or passion, which 
 they represent of the same person. But all must be great and graceful in them. 
 The same ^Fhieas must be drawn a suppliant to Dido, with respect in his gestures, 
 and humility in his eyes ; but when he is forced, in his own defence, to kill 
 Lausus, the Poet shows him compassionate, and tempering the severity of his 
 looks with a reluctance to the action, which he is going to perform. He has 
 pity on his beauty and his youth, and is loth to destroy such a master-piece of 
 nature. He considers Lausus rescuing his father, at the hazard of his own life, 
 as an image of himself, when he took Anchises on his shoulders and bore him 
 safe through the rage of the fire, and the opposition of his enemies ; and there- 
 fore, in the posture of a retiring man, who avoids the combat, he stretches out 
 his arm in sign of peace, with his right foot drawn a little back, and his breast 
 bending inward, more like an orator than a soldier; and seems to dissuade the 
 young man from pulling on his destiny, by attempting more than he was able to 
 perform. Take the passage as I have thus translated it : 
 
 Shouts of applause ran ringing through the field, 
 To see the son the vanquish'd father shield; 
 All, fir'd with noble emulation, strive, 
 And with a storm of darts to distance drive 
 
POKTR Y AND PAINTING-. 
 
 329 
 
 The Trojan chief; who, held at bay, from far 
 
 On his vulcanian orb sustain 'tl the war, 
 
 ^Eneas thus o'erwhelm'd on ev'ry side, 
 
 Their first assault undaunted did abide; | 
 
 And thus to Lausus, loud, with friendly threatning cry'd, j 
 
 Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage 
 
 In rash attempts beyond thy tender age. 
 
 Betrayed by pious love ! 
 
 And afterwards, 
 
 He griev'd, he wept, the sight and image brought 
 Of his own filial love, a sadly pleasing thought." 
 
 But, beside the outlines of the posture, the design of the picture comprehends,, 
 in the next place, the " forms of faces which are to be different ; and so in a 
 poem, or play, must the several characters of the persons be distinguished from 
 each other. I knew a poet, whom out of respect I will not name, who, being too 
 witty himself, could draw nothing but wits in a comedy of his; even his fools 
 were infected with the disease of their author; they overflowed with smart repar- 
 tees, and were only distinguished from the intended wits, by being called cox- 
 combs, though they deserved not so scandalous a name. Another, who had a 
 great genius for tragedy, following the fury of his natural temper, made every 
 man and woman, too, in his plays, stark raging mad; there was not a sober 
 person to be had for love or money; all was tempestuous and blustering; heaven 
 and earth were coming together at every word; a mere hurricane from the be- 
 ginning to the end ; and every actor seemed to be hastening on the day of judge- 
 ment ! 
 
 " Let every member be made for its own head," says our author, not a 
 withered hand to a young face. So in the persons of a play, whatever is said or 
 done by any of them, must be consistent with the manners which the poet has 
 given them distinctly : and even the habits must be proper to the degrees and 
 humours of the persons as well as in a picture. He who entered in the first 
 act a young man, like Pericles, Prince of Tyre, must not be in danger, in the 
 fifth act, of committing incest with his daughter; nor an usurer, without great * 
 probability and causes of repentance, be turned into a cutting Moorcraft. 
 
 I am not satisfied that the comparison betwixt the two arts, in the last para 
 graph, is altogether so just as it might have been; but 1 am sure of this which 
 follows. 
 
 " The principal figure of the subject must appear in the midst of the picture, 
 under the principal light, to distinguish it from the rest, which are only its atten- 
 dants." Thus in a tragedy, or in an epic poem, the hero of the piece must be 
 advanced foremost to the view of the reader or spectator : he must outshine the 
 rest of all the characters; he must appear the prince of them, like the sun in the 
 Copernican system, encompassed with the less noble planets. Because the hero 
 is the centre of the main action, all the lines from the circumference tend to him 
 alone; he is the chief object of pity, in the drama, and of admiration in the epic 
 poem. 
 
 3 B 
 
330 
 
 A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 As in a picture, besides the principal figures which compose it, and are placed 
 in the midst of it, there are less " groups or knots of figures disposed at proper 
 distances," which are parts of the piece, and seem to carry on the same design 
 in a more inferior manner : so in epic poetry there are episodes, and a chorus in 
 tragedy, which are members of the action, as growing out of it, not inserted into 
 it. Such, in the ninth book of the JEneis, is the episode of Nisus and Euryalus; 
 the adventure belongs to them alone; they alone are the objects of compassion 
 and admiration; but their business which they carry on, is the general concern- 
 ment of the Trojan camp, then beleagured by Turnus and the Latines, as the 
 Christians were lately by the Turks; they were to advertise the chief hero of the 
 distresses of his subjects, occasioned by his absence, to crave his succour, and 
 solicit him to hasten his return. 
 
 The Grecian tragedy was at first nothing but a chorus of singers; afterwards 
 one actor was introduced, which was the poet himself, who entertained the people 
 with a discourse in verse, betwixt the pauses of the singing. This succeeding 
 with the people, more actors were added to make the variety the greater : and 
 in process of time the chorus only sung betwixt the acts, and the Coryphaeus, or 
 chief of them, spoke for the rest, as an actor concerned in the business of the 
 play. 
 
 Thus tragedy was perfected by degrees, and being arrived at that perfection, 
 the painters might probably take the hint from thence, of adding groups to their 
 pictures; but as a good picture may be without a group, so a good tragedy may 
 subsist without a chorus, notwithstanding any reasons which have been given by 
 Dacier to the contrary. 
 
 Monsieur Racine has indeed used it in his Esther, but not that he found any 
 necessity of it, as the French critic would insinuate. The chorus at St. Cyr was 
 only to give the young ladies an occasion of entertaining the king with vocal 
 music, and of commending their own voices. The play itself was never intended 
 for the public stage; nor, without any disparagement to the learned author, 
 could possibly have succeeded there, and much less in the translation of it here. 
 Mr Wycherly, when we read it together, was of my opinion in this, or rather I 
 of his; for it becomes me so to speak of so excellent a poet, and so great a judge. 
 But since I am in this place, as Virgil says, " Spatiis exclusus iniquis," that is, 
 shortened in my time, I will give no other reason than that it is impracticable on 
 our stage. A new theatre, much more ample, and much deeper, must be made 
 for that purpose, besides the cost of sometimes forty or fifty habits, which is an 
 expense too large to be supplied by a company of actors. It is true, I should 
 not be sorry to see a chorus on a theatre, more than as large and as deep again 
 as ours, built and adorned at a king's charges ; and on that condition and 
 another, which is, that my hands were not bound behind me, as now they are, 
 I should not despair of making such a tragedy, as might be both instructive and 
 delightful, according to the manner of the Grecians. 
 
 " To make a sketch, or a more perfect model of a picture," is in the language 
 of poets, to draw up the scenery of a play : and the reason is the same for both; 
 to guide the undertaking, and to preserve the remembrance of such things whose 
 natures are difficult to retain. 
 
 To avoid absurdities and incongruities is the same law established for both 
 
POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
 331 
 
 arts. " The painter is not to paint a cloud at the bottom of a picture, but in the 
 uppermost parts nor the poet to place what is proper to the end or middle, in 
 the beginning of a poem. I might enlarge on this; but there are few poets or 
 painters who can be supposed to sin so grossly against the laws of nature and of 
 art. I remember only one play, and for once I will call it by its name, The 
 Slighted Maid, where there is nothing in the first act but what might have been 
 said or done in the fifth; nor any thing in the midst which might not have been 
 placed as well in the beginning or the end. 
 
 " To express the passions which are seated on the heart by outward signs," is 
 one great precept of the painters, and very difficult to perform. In poetry the 
 same passions and motions of the mind are to be expressed 9 and iu this consists 
 the principal difficulty, as well as the excellency of that art. " This," says my 
 author, " is the gift of Jupiter;" and, to speak in the same heathen language, we 
 call it the gift of our Apollo, not to be obtained by pains or study, if we are not 
 born to it : for the motions which are studied are never so natural as those which 
 break out in the height of a real passion. Mr Otway possessed this part as 
 thoroughly as any of the ancients or moderns. I will not defend every thing in 
 his Venice Preserved; but I must bear this testimony to his memory, that the 
 passions are truly touched in it, though, perhaps there is somewhat to be desired 
 both in the grounds of them, and in the height and elegance of expression; but 
 nature is there, which is the greatest beauty. 
 
 " In the passions," says our author, t( we must have a very great regard to 
 the quality of the persons who are actually possessed with them." The joy of 
 a monarch for the news of a victory must not be expressed like the ecstacy of 
 ■a harlequin on the receipt of a letter from his mistress: this is so much the same 
 in both the .arts, that it is no longer a comparison. What he says of face-paint- 
 ing, or the portrait of any one particular person, concerning the likeness, is also 
 applicable to poetry, in the character of an hero, as well as in an inferior figure, 
 there is a better or worse likeness to be taken; the better is a panegyric, if it 
 be not false, and the worse is a libel. Sophocles, says Aristotle, always drew 
 men as they ought to be; that is, better than they were. Another, whose name 
 I have forgotten, drew them worse than naturally they were. Euripides altered 
 nothing in the character, but made them such as they were represented by 
 History, Epic Poetry, or Tradition. Of the three, the draught of Sophocles is 
 most commended by Aristotle. I have followed it in that part of Oedipus 
 which I writ; though, perhaps, I have made him too good a man. But my 
 characters of Antony and Cleopatra, though they are favourable to them, have 
 nothing of outrageous panegyric; their passions were their own, and such as 
 were given them by history, only the deformities of them were cast into shadows, 
 that they might be objects of compassion; whereas, if I had chosen a noon-da 3 
 light for them, somewhat must have been discovered, which would rather 
 have moved our hatred than our pity. 
 
 " The Gothic manner, and the barbarous ornaments which are to be avoided 
 in a picture," are just the same with those of an ill-ordered play. For example; 
 our English Tragi-comedy must be confessed to be wholly Gothic, notwithstand- 
 ing the success which it has found upon our theatre; and in the Pastor Fido 
 of Guarini, even though Corsica and the Satyr contribute somewhat to the main. 
 
332 
 
 A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 action: neither can I defend my Spanish Friar, as fond as otherwise I am of it, 
 from this imputation; for though the comical parts are diverting, and the serious 
 moving, yet they are of an unnatural mingle: for mirth and gravity destroy 
 each other, and are no more to be allowed for decent, than a gay widow laugh- 
 ing in a mourning habit. 
 
 I had almost forgot one considerable resemblance. Du Fresnoy tells us, 
 " That the figures of the groups must not be all on a side, that is, with their 
 faces and bodies all turned the same way, but must contrast each other by 
 their several positions." Thus in a play, some characters must be raised to oppose 
 others, and to set them off the better, according to the old maxim, " Contraria 
 jnxta se posita, magis elucescunt." Thus in the Scornful Lady, the usurer is 
 sent to confront the prodigal : Thus in my Tyrannic Love, the Atheist Maxi- 
 min is opposed to the character of St. Catharine. 
 
 I am now come, though with the omission of many likenesses, to the third 
 part of Painting, which is called the Chromatic or Colouring. Expression, and 
 all that belongs to words, is that in a poem which colouring is in a picture. 
 The colours well chosen, in their proper places, together with their lights and 
 shadows which belong to them, lighten the design, and make it pleasing to the 
 eye. The words, the expressions, the tropes and figures, the versification, and 
 all the other elegancies of sound, as cadences, turns of words upon the thought, 
 and many other things, which are all parts of expression, perform exactly the 
 same office both in Dramatic and Epic Poetry. Our author calls colouring, 
 " lena sororis;" in plain English, the bawd of her sister, the design or drawing; 
 she clothes, she dresses her up, she paints her, she makes her appear more lovely 
 than naturally she is, she procures for the design, and makes lovers for her; 
 for the design of itself is only so many naked lines. Thus in poetry, the ex- 
 pression is that which charms the reader, and beautifies the design, which is 
 only the outlines of the fables. It is true, the design must of itself be good ; 
 if it be vicious, or, in one word, unpleasing, the cost of colouring is thrown 
 away upon it. It is an ugly woman in a rich habit, set out with jewels: noth- 
 ing can become her. But granting the design to be moderately good, it is like 
 an excellent complexion with indifferent features; the white and red well min- 
 gled on the face, make what was before but passable, appear beautiful. 
 " Operum Colores" is the very word which Horace uses to signify words, and 
 elegant expression, of which he himself was so great a master in his Odes. 
 Amongst the ancients, Zeuxis was most famous for his colouring: amongst the 
 moderns, Titian and Correggio. Of the two ancient Epic Poets, who have so 
 far excelled all the moderns, the invention and design were the particular talents 
 of Homer. Virgil must yield to him in both; for the design of the Latin was 
 borrowed from the Grecian: but the " Dictio Virgiliana," the expression of 
 Virgil, his colouring, was incomparably the better; and in that I have always 
 endeavoured to copy him. Most of the pedants, I know, maintain the contrary, 
 and will have Homer excel even in this part. But of all people, as they are 
 the most ill-mannered, so they are the worst judges, even of words which are 
 their province; they seldom know more than the grammatical construction, unless 
 they are born with a poetical genius, which is a rare portion amongst them: 
 yet some, I know, may stand excepted, and such I honour. Virgil is so exact 
 
POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
 333 
 
 in every word, that none can be changed but for a worse; nor any one removed 
 from its place, but the harmony will be altered. He pretends sometimes to trip: 
 but it is only to make you think him in danger of a fall, when he is most secure. 
 Like a skilful dancer on the ropes (if you will pardon the meanness of the 
 similitude) who slips willingly and makes a seeming stumble, that you may 
 think him in great hazard of breaking his neck, while at the same time he is 
 only giving you a proof of his dexterity. My late Lord Roscommon was often 
 pleased with this reflection, and with the examples of it in this admirable 
 author. 
 
