THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM MASON, M. A. 
 
 PRECENTOR OF YORK, AND RECTOR OF ASTON. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR T. C ADELL AND W. DAVIES,, STRAND; 
 
 BY W. BULMER AND CO. CLEVELAND-RO \T, ST. JAMES’S. 
 
 1811. 
 
THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM MASON, M, A. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING BY CHARLES ALPHONSE DU 
 FRESNOY. NOTES BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. MR. 
 DRYDEN’S PREFACE. MR. POPE’S EPISTLE TO MR. 
 JERVAS. ESSAYS ON ENGLISH CHURCH MUSIC. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF THE THIRD VOLUME. 
 
 ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 Epistle to Sir Joshua Reynolds - - Page 3 
 
 Preface - - - 7 
 
 Life of M. du Fresnoy .... 13 
 
 Art of Painting - - - - 21 
 
 Notes - - - - 79 
 
 A Table of the Rules contained in the foregoing Poem - 149 
 The Sentiments of M. du Fresnoy on the Works of the prin- 
 cipal and best Painters of 1600 and 1700 - - 157 
 
 Mr. Dryden’s Preface, with a Parallel between Poetry and 
 Painting * - - - 169 
 
 Mr. Pope’s Epistle to Mr. Jervas - - - 219 
 
 Chronological List of Painters ... 225 
 
 The preceding List arranged in Alphabetical Order - 259 
 
 Index to the Art of Painting - . 275 
 
 ESSAYS ON ENGLISH CHURCH MUSIC. 
 
 I. On Instrumental Church Music - - 285 
 
 II. On Cathedral Music * 327 
 
 III. On Parochial Psalmody - - 363 
 
 IV. On the Causes of the present imperfect Alliance between 
 
 Music and Poetry - 395 
 
 < 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Page 26, line 35 latin, for capace read capacem. 
 
 34, Rule IX. at the bottom of the page, for drapery of 
 
 read drapery to the head. 
 
 35, line 132 latin, after figures dele ? 
 
 103, — 15, for Frati read Frari. 
 
 23 4, — 8, for gentleness read gentilness. 
 
 236, - — 1, ditto. 
 
 267, after Nicolo del Pomerancio, 240, instead of 3 read 8. 
 277, end of the first line of G, for an read any. 
 
 288, line 24, after genius , instead of who read which. 
 
 371, — 7, after omitted dele By. 
 
 380, last line but one, instead of a necessary read as necessary. 
 
THE 
 
 ART OF PAINTING, 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLES ALPHONSE DU FRESNOY; 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE 
 
 BY WILLIAM MASON, M. A. 
 
 WITH ANNOTATIONS 
 
 BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 VOL. HI. 
 
 B 
 
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 ShadwelV 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. 
 
 His pen in haste the hireling task to close 
 Transform’d the studied strain to careless prose. 
 
 Which, fondly lending faith to French pretence, 
 
 Mistook its meaning, or obscur’d its sense. 
 
 Yet still he pleas’d ; for Dry den still must please, 
 Whether with artless elegance and ease 
 
4 
 
 EPISTLE TO 
 
 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 J 
 sublime. J 
 
 This artless elegance, this native fire 
 Provok’d his tuneful heir* to strike the lyre. 
 
 Who, proud his numbers with that prose to join, 
 
 W ove 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 ! 
 
 How did she here, when Jervas was the theme. 
 
 Waft thro’ the ivory gate the Poet’s dream ! 
 
 How view, indignant, error’s base 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. 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 * 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. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 5 
 
 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. 
 
 Which 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, 
 
 Refin’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, 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 * Alluding to another couplet in the same Epistle : 
 
 Beauty, frail flower, that every season fears, 
 
 Blooms in thy colours/o? 1 a thousatid years. 
 
6 EPISTLE TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 .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 approv’d 
 The pains he lavish’d on the art he lov’d. 
 
 W. MASON. 
 
 October 10, 1782. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 h b 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 seven- 
 teenth century, many of the precepts it contains 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 sim- 
 plicity 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 
 
8 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 attitude, is become one of the principal tests of pictu- 
 resque excellence. 
 
 But if the text may have lost somewhat of its original 
 merit, the notes of M. du Piles, which have hitherto ac- 
 companied it, have lost much more. Indeed it may be 
 doubted whether they ever had merit in any considerable 
 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 sup- 
 pose 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, 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 * Du Frenoi (Charles) he a Paris 1611 , peintre et poete. Son 
 poeme de la Peinture a reussi aupres deceux qui peuventlire 
 d’autres vers Latins que ceux du siecle d’Auguste. 
 
 Siecle de Louis XIV. Tom I. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 9 
 
 ever read Fresnoy to admire, or even criticise his versifi- 
 cation, but either to be instructed by him as a Painter, 
 or improved as a Virtuoso. 
 
 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, especially 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 sepa- 
 rate intervals, that I had passed many posterior produc- 
 tions 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 re- 
 vise 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 
 
10 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 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 ma- 
 ture 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. Dryden. The single consideration 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 
 u 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 
 
 * See his Advertisement before his Essay on Man. 
 
 + I call it so rather than blank verse, because it was devoid 
 of all harmony of numbers. The beginning, which I shall here 
 insert, is a sufficient proof of the truth of this assertion : 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 11 
 
 This gentleman, a painter by profession, assumed for 
 his motto, 
 
 Tractant fabrilia fabri ; 
 
 but however adroit he might be in handling the tools of 
 his own art, candour must own that the tools of a poet 
 and a translator were beyond his management : attempt- 
 ing also a task absolutely impossible, that of expressing 
 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 myself) 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. Dry den’s translation, which had escaped 
 Mr. Jervas (assisted, as it is said, by his friend Mr. Pope) 
 in that corrected edition which Mr. Graham inscribed to 
 the Earl of Burlington ; and that I have myself some- 
 times profited by his labours. It is also from his edition 
 that I reprint the following Life of the Author, which 
 was drawn up from Felibien and other biographers by 
 the late Dr. Birch, who, with his usual industry, has 
 collected all they have said on Fresnoy’s subject. 
 
 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 call’d. 
 
 From this little specimen, the reader will easily form a judg- 
 ment of the whole. 
 

 
THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 MONS. DU FRESNOY. 
 
 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 in- 
 clination 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 opposition of 
 
14 
 
 THE LIFE 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 design 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. 
 
 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 him- 
 self, being abandoned by his parents, who resented his 
 having rejected their advice in the choice of his profes- 
 sion ; and the little stock of money which he had pro- 
 vided before he left France, proving scarce sufficient for 
 the expenses of his journey to Italy. Being destitute, 
 therefore, of friends and acquaintance at Rome, 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 
 
M. DU FRESNOY. 
 
 15 
 
 circumstances by an intense and indefatigable applica- 
 tion 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 friendship, living together in the 
 same house, and being commonly known at Rome by 
 the name of the Inseparablbs, 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 evening at the academy, in designing after models. 
 Mignard had superior talents in practice ; but Du Fres- 
 noy 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 his observations; 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 examined with the utmost care the 
 most admired pictures in Italy. 
 
16 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 While he resided there he painted several pictures, 
 particularly the ruins of the Canipo 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 ex- 
 cellent painter in his colouring, as he did Caracci in his 
 design. 
 
 About the year 1653, he went with Mignard to 
 Venice, * and travelled 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 Rome, and Du Fresnoy 
 to France. He had read his poem to the best painters 
 in all places through which he passed, and particularly 
 
 * This is the account of Mons. Felibien, Enlretiens sur les Vies 
 et sur les Ouvrages des plus excellens Peintres, tom. II. edit. Loud. 
 1705, p. 333. But the late author of Abrege de la Vie des plus 
 fameux Peintres, part. 11. p. 284, edit. Par. 1745, in 4to. 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. 
 
M. DU FRESNOY. 
 
 17 
 
 to Albano and Guercino, then at Bologna ; and he 
 consulted several men famous for their skill in polite 
 literature. 
 
 He arrived at Paris in 16*56, where he lodged with 
 Mons. Potel, Greffier of the Council, in the street Beau- 
 treillis, where he painted a small room 5 afterwards a 
 picture for the altar of the church of St. Margaret in the 
 suburb 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 3 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 Assumption 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 Vilargel^ all the designs of a house 
 which that gentleman built four leagues from Avignon 3 
 
 VOL. III. c 
 
18 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 as likewise those for the Hotel de Lyonne, and for that 
 of the Grand Prior de Souvr£. 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 communicated it, as has been already men- 
 tioned, 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 employ- 
 ment 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 de- 
 ferred undertaking from time to time, out of diffidence 
 of his own skill in his native language, which he had in 
 some measure lost by his long residence in Italy. Mons. 
 de Piles was therefore at last induced, at his desire, and 
 by the merit of the poem, to translate it into French, his 
 version being revised by Du Fresnoy himself : 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 
 
M. DU FRESNOY. 
 
 19 
 
 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 
 
 ORIGINAL TEXT SUBJOINED. 
 
■BEE 
 
[ 23 ] 
 
 THE ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 True poetry the Painter’s power displays : 
 
 True Painting emulates fhe Poet’s lays ; 
 
 The rival sisters, fond of equal fame, 
 
 Alternate change their office and their name ; 
 
 Bid silent Poetry the canvass warm, 5 
 
 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 : 10 
 
 No sordid theme will verse or paint admit, 
 
 Unworthy colours, if unworthy wit. 
 
 DE ARTE GRAPHICA. 
 
 Ut Pictura Poesis erit ; similisque Poesi 
 Sit Pictura ; refert par semula quaeque sororem, 
 Alternantque vices et nomina ; muta Poesis 
 Dicitur hsec, Pictura loquens solet ilia vocari. 
 
 Quod fuit auditu gratum cecinere Poetae ; 5 
 
 Quod pulchrum aspectu Pictores pingere curant : 
 Quseque Poetarum numeris indigna fuere. 
 
 Non eadem Pictorum operam studiumque merentur : 
 
C 24] 
 
 From you, blest Pair ! Religion deigns to claim 
 Her sacred honours ; at her awful name 
 High o’er the stars you take your soaring flight. 
 
 And rove the regions of supernal light; 16 
 
 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. 20 
 
 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, 25 
 That wins with grace, or awes with dignity, 
 
 To each exalted deed, which dares to claim 
 The glorious meed of an immortal fame, 
 
 Ambae quippe sacros ad religionis honores 
 Sydereos superant ignes, aulamque tonantis 10 
 
 Ingressae, Divum aspectu, alloquioque fruuntur; 
 
 Oraque magna Deum, et dicta observata reportant, 
 Coelestemque suorum operum mortalibus ignem. 
 
 Inde per hunc Orbem studiis coeuntibus errant, 
 Carpentes quae digna sui, revolutaque lustrant 1 5 
 
 Tempora, quaerendis consortibus argumentis. 
 
 Denique quaecunque in coelo, terraque, marique 
 Longius in tempus durare, ut pulchra merentur, 
 Nobilitate su4, claroque insignia casu, 
 
 Dives et ampla manet Pictores atque Poetas 20 
 
 Materies ; inde alta sonant per saecula mundo 
 
[ 25 ] 
 
 That meed ye grant. Hence, to remotest age, 
 
 The hero’s soul darts from the Poet’s page, 30 
 
 Hence, from the canvass 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, 35 
 
 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. 40 
 
 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 : 
 
 Nomina, magnanimis Heroibus inde superstes 
 Gloria, perpetuoque operum miracula restant : 
 
 Tantus inest divis honor artibus atque potestas. 
 
 Non mihi Pieridum chorus hie, nec Apollo voeandus, 25 
 Majus ut eloquium numeris, aut gratia fandi 
 Dogmaticis illustret opus rationibus horrens : 
 
 Cum nitid& tantum et facili digesta loquelfi, 
 
 Omari praecepta negent, contenta doceri. 
 
 Nec mihi mens animusve fuit constringere nodos 30 
 Artificum manibus, quos tantum dirigit usus ; 
 
 Indolis ut vigor inde potens obstrictus hebescat, 
 Normarum numero immani, Geniumque moretur : 
 
[ 26 ] 
 
 No, ’tis their liberal purpose to convey 45 
 
 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. 50 
 
 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 ! 56 
 
 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, 61 
 
 And hence that maxim of the ancient Sage, 
 
 Sed rerum ut pollens ars cognitione, gradatim 
 Naturae sese insinuet, verique capace 35 
 
 Transeat in Genium ; Geniusque usu induat artem. 
 
 b Praecipua imprimis artisque potissima pars est, 
 Nosse quid in rebus natura crefirit ad artem 
 Pulchrius, idque modum juxta, mentemque vetustam ; 
 
 Qua sine barbaries caeca et temeraria pulcbrum 40 
 Negligit, insultans ignotae audacior arti, 
 
 Ut curare nequit, quae non modo noverit esse; 
 
 Ulud apud veteres fuit unde notabile dictum, 
 
 a I. Of the Beautiful. b I. De Pulchro. 
 
[ 27 3 
 
 “ Of all vain fools with coxcomb talents curst, 
 
 “ Bad Painters and bad Poets are the worst/’ 
 
 When first the orient rays of beauty move 65 
 
 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 : 70 
 
 For tho’ our casual 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; 76 
 
 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. 80 
 
 “ Nil Pictore malo securius atque Poetfi.” 
 
 Cognita amas, et amata cupis, sequerisque cupita ; 45 
 
 Passibus assequeris tandem quae fervidus urges : 
 
 Ilia tamen quae pulchra decent ; non omnia casus 
 Qualiacumque dabunt, etiamve simillima veris : 
 
 Nam quamcumque modo servili haud sufficit ipsam 
 Naturam exprimere ad vivum : sed ut arbiter artis, 50 
 Seliget ex ilia tanthm pulcherrima Pictor; 
 
 Quodque minus pulchrum, aut mendosum, corriget ipse 
 Marte suo, formae Veneres captando fugaces. 
 
[ 28 ] 
 
 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 85 
 A lifeless heap of embryo knowledge rests 
 When nor the pencil feels their drowsy 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. 90 
 
 Hear then the Muse ; though 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, 95 
 Again establish Reason’s legal reign, 
 
 d Utque manus grandi nil nomine practica dignum 
 Assequitur, primurn arcanae quam deficit artis 55 
 
 Lumen, et in praeceps abitura ut caeca vagatur ; 
 
 Sic nihil ars operfi manuum privata supremum 
 Exequitur, sed languet iners uti vincta lacertos ; 
 Dispositumque typum non lingual pinxit Apelles. 
 
 Ergo licet tot& normam haud possimus in arte 60 
 Ponere, (cum nequeant quae sunt pulcherrima dici,) 
 Nitimur haec paucis, scrutati summa magistrae 
 Dogmata Naturae, artisque exemplaria prima 
 Altius intuiti ; sic mens habilisque facultas 
 
 c II. Of Theory and Practice. d II. De Speculatione et Praxi. 
 
[ 29 ] 
 
 Genius again correct with science sage, 
 
 And curb luxuriant Fancy’s headlong rage. 
 
 “ Right ever reigns its stated bounds between, 
 
 “ And taste, like morals, loves the golden mean.” 100 
 e Some lofty theme let judgment first supply. 
 Supremely fraught with grace and majesty 3 
 For fancy copious, free to every charm 
 That lines can circumscribe or colours warm ; 
 
 Still happier, if that artful theme dispense 105 
 
 A poignant moral and instructive sense. 
 
 6 Then let the virgin canvass 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 : 110 
 
 Indolis excolitur, Geniumque Scientia complet 5 65 
 
 Luxuriansque in monstra furor compescitur Arte. 
 t( Est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines, 
 
 “ Quos ultra citraque nequit consistere rectum .” 
 f His positis, erit optandum therna, nobile, pulchrum, 
 Quodque venustatum, circa formam atque colorem, 70 
 Sponte capax, amplam emeritae mox praebeat Arti 
 Materiam, retegens aliquid salis et documenti. 
 
 1 Tandem opus aggredior 3 primoque occurrit in albo 
 Disponenda typi, concepta potente Minervfi, 
 
 Machina, quae nostris Inventio dicitur oris : J 5 
 
 ' III. Of the Subject. r III. De Arguraento. 
 
 g Invention the first part of h Inventio prima picture 
 painting. pars. 
 
[ 30 ] 
 
 Thee every art, thee every grace inspires. 
 
 Thee Phoebus fills with all his brightest fires. 
 
 1 Choose such judicious force of shade and light 
 As suits the theme, and satisfies the sight ; 
 
 Weigh part with part, and with prophetic eye 115 
 The future power of all thy tints descry ; 
 
 And those, those only on the canvass place, 
 
 Whose hues are social, whose effect is grace. 
 
 k Vivid and faithful to the historic page, 
 
 Express the customs, manners, forms, and age; 120 
 1 Nor paint conspicuous on the foremost plain 
 Whate’er is false, impertinent, or vain ; 
 
 Ilia quidem prius ingenuis instructa sororum 
 Artibus Aonidum, et Phoebi sublimior aestu. 
 
 m Quaerendasque inter posituras, luminis, umbrae, 
 Atque futurorum jam praesentire colorum 
 Par erit harmoniam, captando ab utrisque venustum. 
 
 n Sit thematis genuina ac viva expressio, juxta 8 1 
 Textual antiquorum, propriis cum tempore formis. 
 
 ° Nec quod inane, nihil facit ad rem, sive videtur 
 Improprium, minimeque urgens, potiora tenebit 
 
 * IV. Disposition or econo- 
 my of the whole. 
 
 k V. The Subj ect to be treated 
 faithfully. 
 
 1 VI. Every foreign orna- 
 ment to be rejected. 
 
 m IV. Dispositio, sive operis 
 totius ceconomia. 
 
 n V. Fidelitas Argumenti. 
 
 ° VI. Inane rejiciendum. 
 
[ 31 ] 
 
 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, 125 
 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, 131 
 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, 135 
 There reign’d in Corinth, Athens, Sicyon, Rhodes, 
 
 Ornamenta operis ; Tragicse sed lege sororis, 85 
 
 Summa ubi res agitur, vis summa requiritur Artis. 
 
 Ista labore gravi, studio, monitisque magistri 
 Ardua pars nequit addisci : rarissima namque, 
 
 Ni prius aethereo rapuit quod ab axe Prometheus 
 
 Sit jubar infusum menti cum fiamine vitae. 90 
 
 Mortali haud cuivis divina haec munera dantur; 
 
 Non uti Daedaleam licet omnibus ire Corinthum. 
 
 iEgypto informis quondam pictura reperta, 
 
 Graecorum studiis, et mentis acumine crevit : 
 
 Egregiis tandem illustrata et adulta magistris, 95 
 
 Naturam visa est miro superare labore. 
 
 Quos inter, Graphidos Gymnasia prima fuere 
 Portus Athenarum, Sicyon, Rhodos, atque Corinthus, 
 
[ 32 ] 
 
 Her various vot’ries various talents crown’d : 
 
 Yet each alike her inspiration own’d: 
 
 Witness those marble miracles of grace, 
 
 Those tests of symmetry where still we trace 140 
 
 All art’s perfection : With reluctant gaze 
 To these the genius of succeeding days 
 Looks dazzled up, and, as their glories spread, 
 
 Hides in his mantle his diminish’d head. 
 
 r Learn then from Greece, ye Youths, Proportion’s law, 
 Inform’d by her, each just Position draw ; 146 
 
 Skilful to change 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, 150 
 
 But chief from her that flowing outline take, 
 
 Which floats, in wavy windings, like the snake, 
 
 Disparia inter se modicum ratione laboris ; 
 
 Ut patet ex veterum Statuis, formae atque decoris 
 Archetypis ; queis posterior nil protulit aetas 
 Condignum, et non inferius longe, arte modoque. 
 
 q Horum igitur vera ad normarn positura legetur : 
 Grandia, inaequalis, formosaque partibus amplis 
 Anteriora dabit membra, in contraria motu 105 
 
 Diverso variata, suo librataque centro; 
 
 Membrorumque sinus ignis flammantis ad instar, 
 Serpenti undantes flexu ; sed laevi, plana, 
 
 p VII. Design or Position, q VII. Graphis seu Positura 
 the second part of painting. secunda picturae pars. 
 
Or lambent flame; which, ample, broad, and long, 
 Reliev’d not swell’d, at once both light and strong, 
 Glides thro’ the graceful whole. Her art divine 155 
 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; 1G0 
 
 Bids small from great in just gradation rise. 
 
 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 165 
 A quick mechanic substitute for art. 
 
 Yet formal, geometric shapes she draws ; 
 
 Hence the true Genius scorns her rigid laws ; 
 
 Magnaque signa, quasi sine tubere subdita tactu, 
 
 Ex longo deducta fluant, non secta minutim. HO 
 
 Insertisque toris sint nota ligamina, juxta 
 Compagem anatomes, et membrificatio Graeco 
 Deformata modo, paucisque expressa lacertis, 
 
 Qualis apud veteres ; totoque Eurythmia partes 
 Componat ; genitumque suo generante sequenti 1 1 5 
 
 Sit minus, et puncto videantur cuncta sub uno. 
 
 Regula certa licet nequeat prospectica dici, 
 
 Aut complementum graphidos; sed in arte juvamen, 
 
 Et modus accelerans operandi : at corpora falso 
 Sub visu in multis referens, mendosa labascit : 120 
 
 D 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
[34] 
 
 By Nature taught he strikes th’ unerring lines. 
 
 Consults his eye, and as he sees designs. 170 
 
 T 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 17& 
 
 Such limbs, such robes, such attitude and air, 
 
 As best befit the head, and best combine 
 To make one whole, one uniform design : 
 
 * Learn action from the dumb ; the dumb shall teach 
 How happiest to supply the want of speech. 180 
 
 u Fair in the front, in all the blaze of light, 
 
 The hero of thy piece should meet the sight. 
 
 Nam Geometralem nunquam sunt corpora juxta 
 Mensuram depicta oculis, sed qualia visa. 
 
 x Non eadem formse species, non omnibus setas 
 jEqualis, similesque color, crinesque figuris : 
 
 Nam, variis velut orta plagis, gens dispare vultu est. 
 
 y Singula membra, suo capiti conformia, fiant 
 Unum idemque simul corpus cum vestibus ipsis : 
 z Mutorumque silens positura imitabitui actus. 
 a Prima figurarum, seu princeps dramatis, ultro 
 Prosiliat media in tabula, sub lumine primo 
 
 r VIII. Variety in the figures. 
 5 IX. Conformity of the 
 limbs and drapery of the head. 
 
 ' X. Action of the mutes to 
 be imitated. 
 
 * XI. The principal figure. 
 
 * VIII. Varietas in figuris 
 y ix. Figura sit una mem- 
 bris et vestibus. 
 
 z X. Mutorum actiones imi- 
 tandas. 
 
 a XI. Figura princeps. 
 
[ 35 ] 
 
 Supreme in beauty : lavish here thine art, 
 
 And bid him boldly from the canvass start : 
 
 While round that sovereign form th’ inferior train 185 
 In groups collected fill the pictur’d plain ; 
 
 -Fill, hut not crowd j 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 viewj 190 
 
 Or parts with parts, in thick confusion bound. 
 
 Spread a tumultuous chaos o’er the ground. 
 
 c I n every figur’d group the judging eye 
 Demands the charms of contrariety : 
 
 In forms, in attitudes, expects to trace 195 
 
 Distinct inflections, and contrasted grace. 
 
 Where art diversely leads each changeful line, 
 
 Opposes, breaks, divides the whole design : 
 
 Pulchrior ante alias, reliquis nec operta figuris. 
 
 d Agglomerata simul sint membra, ipsaeque figurse ? 
 Stipentur, circumque globos locus usque vacabit ; 
 
 Ne, male dispersis dum visus ubique figuris 
 Dividitur, cunctisque operis fervente tumultu 135 
 Partibus implicitis, crepitans confusio surgat. 
 
 e Inque figurarum cumulis non omnibus idem 
 Corporis inflexus, motusque ; vel artubus omnes 
 Conversis pariter non connitantur eodem ; 
 
 ” Xn - Grou P s of figures. d XII. Figurarum globi seu 
 
 cumuli. 
 
 XIII. Diversity of Attitude c XIII. Positurarum diver- 
 
 in Groups. sitas in cumul . 
 
C 36 ] 
 
 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, 
 
 f Yet keep thro’ all the piece a perfect poize : 
 
 If here in frequent troops the figures rise, 
 
 There let some object tower with equal piide, 
 
 And so arrange each correspondent side, 
 
 That, thro’ the well-connected plan, appear 
 No cold vacuity, no desert drear. 
 
 Sed quaedam in diversa trahant contraria membra, 140 
 Transverseque aliis pugnant, et cffitera frangant. 
 
 Pluribus adversis aversam oppone figuram, . . . 
 
 Pectoribusque humeros, et dextera membra smislns, 
 
 Seu multis constabit opus, paucisve figuris. 
 
 g Altera pars tabulae vacuo neu frigida campo, 145 
 Aut deserta siet, dum pluribus altera formis 
 Fervida mole sua supremam exsurgit ad oram. 
 
 Sed tibi sic posilis respondeat utraque rebus, 
 
 Ut si aliquid sursum se parte attollat in una. 
 
 Sic aliquid parte ex alih consurgat, et ambas l5t 
 
 jEquiparet, geminas cumulando sequaliter oras. 
 
 s X1Y. 
 
 { XIY. A balance to be kept 
 in the picture. 
 
 turn. 
 
 Tabulae libramen- 
 
[ 37 ] 
 
 h Say, does the Poet glow with genuine rage, 
 
 Who crouds with pomp and noise his bustling stage ? 
 .Devoid alike of taste that Painter deem, 
 
 Whose flutt’ring works with num’rous figures teemj 
 A task so various how shall art fulfill, 215 
 
 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 fair objects fill an ample ground. 220 
 
 Yet if some grand important theme demand 
 Of many needful forms a busy band, 
 
 Judgment will so the several groups unite, 
 
 I hat one compacted whole shall meet the sight. 
 
 Pluribus implicitum personis drama supremo 
 In genere, ut rarum est, multis ita densa figuris 
 Rarior est tabula excellens ; vel adhuc fere nulla 
 Prsestitit in multis, quod vix bene praestat in una: 155 
 
 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 160 
 
 Machina tota rei; non singula quseque seorsim. 
 
 h XV. Of the number of fi- * XV. Numerus figurarum. 
 gures. 
 

 [ 38 ] 
 
 k The joints in each extreme distinctly treat, 225 
 Nor e’er conceal the outline of the feet ; 
 
 1 The hands alike demand to be exprest 
 In half-shown figures rang’d behind the rest ; 
 
 Nor can such forms with force or beauty shine. 
 
 Save when the head and hands in action join. 230 
 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. 
 
 23' 
 
 n Praecipua extremis raro internodia membris 
 Abdita sint ; sed sumraa pedum vestigia nunquam. 
 
 ° Gratia nulla manet, motusque, vigorque figuras 
 Retro aliis subter majori ex parte latentes, 
 
 Ni capitis motum manibus comitentur agendo. 
 
 p Difficiles fugito aspectus, contraetaque visu 
 Membra sub ingrato, motusque, ac-tusque coactos ; 
 Quodque refert signis, rectos quodammodo tractus, 
 Sive parallelos plures simul, et vel acutas, 
 
 Vel geometrales (ut quadra, triangula) formas ; 
 
 165 
 
 170 
 
 k XVI. The joints of the 
 feet. 
 
 1 XVII. The motion of the 
 hands with the head. 
 
 m XVIII. What things are to 
 
 n XVI. Internodia et pedes. 
 
 0 XVII. Motus manuum 
 motui capitis jungendus. 
 
 p XVI II. Quie fugienda in 
 
 be avoided in ths Distribution distributione et compositione. 
 of the Piece. 
 
 r* 
 
[39] 
 
 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; 240 
 For these in each design, if well exprest. 
 
 Give value, force, and lustre to the rest. 
 
 q 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, 245 
 
 Her mimic powers tho’ ready Memory lends. 
 
 Presume from Nature wholly to depart, 
 
 For nature is the arbitress of art. 
 
 In Error’s grove ten thousand thickets spread, 
 
 Ten thousand devious paths our steps mislead ; 250 
 
 Ingratamque pari signorum ex ordine quandam 
 Symmetriam : sed prsecipua in contraria semper 
 Signa volunt duci transversa, ut diximus ante.* 
 
 Summa igitur ratio signorum habeatur in ornni 175 
 Composite; dat enim reliquis pretium, atque vigorem. 
 
 r Non ita naturae astanti sis cuique revinctus, 
 
 Hanc praeter nihil ut genio studioque relinquas ; 
 
 Nee sine teste rei natura, artisque magistra, 
 
 Quidlibet ingenio, memor ut tantummodo rerum, 180 
 Pingere posse putes ; errorum est plurima sylva, 
 
 * Page 35, Rule xiii. 
 
 1 XIX. Nature to be accom- r XIX. Natura Genio accom- 
 modated to Genius. modanda. 
 
[40] 
 
 Mid curves, that vary in perpetual twine. 
 
 Truth owns but one direct and perfect line. 
 
 s 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 255 
 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 ; 260 
 
 Fill it with radiant forms unknown before. 
 
 Forms such as demigods and heroes wore : 
 
 Here pause and pity our enervate days. 
 
 Hopeless to rival their transcendent praise. 
 
 Multiplicesque vise, bene agendi terminus unus, 
 
 Linea recta velut sola est, et mille recurvse. 
 
 1 Sed juxta antiquos naturam imitabere pulchram, 
 Qualem forma rei propria, objectumque requirit. 185 
 Non te igitur lateant antiqua numismata, gemmae, 
 
 Vasa, typi, statuae, eaelataque marmora signis, 
 
 Quodque refert specie veterum post saecula mentem y 
 Splendidior quippe ex illis assurgit imago, 
 
 Magnaque se rerum facies apent meditanti : 190 
 
 Tunc nostri tenuem ssecli miserebere sortem. 
 
 Cum spes nulla siet rediturse aequalis in sevum. 
 
 ■ XX. The Antique the model ‘ XX. Signa antiqua Natural 
 
 to be copied. modum constituunt. 
 
[ 41 ] 
 
 w Peculiar toil on single forms bestow, 265 
 
 There let expression lend its finish’d glow; 
 
 There each variety of tint unite 
 
 With the full harmony of shade and light. 
 
 x Free o’er the limbs the flowing vesture cast, 
 
 The light broad folds with grace majestic placed; 270 
 And as each figure turns a different way, 
 
 Give the large plaits their corresponding play ; 
 
 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, 27 5 
 
 But well reliev’d by gentle light and shade. 
 
 Where’er a flat vacuity is seen, 
 
 There let some shadowy bending intervene, 
 
 y Exquisita siet form&, dum sola figura 
 Pingitur ; et multis variata coloribus esto. 
 
 z Lati, amplique sinus pannorum, et nobilis ordo 195 
 Membra sequens, subter latitantia lumine et umbrS, 
 Exprimet ; ille licet transversus saepe feratur, 
 
 Et circumfusos pannorum porrigat extra 
 Membra sinus, non contiguos, ipsisque figurae 
 Partibus impressos, quasi pannus adhaereat illis; 200 
 Sed modic6 expressos cum lumine servet et umbris : 
 Quaeque intermissis passim sunt dissita vanis, 
 
 Copulet, inductis subt^rve, superve lacernis. 
 
 w XXI. How to paint a single y XXI. Sola Figura quo- 
 
 figure. modo tractanda. 
 
 * XXII. Of Drapery. 1 XXII. Quid in Pannis ob- 
 
 servandum. 
 
[ 42 ] 
 
 Above, below, to lead its varied line, 
 
 As best may teach the distant folds to join ; 280 
 
 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 ; 285 
 
 With ample pall let monarchs sweep the globe ; 
 
 In garb succinct and coarse array the swam ; 
 
 In light and silken veils the virgin train. 
 
 Where in black shade the deeper hollow lies. 
 
 Assisting art some midway fold supplies, 290 
 
 That gently meets the light, and gently spreads 
 To break the hardness of opposing shades. 
 
 a Each nobler symbol classic sages use, 
 
 To mark a virtue, or adorn a Muse. 
 
 Et membra, ut magnis, paucisque expressa lacertis, 
 Majestate aliis prsestant, forma, atque decore : 205 
 
 Haud secus in pannis, quos supx*a optavimus amplos, 
 Perpaucos sinuum flexus, rugasque, striasque, 
 
 Membra super, versu faciles, inducere praestat. 
 Naturaeque rei proprius sit pannus, abundans 
 Patriciis; succinctus erit, crassusque bubulcis, 210 
 
 Mancipiisque ; levis, teneris, gracilisque puellis. 
 
 Inque cavis maculisque umbrarum aliquando tumcscet, 
 Lumen ut excipiens, operis qua massa requirit, 
 
 Latius extendat, sublatisque aggreget umbris. 
 
 b Nobilia arma juvant Virtutum ornantque figuras, 2 1 5 
 
 a XXIII. Of Picturesque Or- b XXIII. Tabulae Ornamen- 
 nament. tuna. 
 
[ 43 ] 
 
 Ensigns of war, of peace, or rites divine, 295 
 
 These in thy work with dignity may shine : 
 c But sparingly thy earth-born 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. 300 
 
 d Of absent forms the features to define. 
 
 Prepare a model to direct thy line ; 
 e Each garb, each custom, with precision trace, 
 
 Unite in strict decoruin time with place j 
 f And emulous alone of genuine fame, 305 
 
 Be Grace, be Majesty thy constant aim. 
 
 That Majesty, that Grace so rarely given 
 To mortal man, nor taught by art but Heaven. 
 
 Qualia Musarum, Belli, cultusque Deorum. 
 g Nec sit opus nimidm gemmis auroque refertum ; 
 
 Rara etenim magno in pretio, sed plurima vili. 
 
 h deinde ex vero nequeant praesente videri, 
 Prototypum prius illorum formare juvabit. 220 
 
 Conveniat locus, atque habitus •, ritusque decusque 
 k Servetur : Sit nobilitas, Charitumque venustas, 
 
 (Rarum homini munus, Coelo, non arte petendum.) 
 
 c XXIV. Ornament of gold 
 and jewels. 
 
 d XXV. Of the Model. 
 e XXVI. Union of the piece. 
 
 f XXVII. Grace and Ma- 
 jesty. 
 
 s XXIV. Ornamentum auri 
 et gemmarum. 
 h XXV. Prototypus. 
 
 ! XXVI. Convenientia rerum 
 cum scena. 
 
 k XXVII. Charitas et Nobi- 
 litas. 
 
[ 44 ] 
 
 1 In all to sage propriety attend. 
 
 Nor sink the clouds, nor bid the waves ascend ; 310 
 
 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. 
 
 m Thy last, thy noblest task remains untold, 315 
 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 
 To seize the soul, and force her into sight ? 320 
 
 Jove, Jove alone ; his highly-favour’d few 
 Alone can call such miracles to view. 
 
 n Naturae sit ubique tenor, ratioque sequenda. 
 
 Non vieina pedum tabulata excelsa Tonantis 225 
 
 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. 
 
 0 Haec praeter, motus animorum, et corde repostos 230 
 Exprimere affectus, paucisque coloribus ipsam 
 Pingere posse animam, atque oculis praebere videndam. 
 
 Hoc opus , hie labor est. Pauci, quos cequus amavit 
 “ Jupiter , aut ardens evexit ad cethera virtus , 
 
 “ Dis similes potuere ” manu miracula tanta. 235 
 
 1 XXVIII. Every thing in its n XXVIII. Res qusque Io- 
 
 proper place. cum suum teneat. 
 
 m XXIX. The Passions. 0 XXIX. Affectus. 
 
[ 45 ] 
 
 But this to rhet’ric and the schools I leave. 
 
 Content from ancient lore one rule to give : 
 
 (e By tedious toil no passions are exprest, 325 
 
 u His hand who feels them strongest paints them best.” 
 
 p 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 : 330 
 
 Fierce from the north the headlong demons flew, 
 
 The wreaths of seience 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, 335 
 Then pensive Painting droop’d the languish’d head ; 
 
 Hos ego rhetoribus tractandos desero ; tantum 
 Egregii antiquum memorabo sophisma magistri : 
 
 “ Verius aff 'ectus animi vigor exprimit ardens, 
 
 “ Soliciti nimium quam sedula cura laboris.” 
 q Denique nil sapiat Gothorum barbara trito 240 
 
 Ornamenta modo, saeclorum et monstra malorum : 
 
 Queis ubi bella, famem, et pestem, diseordia, luxus, 
 
 Et Romanorum res grandior intulit orbi, 
 
 Ingenuae periere artes, periere superbae 
 
 Artificum moles; sua tunc miracula vidit 245 
 
 Ignibus absumi Pictura, latere coacta 
 
 f XXX. Gothic ornament to q XXX. Gothorum orna- 
 be avoided. menta fugienda. 
 
[46] 
 
 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. 340 
 
 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, 
 
 And Dulness drear their murky vigils kept, 345 
 
 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, 350 
 
 r Gave to the wond’ring eye : she bade his name 
 With thine, Apelles, gild the lists of fame ; 
 
 Fornicibus, sortem et reliquam confidere cryptis ; 
 Marmoribusque diu Sculptura jacere sepultis. 
 
 Imperium interea, scelerum gravitate fatiscens, 
 
 Horrida nox totum invasit, donoque superni 250 
 
 Luminis indignum, errorum caligine mersit, 
 
 Impiaque ignaris damnavit ssecla tenebris. 
 
 Unde coloratum Graiis hue usque magistris 
 Nil superest tantorum hominum, quod mente modoque 
 Nostrates juvet artifices, doceatque laborem 5 255 
 
 * Nec qui Chromatices nobis, hoc tempore, partes 
 Restituat, quales Zeuxis tractaverat olim, 
 
 Hujus quando maga velut arte sequavit Apellem 
 
 r Colouring the third Part s Chromatices tertia Par* 
 of Painting. Picture. 
 
[ 47 ] 
 
 With thine to colouring’s brightest glories soar. 
 
 The gods applaud him, and the world adore. 
 
 Alas ! how lost those magic mixtures all ! 355 
 
 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, 360 
 
 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. 366 
 
 Thus bodies near the light distinctly shine 
 With rays direct, and as it fades decline. 
 
 Pictorum archigraphum, meruitque coloribus altam 
 Nominis eeterni famam, toto orbe sonantem. 260 
 
 Haec quidem ut in tahulis fallax, sed grata venustas, 
 
 Et complementum graphidos, mirabife visu, 
 
 Pulchra vocabatur, sed subdola, lena sororis : 
 
 Non tamen hoc lenocinium, fucusque, dolusque 
 Dedecori fuit unquam ; illi sed semper honori, 265 
 Laudibus et meritis; hanc ergo nosse juvabit. 
 
 Lux varium, vivumque dabit, nullum umbra, colorem. 
 Quo magis adversum est corpus, lucique propin- 
 quum, 
 
 Clarius est lumen ; nam debilitatur eundo. 
 
[ 48 ] 
 
 Thus to the eye oppos’d with stronger light 
 They meet its orb, for distance dims the sight. 370 
 1 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, 375 
 
 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. 380 
 
 Thus, if bold Fancy plan some proud design. 
 
 Where many various groups divide or join, 
 
 (Tho’ sure from more than three confusion springs,) 
 One globe of light and shade o’er all she flings ; 
 
 Quo magis est corpus directum, oculisque propinquum. 
 Conspicitur melius ; nam visus hebescit eundo. 271 
 u Ergo in corporibus, quae visa adversa, rotundis, 
 Integra sunt, extrema abscedant perdita signis 
 Confusis, non praecipiti labentur in umbram 
 Clara gradu, nee adumbrata in clara alta repent^ 27 5 
 Prorumpant ; sed erit sensim hinc atque inde meatus 
 Lucis et umbrarum ; capitisque unius ad instar, 
 
 Totum opus, ex multis quanquam sit partibus, unus 
 Luminis umbrarumque globus tantummodo fiet, 
 
 * XXXI. The conduct of the u XXXI. Tonorum Luminum 
 Tints of Light and Shadow. et Urabrarura ratio. 
 
Yet skill’d the separate masses to dispose, 385 
 
 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 
 
 Draws to a point the congregated mass 390 
 
 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 395 
 
 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 ; 
 
 Sive duas, vel tres ad summum, ubi grandius esset 280 
 Di visum 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. 285 
 Ac veluti in speculis convexis, eminet ante 
 Asperior rerpsS, 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. 290 
 Mente modoque igitur plastes, et pictor, eodem 
 Disposition tractabit opus ; quae sculptor in orbem 
 VOL. III. E 
 
[ 50 ] 
 
 What from the marble the rude chissel breaks, 
 
 The softer pencil from the canvass takes : 400 
 
 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, 405 
 
 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. 
 
 x In silver clouds, in ether’s blue domain, 
 
 Or the clear mirror of the wat’ry plain, 410 
 
 If chance some solid substance claim a place, 
 
 Firm and opaque amid the lucid space, 
 
 Atterit, haec rupto procul abscedente colore 
 Assequitur pictor, fugientiaque ilia retrorsum 
 Jam signata minus confusa coloribus aufert : 295 
 
 Anteriora quidem directe adversa, colore 
 Integra vivaci summo cum lumine et umbra 
 Antrorsum distincta refert, velut aspera visu ; 
 
 Sicque super planum inducit leucoma colores, 
 
 Hos velut ex ipsS, natura immotus eodem 300 
 
 Intuitu circum statuas daret inde rotundas. 
 
 y Densa figurarum solidis quae corpora formis 
 Subdita sunt tactu, non translucent, sed opaca 
 In translucendi spatio, ut super a’era, nubes, 
 
 Limpida stagna undarum, et inania caetera debent 305 
 
 x XXXII. Dense anil opaque v XXXII. Corpora densa et 
 bodies with translucent ones. opaca translucentibus. 
 
415 
 
 [ 51 ] 
 
 Rough let it swell and boldly meet the sight, 
 Mark’d with peculiar strength of shade and light; 
 fnere 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. 
 
 z 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 display’d ; 
 Thence gild the distant parts, and lessening fade : 
 
 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 perlucida densis 310 
 Corporibus leviora ; uti nubes, aer, et undee. 
 
 1 Non poterunt diversa locis duo lumina e&dem 
 In tabuki paria admitti, aut aequalia pingi : 
 
 Majus at in mediam lumen cadet usque tabellam 
 Latius infusum, primis qua summa figuris 815 
 
 Res agitur, circumque oras minuetur eundo : 
 
 2 XXXIII. There must not 2 XXXIII. Non duo ex ccelo 
 be two equal lights in the pic- lumina in tabulam squalia. 
 lure. 
 
[ 52 ] 
 
 As fade the beams which Phoebus from the east 425 
 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, 430 
 
 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 : 
 
 So let thy pencil fling its beams around, 435 
 
 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 ; 440 
 
 Utque in progressu jubar attenuatur ab ortu 
 Solis, ad occasum paulatim, et eessat eundo; 
 
 Sic tabulis lumen, tota in compage colorum, 
 
 Primo a fonte minus sensim dec-linat eundo. 320 
 
 Majus ut in statuis, per compita stantibus urbis, 
 Lumen habent partes superse, minus inferiores ; 
 
 Idem erit in tabulis ; majorque nee umbra, vel ater 
 Membra figurarum intrabit color atque secabit : 
 
 Corpora sed circum umbra cavis latitabit oberrans ; 325 
 
[ 53 ] 
 
 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. 
 
 b White, when it shines with unstain’d lustre clear. 
 May bear an object back, or bring it near; 446 
 
 Aided by black, it to the front aspires, 
 
 That aid withdrawn, it distantly retires ; 
 
 But black unmix’d, of darkest midnight hue, 
 
 Still calls each object nearer to the view. 450 
 
 c 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. 
 
 Atque ita quseretur lux opportuna figuris, 
 
 Ut late infusum lumen lata umbra sequatur. 
 
 Unde, nec immeritb, fertur Titianus ubique 
 Lucis et umbrarum normam appell&sse racemum. 
 d Purum album esse potest propiusque magisque re- 
 motum : 330 
 
 Cum nigro antevenit propius ; fugit absque remotum ; 
 Purum autem nigrum antrorsum venit usque propinquum. 
 
 Lux fucata suo tingit miscetque colore 
 Corpora, sicque suo, per quern lux funditur, a’er. 
 
 e Corpora juncta simul, circumfusosque colores 335 
 Excipiunt, propriumque aliis radiosa reflectunt. 
 
 b XXXIV. Of white and d XXXIV. Album et nigrum- 
 black. 
 
 c XXXV. The reflection of e XXXV. Colorum reflectio. 
 colours. 
 
[ 54] 
 
 f But where on both alike one equal light 455 
 
 Diffusive spreads, the blending tints unite. 
 
 For breaking colours thus (the ancient phrase 
 By Artists used) fair Venice claims our praise : 
 
 She, cautious to transgress so sage a rule, 
 
 Confin’d to soberest tints her learned school ; 460 
 
 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, 465 
 
 Still flows in graceful unity the vest ; 
 
 And o’er that vest a kindred mantle spreads, 
 
 Unvaried but by power of lights and shades, 
 
 * Pluribus in solidis liquida sub luce propinquis, 
 Participes, mixtosque simul decet esse colores. 
 
 Hanc normam Veneti pictores rite sequuti, 
 
 (Quae fuit antiquis corruptio dicta colorum ,) 340 
 
 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 tantdm vestire colore, 345 
 
 Sunt soliti ; variando tonis tunicamque, togamque, 
 
 f XXXVJ. The union of co- 
 lours. 
 
 « XXXVI. Unio colorum. 
 
r 55 ] 
 
 Which mildly mixing every social dye, 
 
 Unites the whole in loveliest harmony. 470 
 
 h When small the space, or pure the ambient air, 
 Each form 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, 475 
 
 As if prepar’d to vanish from our eyes. 
 