 I have not leisure to run through the whole comparison of lights and shadows 
 with tropes and figures; yet I cannot but take notice of metaphors, which, like 
 them, have power to lessen or greaten any thing. Strong and glowing colours 
 are the just resemblances of bold metaphors, but both must be judiciously ap- 
 plied; for there is a difference betwixt daring and fool-hardiness. Lucan and 
 Statius often ventured them too far; our Virgil never. But the great defect 
 of the Phar salia and the Thebais was in the design; if that had been more per- 
 fect, we might have forgiven many of their bold strokes in the colouring, or at 
 least excused them; yet some of them are such as Demosthenes or Cicero could 
 not have defended. Virgil, if he could have seen the first verses of the fSylvce, 
 would have thought Statius mad in his fustian description of the statue on the 
 brazen horse : but that poet was always in a foam at his setting out, even before 
 the motion of the race had warmed him. The soberness of Virgil whom he 
 read, it seems, to little purpose, might have shown him the difference betwixt 
 " Arma virumque cano, and Magnanimum seacidem, formidatamque tonanti 
 progeniem." But Virgil knew how to rise by degrees in his expressions: Sta- 
 tius was in his towering heights at the first stretch of his pinions. The descrip- 
 tion of his running horse, just starting in the funeral games for Archemorus, 
 though the verses are wonderfully fine, are the true image of their author: 
 
 Stare adeo nescit, pereunt vestigia mille 
 
 Ante fugam; absentemque ferit gravis ungula campum. 
 
 Which would cost me an hour, if I had the leisure to translate them, there is so 
 much of beauty in the original. Virgil, as he better knew his colours, so he 
 knew better how and where to place them. In as much haste as I am, I cannot 
 forbear giving one example : It is said of him, that he read the second, fourth, 
 and sixth books of his /Eneis to Augustus Csesar. In the sixth (which we are 
 sure he read, because we know Octavia was present, who rewarded him so 
 bountifully for the twenty verses which were made in honour of her deceased 
 son Marcellus); in this sixth book I say, the poet, speaking of Misenus, the 
 trumpeter, says, 
 
 Quo non prsestantior alter, 
 
 iEre ciere viros 
 
 and broke off in the hemistich, or midst of the verse ; but in the very reading, 
 seized as it were with a divine fury, he made up the latter part of the hemistich 
 with these following words, 
 
 Martemque accendere cantu, 
 
334 
 
 A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 How warm, nay, how glowing a colouring is this \ In the beginning of the 
 verse, the word ass, or brass, was taken for a trumpet, because the instrument 
 was made of that metal, which of itself was fine; but in the latter end, which 
 
 was made extempore, you see three metaphors, martemque, accendere, 
 
 cantw. Good heavens ! how the plain sense is raised by the beauty of the 
 words. But this was happiness, the former might be only judgment. This was 
 the " curiosa felicitas" which Petronius attributes to Horace. It is the pencil 
 thrown luckily full upon the horse's mouth, to express the foam, which the 
 painter, with all his skill, could not perform without it. These hits of words a 
 true poet often finds, as I may say, without seeking; but he knows their value 
 when he finds them, and is infinitely pleased. A bad poet may sometimes light 
 on them, but he discerns not a diamond from a Bristol stone; and would have 
 been of the cock's mind in iEsop, a grain of barley would have pleased him better 
 than the jewel. The lights and shadows which belong to colouring, put me in 
 mind of that verse of Horace, 
 
 Hoc amat obscurant, vult hoc sub luce videri. 
 Some parts of a poem require to be amply written, and with all the force and 
 elegance of words : others must be cast into shadows; that is, passed over in 
 silence or but faintly touched. This belongs wholly to the judgment of the poet 
 and the painter. The most beautiful parts of the picture and the poem must be 
 the most finished; the colours and words most chosen; many things in both 
 which are not deserving of this care, must be shifted off, content with vulgar ex- 
 pressions; and those very short, and left, as in a shadow, to the imagination of 
 the reader. 
 
 We have the proverb, " Manum de tabula," from the painters, which signifies 
 to know when to give over, and to lay by the pencil. Both Homer and Virgil 
 practised this precept wonderfully well : but Virgil the better of the two. 
 Homer knew that when Hector was slain, Troy was as good as already taken : 
 therefore he concludes his action there; for what follows in the funerals of 
 Patroclus, and the redemption of Hector's body, is not, properly speaking, a part 
 of the main action. But Virgil concludes with the death of Turnus; for, after, 
 that difficulty was removed, iEneas might marry, and establish the Trojans when 
 he pleased. This rule I had before my eyes in the conclusion of the Spanish 
 Friar, when the discovery was made that the king was living; which was the 
 knot of the play untied; the rest is shut up in the compass of some few lines, be- 
 cause nothing then hindered the happiness of Torismond and Leonora. The faults 
 of that drama are in the kind of it, which is tragic comedy. But it was given to 
 the people, and I never writ any for myself but Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 The remark, I must acknowledge, is not so proper for the colouring as the 
 design; but it will hold for both. As the words, &c, are evidently shown to be 
 the clothing of the thought, in the same sense as colours are the clothing of 
 the design; so the painter and the poet ought to judge exactly when the colour- 
 ing and expressions are perfect, and then to think their work is truly finished. 
 Apelles said of Protogenes, that " he knew not when to give over." A work 
 may be over- wrought as well as under-wrought; too much labour often takes 
 away the spirit, by adding to the polishing; so that there remains nothing but as 
 dull correctness, a piece without any considerable faults, but with few beauties 
 
POETRY AND PAlNTINGf. 
 
 335 
 
 for when the spirits are drawn oft', there is nothing but a " caput mortuum." 
 Statius never thought an expression eould be bold enough ; and if a bolder could 
 be found, he rejected the first. Virgil had judgment enough to know daring was 
 necessary; but he knew the difference betwixt a glowing colour and a glaring; 
 as when he compared the shocking of the fleets at Actium to the justling of 
 islands rent from their foundations and meeting in the ocean. He knew the 
 comparison was forced beyond nature, and raised too high; he therefore softens; 
 the metaphor with a credas. You would almost believe that mountains or- 
 islands rushed against each other : 
 
 Credas innare revulsas. 
 
 Cycladas; aut montes concurrere montibus sequos. 
 But here I must break off without finishing the discourse. 
 
 " Cynthius aurem vellit, et admonuit, &c," the things which are behind are of 
 too nice a consideration for an essay begun and ended in twelve mornings ; and 
 perhaps the judges of painting and poetry, when I tell them how short a time it 
 cost me, may make me the same answer which my late Lord Rochester made to 
 one, who, to commend a tragedy, said, it was written in three weeks : " How the 
 Devil could he be so long about it ? for that poem was infamously bad," and I 
 doubt this parallel is little better; and then the shortness of the time is so far 
 from being a commendation, that it is scarcely an excuse. But if I have really 
 drawn a portrait to the knees, or an half-length, with a tolerable likeness, then I 
 may plead with some justice for myself, that the rest is left to the imagination. 
 Let some better artist provide himself of a deeper canvass; and taking these 
 hints which 1 have given, set the figure on its legs, and finish it in the invention, 
 design, and colouring. 
 
The following elegant Epistle has constantly been prefixed to all the 
 Editions of Du Fresnoy, which have been published since Jervas 
 corrected the translation of Dryden. It is, therefore, here reprinted, in 
 order that a Poem, which does so much honour to the original author, 
 may still accompany his work, although the translator is but too conscious 
 how much so masterly a piece of versification on the subject of Painting, 
 will, by being brought thus near it, prejudice his own lines, 
 
EPISTLE 
 
 OF 
 
 ME. POPE, 
 
 TO 
 
 MR. JEKVAS. 
 
TO 
 
 ME. JEEVAS, 
 
 WITH 
 
 FRBSIOY'8 ART OF PAINTING, 
 
 TRANSLATED BY MR DRYDEN.* 
 
 This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse 
 This, from no venal or ungrateful Muse. 
 Whether thy hand strike out some free design, 
 Where life awakes and dawns at every line ; 
 Or blend in beauteous tints the colour'd mass, 
 And from the canvass call the mimic face : 
 Read these instructive leaves, in which conspire 
 Fresnoy's close Art, and Dryden's native fire, 
 And reading wish, like theirs, our fate and fame, 
 So mixed our studies, and so join'd our name ; 
 Like them to shine through long-succeeding age, 
 So just thy skill, so regular my rage. 
 
 Smit with the love of Sister-Arts we came 
 And met congenial, mingling flame with flame ; 
 Like friendly colours found them both unite, 
 And each from each contract new strength and light 
 How oft in pleasing tasks we wear the day, 
 While summer suns roll unperceiv'd away ? 
 How oft our slowly-growing works impart, 
 While images reflect from art to art ? 
 How oft review ; each finding like a friend, 
 Something to blame, and something to commend ? 
 
 What flatt'ring scenes our wand'ring fancy wrought, 
 Rome's pompous glories rising to our thought ! 
 Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly, 
 Fir'd with ideas of fair Italy. 
 
 * First Printed in 1716. 
 
POPE'S EPISTLE TO MR JERVAS. 
 
 339 
 
 With thee, or Raffaelle's monument I mourn, 
 Or wait inspiring dreams at Maro's urn : 
 With thee repose, where Tully once was laid, 
 Or seek some ruin's formidable shade ; 
 While fancy brings the vanished pile to view 
 And builds imaginary Rome anew. 
 Here thy well-study'd maibles fix our eye ; 
 A fading fresco here demands a sigh : 
 Each heavenly piece unwearied we compare, 
 Match Raffaelle's Grace with thy lov'd Guido's Air, 
 Carracci' s strength, Correggio's softer line, 
 Paulo's free stroke, and Titian's warmth divine. 
 
 How finish'd with illustrious toil appears 
 This small, well-polished gem, the work of years ! * 
 Yet still how faint by precept is exprest 
 The living image in the Painter's breast ? 
 Thence endless streams of fair ideas flow, 
 Strike in the sketch, or in the picture glow ; 
 Thence beauty, waking all her forms, supplies 
 An Angel's sweetness, or Bridgewater's eyes. 
 
 Muse ! at that name thy sacred sorrows shed, 
 Those tears eternal that embalm the dead ; 
 Call round her tomb each object of desire, 
 Each purer frame informed with purer fire : 
 Bid her be all that cheers or softens life, 
 The tender sister, daughter, friend and wife ! 
 Bid her be all that makes mankind adore ; 
 Then view this marble, and be vain no more ! 
 
 Yet still her charms in breathing paint engage : 
 Her modest cheek shall warm a future age. 
 Beauty, frail flower, that every season fears, 
 Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years. 
 Thus Churchill's race shall other hearts surprise, 
 And other beauties envy Wortley's f eyes, 
 
 * Fresnoy employed above twenty years in finishing this Poem. 
 
 + In one of Dr Warburton's Editions of Pope, by which copy this has been corrected, the 
 name is changed to Worslcy. If that reading be not an error of the press, I suppose the poet 
 altered the name after he had quarrelled with Lady M. W. Montague, and being offended at her 
 wit, thus revenged himself on her beauty. M. 
 
340 
 
 pope's epistle to me jervas. 
 
 Each pleasing Blount shall endless smiles bestow, 
 And soft Belinda's blush for ever glow. 
 