 ‘ Give then 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. 480 
 
 Carbaseosque sinus, vel amicum in lumine et umbra 
 Contiguis circum rebus sociando colorem. 
 
 k Qua minus est spatii aerei, aut qua purior aer, 
 Cuncta magis distincta patent, speciesque reservant : 
 Quaque magis densus nebulis, aut plurimus aer 351 
 1 Amplum inter fuerit spatium porrectus, in auras 
 Confundet rerum species, et perdet inanes. 
 
 Anteriora magis semper finita, remotis 
 Incertis dominentur et abscedentibus, idque 355 
 
 More relativo, ut majora minoribus extent. 
 
 b XXXVII. Of the interposi- 
 tion of air. 
 
 1 XXXVIII. The relation of 
 distances. 
 
 k XXXVII. Aer interposi 
 tus. 
 
 1 XXXVIII. Distantiarum 
 relatio. 
 
[ 56 ] 
 
 m Minuter forms, when distantly we trace. 
 
 Are mingled all in one compacted mass ; 
 
 Such the light leaves that clothe remoter woods, 
 
 And such the waves on wide-extended floods. 
 
 n Let each contiguous part be Ann allied, 485 
 
 Nor labour less the separate to divide ; 
 
 Yet so divide that to th’ approving eye 
 T. hey both at small and pleasing distance lie. 
 
 ° Forbid two hostile colours close to meet, 
 
 And win with middle tints their union sweet ; 490 
 
 Yet varying all thy tones, let some aspire 
 p Fiercely in front, some tenderly retire. 
 
 q Cuneta minutaprocul massam densantur in unam; 
 Ut folia arboribus sylvarum, et in aequore fluctus. 
 
 r Contlgua inter se coeant, sed dissita distent, 
 Distabuntque tamen grato, et discrimine parvo. 3G0 
 s Lxtrema extremis contraria jungere noli ; 
 
 Sed medio sint usque g«adu sociata coloris. 
 
 1 Corporum erit tonus atque color variatus ubique ; 
 Quserat amicitiain retro; fetus emicet ante. 
 
 q XXXIX. Corpora procul 
 distantia. 
 
 r XL. Contigua et dissita. 
 
 J XLI. Contraria extrema 
 fugienda. 
 
 ' XLII. Tonus et Color varii. 
 
 m XXXIX. Of bodies which 
 are distanced. 
 
 n XL. Of contiguous and 
 separated bodies. 
 
 0 XLT. Colours very opposite 
 to each other never to be 
 joined. 
 
 p XLII. Diversity of Tints 
 
[ 57 ] 
 
 u 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 495 
 
 With 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, 500 
 
 When, wrapt in crimson clouds, he hides his head, 
 
 Then catch the glow, and on the canvass spread. 
 
 x Bodies of polish’d or transparent tone, 
 
 Of metal, crystal, iv’ry, wood, or stone : 
 
 And all whose rough unequal parts are rear’d, 505 
 
 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 ; 
 
 y Supremum in tabulis lumen captare diei, 305 
 
 Insanus labor artificum; cum attingere tantum 
 Non pigmenta queant ; auream sed vespere lucem, 
 
 Seu modicum mane albentem ; sive aetheris actam 
 Post hyemem nimbis transfuso sole caducam ; 
 
 Seu nebulis fultam accipient, tonitruque rubentem. 370 
 z Laevia quae lucent, veluti crystalla, metalla, 
 
 Ligna, ossa, et lapides ; villosa, ut vellera, pelles, 
 
 Barbae, aqueique oculi, crines, holoserica, plumae; 
 
 " XLIII. The Choice of y XLIII. Luminis delectus, 
 light. 
 
 x XLIV. Of certain things z XLIY. Quaiflam circa 
 relating to the practical part. praxim. 
 
 
[ 58 ] 
 
 Plumage and silks ; a floating form that take, 
 
 Fair Nature’s mirrour, the extended lake; 510 
 
 With what immers’d thro’ its calm medium shines 
 By reflex light, or to its surface joins ; 
 
 These first with thin and even shades portray, 
 
 Then, on their flatness strike th’enlivening ray. 
 
 Bright and distinct, — and last, with strict review, 515 
 Restore to every form its outline true. 
 
 a 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, 520 
 
 And every form retiring to that ground 
 Of hue congenial to itself compound. 
 
 b The hand that colours well, must colour bright ; 
 Hope not that praise to gain by sickly white ; 
 
 Et liquida, ut stagnans aqua, reflexaeque sub undis 
 Corporeae species, et aquis eontermina cuncta, 375 
 Subter ad extremum liquide sint picta, superque 
 Luminibus percussa suis, signisque repostis. 
 
 c Area, vel campus tabulae vagus esto, levisque 
 Abscedat latus, liquideque bene unctus amicis 
 Tota ex mole coloribus, una sive patella ; 380 
 
 Quaeque cadunt retro in campum, confinia campo. 
 d Vividus esto color, nimio non pallidus albo ; 
 
 ’ XLV. The Field of the c XLY. Campus Tabulae. 
 Picture. 
 
 b XLVI. Of the Vivacity of d XLVI. Color vividus, non 
 Colours. tamen pallidus. 
 
C 59 ] 
 
 * But amply heap in front each splendid dye, 525 
 
 Then thin and light withdraw them from the eye, 
 f Mix’d with that simple unity of shade, 
 
 As all were from one single palette spread. 
 
 8 Much will the mirrour teach, or evening grey. 
 
 When o’er some ample space her twilight ray 530 
 Obscurely gleams ; hence Art shall best perceive 
 On distant parts what fainter hues to give. 
 
 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, 535 
 
 Or shine at distance on some ample plain, 
 
 On that high-finish ’d form let Paint bestow 
 Her midnight shadow, her meridian glow. 
 
 Adversisque locis ingestus plurimus, ardens : 
 
 Sed leviter parc^que datus vergentibus oris. 
 
 Cuncta labore simul coeant, velut umbrft in eadem, 
 k Tota siet tabula ex unfi depicta patella. 386 
 
 1 Multa ex natura speculum prseclara docebit; 
 Quteque procul sero spatiis spectantur in amplis. 
 
 m Dimidia effigies, quae sola, vel integra plures 
 Ante alias posita ad lucem, stat proxima visu, 390 
 Et latis spectanda locis, oculisque remota, 
 
 Luminis umbrarumque gradu sit picta supremo. 
 
 ' XLVII. Of shadows. 
 f XLVI1I. The picture to be 
 of one piece. 
 
 g XLIX. The Looking-glass 
 the Painter’s best master. 
 
 h L. A half Figure or a whole 
 one before others. 
 
 1 XLVT1. Umbra. 
 k XLVUI. Ex una patella sit 
 tabula. 
 
 ‘XLIX. Speculum Pictorum 
 Magister. 
 
 m L. Dimidia Figura, vel 
 integra, ante alias. 
 
[ 60 ] 
 
 n The portrait claims from imitative art 
 Resemblance close in each minuter part, 540 
 
 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, 545 
 
 Adopting Nature owns the work her own. 
 
 ° 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, 550 
 
 Thy strong unequal varied colours blend ; 
 
 And ample space to ample figures lend, 
 p Where to broad lights the circumambient shade 
 In liquid play by labour just is laid ; 
 
 i Partibus in minimis imitatio justa juvabit 
 Effigiem, alternas referendo tempore eodem 
 Consimiles partes, cum luminis atque coloris 395 
 
 Compositis, justisque tonis ; tunc parta labore 
 Si facili et vegeto micat ardens, viva videtur. 
 
 r Visa loco angusto tenere pingantur, amico 
 Juncta colore, graduque; procul quae picta, feroci 
 Sint et inaequali variata colore tonoque. 400 
 
 Grandia signa volunt spatia ampla, ferosque colores. 
 
 * Lumina lata, unctas simul undique copulet umbras 
 
 " LI. A Portrait. q LI. Effigies. 
 
 0 L1I. The place of the Pic- r L1I. Locus Tabulae, 
 ture. 
 
 * LIII. Large lights. ‘ LIII. Lumina lata. 
 
[ 61 ] 
 
 Alike with liveliest touch the forms portray, 555 
 
 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. 
 
 u Fly every foe to elegance and grace, 
 
 Each yawning hollow, each divided space; 560 
 
 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, 565 
 
 That pall with ugliness, or awe with fear. 
 
 x Extremus labor. In tabulas demissa fenestris 
 Si fuerit lux parva, color clarissimus esto : 
 
 Vividus at contra, obscurusque, in lumine aperto. 405 
 y Quae vacuis divisa cavis, vitare memento ; 
 
 Trita, minuta, simul quae non stipata deliiscunt, 
 
 Barbara, cruda oculis, rugis fucata colorum ; 
 
 Luminis umbrarumque tonis aequalia cuncta ; 
 
 Foeda, cruenta, cruces, obscoen a, ingrata, chimeras, 410 
 Sordidaque et misera, et vel acuta, vel aspera tactu j 
 
 ' LIV. The quantity of light 
 and shade to be adapted to the 
 place of the Picture. 
 
 u LV. Things which are dis- 
 agreeable in painting to be 
 avoided. 
 
 * LIV. Quantitas luminis 
 loci in quo Tabula est expo- 
 nenda. 
 
 y LV. Errores et vitia 
 Picturee. 
 
And all that chaos of sharp broken parts, 
 
 Where reigns confusion, or whence discord starts. 
 
 z Yet hear me, Youths ! while zealous ye forsake 
 Detected faults, this friendly caution take, — 570 
 
 Shun all excess ; and with true wisdom deem, 
 
 That vice alike resides in each extreme. 
 
 a Know, if supreme perfection he your aim, 
 
 If classic praise your pencil hope to claim. 
 
 Your noble outlines must be chaste, yet free, 575 
 
 Connected all with studied harmony : 
 
 Few in their parts, yet those distinct and great ; 
 
 Your Colouring boldly strong, yet softly sweet. 
 
 b Know, he that well begins has half achiev’d 
 His destin’d work. Yet late shall be retriev’d 580 
 
 Quteque dabunt formae, temere congesta, ruinam, 
 Implicitas aliis confundent mixtaque partes. 
 
 c Dumque fugis vitiosa, cave in contraria labi 
 Damna mali; vitium extremis nam semper inhaeret. 41 5 
 d Pulchra gradu summo, graphidos stabilita vetustae 
 Nobilibus signis, sunt grandia, dissita, pura, 
 
 Tersa, velut minime confusa, labore ligata, 
 
 Partibus ex magnis paucisque efficta, colorum 
 Corporibus distincta feris, sed semper amicis. 420 
 
 e Qui bene coepit, uti facti jam fertur habere 
 
 * LVI. The prudential part 
 of a Painter. 
 
 ‘ LVII. The idea of a beauti- 
 ful Picture. 
 
 b LV1II. Advice to a young 
 Painter. 
 
 c LVI. Prudentia in Pictore. 
 
 d LVII. Elegantium Idasa 
 Tabular uni. 
 e LVIII. Pictor tyro. 
 
[ 63 J 
 
 That time mis-spent, that labour worse than lost. 
 
 The young disciple, to his dearest cost, 
 
 Gives to a dull preceptor’s tame designs; 
 
 His tawdry colours, his erroneous lines, 
 
 Will to the soul that poison rank convey, 585 
 
 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. 590 
 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, 595 
 And add what self-reflection ne’er can reach. 
 
 Dimidium ; picturam ita nil sub limine primo 
 Ingrediens, puer offendit damnosius arti, 
 
 Quam varia errorum genera, ignorante magistro, 
 
 Ex pravis libare typis, mentemque veneno 425 
 
 Inficere, in toto quod non abstergitur aevo. 
 
 Nec graphidos rudis artis adhuc cito qualiacunque 
 Corpora viva super studium meditabitur, ante 
 Illorum quam symmetriam, interriodia, formarn 
 Noverit, inspectis, docto evolvente magistro, 430 
 
 Arclietypis , dulcesque dolos prsesenserit artis. 
 
 Plusque manu ante oculos quam voce docebitur usus. 
 
C G4 ] 
 
 f Oft, when alone, the studious hour employ 
 On what may aid your art, and what destroy ; 
 s Diversity of parts is sure to please, 
 
 If all the various parts unite with ease ; 600 
 
 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, 605 
 
 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. 610 
 
 h Quaere artem quaecunque juvant j fuge quaeque 
 repugnant. 
 
 1 Corpora diversae naturae juncta placebunt ; 
 
 Sic ea quae facili contempta labore videntur : 435 
 
 iEthereus quippe ignis inest et spiritus iliis j 
 Mente diu versata, manu celeranda repenti. 
 
 Arsque laborque operis grata sic fraude latebit : 
 
 Maxima deinde erit ars, nihil artis inesse videri. 
 
 r LIX. Art must be subser- 
 vient to the Painter. 
 
 s LX. Diversity and facility 
 are pleasing. 
 
 h LIX. Ars debet servire 
 Pictori, non Pictor Arti. 
 
 ' LX. Oculos recreant diver- 
 sitas et operis facilitas, quae 
 speciatim Ars dicitur. 
 
[ 65 ] 
 
 This to obtain, let taste with judgment join’d 
 The future whole infix upon thy mind j 
 Be there each line in truth ideal drawn, 
 
 Or ere a colour on the canvass dawn j 
 
 Then as the work proceeds, that work submit 615 
 
 To sight instinctive, not to doubting wit j 
 
 1 The eye each obvious error swift descries. 
 
 Hold then the compass only in the eyes. 
 
 Give to the dictates of the learn’d respect, 
 
 Nor proudly untaught sentiments reject, 620 
 
 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 : 
 
 n Nec prius inducas tabulae pigmenta colorum, 440 
 Expensi quam signa typi stabilita nitescant, 
 
 Et menti praesens operis sit pegma futuri. 
 
 ° Praevaleat sensus rationi, quae officit arti 
 Conspicuae ; inque oculis tantummodo circinus esto. 
 
 p Utere doctorum monitis, nec sperne superbus 445 
 Diseere, quae de te fuerit sententia vulgi : 
 
 Est coecus nam quisque suis in rebus, et expers 
 Judicii, prolemque suam miratur amatque. 
 
 k LXI. The Original must be 
 in the head, and the Copy on 
 the cloth. 
 
 1 LXII. The Compass to be in 
 the eyes. 
 
 m LXIII. Pride an enemy to 
 good painting. 
 
 n LXI. Archetypus in mcnte, 
 Apographus in tela. 
 
 0 LXII. Circinus in oculis. 
 
 p LXIII. Superbia pictori 
 nocet plurimum. 
 
 VOL. hi. 
 
 F 
 
[ 66 ] 
 
 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. 
 
 q 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. 
 
 625 
 
 630 
 
 635 
 
 640 
 
 Ast ubi consilium deerit sapientis amici, 
 
 Id tempus dabit, atque mora intermissa labori. 4! 
 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, nocet sibi, nec placet ulli. 
 
 < r Cumque opere in proprio soleat se pingere pictor, 
 (Prolem adeo sibi ferre parem natura suevit,) 4 
 
 Proderit imprimis pictori yvuQi vboivtov, 
 
 Ut data quae genio colat, abstineatque negatis. 
 
 ’ LXIV. Know thyself. 
 
 r LXIV. Nosce teipsum. 
 
[ «7 ] 
 
 But as the blushing fruits, the breathing flowers, 
 Adorning' Flora’s and Pomona’s bowers. 
 
 When forcing fires command their buds to swell. 
 Refuse their dulcet taste, their balmy smell- 
 So Labour’s vain extortion ne’er achieves , 
 
 That grace supreme which willing Genius gives. 
 
 s 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. ( 
 
 ‘ When shines the morn, when in recruited course 
 The spirits flow, devote their active force 
 To every nicer part of thy design, 
 
 D But pass no idle day without a line : 
 
 Fructibus utque suus nunquam est sapor, atque venustas 
 hloribus, msueto in fundo, praecoce sub anni 460 
 
 Tempore, quos cultus violentus et ignis adegit: 
 
 Sic nunquam, nimio quae sunt extorta labore, 
 
 Et picta invito genio, nunquam ilia placebunt. 
 
 x Vera super meditando, manus labor improbus adsit ; 
 Nec tamen obtundat genium, mentisque vigorem, 465 
 y Optima nostrorum pars matutina dierum, 
 
 Difficili hanc igiiur potiorem impende labori. 
 
 Nulla dies abeat, quin linea ducta supersit : 
 
 * LXV - Perpetually practise, 
 and do easily what you have 
 conceived. 
 
 ' VXVI. The morning most 
 proper for work. 
 
 u LXVII. Every day do- some- 
 thing. 
 
 * LXV. Quod mente conce- 
 peris manu comproba. 
 
 y LX VI. Matutinum tempus 
 labori aptum. 
 
 z LXVII. Singulis diebus 
 aliquid faciendum. 
 
[ 68 ] 
 
 a And wand’ring oft the crowded streets along, 655 
 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 he there surpriz’d. 6f,0 
 
 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 ; 
 b And while each present form the Fancy warms, 665 
 Swift on thy tablets fix its fleeting charms. 
 
 To Temperance all our liveliest powers we owe, 
 
 She bids the Judgment wake, the Fancy flow; 
 
 For her the Artist shuns the fuming feast. 
 
 The midnight roar, the Bacchanalian guest, 67C 
 
 « Perque vias, vultus hominum, motusque notabis 
 Libertate sua proprios, positasque figures 470 
 
 Ex sese faciles, ut inobservatus, habebis. 
 
 a Mox quodcumque mari, terris, et in aere pulchrum 
 Contigerit, chartis propera mandare paratis, . 
 
 Bum prsesens animo species tibi fervet hianti. 
 
 Non epulis nimis indulget Pictura, meroque 7 
 
 Parcit : Amicorum nisi cum sermone benigno 
 
 * LX VIII. The method of 
 catching natural passions. 
 
 » LXIX. Of the table-book. 
 
 c LXV1II. Affectus inobser- 
 vati et naturales. 
 d LXIX. Non desint pugib 
 
 lares. 
 
[ 69 ] 
 
 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, 67 5 
 
 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 ; 680 
 
 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, 685 
 
 True judgment guides his hand, true taste refines ; 
 Hence ceaseless toil, devotion to his art, 
 
 A docile temper, and a generous heart ; 
 
 Exhaustam reparet mentem recreata ; sed inde 
 Litibus, et curis, in coelibe libera vita, 
 
 Secessus procul a turba, strepituque remotos, 
 
 Villarum, rurisque beata silentia quserit : 480 
 
 Namque recollecto, tota incumbente Minerva, 
 
 Ingenio, rerum species prsesentior extat ; 
 
 Commodiusque operis compagem amplectitur omnem. 
 
 Infami tibi non potior sit avara peculi 
 Cura, aurique fames, modiccl quam sorte beato, 485 
 Nominis aeterni, et laudis pruritus habendae, 
 
 Condignae pulchrorum operum mercedis in sevum. 
 Judicium, docile ingenium, cor nobile, sensus 
 
[ 70 ] 
 
 Docile, his sage preceptor to obey, 
 
 Generous, his aid with gratitude to pay ; 690 
 
 Blest with the bloom of youth, the nerves of health, 
 
 And competence, a better boon than wealth. 
 
 Great blessings these ! yet will not these empower 
 His tints to charm at every labouring hour : 
 
 All have their brilliant moments, when alone 695 
 
 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 ; 7 00 
 
 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, comes contracting pain, 
 And chills the warmth of youth in every vein. 70S 
 
 Sublimes, firmum corpus, florensque juventa, 
 
 Commoda res, labor, artis amor, doctusque magister : 
 
 Et quamcumque voles occasio porrigat ansam, 49 1 
 Ni genius quidam adfuerit, sydusque benignum, 
 Dotibus his tantis, nec adhuc ars tanta paratur. 
 
 Distat ab ingenio longe manus. Optima doctis 
 Censentur, quae prava minus ; latet omnibus error ; 495 
 Vitaque tarn longae brevior non sufficit arti. 
 
 Desinimus nam posse senes, cum scire periti 
 Incipimus, doctamque manum gravat aegra senectus ; 
 Nec gelidis fervet juvenilis in artubus ardor. 
 
C 71 ] 
 
 Rise 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, 710 
 
 Conducts you to Minerva’s peaceful quire, — 
 
 Sons of her choice, and sharers 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 715 
 
 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. 
 
 e When duly taught each geometric rule, 721 
 
 Approach with awful step the Grecian school, 
 
 Quare agite, O Juvenes, placido quos sydere natos 
 Paciferae studia allectant tranquilla Minervae; 501 
 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 ; 505 
 Dum vacua error um, nulloque imbuta sapore 
 Pura nitet mens, et rerum sitibunda novarum, 
 
 Praesentes haurit species, atque humida servat ! 
 
 f In geometrali prius arte parumper adulti 
 Signa antiqua super "Graiorum addiscite formam; 510 
 
 * LXX. The method of Stu- f LXX. Ordo Studiorum. 
 dies for a young Painter. 
 
[ 72 ] 
 
 The sculptur’d reliques of her skill survey. 
 
 Muse on by night, and imitate by day ; 
 
 No rest, no pause, till, all her graces known, 7 25 
 A happy habit makes each grace your own. 
 
 As years advance, to modern masters come, 
 
 Gaze on their glories in majestic Rome ; 
 
 Admire the proud productions of their skill, 
 
 Which Venice, Parma, and Bologna fill : 730 
 
 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, 735 
 
 Seize 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 ; 
 
 Nec mora, nec requies, noctuque diuque labori, 
 
 Illorum menti atque modo, vos donee agendi 
 Praxis ab assiduo faciles assueverit usu. 
 
 Mox, ubi judicium emensis adoleverit annis. 
 
 Singula, quae celebrant primae exemplaria classis, 515 
 Romani, Veneti, Parmenses, atque Bononi, 
 
 Partibus in cunctis pedetentim, 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 formae scivit Bonarota potenter. 521 
 Julius a puero Musarum eductus in antris. 
 
 m 
 
[ 73 ] 
 
 How, by th* Aonian powers their smile bestow’d, 
 
 His pencil with poetic fervour glow’d ; 740 
 
 When faintly verse Apollo’s charms convey’d, 
 
 He op’d the shrine, and all the god display’d : 
 
 His triumphs more than mortal pomp adorns. 
 
 With more than mortal rage his battle burns ; 
 
 His heroes, happy heirs of fav’ring fame, 745 
 
 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. 750 
 
 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 5 
 His were those dear delusions of the art, 755 
 
 That round, relieve, inspirit every part ; 
 
 Aonias reseravit opes, graphic aque poesi. 
 
 Quae non visa prius, sed tantum audita poetis, 
 
 Ante oculos spectanda dedit sacraria Phoebi ; 525 
 
 Quaeque coronatis complevit bella triumphis 
 Heroum fortuna potens, casusque decoros, 
 
 Nobilius re ips& antique pinxisse videtur. 
 
 Clarior ante alios Corregius extitit, ampla 
 Luce superfusa, circum coeuntibus umbris, 530 
 
 Pingendique modo grandi, et tractando colore 
 Corpora. Amicitiamque, gradusque dolosque colorum, 
 Compagemque ita disposuit Titianus, ut inde 
 
[ 74 ] 
 
 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 wond’rous style : 760 
 
 O’er the fair fraud so close a veil is thrown, 
 
 That every borrow’d grace becomes his own. 
 
 e If then to praise like their’s your souls aspire, 
 
 Catch from their works a portion of their fire ; 
 
 Revolve their labours all, for all will teach, — 765 
 
 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 
 Whence Genius draws augmented power and force ; 
 Her precepts, best of teachers ! give the powers, 771 
 Whence art by practice to perfection soars. 
 
 Divus sit dictus, magnis et honoribus auctus, 
 Fortunseque bonis : Quos sedulus Hannibal omnes 535 
 In propriam mentem, atque modum mirS. arte coegit. 
 
 h Plurimus inde labor tabulas imitando juvabit 
 Egregias, operumque typos ; sed plura docebit 
 Natura ante oculos prsesens ; nam firmat et auget 
 Vim genii, ex illfique artem experientia complet. 540 
 Malta supersileo quce commentaria dicent. 
 
 i LXXI. Nature and Expe- h LXX1. Natura et Experi- 
 rience perfect art. entia artem perficiunt. 
 
[ 75 ] 
 
 These useful rules from time and chance to save. 
 
 In Latian strains, the studious Fresnoy gave : 
 
 On Tiber’s peaceful banks the Poet lay, 775 
 
 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 780 
 
 His thunder darted ; ( so the Flatterer sings 
 In strains best suited to the ear of kings,) 
 
 And like Alcides, with vindictive tread. 
 
 Crush’d the Hispanian lion’s gasping head. 
 
 But mark the Proteus-policy of state : 785 
 
 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, 7 50 
 
 Thro 1 all her realms bids civil discord cease, 
 
 And heals her empire's ivounds by arts of peace. 
 
 Hsec ego, dum memoror subitura volubilis sevi 
 Cuncta vices, variisque olirn peritura minis, 
 
 Pauca sophismata sum graphica immortalibus ausus 
 Credere Pieriis, Romse ineditatus : ad Alpes, 545 
 Dum super insanas moles, inimicaque castra 
 Borbonidum decus et vindex Lodoicus avorum, 
 Fulminat ardenti dextra, patriaeque resurgens 
 Gallicus Alcides premit Hispani ora leonis. 
 
[ 76 ] 
 
 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, pJj 
 Which Interest cannot blind, nor Power dismay : 
 
 So shall the Throne, thou gavst the Brunswick line, 
 Long by that race adorn'd, thy dread Palladium shine. 
 
The few Notes which the Translator lias inserted, and 
 which are marked M, are merely critical, and relate 
 only to the author’s text, or his own version. 
 
C 79 ] 
 
 NOTES 
 
 ON THE 
 
 ART OF PAINTING. 
 
 Note I. Verse S. 
 
 The rival Sisters, 8>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 : Zuypotcpiav uvou 
 
 $©EITOMENHN ryv Tlolruriv, Tlolv\<nv SI Zim2.AN tvv 
 Zuypa,<ptxv. 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. 
 
[ 80 ] 
 
 Note II. Verse 33. 
 
 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, u so much have these divine arts been ho- 
 noured in consequence 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 potest as,’ 5 which Wills justly and literally translates. 
 
 Such powers, such honours, are in arts divine. 
 
 M. 
 
 Note III. Verse 51. 
 
 ’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. V. 9. 
 
[ 81 ] 
 
 There is an absolute necessity for the painter to genera- 
 lize 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 per- 
 fect 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. V. 19. 
 
 T°. facilltate the acquisition of this ideal beauty, the 
 artist is recommended to a studious examination of 
 ancient sculpture. 
 
 Note IV. Verse 55. 
 
 Till this he learn d, how all things disagree 1 
 Hoie all one wretched , blind barbarity l 
 
 The mind is distracted with a variety of accidents, for 
 so they ought to be called rather than forms : and the 
 disagreement of those among themselves will be a per- 
 petual 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 m inis he flies, 
 Selects, combines, improves, diversifies. V. 77. 
 
 It is better that he should come to diversify on parti- 
 culars from the large and broad idea of things, than 
 
 ^OL. III. Q 
 
[82] 
 
 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 5 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 
 
 R 
 
 selection of ages. 
 
 Note V. Verse 63. 
 
 Of all vain fools with coxcomb talents curst , 
 
 The sententious and Horatian line, (says a later French 
 editor,) which, in the 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. Verse 65. 
 
 When first the orient rays of beauty move— 
 
 The original here is very obscure ; when I had trans- 
 lated 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 45, refers to 
 “ Nosse quid in natura pulchrius,” (the thing to be 
 
[ S3 ] 
 
 learned,) in line 38 : the main thing is to knoiv what 
 forms are most beautiful, and to know what forms have 
 been chiefly reputed such by the ancients. In these, 
 when once known, i. e. 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 
 paraphrase. jyf 
 
 Note VII. Verse 79. 
 
 With nimble step pursues the fleeting throng , 
 
 And clasps each Venus as she glides along. 
 
 The power 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. Verse 81. 
 
 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 imper- 
 ceptible 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 con- 
 
[ 84 ] 
 
 filled, 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 of 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 unsuccessful attempts? 
 This theory will be best understood by, and m, practice. 
 
 If Practice advances too far before iheoiy, hei guide, sh 
 
 is likely to lose her way ; and if she keeps too far behind, 
 to be discouraged. 
 
 Note IX. Verse 90. 
 
 ’Tivas not hy words Apelles charm'd mankind. 
 
 As Fresnoy bas condescended to give advice oi a 
 prudential kind, let me be permitted here to recommend 
 to the Artist to talk as little as possible of bis 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. 
 
[ 85 ] 
 
 He who has the habit of insinuating his own excel- 
 lence to the little circle of his friends, with whom he 
 comes into contact, will grow languid in his exertions to 
 fill a larger sphere of reputation : he will fall into the 
 habit of acquiescing 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 en- 
 deavours 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. II . 
 
 Note X. Verse 101. 
 
 Some lofty theme let judgment first supply, 
 Supremely fraught ivith grace and majesty. 
 
 It is a matter of great judgment to know what sub- 
 jects are or are not fit for painting. It is true that they 
 
C 86 ] 
 
 ought to he 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 sup- 
 plied 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 distinct 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 in- 
 form 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 representation ; such are those 
 subjects which consist in any long series of action, the 
 parts of which have very much dependency each on the 
 other ; or where any remarkable 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 be- 
 tween James II. and the old Earl of Bedford in the 
 council which was held just before the Revolution. 
 
[ 87 ] 
 
 This is a very striking piece of history j hut 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 some- 
 times, by good management, supply by picturesque 
 effect the want of real interest in a history. R. 
 
 Note XI. Ver. 107- 
 
 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 canvass, 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 manage- 
 ment 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 consider 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 
 colouring ; Correggio used to say, C havea i suoi disegni 
 nella stremitd de’ pennelli. The method of Rubens was 
 
to sketch his composition in colours, with all the parts 
 more determined than sketches generally are 3 from this 
 sketch his scholars advanced the picture as far as they 
 were capable 3 after which he retouched the whole him- 
 self. 
 
 The Painter’s operation may be divided into three 
 parts j the planning, which implies the sketch of the 
 general composition 5 the transferring that design to the 
 canvass 3 and the finishing or retouching the whole. If, 
 for dispatch, the Artist looks out for assistance, it is in 
 the middle stage only he can receive it 5 the first and 
 last operation must be the work of his own hand. 
 
 R. 
 
 Note XII. Ver. 108 . 
 
 Then , hold 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 capacity of forming in his imagina- 
 tion the subject in a manner best accommodated to his 
 art, though wholly borrowed from Poets, Historians, or 
 popular tradition. For this purpose he has full as much 
 to do, and perhaps more, than if the very story was in- 
 vented : for he is nound 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 3 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. 
 
[ 89 ] 
 
 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 indivi- 
 dual 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 inven- 
 tion of a Painter, is by far the greatest difficulty he has 
 to encounter. Every man that can paint at all, can exe- 
 cute individual parts ; but to keep those parts in due 
 subordination as relative to a whole, requires a compre - 
 hensive view of the art, that more strongly implies 
 genius, than perhaps any other quality whatever. R. 
 
 Note XIII. Ver. 119. 
 
 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 subservient to any other. His business is 
 something more than assisting the Historian with ex- 
 planatory figures : as soon as he takes it into his hands, 
 he adds, retrenches, transposes, and moulds it anew, till 
 it is made fit for his own art ; he avails himself of the 
 
[ 90 3 
 
 privileges allowed to Poets and Painters, and dares every 
 thing to accomplish his end, by means correspondent to 
 that end, — to impress the spectator with the same inte- 
 rest 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 suc- 
 cess, be conveyed by another : our author therefore has 
 recommended to us elsewhere to be attentive 
 
 “ On what may aid our art, and what destroy.” V. 598. 
 Even the historian takes great liberties with facts, in 
 order to interest his readers, and make 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. Verse 121. 
 
 Nor paint conspicuous on the foremost plain 
 JVhate’er is false , impertinent, or vain. 
 
 This precept, so obvious to common sense, appears 
 superfluous, till we recollect 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 painters, would allow great latitude in intro- 
 ducing 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 
 
C oi ] 
 
 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 be 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. 
 
 j 
 
 Note XV. Verse 125. 
 
 This rare, this arduous task no rules can teach. 
 
 This must be meant to refer to invention , and not to 
 the precepts immediately preceding; which relating 
 only to the mechanical disposition of the work, cannot 
 be 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. Verse 128. 
 
 Prometheus ravish’d from the car of day. 
 
 After the lines in the original of this passage, there 
 comes in one of a proverbial cast, taken from Horace : * 
 
 “ Non uti Daedaliam licet omnibus ire Corinthum.” 
 
 I could not introduce a version of this with any grace 
 
 * Horace’s line runs thus, (Epistle 17, Book I. line 36.) 
 
 Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corintkum. M. 
 
[ 92 ] 
 
 into the conclusion 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 parallel to a ridiculous English one, 
 viz. Every man’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. Verse 133. 
 
 Till all complete the gradual ivonder shone, 
 
 And vanquish’d Nature own’d herself outdone. 
 
 In strict propriety, the Grecian statues only excel 
 Nature by bringing together such an assemblage of beau- 
 tiful parts, as Nature was never known to bestow on one 
 object : 
 
 For earth-born graces sparingly impart 
 The symmetry supreme of perfect art. V. 69. 
 
 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 5 an assemblage so 
 
[ 93 ] 
 
 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 XVI. Verse 145. 
 
 Learn then from Greece, ye Youths, Proportion's laic, 
 Inform'd hy her, each just Position draw. 
 
 Du Piles has, in his note on this passage, given the 
 measures of a human body, as taken by Fresnoy fiom 
 the statues of the ancients, which are here transcribed . 
 
 a 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 j* 
 tc that is to say, from the crown of the head to the sole 
 « of the foot, in the following manner : 
 
 u From the crown of the head to the fore-head is the 
 « third part of a face. 
 
 « The face begins at the root of the lowest hairs 
 u 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 
 (e a nose. 
 
 * This depends on the age and quality of the persons. The 
 Apollo and Venus of Medicis have more than ten faces. R. 
 
[ 94 ] 
 
 tc From the pit betwixt the collar-bones to the bottom 
 “ of the breast, one face. 
 
 ee From the bottom of the breasts to the navel, one 
 “ face.* 
 
 “ From the navel to the genitories, one face.f 
 
 “ From the genitories to the upper part of the knee, 
 u two faces. 
 
 “ The knee contains half a face. 
 
 (i 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 finger of his right hand to the longest of 
 “ his left, as broad as he is long. 
 
 “ From one side of the breasts to the other, two 
 u 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, 
 u contains two faces. 
 
 “ From the box of the shoulder-blade to the pit be- 
 ee twixt the collar-bones, one face. 
 
 “ If you would be satisfied in the measures of breadth, 
 
 * The Apollo has a nose more. R. 
 
 + The Apollo has half a nose more ; and the upper half of 
 the Venus de Medicis is to the lower part of the belly, and not 
 to the privy-parts. R, 
 
[ 95 ] 
 
 £e from the extremity of one finger to the other, so that 
 « this breadth should be equal to the length of the 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 
 u arms are stretched out. 
 
 <£ The sole of the foot is the sixth part of the figure. 
 
 <e The hand is the length of a face. 
 
 “ The thumb contains a nose. 
 
 « The inside of the arm, from the place where the 
 ee muscle disappears, which makes the breast, (called 
 « the pectoral muscle,) to the middle of the arm, four 
 <e noses. 
 
 « From the middle of the arm to the beginning of 
 f£ the hand, five noses. 
 
 te The longest toe is a nose long. 
 
 « The two utmost parts of the teats, and the pit be- 
 « twixt the collar-bones of a woman, make an equilate- 
 cc ral triangle. 
 
 « For the breadth of the limbs, no precise measures 
 “ can be given, because the measures themselves are 
 ee changeable, according to the quality of the persons, 
 (e and according to the movement of the muscles.” Du 
 Piles. 
 
 The measures of the ancient statues, by Audran, ap- 
 pear to be the most useful, as they are accompanied with 
 the outline of the figures which are most distinguished 
 for correctness. R* 
 
[ 96 ] 
 
 Note XIX. Verse 151. 
 
 hut chief from her that flowing outline take , — 1 
 . The French editor,* who republished this poem ill 
 the year 1753, (eiglity-five years later than the first edli- 
 tion of Du Piles,) remarks, here, that Noeil Coypel, 
 (called Coypel le Poussin,) in a discourse which he pub- 
 lished and addressed to the French Academy, say 7 s, 
 “ 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 addls, 
 u that it is indeed almost a thing impossible to give 
 them, particularly in what regards grace and elegance 
 ie of outline, Anatomy and proportion, according to 
 iC him, may enable a person to design with correctness, 
 u but cannot give that noble part of the art, which ought 
 ee to be attributed to the mind or understanding, accord- 
 “ ing 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 pro- 
 vince which I have allotted myself in these critical 
 notes. M. 
 
 * He ca lls himself, in the Paris edition, intitled, “ L’ Ecole 
 4< d’Uranie,” Le Sieur M. D. Q,. The Abbe De Marsy’s poem, 
 intitled Pictura, is annexed to Du Fresnoy’s in that edition. 
 
[ 97 ] 
 
 Note XX. Verse 163 . 
 
 \et 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 de- 
 pended on as a certain rule. Fresnoy was not aware 
 that he was arguing from the abuse of the art of per- 
 spective, the business of which is to represent objects as 
 they appear to the eye, or as they are 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 ac- 
 knowledged that a misapplication of them is but too 
 fiequently found even in the works of the most consi- 
 derable 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 tiue according to rule, will appear mon- 
 strous. This error proceeds from placing the point of 
 distance too near the point of sight, by which means 
 the diminution of objects is so sudden as to appear un- 
 natural, 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. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 H 
 
C 98 J 
 
 Du Piles, in his note on this passage, endeavours to 
 confirm Fresnoy in his prejudice, 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 per- 
 spective. The folly of this needs no comment. I 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. Verse 163. 
 
 Yet deem not , Youths , that Perspective can give 
 Those charms complete hy which your ivorks shall live. 
 
 I 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: u 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. Dryden omitted,) says 
 thus : “ It is not in order to reject Perspective that the 
 Author speaks thus j for he advises it elsewhere in his 
 poem,* as a study absolutely necessary. Nevertheless, I 
 
 * I suppose he alludes to the 509th line : 
 
 In geometrali prius arte parumper adulti. M- 
 
[ 99 ] 
 
 own this passage is not quite clear, yet it was not my 
 rault that the Author did not make it more intelligible : 
 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 
 expression, 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 conse- 
 quence; for my own part, I can hardly be persuaded 
 that a person who has translated a work so inaccurately 
 as Du Piles has done this, “ did it under the Author’s 
 own eye, and corrected it till the version was entirely to 
 
 his own mind,” which, in his preface, he asserts was the 
 case. 
 
 Note XXII. Verse 1 75. 
 
 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 
 chui acters, be introduced in a wmrk where many figures 
 are required, care must be taken that those different 
 characteis 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 pro- 
 portional degree of corpulency of body; an aquiline 
 
[ 100 ] 
 
 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. Verse 179. 
 
 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 expressing ourselves : Painting may 
 be said, therefore, in this respect to have the superiority 
 over Poetry. 
 
 Fresnoy, however, certainly means here persons eitliei 
 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 ex- 
 travagant 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 
 
[ 1,01 ] 
 
 Artist, to observe how persons, with naturally good ex- 
 pressive features, are affected in their looks and actions 
 by any spectacle or sentiment 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 exaggerated imitation. 
 
 R. 
 
 Note XXIV. Verse 181 . 
 
 Fair in the front, in all the hlaze of light. 
 
 The hero of thy piece should meet the sight. 
 
 There can he no doubt that this figure should be 
 laboured in proportion as it 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 prin- 
 cipal light; this conduct, if always observed, would 
 reduce the art of composition to too great a uniformity. 
 
 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 requires that the inferior cha- 
 racters bear some proportion, according to their several 
 stations, to the hero of the work. 
 
[ 102 ] 
 
 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 dis- 
 position would be in reality for that reason inartificial. 
 
 R. 
 
 Note XXV. Verse 193. 
 
 In every figur'd 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, perhaps, 
 with more propriety Irave fixed his caution on the other 
 side, and recommended 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 preferable to this false refinement, 
 this ostentatious display of academic art. A greater 
 degree of contrast and variety may be allowed in the 
 picturesque or ornamental style ; but we must not forget 
 that they are tire natural enemies of simplicity, and con- 
 sequently of the grand style, and destroy that solemn 
 majesty , that soft repose , which is produced in a great 
 measure by regularity and uniformity. 
 
 An instance occurs to me where those two qualities 
 are separately exhibited by two great painters, Rubens 
 
[ 103 ] 
 
 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 Christy 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 
 constrasting more than twenty figures without confusion 
 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 Frati 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 repre- 
 sented 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 com- 
 position, had it occurred to him. 
 
 Both those 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 
 
[ 104 ] 
 
 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 excellence.* 
 
 R. 
 
 Note XXVI. Verse 217. 
 
 we still should lose 
 
 That solemn majesty , that soft repose , 
 
 Dear to the curious eye , and only found, 
 
 Where few fair objects fill an 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. Verse 223. 
 
 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 w'as 
 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 Carton of the preaching of 
 St. Paul; and Parmeggiano often showed only the head 
 and shoulders above the base of the picture. How- 
 

 [ 105 3 
 
 ever, 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 cer- 
 tainly 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 circumstances are 
 very particular, and such as are certain to produce some 
 striking effect by the breach of so just a rule. R. 
 
 Note XXVIII. Verse 243. 
 
 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 arhitress of art. 
 
 Nothing in the art requires more attention and judg- 
 ment, 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 necessary 
 to give an interest. An individual model, copied with 
 scrupulous exactness, makes a mean style, like the Dutch : 
 
[ 106 ] 
 
 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 
 wdience he borrowed his idea of beauty, which is acknow- 
 ledged superior to that of any other painter ; he said he 
 would show all the models he used, and ordered a com- 
 mon porter to sit before him, from whom he drew a 
 beautiful countenance. This was undoubtedly an exag- 
 geration 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 j 
 
[ 107 ] 
 
 which is the most disagreeable character an Artist can 
 have. R. 
 
 Note XXIX. Verse 265. 
 
 Peculiar toil on single forms bestow, 
 
 There let expression lend its finish’d gloiv. 
 
 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-con- 
 ducted 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 connection with 
 the rest ; and ought therefore never to be practised 
 except in ludicrous subjects. 
 
 It is not certain that the variety recommended in a 
 single figure can, with equal success, be extended to 
 
[ 108 ] 
 
 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 Benti- 
 voglio, 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. Verse 275. 
 
 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 ; 
 hut they should recollect there is not the same necessity 
 for this practice in painting as in sculpture. R. 
 
 Note XXXI. Verse 297. 
 
 But sparingly thy earth-born stores unfold, 
 
 Nor load with gems, nor lace ivith tawdry gold. 
 
 Finery of all kinds destroys grandeur, which in a great 
 
[ 109 ] 
 
 measure proceeds from simplicity; it may, however, 
 without impropriety be introduced into the ornamental 
 style, such as that of Rubens and Paul Veronese. R. 
 
 Note XXXII. Verse 307. 
 
 That majesty, that grace so rarely given 
 To mortal man, not taught hy art, hut 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 superadded to 
 correctness. This excellence, however expressed, whe- 
 ther we call it Genius, Taste, or the Gift of Heaven, I 
 am confident may be acquired : or the Artist may cer- 
 tainly 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 canvass. R. 
 
 Note XXXIII. Verse 315. 
 
 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 attempt this summit of excel- 
 lence, without having first laid the foundation of habitual 
 correctness, may indeed be said to build castles in the 
 air. 
 
[ no ] 
 
 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 disposition of light, or the folding of 
 drapery, will give sometimes a general air of grandeur to 
 the whole work. R. 
 
 Note XXXIV. Verse 325 . 
 
 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 canvass, without having recourse to a recol- 
 lection of those principles by which the passion required 
 is expressed. The mind thus occupied, is not likely at 
 the same time to he 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 re- 
 quired in the artist, so that he should be capable of con- 
 ceiving the passion properly before he sets about repre- 
 senting it on canvass. R. 
 
C ill ] 
 
 Note XXXV. Verse 325. 
 
 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, seem 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, I 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 conception 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. 
 
 M. 
 
 Note XXXVI. Verse 348. 
 
 Hull late awoke , the ceaseless tear to shed 
 For perish’d Art ; — 
 
 The later French editor, who has modernized the 
 style of Du Piles’s translation, says here, that “ he has 
 taken the liberty to soften this passage, and has translated 
 A T il superest , by presque rien, instead of Du Piles’s 
 
[ 112 ] 
 
 V 
 
 version, II ne nous a rien reste de leur peinture, being 
 authorised to make this change by the late discoveries 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 I have given my translation that turn. M. 
 
 Note XXXVII. Verse 349. 
 
 - for those celestial hues , 
 
 Which Zeuxis , aided by the Attic Muse , 
 
 Gave to the wond’ ring 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 j as if what has happened in the case of sculp- 
 ture, 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 
 
[ 113 ] 
 
 was to give brilliancy, and at the same time to lower the 
 too great glare of the colour: “ Quod absoluta opera 
 “ atramento Ulinebat ita tenui, ut id ipsum repercussu 
 “ claritates colorum excitaret ;~et cum ratione magna, 
 “ ne c °l°rum claritas oculorum aciem offenderet ” 
 This passage, though it may possibly perplex the critics, 
 is a true and an artist-like 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 man- 
 ner in which Correggio practised the art of glazing was 
 still more like that of Apelles, which was only percep- 
 tible to those who looked close to the picture ad manum 
 mtuenti 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 ap- 
 prove of glazing, must still acknowledge, that this prac- 
 tice 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 
 
 VOL. III. J 
 
[ 1M ] 
 
 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 dis*i 
 tinguishes their works in sculpture, were incapable of 
 expressing peculiar passions. 
 
 As to the enthusiastic commendations bestowed on 
 them by their contemporaries, I consider them as of no 
 weight. The best words are always employed to praise 
 the best works; admiration often proceeds from igno- 
 rance of higher excellence. 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 preserved for the inspection of connoisseurs 
 
[ 115 ] 
 
 two thousand years hence, the general principles of com- 
 position 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 an- 
 cient painting, we may conclude that this part of the 
 art was totally neglected, or, more probably, unknown. 
 