 Oh ! lasting as those colours may they shine, 
 Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy line ! 
 New graces yearly, like thy works display : 
 Soft without weakness, without glaring gay ; 
 Led by some rule, that guides, but not constrains ; 
 And finish' d more through happiness than pains ! 
 The kindred Arts shall in their praise conspire, 
 One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre. 
 Yet should the graces all thy figures place, 
 And breathe an air divine on ev'ry face ; 
 Yet should the Muses bid my numbers roll 
 Strong as their charm, and gentle as their soul; 
 With Zeuxis' Helen thy Bridgewater vie, 
 And these be sung till Granville's Myra die ; 
 Alas ! how little from the grave we claim? 
 Thou but preserv'st a Face, and I a name 
 
A 
 
 CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 OF 
 
 PAINTEBS, 
 
 FROM THE EEVIVAL OF THE AET TO THE BEGINNING OF THE LAST 
 
 CENTURY. 
 
Instead of the short account of the lives of the Painters by Mr Graham, 
 which has been annexed to the later Editions of Mr Dryden's translation, 
 I have thought proper to insert, at the conclusion of this work, the follow 
 ing Chronological List drawn up by the late Mr Gray, when in Italy, for 
 his own use, and which I found fairly transcribed amongst those papers 
 which his friendship bequeathed to me. Mr Gray was as diligent in his 
 researches as correct in his judgment ; and has here employed both these 
 talents to point out in one column the places where the principal works 
 of each master are to be found, and in another the different parts of the 
 art in which his own taste led him to think that they severally excelled.* 
 It is presumed, therefore, that these two additions to the names and dates 
 will render this little work more useful than any thing of the catalogue 
 kind hitherto printed on the subject. I 1 or more copious Biographical 
 information, the reader is referred to Mr Pilkington's Dictionary. 
 
 M. 
 
 * See Memoirs of Mr Gray, Note on Letter XIV. Sect II. 
 
A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF MODERN PAINTERS. 343 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 almost all perished, 
 unknown. 
 
 Rome St. Peter's, Arezzo — 
 
 Mosaics. 
 Pisa, Campo-Santo. 
 
 Rome, St. Paolo furor della 
 Citta. 
 
 Florence, the Dome. 
 
 Florence, the Palace, in the 
 Apartments of, the old 
 Pictures. 
 
 Florence, the Palace. 
 
 Rome, S. Giov. Laterano, 
 S. Mar. Maggiore. 
 
 Venice, in some cabinets. 
 
 Rome, Capella Sistina. 
 
 Aged 
 
 ©r-<© CO CO 10 OOWM i>. » 05 Ol — i O IOOCO 
 ©COCO t^COCC CO CO CO 00 CO <N CO CO CO 1 CO © CO 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 Florence, Flor. 1300 
 Florence 1294 
 Florence 1336 
 
 Florence 1340 
 Sienna 1350 
 Rome 1364 
 
 Sienna, Florence 1345 
 Florence 1389 
 Florence 1356 
 Florence 1432 
 
 Florence 1418 
 
 Florence 1443 
 Florence, Rome 1455 
 
 Messina 1475 
 
 Florence, Rome 1488 
 
 Florence 1480 
 
 Verona 1412 
 
 Venice 1470 
 Venice 1501 
 Venice 1512 
 Florence, Rome 1484 
 
 Painted 
 
 History 
 History 
 History 
 
 History 
 5 History 
 History 
 
 Portraits 
 History 
 History 
 10 Birds, 
 some His. 
 History 
 
 History 
 Hist. Mi- 
 natures 
 
 History 
 
 15 History 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 History 
 20 History 
 History 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 first revived Painting 
 revived Mosaic 
 quitted the stiff man- 
 ner of the Greeks 
 
 first who studied per- 
 spective 
 
 gave more grace to 
 his figures and dra- 
 pery 
 
 introduced oil Paint- 
 ing into Italy 
 
 began to Paint figures 
 larger than life 
 
 painted in oil first at 
 Florence 
 
 Studied under 
 
 certain Greeks 
 Apollonius, a Greek 
 Cimabue 
 
 Andrea Taffi 
 
 Giotto 
 
 Giotto 
 
 Giotto 
 
 imitated Giotto 
 imitated Giotto 
 Antonio Venetiano 
 
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 Gher. Stamina 
 
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 Giottino 
 
 John Van Eyck 
 Massaccio 
 
 Domenico Venetiano 
 
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 Gentile del Fabriano 
 [ Giacomo their Fa- 
 l ther. 
 
 Names. 
 
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 Andrea Taffi 
 Giotto 
 
 Buonamico Buffalmacco 
 5 Ambrogio Lorenzetti 
 Pietro Cavallini 
 
 Simon Memmi 
 Andrea Orgagna 
 Tomaso Giottino 
 10 Paolo Uccello 
 
 Massolino 
 Massaccio 
 
 Fra. Giov. Angelico da 
 Fiesole 
 
 Antonella da Messina 
 
 15 Fra Filippo Lippi 
 
 Andrea del Castagno 
 detto Degl' Impiccati 
 Gentile del Fabriano 
 
 Giacomo Bellini 
 Gentile Bellini ) 
 20 Giovanni Bellini \ 
 Cosmo Rosselli 
 
A CHRONLOGICAL LIST OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
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A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF MODERN PATNTERS. 355 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 Naples, &c. many Collec- 
 tions. 
 
 Genoa; Leghorn; on the 
 outsides of houses. 
 
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 Aged|£ | | 
 
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 Valencia 1656 
 
 Antwerp — — 
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 Bologna 
 
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 Florence 1630 
 
 Leyden 1634 
 
 Nancy 1633 
 Paris; Paris 1641 
 Antwerp 1651 
 Steinwick 1603 
 
 Antwerp 3 640 
 
 Painted. 
 
 History 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 Sea-ports 
 Ships 
 
 Ships 
 
 Tempests, 
 Land- 
 scapes 
 Fruit, 
 Perspec- 
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 5 Perspec. 
 
 Animals, 
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 History 
 
 History 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Perspec. 
 10 Build- 
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 places 
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 fire and 
 candles. 
 
 Low Life 
 
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 dismal and cruel 
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 Studied under. 
 
 M. Ang Caravaggio 
 
 studied Nature 
 Corn. Henrickson 
 
 Paul Brill 
 
 John Strada 
 
 Carlo Saracino 
 Laurent, his father 
 Henry Steinwick 
 John Be Vries 
 
 Abraham Jansens 
 
 Names. 
 
 . . 
 
 Giuseppe Ribera, detto, 
 Lo Spagnuoletto 
 
 John Mompre 
 Henry Cornelius Wroon, 
 or Vroon 
 Agostino Tassi 
 
 5 Fra. Matteo Zaccoline 
 Antonio Tempesta 
 
 Octavius Van Veen, 
 called Otho Vsenius 
 Jean Le Clerc 
 Simon Vouet 
 10 Peter Noefs 
 Henry Stienwick 
 
 Theodore Rombouts 
 
356 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
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360 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
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A 
 
 LIST OF PAINTERS, 
 
 MENTIONED IN THE FOREGOING TABLE, ARRANGED IN 
 ALPHABETICAL ORDER. 
 
 AGRESTI, Livio 
 Albani, Francesco 
 Albert Durer (See Durer) 
 Alberti, Cherubino 
 Albertinelli, Mariotto . 
 Allori, Angelo, II Bronzino 
 Allori, Alessandro 
 Andrea deb Castagno [See Castagno) 
 Andrea Mantegna (See Mantegna) 
 Andrea del Sarto (See Sarto) 
 Angeli, Filippo d' ... 
 Angelo, Michael, il Caravaggio . 
 Angelo, Michael, Buonarotta 
 Antonella da Messina . 
 Antonio da Correggio (See Correggio) 
 Aristotile Bastiano 
 Arpino, Cavalier' (See Pini) . 
 Assyln, John .... 
 
 B 
 
 BACCIO . . 
 Badalocchio, Sisto 
 Bagnacavallo, II . 
 Barbalongo, Antonio 
 Barbieri, Francesco 
 Barocci, Frederico 
 Bassano, II (See Da Ponte) 
 Bassano, Francesco 
 Bassano, Leandro 
 Bassano, Giambattista . 
 Bassano, Girolamo 
 Battaglie, Michelangelo delle 
 Beccafumio, Dominico . 
 Bellini, Giacomo . 
 Bellini, Gentile 
 Bellini, Giovanni . 
 Bernazzano da Milano . 
 Berrettini, Pietro . 
 Bezzi, Giov. Francesco 
 Bigio, Francia 
 Bol, John 
 Bologna, II . 
 Bolognese, Nicolo 
 Bonvincino, Alessandro 
 
 P. No. 
 
 352 12 
 
 353 0 
 
 349 9 
 
 354 8 
 
 345 3 
 
 350 12 
 35o 13 
 
 343 16 
 
 344 3 
 
 346 12 
 
 354 11 
 
 352 17 
 
 345 7 
 343 14 
 345 2 
 348 11 
 354 4 
 357 5 
 
 345 
 354 
 344 
 358 
 358 
 352 
 
 5 
 3 
 15 
 
 351 17 
 
 352 1 
 352 2 
 352 3 
 352 4 
 360 6 
 348 7 
 343 18 
 343 19 
 343 20 
 
 347 10 
 358 4 
 
 348 14 
 
 346 13 
 35i 2 
 
 347 7 
 347 8 
 35o 8 
 
 Bordone, Paris 
 Brandi, Cav. Giacinto 
 Briemberg, Barth . 
 Brill, Paul . 
 Brill, Matthew 
 Bronzino, II. (See Allori) 
 Bruges John of 
 Brueghel, John 
 Brueghel, Peter . 
 Buffalmacco, Buonamico 
 Buonacorvi, Pierino 
 Buonarotta, Mich. Angelo 
 
 CAGLIARI, Paolo . 
 Cagliari, Carlo 
 Cagliari, Benedetto 
 Cagliari, Gabrielle 
 Calabrese, II Cav. 
 Calvart, Dionigi . 
 Camacco, Andrea . 
 Campidoglio, Michelangelo 
 Cantarini, Simone 
 Caracci, Ludovico 
 Caracci, Agostino . 
 Caracci, Annibale . 
 Caracci, Antonio . 
 Caravaggio, II (See Angelo) 
 Caravaggio, Polidora da 
 Carlo Maratti \ . 
 Carpi, Girolamo da 
 Castagno, Andrea del . 
 Castiglione, Giov. Benedetto 
 Cavallini, Pietro . 
 Cavedone, Giacomo 
 Cento, Guercino da. (See Barbieri) 
 Cesi, Bartolomeo . 
 Cignani, Cav. Carlo 
 Cigoli, II 
 
 Cimabue, Giovanni 
 Claude Lorraine . 
 Clovio, Dom. Giulio 
 Cock, Matthias 
 Colonna, Angelo Michale 
 Correggio, Antonio da . 
 
 P. No. 
 
 350 6 
 
 360 11 
 
 357 4 
 
 354 12 
 
 354 13 
 
 35o 12 
 
 349 8 
 
 356 6 
 
 349 !2 
 
 343 4 
 
 346 10 
 
 35i 12 
 
 35i 13 
 
 35i 14 
 
 351 i5 
 359 J 5 
 
 349 7 
 
 358 6 
 
 359 13 
 358 8 
 
 352 18 
 
 353 1 
 
 353 2 
 
 354 3 
 352 17 
 347 15 
 
 360 8 
 348 
 343 
 357 
 343 
 357 
 358 
 349 
 358 
 354 6 
 343 1 
 360 2 
 
 350 11 
 349 16 
 357 15 
 
362 
 
 LIST OF PAINTERS. 
 
 Cortona, Pietro da (See Berrettin 
 Cosimo, Pietro de . 
 Cosmo, Roselli {See Roselli) 
 Cousin, Jean 
 Cousin, Lewis 
 Coxis, Michael 
 Craes, Caspar 
 Credi, Lorenzo di 
 
 D 
 
 DANIELO, Peligrinoda San 
 
 Da Ponte, Giacomo 
 
 Da Vinci, Lionardo {See Lionardo) 
 
 Dow, Gerard .... 
 
 Degl' Impiccati {See Castagno) 
 
 De Vos, Martin .... 
 
 Domenichino, II . 
 
 Donducci, Giov. Andrea 
 
 Dosso, II .... 
 
 Du Ghet, Caspar . 
 
 Durer, Albert .... 
 
 P. No. 
 
 358 4 
 
 345 5 
 343 21 
 
 350 20 
 357 8 
 
 351 1 
 357 3 
 
 346 5 
 
 347 12 
 
 351 17 
 344 12 
 357 10 
 343 16 
 
 352 8 
 
 353 3 
 
 359 1 
 347 9 
 
 360 4 
 
 349 9 
 
 FABRIANO, Gentile del . 
 
 343 
 
 17 
 
 Pacini, Pietro .... 
 
 358 
 
 10 
 
 Faenza, Marco da ... 
 
 35° 
 
 16 
 
 Farinato, Paolo .... 
 