 They might, however, have produced single figures 
 which approached perfection both in drawing and colour- 
 ing ; they might excel in a solo, (in the language of 
 musicians,) though they were probably incapable of com- 
 posing a full piece for a concert of different instruments. 
 
 R. 
 
 Note XXXVIII. Verse 419. 
 
 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 mag- 
 nitude. 
 
[ 116 ] 
 
 Note XXXIX. Verse 421. 
 
 But yield to one alone the poieer to blaze, 
 
 And spread the extensive vigour of its rays. 
 
 Rembrandt frequently practised this rule to a degree of 
 affectation, by allowing but one mass of light ; but the 
 Venetian painters, and Rubens, who extracted his prin- 
 ciples 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 sepa- 
 rated, and varied in their shapes, and that there should 
 be at least three lights j the secondary lights ought, for 
 the sake of harmony and union, to be of nearly equal 
 brightness, though not of equal magnitude with the 
 principal. 
 
 The Dutch painters particularly excelled in the ma- 
 nagement of light and shade, and have shown, in this 
 department, that consummate skill which entirely con- 
 ceals the appearance of art. 
 
 Jan Steen, Teniers, Ostade, Du Sart, and many others 
 of that School, may be produced as instances, and re- 
 commended 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 
 
C 117 } 
 
 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 reduced to a system what was before 
 practised without any fixed principle, and consequently 
 neglected occasionally. From the Venetian painters, 
 Rubens extracted 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 
 m yself of their principles was this. Wlien I observed an 
 extraoi dinary 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 pic- 
 tuie, leaving the white paper untouched 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 experi- 
 ments I found the paper blotted nearly alike: their 
 
[ H8 ] 
 
 general practice appeared to be, to allow not above a 
 quarter of the picture for the light, including in this 
 portion both the principal 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 surrounded with the great- 
 est 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 dis- 
 tinctness to the work ; if, on the other hand, it is re- 
 lieved on every side, it will appear as if inlaid on its 
 ground. Such a blotted paper, held at a distance from 
 the eye, will strike the spectator as something excellent 
 for the disposition of light and shadow, though he does 
 
[ 119 ] 
 
 not distinguish whether it is a history, a portrait, a land- 
 scape, dead game, or any thing else ; for the same prin- 
 ciples extend to every branch of the art. 
 
 Whether l 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 consequence : 
 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 principles on which they wrought. R. 
 
 Note XL. Verse 441. 
 
 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 preserved 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 sha- 
 dow, and reflexion, yet altogether they make but one 
 broad mass of light: the slightest sketch, therefore 
 where this breadth is preserved, will have a better 
 
[ 120 ] 
 
 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 neg- 
 lected. R. 
 
 Note XLI. Verse 469. 
 
 Which mildly mixing, every social dye 
 Unites the whole in loveliest harmony. 
 
 The same method may be used to acquire that har- 
 monious 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 ascer- 
 tain 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 dispersed about the ground or 
 surrounding parts of the picture, wherever it has the 
 appearance of wanting such a foil, but sparingly em- 
 ployed in the masses of light. 
 
 I am confident that an habitual examination of the 
 
[ 121 ] 
 
 works of those painters 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 dis- 
 cordant sounds. R. 
 
 Note XLII. Verse 517. 
 
 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 person 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, 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 be 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 
 
[ 122 ] 
 
 colour of the figure ; or, as expressed in a subsequ ent 
 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 un- 
 couth or too angular, it may be lost in the ground. 
 Sometimes a light is introduced in order to join and ex- 
 tend the light on the figure, and the dark side of the 
 figure is lost in a still darker back-gronnd; for the 
 fewer the outlines are which cut against the ground, the 
 richer will be the effect ; as the contrary produces 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 fi- 
 gure would have had an ungraceful effect ; he has, there- 
 fore, 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. Ver. 523. 
 
 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 
 
[ 123 ] 
 
 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 antients called the cor- 
 ruption of the colours, by mixing and breaking them 
 till there is a general union in the whole, without 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 cany 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 ap- 
 pears like a bunch of flowers. 
 
 As I have given instances from the Dutch School, 
 where the art of breaking colour may be learned, we 
 
C 124 ] 
 
 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, winch 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 pur- 
 pose ; 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 then 
 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 
 
[ 125 ] 
 
 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 contributes not a 
 little to that exquisite beauty and delicacy which so 
 much distinguishes his works. To see this style in per- 
 fection, we must again have recourse to the Dutch 
 School, particularly to the works of the younger Vander- 
 velde, 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 predilec- 
 
r i2G ] 
 
 tion 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 pro- 
 ducing 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 colour- 
 ing 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 colouring 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 
 
[ 127 ] 
 
 be perfect in their way, will bear any union with each 
 other: 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. Verse 537. 
 
 On that high-finish’ d form let paint bestow 
 Her midnight shadow , her meridian gloiv. 
 
 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 representation. 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 defi* 
 ciency 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. 
 
[ 128 ] 
 
 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 remarked 
 when their works hang in the same room with pictures 
 well and powerfully 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. Verse 579. 
 
 Know , lie 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 produc- 
 tions of eccentric 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. Verse 584. 
 
 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 conti- 
 nually before the eyes. It were therefore well if young 
 
[ 129 ] 
 
 students could be debarred the sight of any works that 
 wez'e 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. 
 
 Note XLVII. Verse 601. 
 
 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 fascinating 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 
 ror facility, both in the invention and in the execution of 
 his work ; it makes so great a part of his excellence, that 
 if we take it away, half at least of his reputation will go 
 with it. r 
 
 Note XLVIII. Verse 61 7. 
 
 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 him : there are few parts of his 
 
 VOL. III. K 
 
[ 130 ] 
 
 figures but what are fore-sliortened 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 grammar, 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. 
 
 Note XLIX. Verse 619. 
 
 Give to the dictates of the team'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 con- 
 noisseur ; of the portrait, for instance, of an animal ; or, 
 perhaps, of the truth of the representations of some vulgar 
 passions. 
 
 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 
 
[ 131 ] 
 
 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. 
 
 Note L. Verse 70S. 
 
 Know that ere perfect taste matures the mind , 
 
 Or perfect practice to that taste he join’d,— 
 However admirable his taste may be, he is but half a 
 Painter who can only conceive his subject, and is with- 
 out 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 Angelo 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 ] equired, 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 
 ait. Excellence must of course be rare; and one of the 
 causes of its rarity, i§- the necessity of uniting qualities 
 which in their nature are contrary to each other ; and yet 
 
[ 132 ] 
 
 no approaches can be made towards perfection without 
 it. Every art or profession requires this union of con- 
 trary 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 warmth that ac- 
 companies a poetical imagination, patience and pel se- 
 verance : 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 com- 
 prehensive mind that takes in the whole at one view, and 
 at the same time an accuracy of eye or mind that dis- 
 tinguishes between two things that, to an ordinal y spec- 
 tator, appear the same, whether this consists in tints or 
 "words, or the nice discrimination on which expression 
 and elegance depend. 
 
 Note LI. Verse 715. 
 
 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 favoui 
 of a particular master, or a particular manner, and there- 
 fore 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 
 
[ 138 ] 
 
 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 j but to con- 
 tinue to think him infallible, would be continuing for ever 
 in a state of infancy. 
 
 It is impossible to draw aline 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 propor- 
 tion as the scholar learns to analyse the excellence of the 
 masters he esteems, — in proportion as he comes exactly 
 to distinguish in what that excellence 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. 
 
[ 134 ] 
 
 Note LII. Verse 721. 
 
 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 decep- 
 tion; 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 mecha- 
 nical labour, after it has acquired a relish for its higher 
 departments. 
 
 The next step is to acquire a knowledge of the beauty 
 of form; for this purpose he is recommended to the 
 study of the Grecian sculpture ; and for composition, 
 colouring, and expression to the great works at Rome, 
 Venice, Parma, and Bologna; he begins now to look 
 for those excellencies which address themselves to the 
 imagination, and considers deception as a scaffolding to 
 be now thrown aside, as of no importance to this finished 
 fabric. R. 
 
 Note LIII. Verse 725. 
 
 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 
 
[ 1S5 ] 
 
 correctness of eye which they had acquired by long 
 habit, which served them at all times, and on all occa- 
 sions, when the compass would fail. There is no rea- 
 son 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 language, that it should be begun 
 early, whilst the organs are pliable and impressions are 
 easily 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 ope- 
 rates unperceived. The mind acquires by such exercise 
 a kind of instinctive rectitude which supersedes all 
 rules. R* 
 
 Note LIV. Verse 733. 
 
 See llaffaelle there his forms celestial trace , 
 XJnrivalV 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 
 
[ 136 ] 
 
 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 
 shadow, 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 w r ell as for his profound knowledge 
 of design ; Raffaelle, for the judicious arrangement of 
 his materials, for the grace, the dignity, and the expres- 
 sion of his characters ; and Julio Romano, for possess- 
 ing the true poetical genius of painting, perhaps, in a 
 higher degree than any other painter whatever. 
 
 In heroic subjects it will not, I hope, appear too great 
 a refinement of criticism to say, that the want of natu- 
 ralness, 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- 
 coloured 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 
 
[ 137 ] 
 
 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 imperfec- 
 tion 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, Flemish, and even 
 Dutch Schools, and which have been inculcated in this 
 poem. There are some of them which are not in abso- 
 lute 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 ex- 
 cellencies, not inseparably connected with that indivi- 
 duality 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 bewild- 
 ered 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 over- 
 
[ 138 ] 
 
 look their deficiency, yet a subdued attention to these 
 inferior excellencies must he added, to complete the idea 
 of a perfect Painter. 
 
 Deception, which is so often recommended by writers 
 on the theory of painting, instead of advancing the art 
 is in reality carrying it back to its infant state : the first 
 essays of painting were certainly nothing but mere imi- 
 tation of individual objects, and when this amounted to 
 a deception, the Artist had accomplished 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 j it 
 treats only of heroes, wars, ghosts, enchantments, and 
 transformations : the Poet could not expect to seize and 
 captivate the attention, if he related only common oc- 
 currences, 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 entertain- 
 ment was required from Painting which had been expe- 
 rienced in Poetry. The mind and imagination were to 
 be satisfied, and required to be 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, but even in a certain 
 
[ 139 ] 
 
 degree counteracted the flight of imagination : 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. Verse 747* 
 
 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 succeeding 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 no- 
 thing to be wished for. Baroccio, though, upon the 
 whole, one of his most successful imitators, yet some- 
 times, 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, 
 
[ 140 ] 
 
 Note LVI. Ver. 7«7 . 
 
 Yet more than these to Meditation' s eyes 
 Great Nature’s self redundantly supplies. 
 
 Fresnoy, with great propriety, begins and finishes his 
 Poem with recommending 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 repre- 
 sented at all, the Painter has no other way of representing 
 than by reversing the decree of the inspired law-giver, 
 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 manners in 
 
[ 341 ] 
 
 which various minds have contemplated her works, the 
 artist enlarges 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, ap- 
 pear 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, expression, grace, or grandeur, 
 certainly cannot be taught by rules ; little more can be 
 
[ 142 ] 
 
 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, there- 
 fore, 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 pro- 
 duced without it ; old age, or leanness, produces straight 
 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 expected; 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 
 
[ 143 ] 
 
 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 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 en- 
 forced, 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 
 
[ M4 ] 
 
 •all the rales that relate to grouping and the disposition of 
 liglit and shade. 
 
 With regard to precepts about moderation , and avoid- 
 ing 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 bard manner is the most pardon- 
 able, 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 too heavy a hand. 
 
 In every part of the human figure, when not spoiled 
 by too 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, and practical 
 excellence, general precepts 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. 
 
[ 145 ] 
 
 Note LVII. Verse 772. 
 
 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. 
 
 “ Multa supersileo quae 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. jyj 
 
 Note LVIII. Verse 776. 
 
 What time the pride oJ~ Tioarhon. vrfd, his way ^ Sfc. 
 
 Du Piles, and, after him, Dryden, call this hero 
 Louis XIII. but the later French editor, whom I have 
 before quoted, will needs have him to be the XIV. His 
 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 the 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 succeeded him, (for he 
 
 VOL. III. L 
 
was only six years old in the year 1644,) he was guilty of 
 gross flattery. It is impossible, however, from the con- 
 struction 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 Condb 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 concluding 
 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 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, pei - 
 haps, led Fresnoy astray in this passage. However this 
 be, Hercules killed so many lions, besides that which 
 constituted the first of his twelve labours, that either he, 
 or at least some one of his namesakes, may well be sup- 
 posed 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 Qra mean any more than the 
 jaws of a single beast. So Lucan, lib. iv. ver. : 
 
 * Avidam rigens Dircenna placabit sitira, 
 
 Et Semea, qua vincit nives. 
 
 Marl. lib. i. Epig. 50 de Hisp . loc. 
 
 M. 
 
[ 147 ] 
 
 Quippe ubi non sonipes motus clangore tubarum 
 
 Saxa quatit pulsu, rigidos vexantia frmnos 
 
 Ora terens ]V| > 
 
 Note LIX. Verse 785. 
 
 Hut mark the Proteus -'policy of state. 
 
 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 Commentator, 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, mentioned 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. 
 
 THE END OP THE NOTES. 
 
The Precepts which Sir Joshua Reynolds has illus- 
 trated, are marked in the following Table with one or 
 more Asterisks, according to the number of his Notes 
 
A 
 
 TABLE 
 
 OF THE RULES 
 
 CONTAINED IN THE FOREGOING 
 
 POEM. 
 
 ^ Of the Beautiful * * * _ _ p a g e 
 
 II. Of Theory and Practice * * _ - 28 
 
 HI. Of the Subject * - - - 29 
 
 Invention, the first part of Painting * * 29 
 
 IV . Disposition, or ceconomy of the whole - 30 
 
 V. The Subject to be treated faithfully * _ 30 
 
 VI. Every foreign ornament to be rejected * * * 30 
 
 VII. Design or Position, the second part of Paint- 
 
 ing ** - _ _ 32 
 
 VIII. Variety in the figures - - 34 
 
 IX. Conformity of the limbs and drapery to the head * 34 
 
 X. Action of mutes to be imitated * - _ 34 
 
 XI. The principal figure * 34 
 
 XII. Groups of figures - 35 
 
 XIII. Diversity of Attitude in Groups * - 35 
 
[ 150 ] 
 
 XIV. A balance to be kept in the Picture page 36 
 
 XV. Of the number of figures * * - 37 
 
 XVI. The joints and feet - 38 
 
 XVII. The motion of the hands with the head 38 
 
 XVIII. What things are to be avoided in the Distribu- 
 tion of the Piece - - 38 
 
 XIX. Nature to be accommodated to Genius * 39 
 
 XX. The Antique the model to be copied - 40 
 
 XXI. How to paint a single figure * - 41 
 
 XXII. Of Drapery * _ - 41 
 
 XXIII. Of Picturesque Ornament - 42 
 
 XXIV. Ornament of gold and jewels * 43 
 
 XXV. Of the Model - - 43 
 
 XXVI. Union of the piece 43 
 
 XXVII. Grace and Majesty * - 43 
 
 XXVIII. Every thing in its proper place - 44 
 
 XXIX. The Passions * * * - ~ ^4 
 
 XXX. Gothick ornament to be avoided - 45 
 
 Colouring, the third Part of Painting * - 46 
 
 XXXI. The conduct of the Tints of Light and Shadow 48 
 XXXII. Dense and opaque bodies with translucent 
 
 ones 50 
 
 XXXIII. There must not be two equal lights in the 
 
 Picture * * - ~ ~ 51 
 
 XXXIV. Of white and black - 53 
 
 XXXV. The reflection of colours _ - 53 
 
 XXXVI. The union of colours - - 54 
 
 XXXVII. Of the interposition of air - - 55 
 
[ 151 ] 
 
 XXXVIII. The relation of distances page 55 
 
 XXXIX. Of bodies which are distanced - 56 
 
 XL. Of contiguous and separated bodies - 56 
 
 XLI. Colours very opposite to each other never to be 
 
 joined 56 
 
 XLII. Diversity of Tints and Colours 56 
 
 XLIII. The choice of Light. - * 5 7 
 
 XLIV. Of certain things relating to the practical 
 part 57 
 
 XLV. The Field of the Picture '* - 58 
 
 XLVI. Of the Vivacity of Colours * - - 58 
 
 XLVII. Of Shadows - - 59 
 
 XLVIII. The Picture to be of one piece - 59 
 
 XLBC The Looking-glass the Painter’s best master 59 
 L. A half Figure or a whole one before others * 59 
 
 LI. A Portrait - _ _ 60 
 
 LII. The place of the Picture - 60 
 
 LIII. Large lights 60 
 
 LIV . The quantity of light and shade to be adapted 
 
 to the place of the Picture - 6i 
 
 LV. Things which are disagreeable in painting to 
 
 be avoided - _ 61 
 
 LVI. The prudential part of a Painter 62 
 
 LVII. The idea of a beautiful Picture - - 62 
 
 LVIII. Advice to a young Painter * * - - 62 
 
 LIX. Art must be subservient to the Painter 64 
 
 LX, Diversity and facility are pleasing * 64 
 
[ 152 ] 
 
 LXI. The Original must be in the head, and the 
 
 Copy on the cloth - - page 65 
 
 LXII. The Compass to be in the eyes * - - 65 
 
 LXI II. Pride an enemy to good painting * 65 
 
 LXIV. Know thyself - - - - - 66 
 
 LXV. Perpetually practise, and do easily what you 
 
 have conceived - - - 67 
 
 LXVI. The morning most proper for work - 67 
 
 LXVII. Every day do something 67 
 
 LXVIII. The Method of catching natural Passions 68 
 LXIX. Of the Table-book * * - - 68 
 
 LXX. The method of Studies for a young Painter 
 
 #*** _ _ _ 71 
 
 LXXI. Nature and Experience perfect Art * 74 
 
The following little piece has been constantly annexed to 
 M. du Fresnoy’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. Dryden, 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. 
 
THE 
 
 SENTIMENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLES ALPHONSE DU FRESNOY, 
 
 OF THE WORKS OF THE 
 
 PRINCIPAL AND BEST PAINTERS OF THE TWO 
 LAST AGES. 
 
 Tainting was in its perfection amongst the Greeks. 
 The principal Schools were at Sicyon, afterwards at 
 Rhodes, at Athens, and at Corinth, and at last in Rome. 
 Wars and luxury having overthrown the Roman empire, 
 it was totally extinguished, 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 of Florence, of which Domenico Ghir- 
 landaio was one, who was master to Michael Angelo, 
 and had some kind of reputation, though his manner 
 was Gothic, and very dry. 
 
 Michael Angelo, his disciple, flourished in the time* 
 
[ 158 ] 
 
 of Julius II.; LeoX.; 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 outlines .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 extravagant 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 Flo- 
 rence, the Capitol, the Palazzo Farnese, and his own 
 house are sufficient testimonies of it. His disciples were 
 Marcello Venusti, II Rosso, Georgio Vasari, Fra. Bas- 
 tiano, (who commonly painted for him,) and many other 
 Florentines. 
 
 Pietro Perugino designed with sufficient knowledge 
 of Nature ; but he is dry, and his manner little. His 
 disciple was 
 
[ 159 ] 
 
 Raffaelle Santio, who was born on Good-Friday, 
 in the year 1483, and 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 man- 
 ner as Correggio : nor has he any thing of the contrast 
 of light and shadow, or so strong and free a colouring 
 as Titian ; but he had a better disposition 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 man- 
 ner 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 por- 
 traits (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, Gau- 
 denzio, Giovanni d’Udine, and Michael Coxis. His 
 
[ 160 ] 
 
 graver was Mark Antonio, whose prints are admirable 
 for the correctness of their outlines. 
 
 Julio Romano was the most excellent of all Raffaelle’s 
 disciples : he had conceptions which were more extra- 
 ordinary, 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 his pro- 
 ductions, that he was desirous to restore to practice the 
 same forms and fabrics which were ancient. He had 
 he good fortune to find great persons, who committed 
 to him the care of edifices, vestibules, and porticoes, all 
 tetrastyles,xistes, theatres, and such other places as are not 
 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 un- 
 graceful 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 admirable 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 
 
[ 161 j 
 
 for freezes, as we may see by those of white and black, 
 which he has painted at Rome. He imitated the antients, 
 but his manner was greater than that of Julio Romano ; 
 nevertheless Julio seems to be the truer. Some admi- 
 rable 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. Rellino, one of the first who was of any con- 
 sideration at Venice, painted very drily, according to the 
 manner of his time. He was very knowing both in ar- 
 chitecture 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 afterwards to be found in Titian’s pictures. 
 He diessed his figures wonderfully well : and it may be 
 tiuly 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. 
 
 1 itian 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 
 
 VOL. III. M 
 
[ 162 ] 
 
 noble, with a certain pleasing negligence 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 a 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 years’ 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, be perfectly 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 sons. 
 
 Paulo Veronese was wonderfully graceful in his airs 
 of women, with great variety of brilliarlt draperies, and 
 incredible vivacity and ease j nevertheless his composi- 
 
[ 1G3 ] 
 
 tion is sometimes improper, and his design incorrect : 
 but his colouring, and whatsoever depends on it, is so 
 very charming in 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 sometimes also greatly extravagant. 
 He had au admirable genius for painting, but not so 
 great an affection for his art, or patience in the execu- 
 tive 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 admi- 
 rable. 
 
 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. 
 
 Correggio painted at Parma two large cupolas in 
 fresco, and some altar-pieces. This artist struck out cer- 
 tain natural and unaffected graces for his Madonnas, his 
 saints, and little children, which were peculiar to him- 
 self. 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, 
 
C 164 ] 
 
 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 shadowings, which he 
 placed out of the masses ; and those give them this re- 
 lief, 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 Lom- 
 bard 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 unpleas- 
 ing; but his manner of designing heads, hands, 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 co- 
 louring, excelled also both in invention and design : with 
 a genius full of delicacy and spirit, having nothing that 
 was ungraceful in his choice of attitudes, or in the dresses 
 
[ 165 ] 
 
 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 dis- 
 ciples, but they are known only to those of their own 
 province ; and besides, there is little to be credited of 
 what their countrymen say, for Painting is wholly ex- 
 tinguished 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 clear- 
 ness which Guido, the scholar of Hannibal, afterwards 
 imitated with great success. There are some of his 
 pictures to be seen, which are very beautiful, 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; ex- 
 cepting only, that you see not in his pictures the noble- 
 ness, 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 
 
[ 166 ] 
 
 Painter, and an admirable Graver, He had a natural so% 
 called Antonio, who died at the age of thirty-five ; and 
 who (according to the general opinion) would have sur- 
 passed 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 Badouocchi designed the best of all his disci- 
 ples ; but he died young. 
 
 Domeniciijno was a very knowing Painter, and very 
 laborious, but of no gre t natural endowments. It is true, 
 he was profoundly skilled in all the parts of Painting, but 
 wanting 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 parts of Painting, and 
 a polite scholar. 
 