 352 
 
 10 
 
 Fattore, 11 
 
 346 
 
 7 
 
 360 
 
 12 
 
 Feti, Domenico .... 
 
 354 
 
 7 
 
 Fiesole, Fra. Giov. Angelico da . 
 
 343 
 
 *3 
 
 Fioraventi, Fenamola . . . 
 
 359 
 
 16 
 
 Fiori, Mario de 
 
 359 
 
 12 
 
 
 349 
 
 18 
 
 Fontana, Prospero 
 
 347 
 
 4 
 
 Fontana, Lavinia .... 
 
 347 
 
 5 
 
 Fradel Piombo {See Sebastiano) . 
 
 347 
 
 
 Franceschi, Paul .... 
 
 352 
 
 7 
 
 Franc-Flore {See Floris) 
 
 349 
 
 18 
 
 Francia, Francesco 
 
 344 
 
 7 
 
 Francuzzi, Innocenzo . 
 
 344 
 
 9 
 
 GARBIERI, Lorenzo 
 
 359 
 
 8 
 
 Garbo, Raphaelino del . 
 
 345 
 
 6 
 
 Garofalo, Benvenuto . . 
 
 348. 
 
 12 
 
 Gelee Claude {See Claude Lorraine) 
 
 360 
 
 2 
 
 Geminiano, Vincenzo da San 
 
 346 
 
 4 
 
 Gentile del Fabriano {See Fabriano) 
 
 343 
 
 17 
 
 Gentileschi, Orazio 
 
 354 
 
 10 
 
 Genga, Girolamo .... 
 
 348 
 
 9 
 
 Gessi, Francesco .... 
 
 359 
 
 7 
 
 Ghillandaio, Domenico 
 
 344 
 
 1 
 
 Giordano, Luca . . . 
 
 360 
 
 9 
 
 Giorgione, Giorgio 
 
 345 
 
 
 Giottino, Tomaso .... 
 
 343 
 
 9 
 
 
 343 
 
 3 
 
 Giovanni da Udina 
 
 346 
 
 11 
 
 Giovanni Martino da Udina {See 
 
 
 Martino) . 
 
 347 
 
 11 
 
 Girolamo Romanino 
 
 35o 
 
 9 
 
 Girolamo da Sermonetta 
 
 35o 
 
 17 
 
 Girolamo di Titiano 
 
 35o 
 
 5 
 
 Girolamo da Trevigi 
 
 347 
 
 14 
 
 Giulio Romano .... 
 
 346 
 
 8 
 
 Gobbo, Pietro Paolo 
 
 354 
 
 14 
 
 Guercino da, Cento . 
 
 358 
 
 3 
 
 
 353 
 
 4 
 
 H 
 
 HANS HOLBEIN . 
 Heemskirke, Martin 
 Hoefnaghel, George 
 Holbein, John {See Hans Holbein) 
 
 I and J 
 
 JACOB, Lucas . 
 
 II Bagnacavallo {See Bagnacavallo), 
 and so of other names with II pre- 
 fixed 
 
 Imola da {See Francuzzi) 
 
 Impiccatti Degl' {See Castagno) . 
 
 John of Bruges .... 
 
 LAN FRAN CO, Cav. Giov 
 Le Brun, Charles 
 Le Clerc, Jean 
 Legres, F. Dan 
 Le Sueur Eustache 
 Licinio da Pordenone 
 Ligorio, Pirro 
 Lionardo da Vinci 
 Lippi, Fra. Filippo 
 Lippi, Filippo 
 Littie John (See Asselyn) 
 Lorenzetti, Ambrogio . 
 Lorenzi di Credi (See Credi) 
 Lorraine, Claude (See Claude) 
 Lotto, Lorenzo 
 Luca Giordano 
 Luca d'Ollanda 
 
 M 
 
 MALTESE, II . 
 Manfredi, Bartolomeo 
 Mantegna, Andrea 
 Maratti, Carlo 
 
 Marco, Bart, di S. (See Baccio) 
 Marco, da Sienna . 
 Martino, Giov. da Udina 
 Massaccio 
 Massari, Lucio 
 Massolino 
 Masteletta, II 
 Matsys, Quintin . 
 Maturino, II 
 Mauro, II . . 
 Mazza, Damiano . 
 Mazzuolo, Francesco 
 Meccarino ■ . 
 Memmi, Simon 
 Messer Nicolo (See Bolognese) 
 Messina Antonella da (See Antonella) 
 Metelli Agostino .... 
 Mezzuoli, Girolamo 
 Michael Angelo Buonarotta . 
 Michael Angelo il Caravaggio (See 
 
 Caravaggio) .... 
 Michelangelo delle Battaglie 
 Miervelt, Michael John 
 Milano, Bernazzano da {See Bernaz- 
 
 zano) . . . 
 Modena, Peligrino di (See Peligrino) 
 Mola, Pietro Francesco 
 Mola, Giov. Battista 
 Mompre, John .... 
 
 P. No. 
 
 349 13 
 349 r 7 
 35i 5 
 349 J 3 
 
 344 
 344 
 343 
 349 
 
 344 
 357 
 343 
 346 
 360 
 348 
 360 
 
 357 
 348 
 345 
 
 352 
 360 
 35i 
 
 353 5 
 
 360 10 
 
 355 8 
 
 357 2 
 
 36a 5 
 
 347 !3 
 
 35o .10 
 
 344 12 
 
 343 15 
 
 360 1 
 
 354 17 
 
 344 3 
 360 8 
 
 345 4 
 352 13 
 
 347 « 
 343 12 
 354 1 
 
 343 11 
 359 1 
 
 349 10 
 
 348 1 
 
 344 10 
 
 350 4 
 348 2 
 348 7 
 343 7 
 347 8 
 343 14 
 
 347 10 
 
 346 9 
 
 357 11 
 
 357 12 
 
 355 2 
 
LIST OF PAINTERS. 
 
 363 
 
 P. No. 
 
 Monsignori, Francesco 
 Montagna, II 
 More, Anthony 
 Moretto, II . 
 Moses the Little . 
 Murano, Nadalino de {See Nadalino) 
 Muttano, II . 
 
 N 
 
 NADALINO di Murano . 
 Naldino, Battista . 
 Napolitano, II 
 Nicolo del Pomerancio 
 Nicolo Messer {See Bolognese) 
 Noefs, Peter 
 Nosadella, II 
 
 ORGAGNA, Andrea 
 Otho Vaenius 
 
 PADUANO, II : . . . 
 Palma Giacomo 
 Parmegiano, II 
 
 Passerptti, Bartolomeo et tre ftgli 
 Passignano, Cavaliere . 
 Paul Veronese 
 Peligrino di Modena 
 Peligrinoda San Danielo 
 Penni, Giovanni Francesco . 
 Perin del Vago 
 Perugino Pietro 
 Peruzzi, Balthazar 
 Pietro da Cortona . 
 Pini, Guiseppe 
 Pinturicchio, Bernardino 
 Piombo, Fradel {See Sebastiano) 
 Platten, Matthew .... 
 Polembourg, Cornelius 
 Polidoro da Caravaggio 
 Pomerancio, Nicolo del {See Nicolo) 
 Ponte, Giacomo da 
 Pontormo, Giacomo 
 Porbus, Peter . . ■ . 
 Pordenone, Licinio da {See Licinio) 
 Poussin, Nicholas 
 Poussin, Gasper .... 
 Primaticcio ..... 
 Procaccini, Ercolo 
 Procaccini, Camillo 
 Procaccini, Guilio Cesare 
 Puligo, Domenico 
 
 QUINTIN Matsys 
 
 RAFFAELLE Sanzio d'Urbino 
 Ramenghi, Bartolomeo 
 Raphaelino del Garbo {See Garbo) 
 Regillo, Giovanni Antonio . 
 Rembrandt ..... 
 Reni, Guido {See Guido) 
 
 .348 
 
 6 
 
 io° 
 
 
 35 1 
 
 4 
 
 35° 
 
 8 
 
 357 
 
 * 
 
 35° 
 
 
 35° 
 
 9 
 
 35o 
 
 3 
 
 35° 
 
 18 
 
 354 
 
 11 
 
 35o 
 
 19 
 
 347 
 
 8 
 
 355 
 
 10 
 
 348 
 
 14 
 
 343 
 
 8 
 
 355 
 
 7 
 
 354 
 
 5 
 
 34° 
 
 4 
 
 348 
 
 2 
 
 348 
 
 16 
 
 354 
 
 Q 
 
 35 1 
 
 
 346 
 
 9 
 
 347 
 
 12 
 
 346 
 
 
 346 
 
 10 
 
 344 
 
 5 
 
 346 
 
 • 6 
 
 358 
 
 
 354 
 
 4 
 
 344 
 
 6 
 
 
 
 •^8 
 jj u 
 
 
 356 
 
 5 
 
 347 
 
 15 
 
 35° 
 
 z 9 
 
 35i 
 
 17 
 
 348 
 
 8 
 
 
 3 
 
 347 
 
 13 
 
 360 
 
 3 
 
 360 
 
 4 
 
 347 
 
 7 
 
 348 
 
 15 
 
 35i 
 
 6 
 
 35i 
 
 7 
 
 346 
 
 2 
 
 349 
 
 10 
 
 345 
 344 
 345 
 347 
 356 
 353 
 
 Ribera, Giuseppe . 
 Ricciarelli, Daniel 
 Robusti, Giacomo 
 Rocca, Giacomo . 
 Romanelli, G. Francesco 
 Romanino, Girolamo 
 Rombouts, Theodore 
 Rosa Salvator {See Salvator) 
 Roselli, Cosmo 
 Rothenamer, John 
 Rubens, S. Peter Paul . 
 
 P. No. 
 
 355 1 
 
 349 3 
 352 5 
 352 14 
 359 9 
 
 350 9 
 
 355 12 
 359 14 
 343 21 
 352 9 
 
 356 2 
 
 SABATTINA, Lorenzetto . 
 Sacchi, Andrea 
 Salvator Rosa 
 Salviati Francesco 
 Sammachini, Orazio 
 San Danielo {See Danielo) . 
 San Geminiano, Vincenzo da 
 Sanzio, Raffaelle {See Raffaelle) 
 Saracino, Carlo 
 Sarto, Andrea del . 
 Saveri, Roland 
 Schiavone, Andrea 
 Schorel, John 
 Sebastiano 
 Segres, Gerard 
 Sementi Giacomo . 
 Sementi Giacomo . 
 
 Sermonetta, Girolamo da (.5V^Girolamo)35o 
 Sienna, Marco da {See Marco) 
 Signorelli, Luca 
 Sirani, Giov. Andrea 
 Sirani, Elisabetta . 
 Snyders, Francis . 
 Sodoma, II 
 Spado, Leonello . 
 Spagnuoletto, Lo . 
 Sprangher, Bartholemew 
 Steinwick, Henry 
 Stella, Jaques 
 Strada, John 
 
 347 
 
 3 
 
 35» 
 
 7 
 
 359 
 
 *4 
 
 349 
 
 1 
 
 347 
 
 2 
 
 347 
 
 12 
 
 346 
 
 4 
 
 345 
 
 8 
 
 354 
 
 18 
 
 346 
 
 12 
 
 354 
 
 16 
 
 35o 
 
 7 
 
 349 
 
 15 
 
 347 
 
 1 
 
 356 
 
 1 
 
 35o 
 
 14 
 
 359 
 
 6 
 
 )35Q 
 
 17 
 
 352 
 
 13 
 
 344 
 
 11 
 
 359 
 
 4 
 
 359 
 
 5 
 
 357 
 
 6 
 
 348 
 
 10 
 
 359 
 
 3 
 
 355 
 
 1 
 
 35i 
 
 10 
 
 355 
 
 11 
 
 360 
 
 7 
 
 35i 
 
 9 
 
 Taffi, Andrea 
 Tassi, Agostino 
 Tempesta, Antonio 
 Testa, Pietro 
 Tiarini, Alessandro 
 Tibaldi, Pelestrino 
 Timoteo Urbino 
 Tintoretto, II 
 Tintoretto,- Marietto 
 Titiano Vecelli 
 Titiano, Girolamo di 
 Trevigi, Girolamo da 
 Turbido, Francesco 
 
 343 2 
 355 4 
 355 6 
 
 358 1 
 
 359 2 
 347 6 
 346 3 
 352 5 
 352 6 
 
 346 1 
 35o 5 
 
 347 14 
 
 344 10 
 
 u 
 
 Uccello, Paolo .... 343 
 Udina, Giovanni da {See Giovanni) 346 
 Udina Giov. Martino da {See Martino) 347 
 Urbino, RaffaelleSanzio d'(6V*?Raffaelle)345 
 Urbino, Timoteo {See Timoteo) . 346 
 
364 
 
 V 
 
 Vago, Perin del 
 Valentino, II .. 
 Vandensyde, Roger 
 Vandyck, Sir Anthony . 
 Vanni, II Cavaliero Francesco 
 Van-Veen, Octavius 
 Van-Winghen, Jude Indocus 
 Vasari, Giorgio 
 Vecelli, Titiano 
 Vecelli, Francesco 
 Vecelli, Orazio 
 Vecelli, Marco 
 Vecchio, II 
 
 Veest, Ert . ' . 
 
 Velasquez, Diego . 
 Velvet Brueghel . * 
 Venusto, Marcello 
 Verocchio, Andrea 
 Veronese, Paul 
 Veronese, Alessandro . 
 Verzelli, Giov. Antonio da 
 
 LIST OF PAINTERS. 
 
 P. 
 
 No. 
 
 346 
 
 10 
 
 354 
 
 19 
 
 349 
 
 14 
 
 356 
 
 3 
 
 352 
 
 16 
 
 355 
 
 7 
 
 351 
 
 8 
 
 349 
 
 2 
 
 346 
 
 1 
 
 35o 
 
 1 
 
 35o 
 
 2 
 
 352 
 
 11 
 
 348 
 
 4 
 
 357 
 
 7 
 
 359 
 
 10 
 
 356 
 
 6 
 
 35o 
 
 15 
 
 344 
 
 2 
 
 35i 
 
 12 
 
 359 
 
 TI 
 
 348 
 
 IO 
 
 Vicenzo da San Geminiano . 
 Vinci, Lionardo da (See Lionardo) 
 Viola, II 
 
 Volterra, Daniel da 
 Vos, Martin de 
 Vouet, Simon 
 Vroom (See Wroon) 
 
 Wroon, Henry Cornelius 
 Wouvermans, Philip 
 
 Zaccolino, Fra. Matteo 
 Zampieri, Domenico 
 Zelotti, Battista . 
 Zucchero, Taddeo 
 Zucchero, Frederico 
 
 P. No, 
 
 346 4 
 
 344 12 
 
 354 15 
 
 349 3 
 
 352 8 
 
 355 9 
 355 3 
 
 355 
 357 
 
 355 5 
 
 353 3 
 
 351 16 
 
 349 4 
 
 349 5 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 A 
 
 Page 
 
 ACADEMY, the advantages of . 10 
 Academy Royal, Observations on its foun- 
 dation ....... 9 
 
 Academy Royal, peculiar advantages of 10 
 Academy Royal, particulars of the origin 
 
 of . xvi. and n. 
 
 Accident, how far favourable to Painters 122, 
 
 261 
 
 Accident, how far favourable to Architects 133 
 Action, the principal requisite in a subject 
 
 for History Painting . . 272, 279 
 Affectation, a hateful quality . 39, 84, 282 
 Affectation, a contrast to Simplicity . 84 
 Agamemnon, — see Timantkes. 
 Albert Durer, — see D. 
 
 Allegorical Painting, defence of . . 70 
 
 Allegorical Painting, some by Rubens 
 condemned . . . . . 171 
 
 Allegorical Painting not adapted to Chris- 
 tian Churches 185 
 
 Amsterdam, Pictures at . . 199-203 
 
 Anachronisms in Church Pictures, how far 
 excusable ... . 188 
 
 Analogy of the several Arts ; utility to be 
 derived from 125 
 
 Angelo Michael, — see M. 
 
 Antique, the Model to be copied, . 244 
 Antwerp, Pictures at . . 178-194 
 
 Apollo, Statue of, criticisms on . 97 
 Apollo, Drapery of, remarks on . 100 
 
 Apostles, Statues of, in St John Lateran's 
 
 Church, defects of . . . . 101 
 Architecture, hints as to the principles of 132 
 Artist, the qualifications of 261, 263 — see 
 
 Study, Imitation, etc. 
 Arts, one cannot be engrafted on another 132 
 Arts, what is the object and intention of 
 
 them all 132 
 
 B 
 
 BACK GROUND, in Pictures, rules as 
 to . . . . . 255, 289 
 
 Bacon, an observation of his on Painting 
 disputed ...... 25 
 
 Bad Pictures, in what respect useful, 88, 206, 
 
 292 
 
 Ba'roccio, his defect in colouring . 297 
 Bassano, his excellencies . . .71, 309 
 Basso Relievo, improvement of the Mo- 
 derns in 101 
 
 Beauty, ideal ; what, and the notion of it 
 how to be pursued and acquired, 24, 235, 
 271, 297, 316 
 
 Page 
 
 Beauty, the foundation of . . 24, 25, 163 
 Beauty, its varieties, ... 25 
 
 Beauty of form alone, one great excellence 
 
 in Sculpture, 96, 275, — see Naticre. 
 Bellino, Titian's first Master, Anecdotes of 308 
 Bellori, his fanciful idea of a Painter . 316 
 Bernini, a fault of his Statue of David in 
 
 point of expression .... 32 
 Bernini, his general faults . . . 100 
 Bishop's Ancient Statues, an error in, cor- 
 rected 150 
 
 Black, its effect in Painting . . 252 
 Bologna, peculiarly worthy the attention 
 of travelling Painters, 19, — see Schools 
 of Painting. 
 Bologna, John de, — see Rafie of ' Sabine s. 
 Boucher, Anecdote of . . . . 123 
 
 Bourdon, Sabast. his Return of the Ark 
 praised ...... 141 
 
 Breughel (Old), his merits and defects 213 
 Bruges, Pictures at 169-170 
 Brussels, Pictures at . . . 172-175 
 
 C 
 
 CANDLE-LIGHT,— see Colouring. 
 Caracci, .Annibal, his exactness in copying 
 
 from Models , . 13 
 
 Caracci, Annibal, one of his best Pictures 208 
 Caracci, Annibal, his character . 265, 310 
 Caracci, Augustino, and Antonio, Anec- 
 dotes of ..... 310 
 Caracci, Lodovico ; the excellence of his 
 
 style, in what pieces exemplified . 18, 19 
 Caracci, Lodovico, how he employed the 
 
 ornamental style .... 43 
 Caracci, Lodovico, his mode of colouring 290 
 Caracci, Lodovico, Anecdotes of . 310 
 Carelessness discouraged ... 29 
 Carlo Dolci, a tolerable picture of his 208 
 Carlo Maratti, his opinion as to Drapery 33 
 Carlo Maratti, his style of painting, arti- 
 ficial 33, 46 
 
 Carlo Maratti, his want of capacity . 58 
 Carlo Maratti, his defect in colouring . 88 
 Character, locality of, fault of introducing 37 
 Character, perfect, unfriendly to painting 
 
 and poetry 176 
 
 Children, Sir J. Reynolds' opinion of their 
 
 natural gracefulness . . . xxxvi 
 Chorus in a Tragedy, Dryden's Observa- 
 tions on, ...... 330 
 
 Chromatic part of Painting, — see Colour- 
 ing. 
 
366 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Churches, arguments in favour of orna- 
 menting them with Paintings and Sculp- 
 ture I94j € tc. 
 
 Cignani, Carlo, his Ascension of the Vir- 
 gin, condemned ..... 207 
 
 Cologne, Pictures at 
 
 Colouring, the new method of, noticed, 
 xxiv.-xxv., and n.~ See Reynolds, Sir 
 Joshua, and V. 
 
 Colouring, art of, not to be attained solely 
 by copying ..... 
 
 Colouring, the third part of Painting . 
 
 Colouring, rules with respect to, 32, 249 — 
 As to the reflection of Colours-, 25 2 — Their 
 union, ibid. — Breaking, ibid. — The in- 
 terposition of Air, 253 — The relation of 
 distances, ibid. — Of bodies distanced, 
 ibid. — Contiguous and separated, 254 — 
 Opposite colours not to be joined, ibid. 
 — Diversity of Tints and Colours, ibid. 
 — Practical Rules, ibid. — Vivacity of Co- 
 lours 225, — See Light. 
 
 Colours, cautions as to excellence in, 36, 
 37, 297 — See Style, Splendour of ; R71- 
 bens. 
 
 Colouring essentially requisite in flower- 
 painting . . . . . . 
 
 Colouring, advantage of candle-light to, 
 Colouring of old pictures, how to be con- 
 sidered 
 
 Colouring of the Venetian School, faults of 
 
 35 ; excellencies of 
 Colouring of Le Brun and Carlo Maratti, 
 defects of . . . . 
 
 Colouring of a single figure . 
 Colouring, number of colours - to be used 
 Colouring, harmony of; the various modes 
 of producing, in the Roman, Bolognian, 
 and Venetian style . . . 289, 
 Colouring of modern Painters, defects of 
 Colouring compared to expression in Poetry 332 
 Composition, what, 274, — See Invention, 
 
 Genius, Whole. 
 Connoisseurs, mock, ridicule on 159, — see 293 
 Contrast, to be managed skilfully 86, 241 
 
 Copying, the use and abuse of . 16, 17 
 Copying, practice of, how to be regulated 
 and made the means of instruction, 17, 
 18, 135, 153, — see Raffaelle ; Imitation. 
 Copying, liberty of, allowed in the Dussel- 
 
 dorp Gallery . . . 
 Correctness, the essential beauty of Sculp- 
 ture ....... 
 
 Correctness of design, the natural founda- 
 tion of Grace . . 
 Correggio, contrasted with Rubens 
 Correggio, his character . 265, 297, 
 Coxis, his Christ mocked by the Jews, 
 
 praised 
 
 Coypell, his Picture of The Deity, censured 8_ 
 Grayer, Gasp, de, a large picture of his in 
 
 the Dusseldorp Gallery, condemned . 205 
 Criticism, false, instances of, — see Con- 
 noisseurs, Bacon, Duplies, Felibien, 
 Fielding, Plato, Pliny. 
 Criticism, true, ground of . 125 
 Cuyp, a good Picture of his at Mr Hope's. 
 Amsterdam 
 
 •38 
 137 
 
 *7 
 
 296 
 
 88 
 283 
 28 s 
 
 29 1 
 292 
 
 204 
 
 97 
 
 '74 
 
 £93 
 
 DANOOT, Mr, his Cabinet of Paintings 
 at Brussels . . . . 174 
 
 Page 
 
 Defects in Great Painters, to be pardoned, 
 not imitated or admired . . - 56 
 
 Deity, personification of, 297, — see Coypell. 
 
 Deity, personification of, by Michael An- 
 gelo, praised 151 ; by Rubens . . 185 
 
 Dense bodies, how to be painted, as dis- 
 tinct from pellucid, as in air or water 251 
 
 Design, in Painting, a matter of judgment, 
 in which facility is apt to produce incor- 
 rectness . . . . . . 116 
 
 Design, assisted by sketches 117, — see 
 Sketches and Copies, ibid. — see Copying. 
 
 Design, the Second part of Painting . 239 
 
 De Vos, Simon, an excellent portrait- 
 painter . . ... . . 185 
 
 Dexterity in Painting, what . . . 106 
 
 Dexterity in Painting, its value and effect no, 
 
 2 59> 2 9 2 
 
 Diligence, requisite to perfection in Paint- 
 ing . . .12, 19, 20, 116, 155, 261 
 
 Diligence, but under certain restrictions 12, in 
 
 Diligence, false, instances of in, 115, 258 — 
 see Genius. 
 
 Discobolus, Statue of, compared with the 
 Apollo - 98 
 
 Discourses, Sir Joshua Reynolds' ; reason 
 and origin of, T46, — see Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Disposition, or CEconomy of the whole, 
 
 in Painting 237 
 
 Domenichino, his Susanna, in the Dussel- 
 dorp gallery, ..... 207 
 Domenichino, Anecdotes of . . 311 
 Dow, Gerard, pictures by . . 201, 202 
 Dow Gerard, his Mountebank, in the 
 
 Dusseldorp gallery, condemned . 207 
 Drapery, art of disposing in painting, 33, 201, 
 209, 218, 244, 283 
 Drapery in Sculpture ; remarks on 99, etc. 
 Drawings, — see Sketches. 
 Dress, unfriendly to true taste, in the 
 Painter or Sculptor, 70, 102 : how to be 
 remedied 289 
 Dress, of Taste in, its effect on Painting 75 
 Dumb Persons, how far action is to be 
 
 learnt from them . . . 240, 279 
 Dupiles, instance of his false criticism 83 
 Durer, Albert; cause of his defects 28, 311 
 Dusseldorp Gallery, pictures in . 204-213 
 Dutch-School, — see Schools of Painting. 
 