[ 167 ] 
 
 Landfranc, a man of a great and sprightly wit, sup- 
 ported his reputation for a long time with an extraor- 
 dinary gusto of design and colouring : but his foundation 
 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 3 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 Han- 
 nibal 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, Holbien, Aldegrave, &c. who were all contem- 
 poraries. Amongst these, Albert Durer and Holbien 
 were both of them wonderfully knowing, and had cer- 
 tainly 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 Holbien, 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 antient Painters, but also to the highest employments 
 
[ 168 ] 
 
 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 stayed 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 parts 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 Titian, Paulo Veronese, and 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 moderation 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. 
 
THE 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 MR DRYDEN TO HIS TRANSLATION, 
 
 CONTAINING A PARALLEL BETWEEN 
 
 POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
It was thought proper to insert in this place the pleasing 
 Preface which Mr. Dryden 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. 
 
C 171 ] 
 
 MR. DRYDEN’S 
 
 PREFACE: 
 
 WITH A PARALLEL OF 
 
 POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
 It may be reasonably expected, that I should say some- 
 thing 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 per- 
 fectly understood the rules of Painting; who gave the 
 best and most concise instructions fbr 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 excel- 
 lencies 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 
 
[ 172 ] 
 
 other, to make a perfect judgment of good pictures, and 
 to value them more or less, when compared with another, 
 there is farther required 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, Ruoens, and Vandyck, (one of them admirable 
 foi histoiy-painting, and the other two for portraits,) but 
 of many Flemish masters, and those not inconsiderable, 
 though for design not equal to the Italians. And of these 
 lattei 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 fieely own that I thought mysell uncapable of perform- 
 ing 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 sufficiently 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 assistance 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 have effectually per- 
 formed 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 himself of a tolerable translation j not 
 
[ 173 ] 
 
 elegant^ for I proposed not that to myself, but familial'; 
 clear, and instructive : in any of which parts, if I have 
 failed, the fault lies wholly at my door. In this one par- 
 ticular only, I must beg the reader’s pardon : the prose 
 Translation of the Poem is not free from poetical expres- 
 sions, and I dare not promise that some of them are not 
 fustian, 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 Transla- 
 tion ; and I may confidently say, that whoever had 
 attempted it, must have fallen into the same inconve- 
 nience, or a much greater, that of a false version. When 
 I undertook 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 entertaining 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 busi- 
 ness 3 and I was so sensible of it before-hand, that I had 
 not now committed it, unless some concernments 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 some- 
 thing farther of this art; and to make some observations 
 on it, in relation to the likeness and agreement which it 
 has with Poetry, its sister. Biit before I proceed, it will 
 ■ not be amiss, if I copy from Bellori (a most ingenious 
 
[ 174 ] 
 
 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 excellen- 
 cies ; 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 incorruptible 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 al- 
 tered ; 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 imitat- 
 ing the divine Maker, form to themselves, as well as 
 they are able, a model of the superior beauties ; and re- 
 flecting 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. 
 
 (i 1 his idea, which we may call the Goddess of Paint- 
 
[ 175 ] 
 
 ing and of Sculpture, descends upon the marble and the 
 cloth, and becomes the original of those arts ; and be- 
 ing 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 and excellent example of the mind, by imi- 
 tation of which imagined form, all things are represented 
 which fall under human sight : such is the definition 
 which is made by Cicero, in his book of the Orator to 
 Brutus. £ As, therefore, in forms and figures, there is 
 
 < somewhat which is excellent and perfect, to which 
 « imagined species all things are referred by imitation, 
 e 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 confirm- 
 £ ed 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 
 i 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 
 
C W ] 
 
 judicious choice of several bodies, all of them the most 
 elegant which he 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 perfec- 
 tion of the fairest statues. Thus Nature, on this account, 
 is so much inferior to Art, that those Artists who pro- 
 pose 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 ’ AvQgu7roy()x<poi;, 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 diawn the worst likeness. Lysippus, of old, up- 
 braided 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 astonish- 
 ment in those who beheld his statues, with the forms 
 
C 177 ] 
 
 vhich 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 con- 
 template 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 Tyanaeus says the same 
 in other words, that the fancy more instructs the Pain- 
 ter than the imitation ; for the last makes only the 
 things which it sees, but the first makes also the things 
 which it never sees. 
 
 u 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 Raffaelle, the greatest of all 
 modern Masters, writes thus to Castiglione, concerning 
 his Galatea : ‘ To paint a fair one, it is necessary for 
 f me to see many fair ones ; but because there is so 
 c great a scarcity of lovely women, I am constrained to 
 ( make use of one certain idea, which I have formed to 
 c 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 
 
 N 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
[ 178 j 
 
 steward of the house) to Pope Urban Till, in this man- 
 ner : 4 I wish I had the wings of an angel, to have 
 4 ascended into Paradise, and there to have beheld the 
 4 forms of those beatified spirits, from which I might 
 4 have copied my Archangel : but not being able to 
 4 mount so high, it was in vain for me to search his re- 
 4 semblance here below ; so that I was forced to make 
 4 an introspection into my own mind, and into that idea 
 4 of beauty, which I have formed in my own imagina- 
 4 tion. I have likewise created there the contrary idea 
 4 of deformity and ugliness ; but I leave the considera- 
 4 tion of it till I paint the Devil, and, in the mean time, 
 4 shun the very thought of it as much as possibly I can, 
 4 and am even endeavouring to blot it wholly out of my 
 4 remembrance.’ There was not any lady in all an- 
 tiquity 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 there- 
 fore 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 com- 
 pared 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 
 
[ 179 ) 
 
 fairest of the Centaurs, celebrates him as next in perfec- 
 tion to the most admirable statues : 
 
 Gratus in ore vigor, cervix, humerique, manusque, 
 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 sequoreis 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 j 
 They made her live, but he advanc’d to heaven. 
 
 u The idea of this beauty is indeed various, according 
 to the several forms 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 an- 
 other : Hercules and Cupid are perfect beauties, though 
 
[ 180 ] 
 
 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 natu- 
 ral beauties, perfectionate the idea, and advance their 
 art, even above Nature itself, in her individual pro- 
 ductions, which is the utmost mastery of human per- 
 formance. 
 
 “ From hence arises that astonishment, and almost 
 adoration, which is paid by the knowing to those divine 
 remains of antiquity. From hence Phidias, Lysippus, 
 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 
 
[ 181 ] 
 
 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 contem- 
 plate 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 accus- 
 tomed 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 1 will trans- 
 late it almost word for word : iC 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 
 <c passions whom he represents, and to make the dumb 
 “ as it were to speak : he must yet further understand 
 “ what is contained in the constitution of the cheeks, in 
 (e the temperament of the eyes, in the naturalness (if I 
 may so call it) of the eye-brows 3 and, in short, what- 
 
[ 182 ] 
 
 “ soever belongs 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, 
 u he will be able to paint whatsoever is proportionable 
 e< to any one. And even in all this there is a sweet error 
 <e without causing any shame ; for the eyes and mind of 
 cc Ae beholders being fastened on objects which have no 
 “ real being, as if they were truly existent, and being 
 ce induced by them to believe them so, what pleasure is 
 e( it not capable of giving ? The antients, and other wise 
 “ men, have written many things concerning the sym- 
 <c metry, 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 
 ic to undertake the expression of those motions which 
 <e 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 
 ct this matter, it will be found, that the Art of Painting 
 “ ^as a wonderful affinity with that of Poetry, and there 
 “ is betwixt them a certain common imagination. For 
 cc as the Poets introduce the gods and heroes, and all 
 u those things which are either majestical, honest, or 
 1 delightful ; in like manner, the Painters, by the virtue 
 
[ 183 ] 
 
 “ of their outlines, colours, lights, and shadows, repre- 
 “ sent the same things and persons in their pictures/’ 
 Thus, as convoy ships either accompany, or should ac- 
 company 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 rela- 
 tion betwixt Painting and Poetry, and thither the great- 
 est 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 Paint- 
 ing, 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 un- 
 dertakings, and to draw from thence, as from a store- 
 house, 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 particular persons, 
 so neither is it in the characters of comedy and tragedy, 
 which are never to be made perfect, but always to be 
 
[ 184 J 
 
 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 appearance, if they were only ficti- 
 tious, or imaginary. The perfection of such stage cha- 
 racters consists chiefly in their likeness to the deficient 
 faulty nature, which is their original ; only (as it is ob- 
 served 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 Anti- 
 gonus, 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 
 imperfections must not be taken away from the charac- 
 ters ; 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 them- 
 selves : 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 
 ipisfortunes would produce impious thoughts in the 
 
[ 185 ] 
 
 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 imper- 
 fections 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 produce 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 oc- 
 casioned 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 per- 
 fect 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 
 
[ 186 ] 
 
 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 laugh- 
 ing ; 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 perfection from which both the 
 Epic Poet and the History Painter draws, yet all perfec- 
 tions are not suitable to all subjects, but every one must 
 be designed according to that perfect beauty which is 
 proper to him : an Apollo must be distinguished from a 
 Jupiter, a Pallas from a Venus; and so in Poetry, an 
 iEneas from any other hero, for piety is his chief per- 
 fection. 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 im- 
 perfection, 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 principal intention : 
 
[ 187 ] 
 
 for the moral (as Bossu observes) is the first business of 
 the Poet, as being the ground-work of his instruction. 
 This being formed, he contrives such a design or fable, 
 as may be most suitable to the moral; after this he 
 begins 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 man- 
 ners of the hero ought to be good in perfection, I con- 
 tradict not the Marquis of Normanby’s opinion, in that 
 admirable verse, where, speaking of a perfect character, 
 he calls it 
 
 u A faultless monster, which the world ne’er knew 
 
 For that excellent critic intended only to speak of dra- 
 matic 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 
 
[ 188 ] 
 
 advantage 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 immoral, low, or filthy in 
 them ; but this being treated at large in the book itself, 
 I wave it, to avoid repetition. Only I must add, that, 
 though Catullus, Ovid, and others, were of another opi- 
 nion, that the subjects 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 proba 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 
 
[ 189 ) 
 
 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 JE/neis, 
 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 
 which he must discover himself as much as them. The 
 altar-pieces, and holy decorations of Painting, show that 
 Art may be applied to better uses, as well as Poetry ; and 
 amongst many other instances, the Farnese Gallery, 
 painted by Hannibal Carracci, is a sufficient witness yet 
 remaining : the whole work being morally instructive, 
 and particularly the Hercules Bivium, which is a perfect 
 triumph of virtue over vice, as it is wonderfully well 
 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 
 
[ 100 ] 
 
 an JEneas, the sacrifice of an Iphigenia ; for heroines as 
 well as heroes are comprehended in the rule. But the 
 parallel is more complete in tragedy than in an epic 
 poem : for as a tragedy may be made out of many par- 
 ticular 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 gulpli, and the two Decii sacrificing them- 
 selves 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 sup- 
 posed 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 besieging 
 it. Virgil introduces his iEneas sometimes in Sicily, 
 sometimes in Carthage, and other times at Cumae, before 
 he brings him to Laurentum; and even after that, he 
 wanders again to the kingdom of Evander, and some 
 
[ 191 ] 
 
 parts of Tuscany, before he returns to finish the war by 
 the death of Turnus. But tragedy, according to the 
 practice of the antients, was always confined within the 
 compass 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 city, 
 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 without 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 ob- 
 jects 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, which represents the Institution of 
 the blessed Sacrament, you see our Saviour and his twelve 
 disciples, all concurring in the same action, after different 
 manners, and in different postures ; only the manners of 
 
[ 192 3 
 
 Judas are distinguished from the rest. Here is but one 
 indivisible point of time observed ; but one action per- 
 formed 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 pictures, 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 repre- 
 sentation 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 repre- 
 sentation 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, incon- 
 sistent with the characters of mankind. Grotesque 
 Painting is the just resemblance of this ; and Horace 
 begins his Art of Poetry, by describing such a figure with 
 
[ 193 ] 
 
 a man’s head, a horse’s neck, the wings of a bird, and a 
 fish’s tail, parts of different species jumbled together, ac- 
 cording 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 two-pence. Laughter is indeed 
 the propriety of a man, but just enough to distinguish 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 public 
 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 images of Nature, which are the adequate plea- 
 sures of the mind. But the author can give the stage no 
 better than what was given him by Nature; and the 
 actors must represent 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 instru- 
 ment 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 permit plays, (he might have added 
 farces,) as it is the prudence of a carter to put bells 
 
 O 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
[ 194 ] 
 
 Upon his horses to make them carry their burdens 
 cheerfully.” 
 
 I 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. 
 
 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 princi- 
 ples 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 
 antient 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 having 
 rejected the antient 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 abso- 
 lutely impossible.” 
 
 This is notoriously true in these two arts ; for the way 
 to please being to imitate Nature, both the Poets and the 
 
[ 195 ] 
 
 Painters in antient 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 ob- 
 tained, by following their example ; for Nature is still 
 the same in all ages, and can never be contrary to her- 
 self. 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 example 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 pre- 
 cepts of perfecting that art. It is true, that Poetry has 
 one advantage 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 testimonies 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 
 
C 196 ] 
 
 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 succeeded 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 ob- 
 serve, that neither Ariosto, nor any of his contemporary 
 Poets, ever arrived at the excellency 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 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 want- 
 
C 197 ] 
 
 ing either amongst Poets or Painters, when particular 
 rewards and prizes are proposed to the best deservers. 
 But to return from this digression, though it was almost 
 necessary, all the rules of Painting are methodically, 
 concisely, and yet clearly delivered in this present trea- 
 tise which I have translated : 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 resume my discourse, 
 following my Author’s text, though with more brevity 
 than I intended, because Virgil calls me. 
 
 <e 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 
 
[ 198 ] 
 
 in it. To inform our judgments, and to reform our 
 tastes, rules were invented, that by them we might dis- 
 cern when nature was imitated, and how nearly. I have 
 been forced to recapitulate these things, because man- 
 kind is not 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 inquiry of a philosopher, must produce 
 the same delight, which is not true. I should rather 
 assign another reason : truth is the object of our under- 
 standing, as good is of our will 5 and the undemand- 
 ing 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 j 
 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 perfect 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 deformi- 
 
[ 199 ] 
 
 ties or faults. They are imitations of the passions which 
 always move, and therefore 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, w r as sent me by Mr. Walter 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 par- 
 ticular passages in Aristotle and Horace, which aie used 
 by them to explain the Art of Poetry by that of Paint- 
 ing ; 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 neces- 
 sary 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 de- 
 pends 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 Chris- 
 tians and heathens. How to improve it, many books 
 
[ 200 ] 
 
 can teach us ; how to obtain it, none ; that nothing can 
 be done without it, all agree : 
 
 Tu nihil inviffi dices faciesve Minenff. 
 
 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 morti- 
 fication 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 antic nt 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 
 
[ 201 ] 
 
 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 j” 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 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 un- 
 necessary 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 et ara Dianae, which he men- 
 tions 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 aboU£ 
 the face, where the principal resemblance lies ; neither 
 
[ 202 ] 
 
 Is the Poet, 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 lett,” because the picture has no use of 
 them: so I 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 Pain- 
 ter is to employ the sinews of his art, for in them con- 
 sists 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 I 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 
 -Tineas must be drawn a suppliant to Dido, with respect 
 
[ 203 ] 
 
 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 therefore, 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 3 
 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 
 The Trojan chief 3 who, held at bay, from far 
 On his Vulcanian orb sustain’d the war. 
 
 .Eneas thus o’erwhelm’d on .ev’ry side, 
 
 Their first assault undaunted did abide 3 ^ 
 
 And thus to Lausus, loud with friendly threatning j 
 ery’d, J 
 
[ 204 ] 
 
 Why wilt thou rush to certain death, and rage 
 In rash attempts beyond thy tender age, 
 
 Betray’d 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 dis- 
 tinguished 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 repartees, and were only dis- 
 tinguished 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 beginning to the end ; and every actor seemed 
 to be hastening on the day of judgment. 
 
 C( Let every member be made for its own head,” says 
 our author, not a withered hand to a young face. So in 
 
[ 205 ] 
 
 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 per- 
 sons 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 paragraph, is altogether so just as it 
 might have been ; but I am sure of this which follows. 
 
 ee The principal figure of the subject must appear in 
 the midst of the picture, under the principal light, to dis- 
 tinguish it from the rest, which are only its attendants.” 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
[ 206 ] 
 
 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 concernment of the 
 Trojan camp, then beleaguered 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 Cory- 
 phaeus, 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, notwith- 
 
t 20 7 ] 
 
 standing 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. 
 
[ 208 ] 
 
 ee To make a sketch, or a more perfect mode] 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 remem- 
 brance of such things whose natures are difficult to 
 retain. 
 
 To avoid absurdities and incongruities is the same law 
 established for both 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 pas- 
 sions and motions of the mind are to be expressed ; and 
 in 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 
 
[ 209 ] 
 
 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 antients 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 j but Nature is there, which is the greatest 
 beauty. 
 
 “ In the passions,” says our Author, “ 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- 
 painting, 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 
 
 VOL. III. P 
 
[ 210 ] 
 
 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 pane- 
 gyric ; 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 compas- 
 sion ; whereas, if I had chosen a noon-day 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, notwithstanding the success which it has found 
 upon our theatre ; and in the Pastor Fido of Guarini, 
 even though Corisca and the Satyr contribute somewhat 
 to the main action : neither can I defend my Spanish 
 Friar, as fond as otherwise I am of it, from this impu- 
 tation ; 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 laughing 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 
 
1 211 ] 
 
 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, “ Con- 
 traria juxta se posita, magis elucescunt.” Thus in the 
 Scornful Lady , the usurer is sent to confront the pro- 
 digal : thus in my Tyrannic Lave, 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 w 7 ith 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, te 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 expression is that which charms the 
 reader, and beautifies the design, which is only the out- 
 
[ 212 ] 
 
 lines of the fables. It is true, the design must of itself 
 be good ; if it he 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 ; nothing can 
 become her. But granting the design to be mode- 
 rately good, it is like an excellent complexion with in- 
 different features ; the white and red well mingled on the 
 face, make what was before but passable, appear beauti- 
 ful. “ 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 antients, Zeuxis was most famous for his colouring : 
 amongst the moderns, Titian and Correggio. Of the 
 two antient 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 Gre- 
 cian : but the “ dictio Virgiliana,” the expression of 
 Virgil, his colouring, was incomparably the better ; and 
 in that I have al ways 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 in 
 
[ 213 ] 
 
 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 compari- 
 son 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 meta- 
 phors, but both must be judiciously applied; 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 Pharsalia 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 Sylvce , would have thought Statius mad in his 
 fustian description of the statue on the brazen horse : 
 
[ 214 ] 
 
 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 iEacidem, 
 formidatamque tonanti progeniem.” But Virgil knew 
 how to rise by degrees in his expressions : Statius was 
 in his towering heights at the first stretch of his pinions. 
 The description 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 j absentemque ferit gravis ungula 
 campuin. 
 
 Which would cost me an hour, if I had the leisure to 
 translate them, there is so much of beauty in the origi- 
 nal. 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 iEneis to Augustus Caesar. In the sixth (which 
 we are sure he read, because we know Octavia was pre- 
 sent, who rewarded him so bountifully for the twenty 
 verses which were made in honour of her deceased son 
 Marcell us) ; in this sixth book, I say, the Poet, speaking 
 of Misenus, the trumpeter, says. 
 
[ 215 ] 
 
 — Quo non prsestantior alter 
 
 i£re ciere viros, 
 
 and broke off in the hemistich, or midst of the verse j 
 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. 
 
 How warm, nay, how glowing a colouring is this ! In the 
 beginning of the verse, the word ces, 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 , cantu. Good heavens ! 
 
 how the plain sense is raised by the beauty of the words. 
 But this was happiness, the former might be only judg- 
 ment. This was the “ curiosa felicitas” which Petro- 
 nius 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 
 
[ 216 ] 
 
 shadows which belong to colouring, put me in mind of 
 that verse of Horace, 
 
 Hoc amat obscurum, 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 judg- 
 ment 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 expressions; 
 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 con- 
 cludes 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 
 
[ 217 ] 
 
 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, because 
 nothing then hindered the happiness of Torismond and 
 Leonora. The faults of that drama are in the kind of it, 
 which is tragi-comedy. But it was given to the people, 
 and I never writ any thing for myself but Antony and 
 Cleopatra. 
 
 This 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 colouring 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 a dull correctness, a piece without any 
 considerable faults, but with few beauties : for when the 
 spirits are drawn off, there is nothing but a (t caput mor- 
 tuum.” Statius never thought an expression could be 
 bold enough ; and if a bolder could be found, he re- 
 jected the first. Virgil had judgment enough to knotfr 
 daring was necessary; but he knew the difference be- 
 twixt a glowing colour and a glaring ; as when he com- 
 pared the shocking of the fleets at Actium to the justling 
 
[ 218 ] 
 
 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 aequos. 
 
 But here I must break off without finishing the dis- 
 course. 
 
 ££ Cynthius aurem vellit, et admonuit, Sec” the things 
 which are behind are of too nice a consideration for an 
 essay begun and ended in twelve mornings ; and per- 
 haps 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 short- 
 ness 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 I have given, set the figure on its legs, 
 and finish it in the Invention, Design, and Colouring. 
 
The following elegant Epistle has constantly been pre- 
 fixed 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 origi- 
 nal 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, preju- 
 dice his own lines. M, 
 
[ 221 ] 
 
 TO 
 
 MR. JERVAS 
 
 WITH 
 
 FRESNOY’S 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 mix’d 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 ; 
 
 * First printed in HI 6. 
 
[ 222 ] 
 
 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. 
 
 With thee, on 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 vanish’d pile to view. 
 
 And builds imaginary Rome anew. 
 
 Here thy well-study’d marbles fix our eye j 
 A fading fresco here demands a sigh : 
 
 Each heavenly piece unwearied we compare, 
 
 Match Raffaelle’s grace with thy lov’d Guido’s air, 
 Caracci’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-polish’d gem, the work of years ! * 
 
 * Fresnoy employed above twenty years in finishing this 
 Poem. 
 
[ 223 ] 
 
 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 inform’d 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 * eyes, 
 
 Each pleasing Blount shall endless smiles bestow. 
 And soft Belinda’s blush for ever glow. 
 
 * In one of Dr. Warburton’s editions of Pope, by which copy 
 this has been corrected, the name is changed to Worsley. 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. Mon- 
 tague, and being offended at her wit, thus revenged himself on 
 her beauty. 
 
[ 224 ] 
 
 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 charms, 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 
 
 PAINTERS, 
 
 FROM THE REVIVAL OF THE ART TO THE BEGINNING 
 OF THE LAST CENTURY. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 Q 
 

Instead of the short account of the lives of the Pain- 
 ters 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 following 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 cata- 
 logue kind hitherto printed on the subject. For 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. 
 