 ECKHOUT, an imitator of Rembrandt, 202 
 Engravings, observations on their differing 
 from the paintings they copy, in light 
 and Shade . . . 188, 189, 190 
 Enthusiasm, danger of, 17, 23: good effect of 138 
 Euripides, a saying of his ... 49 
 Examples, — see Copying: I?tzitation 
 Excellencies, inferior, when necessary 38 
 Excellencies, superior, the greater object 
 of attention, 41, 49, 53 : in what they 
 
 consist, 43, 258 
 
 Excellencies, various, union of, how far 
 
 practicable . . . 42-43, 293 
 
 Excellencies, contrary, absurd to suppose 
 
 them to exist together ... 42 
 Excellencies, choice of, how to be made 43, 53 
 Excellencies, subordination of 43 
 Exhibitions of Paintings ; merit of the 
 Royal Academy in contriving and pro- 
 moting ...... 146 
 
GENERAL INDEX 
 
 Page 
 
 Exhibitions of the Royal Academy, the 
 average produce of, from 1769 to 1780 
 xvii, and n. 
 
 Exhibitions from 1780 to 1796 . . ibid. 
 Exhibitions, the year of the greatest receipt _ 
 
 for them . . . . • ibid. 
 
 Expression in Historical Paintings, how 
 
 to be regulated . . . 3 2 
 
 Expression in Sculpture, in what it consists 
 
 and why in general indistinct, . 98, etc. 
 
 FACILITY, in drawing, how to be ac- 
 quired, — see Dexterity. . . 19, 259 
 
 Falconet, his Criticism on the Agamem- 
 non of Timanthes, ... 92 
 
 Fame, love of, in Painters, how to be re- 
 gulated, . . . . . 49 
 
 Feet, rules as to drawing . . . 242 
 
 Felibien, a false criticism of his, . . 87 
 
 Feti, Domenico, a slight resemblance be- 
 tween his paintings and Correggio's 208 
 
 Field of a picture, what, and how to be 
 coloured, — see Back-ground . . 255 
 
 Fielding, his Compliment to Garrick, cen- 
 sured ...... 131 
 
 Figure, single, how to be painted 244, 282 
 
 Figures, what number of, necessary in 
 historical pieces. . . 35, 241, 281, 328 
 
 Figures, disposition of 240 — see Prin- 
 cipal Figure. 
 
 Finishing, in Painting, how far to be 
 studied or neglected, . . 108,111 
 
 First thoughts never to be forgotten . 126 
 
 Floris, his Fall of the Angels, at St 
 Michael's Chapel, Antwerp, 178 : his 
 Nativity, praised .... 181 
 
 Flowers, utility of Painting, and the best 
 Painters of 38, 204 — see Colouring. 
 
 Formality, to be avoided in Painting . 243 
 
 Forman, Helena, (or Eleanor) portrait 
 
 of, by Rubens . . . . 194, 196 
 Frank, Francis, his Christ among the 
 
 Doctors, . '. . . . 180 
 
 Fresco, principal works of modern art are 
 
 painted in 43 
 
 Fresnoy, Charles Alphonse Du, Life of 227 
 Fresnoy, Pictures by . . . . 228 
 
 GAINSBOROUGH, reasons for praising 135 
 Gainsborough, eulogy on and anecdotes 
 
 of 136, etc. 
 
 Gainsborough, the peculiarity of his man- 
 ner examined, ..... 142 
 
 Gainsborough, cause of the striking resem- 
 blance of his portraits, . . . 143 
 Gart, Mr, his Cabinet at Amsterdam . 201-2 
 Genius, not to be relied on, to the ex- 
 clusion of diligence .... 20 
 
 Genius, the child of Imitation in Painting 52 
 Genius, what it is generally considered to 
 be ...... ibid. 
 
 Genius, what it is; exemplified by the 
 
 progress of art, ibid. , 64 — see Taste. 
 Genius, assisted by knowledge . . 54 
 Genius, assisted by judicious imitation, 
 
 compared to Corinthian brass . . 58 
 Genius, a just notion of, how necessary 62 
 Genius of a Painter, what, and how to be 
 considered .... . 104 
 
 Page 
 
 Genius of a Painter to be directed to the 
 expression of any subject, as a whole in 
 its general effect, . . 104-5, no, 216 
 
 Genius, mechanic, instances of 118 — see 
 
 Dexterity 
 
 Georgione, a rival of Titian, . . 309 
 
 Ghent, pictures at 170-172 
 
 Ghirlandaio, Domenico, Michael Angelo's 
 Master, 307 
 
 Giordano, — see Luca Giordano. 
 
 Guilio, — see Julio. 
 
 Gothic ornaments, — see Ornaments. 
 
 Grace and Majesty in Painting, 246, 283 — 
 see Correctness. 
 
 Grapes, a bunch of, Titian's rule of light 
 and shade . . . . 252, 288 
 
 Groups, of introducing more than one in a 
 picture 3 l - 2 ^ i 
 
 Groups, rules for disposing . . . 240-1 
 
 Guido, in what respects he failed, and 
 why . '. 42, 210 
 
 Guido, Anecdotes of . . 282, 311, 318 
 
 Guido, his neatness and delicacy of colour- 
 ing ....... 290 
 
 K 
 
 HAGUE, pictures at . . . 196-199 
 Hague, pictures at the House in the wood, 
 
 all bad 198 
 
 Hague, pictures at Grefher Fagel's . 198 
 Hague, pictures at M. Van Hecheren's 198 
 Hals, Frank, peculiar excellence of his 
 
 portraits 60 
 
 Hamilton, Capt, Sir J. Reynolds's early 
 
 portraits of . . . . iv. and n. 
 Hands, rules as to drawing, to correspond 
 
 with the head . ... . 242, 243 
 Hemissen, J. de, many of his pictures 
 
 attributed to Lionardo da Vinci . 213 
 Historical Painting, locality of character, 
 
 how far a defect in 37, 184, 201, 274, — 
 
 see Hogarth. 
 Historical Painting, distinction between 
 
 that and Portrait Painting 38, 48, 170, 193, 
 201, 282 
 
 Historical Painting, various styles of ; the 
 grand and the ornamental . . 38 
 
 Historical Painting, various styles of; 
 how far they can be united . . 38 
 
 Historical Painting, causes of its decline 
 
 194 
 274 
 
 in England 
 
 Historical Painting, requisites to be ob- 
 served in . 
 
 Historical Painting, — see Figures; Sub- 
 jects, choice of 
 
 Historical Truth, what deviations from, 
 justifiable in Painting ... 32 
 
 Hogarth, his failure in Historical Painting, 
 and the reason . . . . " 140 
 
 Holbein, his excellence in portraits 197, 311 
 
 Honthorst, Ger, his St Sebastian . 171 
 
 Hope, Mr, his Cabinet of Paintings at 
 Amsterdam . ... . 200, 201 
 
 Hudson, Mr, Sir J. Reynolds's Master iii. 
 
 and n. 
 
 IDLER, No. 76,-159 ; No. 79,-161 ; 
 
 No. 82,-163 
 Imagination, how far to be preferred to, 
 
368 
 
 LIST OF PAINTERS. 
 
 Page 
 
 or regulated by, reason, 126, — see 
 
 Genius, Imitation. 
 Imitation, the means and not the end of 
 
 Art _ 96 
 
 Imitation, the pleasure produced by, how 
 
 to be accounted for . . 105, 127, 326 
 Imitation in painting, the subject of im- 
 proper censure . . . . . 51 
 Imitation absolutely necessary to a Painter, 
 
 50, 51 ; and continually, 54, 61, — see 
 
 Painting. 
 
 Imitation, avoiding, often the effect of 
 presumption . . . . 61, 259 
 
 Imitation, excellence the proper object of 52 
 
 Imitation, within what bounds, and how 
 to be practised, 55, etc., — see Raffaelle. 
 
 Imitation, not to be confined to the works 
 of one Master . . ; . .56, 135 
 
 Imitation, in what case to be considered 
 as plagiarism ..... 58 
 
 Imitation of finished Artists, in inferior 
 branches of Painting, useful . . 59 
 
 Imitators, servile, names of 57 ; liberal ibid. etc. 
 
 Industry, — see Diligence. 
 
 Inspiration, falsely attributed to the science 
 of Painting .... 23, 50 
 
 Intellectual pleasure, necessary to happi- 
 ness in a state of society, 93-4, — see Paint- 
 ing. _ 
 
 Invention, what . . 15, 30, 273, 327 
 Invention, how to be acquired . 53, 54 
 Invention, method necessary to . . 122 
 Invention, the first part of Painting 237, 327 
 Jordaens, his excellency in painting horses 
 
 188, 198 
 
 Jordaens, his Criicifixion condemned 192 
 Jordaens, his Merry-making, in the Dus- 
 
 seldorp Gallery, praised . . 205 
 
 Jordaens, his character as a Painter 210 
 Jordano, — see Luca Giordano. 
 Julio Romano, his peculiar merits 264, 295, 308 
 Julio Romano, anecdotes of . . . 308 
 
 K 
 
 KOEBERGER, his Entombing of Christ, 
 praised . . . . . . 173 
 
 Koeberger, his Altar of the Archers at 
 the Cathedral of Antwerp . . .178 
 
 Koeberger, another picture of . . 191 
 
 Know thyself, a precept necessary to 
 Painters ...... 260 
 
 LA FAGE, his genius, mechanic . 118 
 Lairesse, his Death of Cleopatra . 201 
 Lairesse, defects of his manner . . 214 
 Landscape Painting, practices of various 
 
 Painters relating to . . . 37-8 
 Landscapes, Gainsborough's models of 137 
 Landscapes, mythological figures in, im- 
 proper 140 
 
 Landscapes, instances of the poetical style, 
 
 in well executed 141 
 
 Lanfranc, anecdotes of . . . . 311 
 Language of Painters, what ... 34 
 Laocoon, statue of, why naked . . 70 
 Laocoon, statue of, remarks on . . 98 
 Le Erun, defect of his colouring 88 ; good 
 
 portraits by 214 
 
 Light, masses of ; the properest colours 
 for 88, 288 
 
 T . • . Page 
 Light, in a picture, where to be thrown 208 
 Light, not more than one principal one in 
 
 a picture . " _ . . . . 251, 286 
 Light, choice of, in colouring . . 254 
 Light and Shade, conduct of the tints of 249, 
 
 287 
 
 Light, to be adapted to the situation a 
 picture is to be placed in . . . 256-7 
 
 Light, breadth of ; its excellence . 288 
 
 Love of Art, the first requisite to excel- 
 lence 138, — see Study of Painting. 
 
 Literary Club, its institution, and the 
 names of its deceased and present mem- 
 bers, xxxiii., xxxiv., and n. 
 
 Luca Giordano, excellencies and defects 
 of • n8, 207 
 
 Luca Giordano, his and his father's por- 
 traits 208 
 
 M 
 
 MANNER PECULIAR, a defect in 
 
 Painters 56 
 
 Maratti, Carlo,— see C. 
 
 Massaccio, excellencies and anecdotes of 119 
 
 Matsys, Quintin,— see Q. 
 
 Mechanical excellence, in what respects 
 of importance, 37, 148, 203, — see Dex- 
 terity. 
 
 Mechlin, pictures at 175-178 
 Metastasio, anecdote of . . 117 
 
 Method, not always friendly to Study 114 
 Metzu, one of his best pictures . . 202 
 Michael Angelo, his grand style in Paint- 
 ing . . . . . 44 
 Michael Angelo, comparison between him 
 and Raffaelle, 44 ; their respect for each 
 other , . . . . 155 
 Michael Angelo, cause of his superior ex- 
 cellence . . . 149, 155, 264, 295 
 Michael Angelo, effects on various Schools 
 of Painting, by adopting the grandeur 
 
 of his style 150 
 
 Michael Angelo, his caprices ; defence of 152 
 Michael Angelo, study of his works re- 
 commended ; and rules for pursuing this 
 study . . . . . . 153 
 
 Michael Angelo, Fresnoy's character of 
 
 him, , , , . 307 
 
 Minutiae, — see Finishing. 
 
 Mirror, its use to painters' . . . 256 
 Models, living ; rules as to drawing from 12, 
 
 122, 282 
 
 Models, living ; rules as to adjusting 122 
 Moonlight ; Rubens's mode of Painting 90 
 Moser, Geo. Michael, Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nold's Eulogy on . . xx., xxi., and n. 
 Mudge, Rev. Zach., his character xiv., xv., 
 
 and 11. 
 
 N 
 
 NATURE, forms of, not to be too closely 
 and servilely copied 22, 67, 236, — see 
 Taste, Beauty. 
 
 Nature, in what respects certain Arts ex- 
 cel by deviating from it, 128 ; instanced 
 in Poetry, ibid. ; Painting, 130 ; Theatri- 
 cal performances, 130 ; Gardening . 132 
 
 Nature, imperfections of ; how to be re- 
 medied by the Painter 24, 243, 281, 317 
 
 Nature, habits of, to be distinguished from 
 
GENERAL INDEX* 369 
 
 Page 
 
 those of fashion, not only in dress, 26, 
 27, &c, but manners . . . 240 
 
 Nature, never to be lost sight of, 122, — 
 see Rules .... 240, 243, 297 
 
 Night, — see Colouring. 
 