228 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Qlovanni Cimabue 
 
 Andrea Taffi 
 Giotto - - 
 
 Studied under 
 
 certain Greeks - 
 
 Apollonius, a Greek 
 Cimabue 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 Buonamico Buffalmacco 
 5 Ambrogio Lorenzetti 
 Pietro Cavallini “ 
 
 Simon Memmi 
 Andrea Orgagna 
 Tomaso Giottino - - 
 
 10 Paolo Uccello 
 
 Massolino - 
 
 first revived Paint- 
 ing 
 
 revived Mosaic 
 quilted the stiff 
 manner of the 
 Greeks 
 
 Andrea Taffi 
 Giotto 
 
 Giotto - 
 
 Giotto 
 
 imitated Giotto - 
 imitated Giotto 
 Antonio Venetiano 
 
 LorenzoGhiberti and 
 Gher. Stamina 
 
 Masaccio - - - 
 
 Fra. Giov. Angelico da 
 Fiesole - 
 
 Antonella da Messina 
 15 Fra. Filippo Lippi 
 
 Massolino 
 
 Giottino 
 
 John Van Eyck 
 Masaccio 
 
 Andrea del Castagno, 
 detto Degl’ Impiccati 
 Gentile del Fabriano 
 
 Giacomo Bellini 
 Gentile Bellini 
 20 Giovanni Bellini 
 
 
 DomenicoVenetiano 
 
 Giovanni da Fiesole 
 
 Gentile del Fabriano 
 f Giacomo their fa- 
 l ther 
 
 first who studied 
 perspective 
 gave more grace 
 lo his figures 
 and drapery 
 
 introduced oil Pa- 
 inting intoltaly 
 began to paint 
 figures larger 
 than fife 
 
 painted in oil first 
 at Florence 
 
 Cosmo Rosselii 
 Domenico Ghirlandaio 
 
 Andrea Verocchio - 
 Andrea Mantegna = 
 
 Alessand. Baldovi- 
 netti 
 
 Giacomo Squarcione 
 
 lively colouring 
 genteel designing 
 and good airs 
 observation of per- 
 spective 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 229 
 
 Fainted 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 -0 
 
 a 
 
 SB 
 
 < 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 History 
 
 Florence, Flor. 
 
 1300 
 
 60 
 
 almost all perished. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1294 
 
 81 
 
 unknown. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence - 
 
 1336 
 
 6’0 
 
 Rome, St.Peter’s, Arezzo — 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mosaics. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1340 
 
 78 
 
 Pisa, Campo-Santo. 
 
 5 History 
 
 Sienna 
 
 1350 
 
 83 
 
 
 History 
 
 Rome 
 
 1364 
 
 85 
 
 Rome, St. Paolo fuor della 
 
 
 
 
 
 Citth. 
 
 Portraits 
 
 Sienna, Florence 1345 
 
 60 
 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1389 
 
 60 
 
 Florence, the Dome. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1356 
 
 32 
 
 
 10 Birds, 
 
 Florence 
 
 1432 
 
 83 
 
 
 someHis. 
 
 
 
 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1418 
 
 37 
 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1443 
 
 24 
 
 
 Hist. Mi- 
 
 Florence, Rome 1455 
 
 68 
 
 Florence, the Palace, in the 
 
 matures 
 
 
 
 
 Apartments of the old 
 
 
 
 
 
 Pictures. 
 
 History 
 
 Messina 
 
 1475 
 
 49 
 
 
 15 History 
 
 Florence, Rome 1488 
 
 69 
 
 Florence, the 'Palace. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1480 
 
 71 
 
 
 History 
 
 Verona 
 
 1412 
 
 80 
 
 Rome, S. Giov. Laterano, 
 
 
 
 
 
 S. Mar. Maggiore. 
 
 History 
 
 Venice 
 
 1470 
 
 — 
 
 
 History 
 
 Venice 
 
 1501 
 
 80 
 
 Venice, in some cabinets. 
 
 20 History 
 
 Venice 
 
 1512 
 
 90 
 
 
 History 
 
 Florence, Rome 
 
 1484 
 
 68 
 
 Rome, Capqlla Sistina 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1493 
 
 44 
 
 Florence, Palace, Closet of 
 
 
 
 
 
 Madama. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1488 
 
 56 
 
 
 History 
 
 Padua, Mantua 
 
 1517 
 
 66 
 
 Florence, Rome, Apart. 
 
23a A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 Filippo Lippi - - 
 
 Fra. Filippo his fa- 
 
 
 Pietro Perugino - - 
 
 tber, and Sandio 
 Boticeili 
 
 Andrea Verocchio 
 
 
 Bernardino Pinturic- 
 
 Pietro Perugino 
 
 
 chio - - - - 
 
 
 Francesco Francia 
 
 Marco Zoppo 
 
 first considerable 
 
 5 Bartolomeo Ramenghi, 
 
 Francesco Francia 
 
 Master of the Bo- 
 lognese School 
 soft and fleshy co- 
 
 detto 11 Bagnacavallo 
 
 
 louring 
 
 Innocenzo Francuzzi, 
 
 Francesco Francia 
 
 correct drawing 
 
 detto da Imola 
 
 
 Francesco Tuvbido, 
 
 * Giorgione - 
 
 
 delto 11 Mauro 
 
 
 
 Luca Signoielli - - 
 
 Pietro dellaFrancesca 
 
 
 * Lionardo da Vinci 
 
 
 exquisite design- 
 
 10 * Giorgio Giorgione 
 
 imitated Lionardo ’s 
 
 mg 
 
 management of the 
 
 
 manner 
 
 clairobscure,& 
 
 * Antonio da Correggio 
 
 
 colouring 
 divine colouring 
 
 Mariotto Albertinelli 
 
 Cosmo Roselli - 
 
 and morbidezza 
 of his flesh ; an- 
 gelical grace &c 
 joyous airs of 
 his figures and 
 clair obscure 
 
 Baccio, detto Fra. Bar- 
 
 Cosmo Roselli - 
 
 
 tolomeo di S. Marco 
 
 
 
 Pietro di Cosimo 
 
 Cosmo Roselli 
 
 
 15 Raphaelino del Garbo 
 
 Filippo Lippi 
 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 231 
 
 Painted 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 Aged 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 
 
 
 merits of Innocent 8, at 
 
 History 
 
 Florence - 1505 
 
 69 
 
 the Belvedere Chapel. 
 
 History 
 
 Rnesia, Rome 1524 
 
 78 
 
 Rome, Pal. Borghese, &c. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence, Siennal513 
 
 59 
 
 Sienna, Library of the Dome ; 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - - 1518 
 
 68 
 
 Rome, Santa Croce in 
 Gierusalemme; Madonna 
 dell’ Popolo, &c. 
 Bologna, in several Churches 
 
 5 History 
 
 Bologna - - 1541 
 
 48 
 
 Bologna. 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - - 
 
 — 
 
 Bologna. 
 
 History 
 
 Verona - - 1521 
 
 81 
 
 
 History 
 
 Cortona - - 1521 
 
 82 
 
 
 Hist, and 
 
 Milan, Paris - 1317 
 
 75 
 
 Milan, the Dominicans, the 
 
 Portraits 
 10 Hist, and 
 
 Castel Franco nel 
 
 33 
 
 Academy ; Florence, Pal. 
 Pitti; Rome, Pal. Bor- 
 ghese, Barberini. 
 
 Venice ; Florence, Pal. Pitti; 
 
 Portraits 
 
 Trevigiano, Venice. 
 
 
 Rome, Pal. Pamphili. 
 
 Hist, and 
 
 1511 
 
 Correggio nel Rea;- 
 
 40 
 
 Modena, the Duke’s Col- 
 
 Portraits 
 
 giano - - 1534 
 
 
 lections ; Parma, the 
 
 History 
 
 Florence - 1520 
 
 45 
 
 Dome, Saint Antonio 
 Abbate, S. Giovanni del 
 monte, San Sepulchro ; 
 Florence, the Palace ; 
 Paris, the Palais Royal, 
 &c. ; Naples, the King’s 
 Collections. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence - 1517 
 
 48 
 
 
 Grotesq. 
 
 Florence - 1521 
 
 80 
 
 
 & monst. 
 History 
 
 Florence - 1529 
 
 58 
 
 
232 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 * Michael Angelo Buo 
 
 Domiuico Ghirlan- 
 
 great correctness 
 
 narotta 
 
 daio 
 
 of design, grand 
 
 * Raffaelle Sanzio d’ 
 
 Pietro Perugino: cor- 
 
 & terrible sub- 
 jects, protound 
 knowledge of 
 the anatomical 
 part 
 
 in every part of 
 
 Urbino * *■ 
 
 rected his manner 
 
 painting, but 
 
 
 upon seeing the 
 
 chiefly in the 
 
 
 works of Lionardo 
 
 thought, com- 
 
 
 da Vinci and Mi- 
 
 position, ex- 
 
 
 chael Angelo - 
 
 pression and 
 
 * Titiano Vecelli 
 
 Giovanni Bellini - 
 
 drawing. 
 
 the clair-obscure 
 
 Domenico Puligo - 
 
 Domenico Ghirlan- 
 
 (a all the beau- 
 ties of colour- 
 ing 
 
 5 Timoteo Urbino 
 
 daio 
 
 Raffaelle - 
 
 the same as his 
 
 Vicenzo da San Gemi- 
 
 Raffaelle - 
 
 Master 
 
 niano 
 
 
 
 Lorenzo di Credi 
 
 Andrea Verocchio, 
 
 
 
 imitated Lionardo 
 da Vinci 
 
 
 Balthazar Peruzzi - 
 
 
 
 Giovanni Francesco 
 
 Raffaelle 
 
 good imitation of 
 
 Penni, detto il Fattore 
 
 
 his Master, and 
 
 10 # Giulio Romano - 
 
 Raffaelle 
 
 great dispatch 
 his Master’s ex- 
 
 Peligrino di Modena - 
 
 . 
 
 Raffaelle 
 
 cellencies 
 
 Pierino Buonacorvi. 
 
 Raffaelle 
 
 
 detto Perin del Vago 
 
 
 
 Giovanni da Udina - 
 
 Raffaelle - 
 
 animals, flowers, 
 
 
 
 and fruits 
 
 * Andrea del Sarto 
 
 Pietro di Cosimo - 
 
 natural and grace- 
 
 
 ... - 
 
 ful airs, and cor- 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 233 
 
 Painted 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 -a 
 
 a> 
 
 SJD 
 
 C 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 History 
 
 Chiusi, presso d’Arez- 
 
 90 
 
 Rome, Capella Sistina, Ca- 
 
 Hist, and 
 
 zo ; Rome 1564 
 Urbino, Rome 1520 
 
 37 
 
 pella Paulina, S.Giovanni 
 Laterano : Florence, the 
 Palace. 
 
 Rome, the Vatican, SJPietro, 
 
 Portraits 
 Hist, and 
 
 Cadore nel Friulese ; 
 
 99 
 
 in Montorio; S. Agus- 
 tino, the Lungara, &c. 
 Florence, the Palace ; 
 France, Versailles, the 
 Palais Royal ; England, 
 Hampton-Court; Naples, 
 the King’s Collection. 
 Venice : Rome, in many 
 
 Portraits 
 
 Venice - 1576 
 
 
 Collections, &c. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence - 1525 
 
 52 
 
 
 5 History 
 
 Urbino - 1524 
 
 54 
 
 Rome, Madonna della Pace. 
 
 History 
 
 S. Geminiano 1527 
 
 52 
 
 Rome, the Vatican. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence - 1530 
 
 — 
 
 
 History, 
 
 Sienna, Rome 1536 
 
 55 
 
 Rome, Madonna della Pace. 
 
 buildings 
 
 History 
 
 Rome, Naples 1528 
 
 40 
 
 Rome, the Vatican ; Lun- 
 
 10 History 
 
 Rome, Mantua 1546 
 
 54 
 
 gara. 
 
 Rome, Vatican, &c. Man- 
 
 History 
 
 Modena - 1538 
 
 
 tua, the Palace T6. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence, Rome 1547 
 
 47 
 
 Rome, Vatican : Genoa, 
 
 Grotes- 
 
 Udina, Rome 1564 
 
 70 
 
 Pal. Doria. 
 
 Rome, Vatican, &c. 
 
 ques 
 
 History 
 
 Florence - 1530 
 
 42 
 
 Florence, the Palace, Mo- 
 
 Port. 
 
 i 
 
 
 1 nasterio de’ Scalzi, See. 
 
334 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 
 
 rect drawing ; a 
 bright manner 
 of colouring 
 
 Francia Bigio 
 
 Mariotto Albertinelli 
 
 painted in compa- 
 ny with & like 
 Andrea 
 
 Sebastiano, dettoFra del 
 
 Giov. Bellini ; 11 Gi- 
 
 painted in the 
 
 Piombo 
 
 orgione, M. Angelo 
 
 strong and cor- 
 rect manner of 
 this last, and 
 coloured better 
 
 Orazio Sammachini 
 
 11 Bagnacavallo, In- 
 nocenzo dTmola 
 
 
 Lorenzetto Sabattini 
 
 the same - - - 
 
 
 5 Prospero Fontana - 
 
 the same - 
 
 
 Lavinia Fontana 
 
 Prospero her father 
 
 
 Pelestrino Tibaldi 
 
 11 Bagnacavallo, In- 
 
 A strong Michael 
 
 
 nocenzo dTmola 
 
 Angelo manner 
 
 Primaticcio, detto il Bo- 
 
 ! he same; Julio Ro- 
 
 gentleness 
 
 logna 
 
 mano 
 
 
 Nicolo Bolognese, detto 
 Messer Nicolo 
 
 Primaticcio 
 
 
 10 11 Dosso 
 
 Lorenzo Costa, Titian 
 
 
 Bernazzano da Milano 
 
 
 
 Giov. Martino da Udina 
 
 Giov. Bellini 
 
 
 Pelegrino da SanDanielo 
 
 the same 
 
 
 Giovanni Antonio Re- 
 gillo, detto Licinio da 
 Pordenone 
 
 15 Girolamo da Trevigi 
 
 Giorgione - 
 
 fine colouring 
 
 Polidoro da Caravaggio 
 
 Raffaelle - - 
 
 the correctness of 
 design and imi- 
 tation of the an- 
 tique chiefly in 
 chiaro-scuro 
 
 11 Maturino 
 
 Raffaelle - 
 
 the same ; they 
 always painted 
 together 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS, 
 
 235 
 
 Painted. 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 T3 
 
 5c 
 
 C 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 History 
 
 Florence - 
 
 41 
 
 Rome, Pal. Borghese, &c. 
 Naples, King’s Collec- 
 tion. 
 
 History 
 
 Venice, Rome J547 
 
 62 
 
 Rome, S. Pietro in Mon- 
 
 Porir. 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - 1577 
 
 45 
 
 torio, Cap.Chigi; France, 
 Palais Royal 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - 
 
 __ 
 
 
 5 His. Pur. 
 His. Por. 
 
 Bologna - - 
 
 Bologna - - 1602 
 
 50 
 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna, Milan 1592 
 
 70 
 
 Bologna, the Academy; 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna, France 1570 
 
 80 
 
 Spain, the Escurial. 
 Fontainbleau ; Chateau de 
 
 History 
 
 Modena - 1572 
 
 60 
 
 Beauregard pres de Blois. 
 Fontainbleau. 
 
 10 History 
 
 Ferrara, Ferrara 
 
 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 
 
 
 Animals, 
 
 Milan - 1550 
 
 
 
 landsc. 
 & fruits 
 
 
 
 
 History 
 
 Udina, Venice 1564 
 
 70 
 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 
 Venice - 
 
 Pordenone nel Fri- 
 
 56 
 
 Venice. 
 
 Portraits 
 15 History 
 
 uli, Venice 1540 
 11 Trevigiano, Engl. 
 
 36 
 
 
 buildings 
 
 History 
 
 1544 
 
 Caravaggio, Messina 
 
 51 
 
 Rome, Pal. Barberini, Ma- 
 
 History 
 
 1543 
 
 Florence - 1527 
 
 37 
 
 schera d’Oro, Casa di 
 Belloni. 
 
236 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 * Francesco Mazzuolo, 
 detto II Farmegiano 
 
 Girolamo Mazzuoli 
 
 Giacomo Palma, detto 
 II Veccbio 
 Lorenzo Lotto - 
 
 5 Francesco Monsignori 
 Domenico Beccafumi o 
 Meccarino 
 Giacomo Pontormo 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Girolamo Genga 
 Giov. Antonio da Ver- 
 zelli, detto II Sodoma 
 10 Bastiano Aristotile 
 Benvenuto Garofalo 
 
 Girolamo da Carpi 
 
 Giov. Francesco Bezzi 
 detto II Nosadella - 
 Ercole Procaccini - 
 15 Bartolomeo I 
 
 & > Passerotti 
 
 tre figli ) 
 
 Francesco Salviati - 
 Giorgio Vasari 
 
 Daniel Ricciarelli, detto 
 da Volte rra 
 Taddeo Zucchero 
 
 20 Frederico Zucchero - 
 
 Bartolomeo Cesi - - 
 
 Dionigi Calvart - - 
 
 imitated Raffaelle - 
 
 Francesco, his cousin 
 
 Titian and others - 
 
 imitated Bellini and 
 Giorgione 
 
 Bellini - - - - 
 
 imitated Pietro Peru- 
 gino 
 
 Lionardo da Vinci, 
 Albertinelli ; An- 
 drea del Sarto 
 
 Pietro Perugino 
 
 jreat delicacy and 
 gentleness of 
 drawing 
 
 horn he always 
 imitated 
 
 warm and mellow 
 tints 
 
 Baldini, Lorenzo Cos- 
 ta 
 
 Garofalo, he imitated 
 Correggio 
 
 Pelegrino Tibaldi - 
 
 the same - - 
 
 the same - - - 
 
 Andrea del Sarto - 
 the same - 
 
 II Sodoma ; Baldasar 
 Peruzzi 
 
 Studied Raffaelle - 
 
 II Nosadella - - 
 
 Profepero Fontana - 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 like Raffaelle 
 
 painted with his 
 brother 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 23 7 
 
 Painted 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 i Aged 
 
 Principal -Works are at 
 
 History 
 
 Parma - 
 
 1540 
 
 36 
 
 Parma, theDome, Madonan 
 
 
 
 
 
 della Steccata ; in many 
 
 
 
 
 
 Collections. 
 
 History 
 
 Parma - - 
 
 
 
 Parma, San Sepolehro. 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Venice - 
 
 1596 
 
 48 
 
 Venice, and in several Col- 
 
 
 
 
 
 lections. 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Venice - 
 
 1544 
 
 36 
 
 
 5 Portraits 
 
 Venice - 
 
 1519 
 
 64 
 
 
 History 
 
 Sienna - 
 
 1549 
 
 65 
 
 Sienna, Pavement of the 
 
 
 
 
 
 Dome. 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1558 
 
 65 
 
 Florence. 
 
 History 
 
 Urbino - 
 
 1551 
 
 75 
 
 
 History 
 
 Sienna 
 
 1554 
 
 — 
 
 
 10 History 
 
 Florence - - 
 
 1551 
 
 70 
 
 
 History 
 
 Ferrara 
 
 1559 
 
 78 
 
 In a few Collections. 
 
 History 
 
 Ferrara 
 
 1556 
 
 55 
 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna 
 
 1571 
 
 — 
 
 Bologna. 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna 
 
 
 
 
 15 History 
 
 Bologna 
 
 
 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1563 
 
 54 
 
 Florence. 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Florence 
 
 1584 
 
 68 
 
 Rome, Santa Croce; Flo- 
 
 
 
 
 
 rence, the Palace. 
 
 History 
 
 Vol terra 
 
 1566 
 
 57 
 
 Rome, S. Triniiadel Monte, 
 
 
 
 
 
 S. Agostino. 
 
 His. Por 
 
 St. Angelo in 
 
 Vado 
 
 37 
 
 Rome, the Caprarola, Pal. 
 
 
 neir Urbino 
 
 Rome 
 
 
 Farnese. 
 
 
 
 1566 
 
 
 
 20 His. Por 
 
 Rome 
 
 160C 
 
 66 
 
 Rome, several Collections. 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna 
 
 
 7S 
 
 
 History 
 
 Antwerp, Bo- 
 
 
 
 
 
 logna 
 
 l6l < 
 
 54 
 
 . 
 
238 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 John of Bruges 
 Albert Durer - 
 
 Hubert Van Eyck 
 
 said to have in- 
 vented Oil- 
 
 Painting. 
 
 
 Hupse Martin - - 
 
 Quintin Matsys, called 
 
 Nature, high fi- 
 
 tlie Smith of Antwerp 
 Lucas Jacob, called 
 
 Cornelius Engelbert 
 
 nishing 
 
 Luca d’Ollanda 
 
 
 5 Peter Brueghel, called 
 
 Peter Koek 
 
 
 Old Brueghel 
 * John Hoi ben, called 
 
 
 great nature, ex- 
 
 Hans Holben 
 
 
 treme finishing 
 
 Roger Vandensyde - 
 
 John Van Eyck - 
 
 
 John Schorel - 
 
 Jacob Cornil - 
 
 
 Matthias Cock 
 
 
 
 10 Mai tin Heeinskirke - 
 
 John Schorel 
 
 
 Franpois Floris. called 
 
 Lambart de Liege 
 
 
 Franc- 1 'lore 
 
 
 Francesco Vecelli - 
 
 Titian, his brother 
 
 
 Orazio Vecelli - - 
 
 Titian, his father - 
 
 
 Nadalino di Murano 
 
 Titian 
 
 
 15 D.imiano Mazza - 
 
 1 itian 
 
 
 Girolamo di Titiano - 
 
 Titian 
 
 
 Paris Bordone - 
 
 Titian 
 
 
 Andrea Schiavone - 
 
 Titian 
 
 
 Alessandro Bonvincino 
 
 Titian, imitated Raf- 
 
 
 detto, 11 Moretto 
 
 faelle 
 
 
 20 Girolamo Romanino 
 
 Titian 
 
 
 11 Muttano - 
 
 Titian, Tad. Zuc- 
 
 
 
 chero 
 
 
 Pirro Ligorio . 
 
 Giulio Romano - 
 
 
 Dom Giulio Clovio 
 
 Giulio Romano - 
 
 chaste and gentle 
 
 
 
 colouring, some- 
 what of M.Ang. 
 ifi the drawing 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 239 
 
 Painted 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 ^3 
 
 V 
 
 bC 
 
 < 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Venlo in Guelders, 
 
 — 
 
 Ghent, the Cathedral. 
 
 
 Biuges - 1470 
 
 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Nuremberg - 1528 
 
 57 
 
 In many Collections. 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Antwerp - 1529 
 
 69 
 
 Antwerp, the Cathedral; 
 
 
 
 
 England, in Collections. 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Leyden - 1533 
 
 — 
 
 Leaden, Hotel de Ville, 
 
 
 
 
 many Collections. 
 
 
 Brueghel near Breda 
 
 60 
 
 
 
 1570 
 
 
 
 5 His. Por. 
 
 Basil, London 1544 
 
 46 
 
 Basil, Hotel de Ville ; 
 
 
 
 
 England in many Col- 
 
 
 
 
 lections. 
 
 History 
 
 Bruges - 
 
 
 Brussels, Hotel de Ville. 
 