 O 
 
 OPERA, Italian, defended - . . 129 
 
 Orange, Prince of, his Picture Gallery at 
 the Hague 196-198 
 
 Orford, Lord, his encomium on Sir J. 
 Reynolds . xxii. and n. 
 
 Orion, Mr, his Cabinet of Paintings at 
 Brussels 175 
 
 Ornaments, form the peculiar character- 
 istics of taste and style in all arts . 74 
 
 Ornaments, requisite in Painting, in a 
 moderate degree . . 85, 246, 283 
 
 Ornaments, Gothic ; to be avoided . 247 
 
 Ornamental Style, — see Style. 
 
 Otho Venius, Rubens's Master, anecdotes of 1 70 
 
 Outline, should be firm and determined, 
 29; flowing .... 239, 277 
 
 PAINTERS must be the most useful 
 
 writers on their own Art . . . 146 
 Painters, ancient ; their diligence in the Art 12 
 Painters, ancient ; their advantages from 
 
 the simplicity of manners in their time 27 
 Painters, ancient ; their peculiar excel- 
 lencies 212, 214 
 
 Painters, ancient ; their probable excel- 
 lencies and defects .... 285-6 
 Painters, Chronological List of . . 343 
 Painting, low state of that Art in England 
 
 in 1750 x and n. 
 
 Painting, Art of ; should be employed to 
 reach the mind, 27-30, — and hence de- 
 rives its value, 94, 296, — what intellectual 
 qualities of the mind affected by . 81 
 Painting, Art of, its various departments, 
 
 and their merits .... 28 
 Painting, Art of, is intrinsically imitative, 
 51, — see Imitation, — in what sense it is 
 not an imitation of Nature . 127,296 
 Painting, Art of, false opinions relating to 127 
 Painting, Art of, causes of its decline 154 
 Painting, Art of, Invention the first part 
 of, 237, — Design, the second, 239, — • 
 Colouring, the third, 248, — see Poetry. 
 Parmegiano, his first work and his last 
 
 compared 149 
 
 Parmegiano, anecdotes of . . . 310 
 Passions, rules as to expressing 246, 283-284 
 Passions, mixed ; undescribable in painting 42 
 Pasticcio, what ; and its uses . . 122 
 Paul Veronese, — see V. 
 Pellegrino Tibaldi, founder of the Bolog- 
 
 nese School : his merits . . . 150 
 Perrault, the Architect, defended . 134 
 Perspective ; how to be regulated in paint- 
 ing ...... 240, 277-8 
 
 Perspective, in Sculpture, — see Sculpture 
 Peters, Mr, of Antwerp, his Cabinet of 
 
 Paintings 193 
 
 Philopoemen, anecdote of . 20 
 Philosophy, assistant to Taste . . 78 
 Philostratus, his rules for painting ° . 319-20 
 Picture-cleaners, instances of their spoil- 
 ing pictures 171-2-3, 178, 185, 191, 199, 211 
 Pieta, what painting so called . . 181 
 
 Page 
 
 Pietro Genoese, a bad Painter . 210 
 
 Pietro Perugino, Raffaelle's Master . 308 
 Place of a picture, — see Light and Shade. 
 Plato, his opinion of Painting censured 127 
 Pliny, instance of his false criticism . 42 
 Poetry, its advantages over painting . 80 
 Poetry, how its excellence consists in a 
 
 deviation from Nature . . . 128 
 Poetry, comparison between that and 
 
 Painting at length . 234, 269, 296 320 
 Politeness, general principle of the signs of 74 
 Polydore, anecdotes of 308 
 Pope's Homer, a remark of Dr Johnson on 151 
 Portrait Painting ; resemblance, the chief 
 
 excellence in, 256, — see Gainsborough. 
 Portrait Painting, historical observations 
 
 on, 48, 199, so8,— see Historical Painting. 
 Pott, Henry, pictures by 197 
 Pott, Henry, anecdotes of . . 197 and n. 
 Poussin, N., his opinion as to colouring, 
 
 36, — his defect in ... 88 
 Poussin, his correct style of painting 47 
 — change of his style . . . ibid. 
 Poussin, his love of the antique . . ibid. 
 Poussin, his favourite subjects, and man- 
 ner of treating them ... 48 
 Poussin, defects in certain pictures of his, 
 arising from false reasoning, 68, 82, — 
 see Rembrandt. 
 Poussin, perhaps sometimes guilty of 
 
 affectation 83-84 
 
 Practical Instructions relative to Paint- 
 ing .... . 85, 122 
 
 Practice, how to precede, or be combined 
 with Theory .... 236, 271 
 
 Prejudice, how to be indulged or counter- 
 acted ..... 77, 294 
 
 Pride, an enemy to good Painting . 259 
 Principal light and figure, rule as to dis- 
 posing ..... 86 
 
 Principal figure, in particular . 240, 279 
 Principal, the colouring of . . 256, 291 
 Principal circumstance in a picture, to ex- 
 tend not only to figure, but to colour, 
 drapery, etc. ..... 286 
 
 Properties of objects ; what they are as 
 relates to Painting .... 106 
 
 Proportions of the human figure relative 
 
 to Painting and Sculpture . . 276 
 Prudence, rules of, relative to a Painter 
 
 257, 260, 271 
 
 Q 
 
 QUELLINUS, ERASMUS, a painting 
 by 185 
 
 Quintin Matsys, his famous painting in the 
 Chapel of the Circumcision at Antwerp 18 1 
 
 R 
 
 RAFFAELLE, his improvements, in con- 
 sequence of studying the works of 
 Michael Angelo .... 10 
 
 Raffaelle, his Dispute of the Sacrament ; 
 an instance of his exactness in following 
 his model 13 
 
 Raffaelle, his style in Painting, 44, 207, — 
 see Michael A ngelo. 
 
 Raffaelle, his method of imitating others 
 
 57, 118, 121 
 
 Raffaelle, his excellence in drawing, and 
 defect in painting .... 106 
 
 Raffaelle, compared with Titian . 107 
 3 G 
 
370 GENERAL INDEX, 
 
 Page 
 
 Raffaelle, to what excellence he owes his 
 reputation . . . 108, 264, 295 
 
 Raffaelle, his noble self-confidence . 116 
 
 Raffaelle, his Holy Family, in the Dussel- 
 dorp gallery ..... 207 
 
 Raffaelle, anecdotes of 308 
 
 Raffaelle, the reason why his works are 
 not impressive in the first view . vi 
 
 Rape of the Sabines ; John de Bologna's, 
 anecdote of 99 
 
 Rape of the Sabines, Rubens' . . 194 
 
 Relief, in painting ; its excellencies and 
 defects, 89 — see 252. 
 
 Rembrandt, his faults, contrasted with 
 those of Poussin, 81, — of Vanderwerf 209 
 
 Rembrandt, a defect in his picture of 
 Achilles ...... 90 
 
 Rembrandt, his Susannah, at the Hague, 
 196 ; other pictures . . . 197 
 
 Rembrandt, his pictures at Surgeons' Hall, 
 Amsterdam 200 
 
 Rembrandt, may be considered as belong- 
 ing either to the Dutch or Flemish 
 School 204 
 
 Rembrandt, character of his style . 209 
 
 Repose, in painting, what . . . 81 
 
 Repose, its advantages . . 82, 242, 281 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, his birth . i 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, his early inclina- 
 tions to, and essays towards drawing ii, iii 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, placed as a pupil to 
 Mr Hudson . . . . iii and n. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, removes to Devon- 
 shire iv 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, his first celebrated 
 portrait .... ibid, and n. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, death of his father ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, goes to Rome . v 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, his plan of a dis- 
 course on the history of his mind, re- 
 specting his art .... ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, the impression made 
 on his mind by the first view of Raf- 
 faelle's paintings ... vi, etc. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, copies made by 
 him at Rome . . . viii and n. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, the method taken 
 by him to discover the principles on 
 which the great colourists wrought ix, 287 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, his Caricatura on 
 Travesty of Raffaelle's School of Athens ix 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, returns to London ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, soon attracts the 
 public notice by his excellence in Por- 
 trait Painting ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, several of his most 
 excellent Portraits enumerated . x and u. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, commencement of 
 his acquaintance with Dr Johnson . ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, advantage of that acquaintance 
 to Sir Joshua ; Mr Burke's sentiments 
 on that subject; and on Sir Joshua's 
 early acquaintance with Mr Mudge 
 
 xii-xv and n 
 
 Reynolds, appointed President of the 
 Royal Academy and knighted . . xvii 
 
 Reynolds, reason of his composing^ his 
 Lectures or Discourses, xvii ; an injuri- 
 ous calumny respecting them refuted 
 
 xviii and n. 
 
 Reynolds, present to him from the Em- 
 press of Russia . . . xix and 
 
 Reynolds, number of pieces exhibited by 
 him at the Royal Academy . xx and n. 
 
 Page 
 
 Reynolds, his eulogy on Mr Moser . ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, his ingenious account of his pro- 
 gress in his profession, and of his defects xxii 
 
 Reynolds, remarks thereon . . . xxiii 
 
 Reynolds, on his colouring . xxiv and ?i. 
 
 Reynolds, account of his painting for the 
 windows in New College Chapel xxvi and n. 
 
 Reynolds, his landscapes . . xxvii 
 
 Reynolds, his fondness for the Metro- 
 polis xxviii 
 
 Reynolds, goes to the Netherlands, . ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, his Commentary on Dufresnoy 
 — a supplement to his Discourses . xxix 
 
 Reynolds, appointed principal Painter to 
 his Majesty ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, presented with the freedom of 
 the Painter's Company . . . xxx 
 
 Reynolds, his prices for painting portraits ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, compared with Vandyck's . ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, his pupils . . ibid, and n. 
 
 Reynolds, his personal character . . ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, account of Portraits of himself, 
 and the Engravings made from them 
 
 xxx, xxxi, and n. 
 
 Reynolds, his acquaintance with Gains- 
 borough, and that Painter's conduct to- 
 wards him .... xxxi and n. 
 
 Reynolds, the elegant society at his house 
 
 xxxiii and n. 
 
 Reynolds, his love of literature and learned 
 men ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, in conjunction with Dr Johnson, 
 founds the Literary Club ibid, and n. 
 
 Reynolds, his simplicity of manners xxxiv 
 
 Reynolds, his turn for humour, and nice 
 observation of characters . xxxv 
 
 Reynolds, his observation of children xxxvi 
 
 Reynolds, occasion of his deafness ibid, and 11. 
 
 Reynolds, Goldsmith's character of him 
 
 ibid, and n. 
 
 Reynolds, comparison between him and 
 Lselius . . . xxxvii, &c, and n. 
 
 Reynolds, his domestic habits . . xl 
 
 Reynolds, his detestation of modern re- 
 formers xlii, &c. 
 
 Reynolds, the last two portraits of gentle- 
 men, painted by him . . xliv and n. 
 
 Reynolds, the last female portrait . ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, loses the sight of one eye . xlv. 
 
 Reynolds, is attacked by a disorder in his 
 liver, ibid. ; of which he dies . . xlvi 
 
 Reynolds, buried in St Paul's . . ibid. 
 
 Reynolds, particulars of his funeral ibid, and n. 
 
 Reynolds, his will .... xlix 
 
 Reynolds, sale of his pictures . 1 and n. 
 
 Reynolds, Dr Johnson's and Mr Burke's 
 eulogies on him li 
 
 Reynolds, Dr J. Warton's encomium on 
 his Discourses .... Iii 
 
 Reynolds, list of his Historical and Mis- 
 cellaneous Pieces, with the prices and 
 purchaser's names . . . liii-lvi 
 
 Reynolds, John, Sir Joshua's uncle, his 
 portrait of . . . . i and n. 
 
 Rigaud, defects of his portraits . . 83 
 
 Rockox, portraits of, by Rubens and Van- 
 dyck 190-91 
 
 Romano, — see Julio Romano. 
 
 Rombouts, a good picture by ; at Ghent 172 
 
 Roose, N., a Painter of no great merit 172 
 
 Rubens, uniformity of his style of Paint- 
 ing, 46 ; defects of it . . . 47.i8i 
 
 Rubens, his excellence in painting Animals, 
 
 182, 212 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Rubens, his excellence in colouring, see 
 the criticisms on all his paintings, here- 
 after particularized. 
 
 Rubens, facility of invention and execu- 
 tion; his jpeculiar characteristic 292, 312 
 
 Rubens, his method of painting large pic- 
 tures i74» !7 6 
 
 Rubens, his particular excellence in large 
 pictures .... 170, 181, 184-5 
 
 Rubens, his style of painting in the Luxem- 
 bourg, on what principles laudable, 70, 
 — see Style : Splendour of. 
 
 Rubens, his pictures at Brussels ; at the 
 Unshod Carmelites, 173, at the Capu- 
 chins, ibid. ; at Mr Orion's, 175 ; at 
 Mechlin, his Last Supper, ibid. ; at the 
 Church of St John, 177 ; Augustins \ibid ; 
 at Antwerp, Cathedral ; Chapel of the 
 Arquebuse Company : his Descent of 
 the Cross, 178, and pictures connected 
 therewith, 179 ; at the Schoolmaster's 
 Chapel, 180 ; at the Altar of the Gar- 
 dener's, 181 ; the Great Altar, j8i ; the 
 Church of St Walburge : Elevation of 
 the Cross, 182 ; the Unshod Carmelites, 
 
 184 ; the Great Carmelites, ibid. ; St 
 Michael's Church, ibid. ; the Jacobins, 
 
 185 ; St Augustin : the A Itar of the 
 Choir, 186 ; Recollets : the Celebrated 
 Crucifixion, 188, and other pictures, 
 190 ; Capuchins, - 191 ; Annunciation 
 Nuns : St Justus, tbid. ; St James's 
 Church, 192 ; in M. Peters's Cabinet, 
 193 ; Mr Dasch's : Seleums and Stra- 
 tonice, ibid. ; other Cabinets, 194 ; at the 
 Hague, 196 ; in the Dusseldorp Gallery, 
 210 ; his Fallen A ngels, particularly ex- 
 cellent, 211; at Cologne, 213; at Aix- 
 la-Chapelle, 214 ; at Louvain, ibid. 
 
 Rubens, his Christ's Charge to Peter 143 
 
 Rubens, his StBavon praised, 170 ; St'Rock 172 
 
 Rubens, sketches and Pictures by him, at 
 Mr Danoot's at Brussels . . . 174 
 
 Rubens, censurable pictures by 
 
 170, 171, 172, 190, 191, 193, 194, 213, 214 
 
 Rubens, his Chair at the Academy of 
 Painting, Antwerp .... 193 
 
 Rubens, his Portrait, by himself 192, 212 
 
 Rubens, his general character, excel- 
 lencies and defects . . . 215, 311 
 
 Rubens, different effects of his paintings, 
 in different circumstances xxviii and n. 
 
 Rules of Art, implicit obedience to ; neces- 
 sary in Young Students . . . 11 
 
 Rules of Art, requisite even to works of 
 Genius . . . . . . 53 
 
 Rules of Art, not to be too servilely fol- 
 lowed .... 86, 236, 259, 292 
 
 Rules of Art, the reason of them to be 
 considered ... 99, 236, 298 
 
 Rules of Art, formed on the works of 
 those who have studied Nature most 
 successfully, and therefore teach the art 
 of seeing Nature . ...... . 297 
 
 Ruysdael, excellence of his landscapes. 204 
 
 S 
 
 SALVATOR ROSA.his characteristic style 46 
 Salvator Rosa, his Jacob's Dream praised 141 
 Schools of Painting, how to be classed, — 
 Roman, Florentine, Bolognese, French, 
 Venetian, Flemish, Dutch, 33, 34 ; their 
 various principles .... 298 
 
 371 
 
 Page 
 
 School of Painting, Venetian, excellencies 
 
 and defects of . . . 34, 287, 290 
 School of Painting, Venetian, subjects of 35 
 
 School of Painting, Dutch, peculiar merits 
 of, 203, 287, 290 ; Painters of, their 
 names 203 
 
 Schools of Painting, Dutch and Flemish ; 
 excellencies and defects of, 37, 141 ; how 
 to be distinguished .... 204 
 
 School of Painting, English, difficulties in 
 the way of establishing . . -135-6 
 
 School of Painting, modern Roman ; its 
 degeneracy . . . 136, 162 
 
 School of Painting, Bolognese, founda- 
 tion of 150 
 
 Schut, his Martyrdom of St George . 180 
 
 Sculpture, wherein, and in what manner, 
 its principles and those of painting agree 
 or differ ; what is within its power of 
 performing, and what ought to be its 
 great purpose . . . 95, etc., 250 
 
 Sculpture, an art of more simplicity and 
 uniformity than Painting ... 95 
 
 Sculpture has only one style . . 95 
 
 Sculpture, the character of; to afford the 
 delight resulting from the contemplation 
 of perfect beauty .... 96 
 
 Sculpture, ineffectual attempts to improve, 
 99 ; in drapery, ibid. ; in making dif- 
 ferent plans in the same bas relievo, 101 ; 
 in perspective . . . . . 102 
 
 Sculpture, Dress of ... 102 
 
 Sculpture, causes of its decline in Eng- 
 land 195 
 
 Segers, his Adoration of the Magi, 169; 
 Marriage of the Virgin, 184 ; other 
 pictures, ...... 192 
 
 Self-confidence, necessary to an Artist 116, 216 
 
 Simplicity in Painting ; what, and its 
 effects, 82, etc. 
 
 Simplicity in the Ancients, arose from 
 penury, 85, — see Style, the Grand. 
 
 Sketches, to be painted in colours, rather 
 than drawn with the crayon . 19, 273 
 
 Sketches, their beauty poetical . . 91 
 
 Sketches, reason of the effect of . . 108 
 
 Sketches, their utility, 261, 273, — see Design. 
 
 Snyders ; observations on the nature of 
 his paintings ..... 198 
 
 Stein, Jean, his excellence, and in what 
 to be imitated . . 60, 202-3-4, 290 
 
 Study of Painting ; hints for the course 
 of . . . .14, 16, 119, 292, 294 
 
 Study of Painting, purpose of, to form the 
 mind 112 
 
 Study of Painting, method of, remarks on 
 
 114 to 122, 264, 292 
 
 Study of variety ; diligence, and a passion 
 for the Art, requisite to . . 29, 53 
 
 Studio, anecdote of, a painter so nick- 
 named 109 
 
 Style, in Painting, what, and how to be 
 acquired 48 
 
 Style, the Grand, in what it consists, 22, 
 etc. ; the chief requisites of, and means 
 of attaining, 43-46 : principles of, 187, 
 280, 290 (see Michael Angelo) ; effect of 152 
 
 Style, splendour of, how far excellent or 
 faulty, 34, 174 
 
 Style, ornamental, how and by whom dis- 
 seminated, 36 ; how far worthy atten- 
 tion, 43, 85, — see Ornaments. 
 
 Style, composite, 38 ; adopted by Correg- 
 gio and Parmegiano ... 39 
 
372 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Style, perfect, what . 40 
 
 Style, distinction of, founded on general 
 nature and particular customs . . 40 
 
 Style, original or characteristic, 46, — see 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 
 Style, uniformity of, 46, — see Rubens. 
 
 Style, modes of acquiring, 48, — see His- 
 torical Painting. 
 
 Styles, various, how far incompatible with 
 each other . . . . . 35, 38 
 
 Subjects, choice of, how to be regulated 
 
 30, 237, 257, 272 
 
 Subjects, in what cases to be treated dis- 
 tinctly, 31 ; or minutely, ibid. ; faith- 
 fully 238 
 
 Subjects, subordinate parts of; the art 
 used in, must not appear . . . 31 
 
 Summary of the general doctrines in the 
 several Discourses of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds to the Academy . . . 147 
 
 Symmetry, utility of, 26, — see Grace : Cor- 
 rectness. 
 
 TASTE, reading, and conversation with 
 
 learned men, necessary to the formationof 64 
 Taste, false opinions relative to, refuted, 64 
 Taste, distinction between that and Genius 65 
 Taste, capable of a real standard, . 78 
 Taste, true and false, definition and pro- 
 gress of 66 
 
 Taste, true ; founded on enlarged and 
 general ideas of Nature, 67 ; acquired 
 by experience and a diligent study of 
 Nature .... 73, 122, 153 
 Taste, how to be exercised, in appreci- 
 ating the value of different styles of 
 painting, according to their real import- 
 ance, and the perfection of the several 
 
 Artists 7* 
 
 Taste, relative to the expression of the 
 passions in Painting, 71, &c. — see Ge- 
 nius, Ornament, Style, Dress. 
 
 Teniers, Old 175 
 
 Teniers, Young, anecdote of . . ibid. 
 Teniers, Young, his excellencies, . 204 
 Terberg, good pictures by . . . 201 
 Terberg, portrait of . . . 203 
 
 Timanthes, the propriety of his hiding the 
 
 face of Agamemnon, examined, . 91 
 Tintoret, Vasari's opinion of 36 
 Tintoret, his excellencies and defects . 72, 309 
 Tintoret, pictures, by in the Dusseldorp 
 
 gallery, 208 
 
 Titian, an exception to the Venetian School 36 
 Titian, character of his portraits . 83, 209 
 Titian, his excellence of colouring, 88-9, 
 106-7, zo 9> 2 ^5 > * n h' s Bacchus and 
 A riadne, 88 ; in his portraits . 89 
 Titian, his defect in drawing . . 107 
 Titian, compared with Raffaelle . 106 
 Titian, compared with Rubens . 187, 280 
 Titian, his St Sebastian, excellencies and 
 
 defects of 107 
 
 Titian, his excellence in Landscapes, 109 
 Titian, his rule for light and shade, 252, 288 
 Titian, anecdotes of ... 
 Torso, of M. Angelo, its excellence, . 96 
 
 VANBRUGH, defended as a poetical 
 Architect i33 _ 4 
 
 Van de Hende, his patience in finishing 202 
 Vander Heist, excellent pictures of por- 
 traits by . . . . . . . 199 
 
 Vander Heyden, character of his paintings 200 
 Vandervelde, his View of the Port oj 
 A7nsterdam, 199 ; other pictures, 200 ; 
 his excellency in colouring . . 291 
 Vanderwerf, his excellencies and defects 
 
 208-9, 2I 4 
 
 Vandyck, the best Portrait Painter, . 60 
 Vandyck, a Pupil of Rubens, 312 ; and his 
 
 successful Imitator .... 206 
 Vandyck, his various manners of painting 206 
 Vandyck, pictures by, at the Prince de 
 Ligne's, at Brussels, 175 ; his Cruci- 
 fixion, at Mechlin, praised, 176 ; and 
 other pictures, 177 ; his Crucifixion at 
 the Jacobines, Antwerp, 183 ; his Christ 
 bearing the Cross, at the Jacobines, 
 186; his St Augtistin in ecstacy, 188; 
 Recollets, a Pieta, 190 ; Beguinage 
 Church, a Pieta, 192 ; Judas, 194 ; As- 
 stimption of the Virgin, in Mr Hope's 
 Cabinet at Amsterdam, 201 ; his Pictures 
 in the Dusseldorp Gallery, 205 ; a bad 
 one, 205 ; his Take up thy Bed and 
 Walk, 206 ; a Pieta, ibid. ; a good por- 
 trait, 212 
 
 Van-Eyck, Jean, not the first painter in oil 170 
 Van-Heemsen, his Last Judgment . 192 
 Van-Orley, Bernard, pictures by 174, 178 
 Variety, necessary to study in a certain 
 degree, . . . . . . 114 
 
 Variety in figures in Historical Painting 240 
 Variety of Attitude . . . . 241 
 
 Venetian mode of colouring, how far dis- 
 covered .... xxiv-v. and n. 
 
 Veronese, Paul, reason of a peculiar de- 
 fect of his 34 
 
 Veronese, Paul, his excellencies and de- 
 fects . - . . . . 72, 309 
 Veronese, Paul, his picture of TJie Mar- 
 riage at Cana, praised . . . 87, 290 
 Veronese, Paul, a bon mot of his on the 
 
 subject of light and shadow . 89 
 
 Viola, G. anecdotes of . . . » 311 
 Virtue, necessary to the perfection of Taste 
 
 Virtue, how far the effect of Taste, . 94 
 Unity in Painting, in what cases a fault 81 
 Unity of the limbs and drapery with the 
 
 head of a figure . . 240, 246, 279 
 
 Voltaire, false taste shown in a statue of him 77 
 Vos, see De Vos. 
 
 W 
 
 WATTEAU, his excellency in colouring 290 
 Wax-Work, why less agreeable than paint- 
 ing 105 
 
 Weenix, his merit in painting dead game, 
 202, 206, 213 ; his defects in portrait 
 painting . . . _ . . . 213 
 White, its effect in painting . . 252 
 Whole, what is meant by, 105-109 ; see 
 Genius, Rubens, 216, 242, 281 ; see also xxiii 
 and n 
 
 Wilson, defects in his Landscapes . 140 
 Wouvermans, merit of his paintings . 196 
 Wouvermans, one of his best pictures at 
 Mr Hope's Amsterdam . . . 200 
 
 THE END,