 History 
 
 Alcmaer, Utrecht 
 
 67 
 
 
 
 1562 
 
 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 .Antwerp - 146' 
 
 65 
 
 
 Droll fi- 
 
 Iieemskirke, Haerlem 
 
 76 
 
 
 gures 
 
 1574 
 
 
 J 
 
 10 History 
 
 Antwerp - 1570 
 
 50 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Por. Ilis. 
 
 Venice - 1579 
 
 66 
 
 
 Portraits 
 
 Murano, Venice — — 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Venice - 1588 
 
 75 
 
 
 History 
 
 Sebenico, Venice 
 
 60 
 
 
 
 1582 
 
 
 
 History 
 
 Brescia - 1564 
 
 50 
 
 
 History 
 
 Brescia - - 1567 
 
 63 
 
 
 20 Landsc. 
 
 Biescia, Rome 1590 
 
 62 
 
 
 Portraits 
 
 
 
 
 Antique 
 
 Naples - 1573 
 
 80 
 
 
 monu- 
 
 
 
 
 ments & 
 
 
 
 
 buildings 
 
 
 
 
 Minia- 
 
 Sclavonia, Rome 1578 
 
 SO 
 
 Rome, Vatican Library ; 
 
 ture,His- 
 
 
 
 Florence, tne Palace; 
 
 tory 
 
 
 
 Naples, King's Col- 
 
 
 
 
 lection. 
 
240 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 II Bronzino, Angelo 
 Allori 
 
 Alessandro Allori - 
 Giacomo Semeriti - 
 Marcello Venusto - 
 5 Marco da Faenza 
 Girolamo da Sermo- 
 netta 
 
 Battista Naldino 
 Nicolo del Pomerancio 
 Jean Cousin - - - 
 
 Giacomo Pontormo 
 
 Bronzino, his uncle 
 Dionigi Calvart - 
 Penn del Vaga - 
 
 Perin del Vaga - 
 
 II Bronzino - 
 
 commonly upon 
 glass 
 
 10 Michael Coxis - - 
 
 Van Orlay, Raffaelle 
 
 John Bol 
 
 
 
 Peter Porbus - - 
 
 
 
 Antony More 
 George Hoefnaghel 
 
 John Schorel 
 
 
 15 Camillo Procaccini - 
 
 Ercole, his father; 
 Prospero Fontana 
 
 a dark, strong, ex- 
 pressive manner 
 
 Giulio Cesare Procac- 
 cini 
 
 Ercole, his father ; 
 Prospero Fontana 
 
 A dark, strong, ex- 
 pressive manner 
 
 Jude Indocus Van Win- 
 ghen 
 
 John Strada - 
 
 studied in Italy - 
 studied in Italy - 
 
 
 Bartholomew Sprangher 
 20 Michael John Miervelt 
 * Paolo Cagliari, detto 
 Paul Veronese 
 
 Carlo Cagliari - 
 
 Benedetto Cagliari . 
 Gabrielle Cagliari 
 
 Ant. Blockland - 
 Antonio Badiglio - 
 
 Paolo, his father - 
 
 the same - - 
 
 the same - - - 
 
 rich and noble 
 composition ; 
 fine warm co- 
 louring 
 
 imitated his man* 
 ner 
 
 the same 
 the same - - 
 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 241 
 
 Painted 
 
 Country, Place, and "g 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 His. Por 
 
 . Florence 
 
 1580 69 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1607 72 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 1625 45 
 
 History 
 
 Mantua 
 
 157661 
 
 History 
 
 Faenza 
 
 
 5 History 
 
 Sermonetta 
 
 - 1550 46 
 
 History 
 
 Florence 
 
 
 History 
 
 Pomerancio 
 
 - 162674 
 
 History 
 
 Soucy pr 6 che de Sens ; — 
 
 
 Paris 
 
 1589 
 
 10 History 
 
 Mechlin, Antwerp 95 
 
 
 
 1592 
 
 Miniatu. 
 
 Mechlin, Brussels 5 Q 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 
 1 593 
 
 
 Bruges 
 
 1583 73 
 
 Por. His. 
 
 Utrecht 
 
 1575 56 
 
 Views of 
 
 Antwerp 
 
 1600 — 
 
 Cities, 
 
 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 
 
 15 History 
 
 Bologna, Milan 1626 80 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna, Milan 1626 78 I 
 
 History 
 
 Brussels, Germ 
 
 1603 62 
 
 Battles, 
 
 Bruges, Flor. 
 
 1604 6 8 
 
 hunting 
 
 
 
 History j 
 
 Antw. Vienna 
 
 1623 77 
 
 20 Portraits 
 
 Delft 
 
 1641 73 
 
 History 
 
 Verona, Venice 
 
 1588 58 V 
 
 Portraits 
 
 
 
 the same 
 
 Fenice 
 
 1596 26 
 
 the same t 
 
 he same 
 
 1598 60 
 
 the same t 
 
 he same 
 
 1631 6 3 
 
 i 
 
 YOU III. 
 
 
 R 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 Vincennes, the Minims ; 
 Paris. 
 
 nonciate St. Maria Ca- 
 rignano. 
 
 Rian ; Genoa, the Annon- 
 ciate St. Maria Cari- 
 nano. 
 
 where. 
 
1242 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Battista Zelofti 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Ant. Badiglio, worked 
 with Paul Veronese 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 Giacomo da Ponte, detto Francesco, his father, 
 11 Bassano - Bonifacio Veneti- 
 
 ano, imitated Ti- 
 tian 
 
 Giacomo, his father 
 
 Francesco Bassano 
 
 Leandro Bassano 
 Giambattista Bassano 
 Girolamo Bassano 
 •Giacomo Robusti,detU 
 II Tintoretto 
 
 Marietta Tintoretto 
 Paul Franceschi 
 10 Martin de Vos 
 John Rothenamer 
 
 Paolo Farinato 
 Marco Vecelli 
 Livio Agresti 
 15 Marco da Sienna 
 Giacomo Rocca 
 Frederico Barocci 
 
 the same 
 the same 
 the same 
 
 Titian, in his draw- 
 ing imitated Mi 
 chael Angelo 
 
 Tintoret, her father 
 Tintoret - - 
 
 Tintoret 
 Tintoret - - 
 
 Antonio Badiglio 
 Titian, his Uncle 
 Perin del Vago - 
 Dan. Volterra 
 Dan. Volterra 
 studied Raffaelle 
 
 II Cavaliero Francesco 
 Vanni. 
 
 * Michael Angelo Ame- 
 rigi, detto II Caravaggi 
 
 20 * Ludovico Caracci 
 
 Fred. Baroccio - 
 Cav. Arpino 
 
 Prospero Fontana 
 
 much Nature, and 
 fine colouring 
 
 imitated his man- 
 ner, and copied 
 his pictures 
 the same 
 the same 
 the same 
 
 the strepito and 
 mossa of his 
 pencil; variety 
 ami correctness 
 of design ; sel- 
 dom finished 
 
 designed after his 
 manner 
 
 fine gentile d raw- 
 ing 
 
 correct design and 
 agreeable co- 
 louring 
 a strong and close 
 imitation of Na- 
 ture, but with- 
 out choice ; ex- 
 quisite colour- 
 ing 
 
 exquisite design ; 
 noble and pro- 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 243 
 
 Painted 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 u 
 
 =/o 
 
 < 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 History 
 chiefly in 
 Fresco 
 
 Venice 
 
 " 1592 
 
 60 
 
 
 Rustic 
 Figures 
 Animals 
 Por. Ilis. 
 
 Vicenza 
 
 - 1592 
 
 82 
 
 Venice, &c. 
 
 The same 
 
 Venice 
 
 - 1594 
 
 84 
 
 
 the same 
 
 Venice 
 
 1623 
 
 65 
 
 
 5 the same 
 
 Venice 
 
 1613 
 
 60 
 
 
 the same 
 
 Venice 
 
 1622 
 
 62 
 
 
 History 
 
 Portraits 
 
 Venice 
 
 1594 
 
 82 
 
 Venice, and every wher*. 
 
 Portraits 
 Landsc. 
 10 Landsc. 
 History 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 15 History 
 History 
 His. Por 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 humorous 
 figures 
 
 20 History 
 
 Venice 
 
 Germany 
 Munich 
 
 Verona 
 Venice 
 Forli 
 Sienna 
 Rome 
 Uibino, Rome i6l2 
 
 Sienna, Rome l6l5 
 
 J59n 
 
 1596' 
 
 1604 
 
 1606 
 
 1606 
 1 61 1 
 
 1580 
 
 156? 
 
 Caravaggio in 
 Lombardy, 
 
 Rome - 1609 
 
 84 Verona. 
 
 66 
 
 Sienna ; Rome, St. Peter’s ; 
 Genoa, Santa Maria in 
 Carignano. 
 
 40 Rome, Pal. Barbermi ; se- 
 veral Coliectioi s. 
 
 Bologna 
 
 1619 
 
 64 
 
 Modena, Pal. Ducale; Bo- 
 logna, S. Michel in Bosco, 
 
244 
 
 A CHRONOLOCICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 * Agostino Caracci - 
 
 * Annibale Caracci - 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Ludovico, his cousin 
 Ludovico, his cousin 
 
 Domenico Zampieri,jthe Caracci 
 delto II Domenichi- 
 
 * Guido Reni 
 
 5 * Cav. Giov. Lanfranco the Caracci 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 per compositi- 
 on ; strong and 
 harmonious co- 
 louring 
 
 similarly accom- 
 plished 
 
 similarly accom- 
 plished 
 
 correct design, 
 strong & mov- 
 ing expression 
 
 Dionigi Calvart, the 
 Caracci 
 
 * Francesco Albani - 
 
 Lucio Massari 
 Sisto Badolocchio 
 Antonio Caracci 
 
 10 Giuseppe Pini, detto, Raffaelle da Rheggio 
 Cavalier Arpino 
 
 divine and grace- 
 ful airs and at- 
 titudes, gay and 
 lightsome co- 
 louring 
 
 great force, and 
 fulgore , chiefly 
 in fresco 
 
 Dionigi Calvart, the 
 Caracci 
 
 the Caracci 
 Annibal Caracci 
 Annibal, his uncle 
 
 rentile, poetical 
 fancy, beautiful 
 airy colouring, 
 his Nymphs and 
 Boys are most 
 admired 
 
 the furia & force 
 of his compo- 
 sition. 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS, 
 
 245 
 
 Painted 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 1 Aged 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 
 
 
 S. Giorgio, La Certosa, 
 &c. 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Bologna, Parma 1602 
 
 44 
 
 Parma, Villa Ducale; Bo- 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 
 logna, Pal. Magnani, La 
 Certosa. 
 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Bologna, Rome 1609 
 
 49 
 
 Rome, Pal. Farnese, &c. 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 
 Bologna, S. Giorgio, &c. 
 several Collections. 
 
 
 History, 
 
 Bologna, Naples 1641 
 
 60 
 
 Rome, S, Girolamo della 
 
 Portraits 
 
 
 Canth, Santa Maria Tras- 
 tavere, S. Andrea della 
 Valle, S. Andrea in Monte 
 Celio,Grotta Ferrata, Pal. 
 Ludovisio ; S. Peters', S. 
 Carlo a Catinari, S. Sil- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 History, 
 
 
 
 vestro, &c. 
 
 Bologna - 1642 
 
 68 
 
 Rome, Pal. Rospigliosi, Pal. 
 
 Portraits 
 
 
 
 Spada, Capucini, S. An- 
 drea della V alle, &. Bo- 
 
 5 History 
 
 Parma, Naples 1647 
 
 
 logna, Mendicanti, S, Do- 
 menico, S. Michel in Bo- 
 sco ; and in many Collec- 
 tions. 
 
 66 
 
 Rome, S. Andrea dellaValle; 
 
 
 
 
 Naples, S. Carlo de' Cati- 
 nari ; La Capella del Te- 
 
 History 
 
 
 
 soro. 
 
 Bologna • 1660 
 
 82 
 
 The Duke of Modena’s and 
 
 
 
 
 many other Cabinets. 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - 1633 
 
 64 
 
 Bologna, S.Michelin Bosco. 
 Rome, Pal. Verospi. 
 
 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna, Rome 1618 
 
 35 
 
 Rome, S. Bartolomeo nell’ 
 
 
 
 
 Isola. 
 
 10 History 
 
 Arpino, Rome 1640 
 
 80 
 
 Rome, the Capitol, &c. 
 
246 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 11 Paduano - 
 11 Cigoli 
 
 Andrea del Sarto - 
 
 
 Domenico Feti 
 
 Cigoli 
 
 
 Cherubinn Alberti 
 5 Cavaliere Passignano 
 
 r rederic Zucchero 
 
 
 Orazio Gei tileschi 
 
 Aurelio Lomi - - 
 
 
 Filippo d’Angeli, detto 
 IlNapolitano 
 
 
 
 Paul Brill - - 
 
 after Titian and An- 
 
 
 Matthew Brill - 
 
 nibale 
 
 worked with Paul 
 
 10 Pietro Paolo Gobbo * 
 11 Viola - - - - 
 
 Annibal Caracci - 
 
 his brother 
 
 Roland Saveri 
 
 imitated Paul Brill 
 
 much finishing. 
 
 Bartolomeo Manfredi 
 
 M. Ang Caravaggio 
 
 but dry 
 
 Carlo Saracino 
 
 imitated Caravaggio 
 
 
 15 11 Valentino 
 
 M. Ang. Caravaggio 
 
 
 Giuseppe Ribera, detto, 
 
 M. Ang. Caravaggio 
 
 a dark strong 
 
 Lo Spagnuoletto 
 
 manner, dis- 
 
 John Mompre 
 
 studied Nature - 
 
 mal and cruel 
 subjects 
 
 Henry Cornelius Wroon, 
 
 Corn, llenrickson 
 
 
 or Vroon 
 Agostino Tassi 
 
 Paul Brill - 
 
 
 20 Fra. Matteo Zaccolino 
 Antonio Tempesta - 
 
 John Strada 
 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 247 
 
 Painted. 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death 
 
 oL 
 
 < 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 . 1 
 
 Portraits 
 
 Padua - 
 
 
 
 History 
 
 Florence - 1613 
 
 54 
 
 
 History 1 
 
 Rome - 1624 
 
 65 
 
 
 History 
 
 Rome - 1615 
 
 60 
 
 
 5 History 
 
 Florence - 1638 
 
 80 
 
 Florence, the Dome. 
 
 History 
 
 Pisa - - 1647 
 
 84 
 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 Rome, Naples 1640 
 
 40 
 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 Antwerp, Rome 1626 
 
 72 
 
 Rome, Vatican, Pal. Bor- 
 ghese, many Collections. 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 Antwerp, Rome 1584 
 
 34 
 
 
 10 Fruit, 
 
 Cortona - 1640 
 
 60 
 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 Rome - 1622 
 
 - - 1639 
 
 •0 
 
 63 
 
 Rome, Vigna Montalta, 
 Vigna Aldobrandina, Vi- 
 gna pia. 
 
 History 
 
 Mantua - - 
 
 
 
 History 
 
 Venice - 1625 
 
 40 
 
 
 15 History 
 
 France - 1632 
 
 32 
 
 Naples, &c. many Collec- 
 tions. 
 
 History 
 
 Valencia - 1656 
 
 67 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 Sea-ports 
 
 Ships 
 
 Antwerp 
 
 Haerlem, Rome 
 
 — 
 
 Genoa ; Leghorn ; on tha 
 outsides of houses. 
 
 Ships, 
 
 Tempests, 
 
 Bologna - 
 
 — 
 
 Land- 
 scapes, 
 Fruit, ■ 
 Perspec- 
 tives 
 
 
 
 
 
 20 Perspec. 
 
 Rome - - 1630 
 
 40 
 
 Rome, St. Silvestro. 
 
 Animals, 
 
 Florence - 1630 
 
 75 
 
 Florence, &c. 
 
 Battles, 
 
 Hunt- 
 
 ings 
 
 
 
 
 
448 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 Octavius Van Veen 
 called Otho Vcenius 
 Jean Le Clerc 
 
 Carlo Saracino - 
 
 
 Simon Vouet - - 
 
 Laurent, his father 
 
 
 Peter Noefs 
 
 Henry Steinwick 
 
 
 5 Henry Steinwick - 
 
 John De Vries - - 
 
 
 Theodore Rombouts - 
 
 Abraham Jansens - 
 
 
 Gerard Segres - - 
 
 Abraham Jansens * 
 
 imitated M.A.Ca- 
 
 Sir Peter Paul Rubens 
 
 
 ravaggio 
 
 Otho Vaenius 
 
 admirable colour- 
 
 Sir Antony Vandyck 
 
 Rubens - - - 
 
 ing; great mag- 
 nificence &har- 
 mony of com- 
 position; a gay 
 and lightsome 
 manner 
 
 his master’s ex- 
 
 10 Rembrandt - 
 
 
 cellencies with 
 more grace and 
 correctness. 
 
 great knowledge 
 
 
 % \ 
 
 and execution 
 of the Clair- 
 obscure ; high 
 finishing, some- 
 
 
 
 times a very 
 
 Cornelius Polembourg 
 
 Abraham Rloemart 
 
 bold pencil and 
 distinct colour- 
 ing; vast Na- 
 ture. 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 249 
 
 Painted. 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 V 
 
 < 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 History 
 
 Leyden - 1634 
 
 78 
 
 
 History 
 
 Nancy - - 1633 
 
 — 
 
 Nancy, Les Jesuits. 
 
 His. Por. 
 
 Paris; Paris 1641 
 
 59 
 
 Paris, in many Churches. 
 
 Perspec. 
 
 Antwerp - 1651 
 
 85 
 
 5 Build- 
 ings, 
 places 
 illumin- 
 ated by 
 fire and 
 candles. 
 
 Steinwick - 1603 
 
 53 
 
 
 LowLife. 
 
 Antwerp - 1640 
 
 Antwerp - 1 65 1 
 
 43 
 
 62 
 
 
 History 
 
 Portraits 
 
 Land- 
 
 scape J 
 
 Antwerp - 1641 
 
 63 
 
 Flanders, Holland, &c. Dus- 
 seldorp ; the Elector Pa- 
 latine’s Collec. France, 
 Palais Luxemburgh, &c. 
 England, Whitehall, &c. 
 Genoa, St.Ambrosio, &c. 
 
 Portraits 
 
 History 
 
 Antwerp London 
 
 1641 
 
 42 
 
 Genoa, Pal. Durazzo, &c. 
 Flanders, Holland, &c. 
 France, Versailles, &c. 
 England, the Pembroke 
 and Walpole Collections, 
 &c. 
 
 10 History 
 Portraits 
 LowLife. 
 
 - - 1674 
 
 68 
 
 France, King’s and Mon- 
 sieur's Collections, &c. 
 &c. Florence, the Palace, 
 Amsterdam, See. 
 
 Miniatur. 
 Landsc. 
 with fi- 
 gures 
 
 Utrecht - 1660 
 
 74 
 
 Many Cabinets, 
 
250 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 John Brueghel, called 
 Velvet Brueghel 
 
 Old Brueghel, his fa- 
 ther 
 
 extreme neatness 
 and finishing 
 
 Moses, called the Little 
 
 Corn. Polembourg 
 
 
 F. Dan Legres 
 Gasper Ciaes 
 5 Bartholomew Briem- 
 berg 
 
 John Asseylin, called 
 Little John 
 Francis Snyders 
 
 Young Brueghel - 
 Cosis 
 
 studied at Rome - 
 Esaias Vander Velde 
 painted with Ruben 
 
 s 
 
 
 Ert Veest 
 
 
 
 Lewis Cousin 
 10 Philip Vauvremans - 
 Gerard Dow 
 
 John Wynants 
 Rembrandt 
 
 
 Pietro Francesco Mola 
 
 Albani, Cav. Arpino 
 
 strong painting 
 
 Giov. Battista Mola - 
 
 Albani 
 
 the same 
 
 Giacomo Cavedone 
 
 Ludov. Caracci - 
 
 
 15 Agostino Metelli 
 
 
 
 Angelo Michale Colona 
 
 Ferrantino 
 
 
 Giov. Benedetto Casti- 
 glione, detto 11 Ge- 
 noese 
 
 Paggi, Vandyke - 
 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 251 
 
 Painted 1 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 oi 
 
 -c 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 Little 
 Landsr. 
 with fi 
 gures, 
 animals 
 & flow- 
 ers 
 
 Brussels - 1 625 
 
 6' 5 
 
 - 
 
 Small 
 Landsc. 
 with fi- 
 gures 
 
 - 1650 
 
 
 - 
 
 Flowers 
 
 Antwerp - 1666 
 
 Brussels - 1669 
 
 70 
 
 84 
 
 
 5 Landsc. 
 
 - 1660 
 
 40 
 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 - - 1660 
 
 50 
 
 
 Animals 
 dead & 
 alive 
 
 Antwerp - 1657 
 
 78 
 
 
 Sea-fights 
 
 Tem- 
 
 pests 
 
 Brussels - 1670 
 
 - 1670 
 
 
 
 10 
 
 Haerlem - 1668 
 
 48 
 
 
 Little fi- 
 gures 
 
 Leyden - 1474 
 
 61 
 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 
 Landsc. 
 
 Como ; Rome 1666 
 
 56 
 
 Rome,' Monte Cavallo Pal. 
 Costaguti, &c. 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - 1660 
 
 80 
 
 Bologna, St. Michaeli in 
 Bosco, &c. 
 
 15 Buildings, 
 Perspec- 
 tive 
 
 Bologna; Spain 1660 
 
 51 
 
 Bologna, &c. 
 
 Buildings 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - lo 87 
 Genoa - - 
 
 87 
 
 Bologna, &c. 
 
252 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 Pietro Testa 
 
 Matthew Platten, called 
 11 Montagna 
 
 Domenichino 
 
 Asselyn 
 
 capricious and 
 
 strange designs 
 
 Francesco Barbieri, det- 
 to 11 Guercino da 
 Cento 
 
 the Caracci 
 
 a medium be- 
 tween the Ca- 
 racci and Cara- 
 vaggio, he has 
 two manners, 
 one a dark and 
 strong one ; the 
 other more gay 
 and gracious 
 
 Pietro Berrettini, detto 
 Pietro da Cortona 
 
 Baccio Ciarpi 
 
 noble composi- 
 tions ; bright & 
 beautiful co- 
 louring 
 
 5 Antonino Barbalonga 
 Andrea Camaceo - 
 
 Domenichino - - 
 
 Domenichino 
 
 Andrea Sacchi - ^ 
 Simone Cantarini 
 
 Albani - 
 Guido - 
 
 a colouring more 
 languid than 
 Pietro Cortona, 
 but extreme de- 
 licateand pleas- 
 ing 
 
 Cav. Carlo Cignani 
 
 Albani - 
 
 noble, bold man- 
 ner and bright 
 colouring 
 
 JO Pietro Facini 
 
 Giov. Andrea Donducci 
 detto 11 Masteletta 
 Alessandro Tiarini . 
 Leonello Spado - 
 Giov. Andrea Sirani 
 
 Annibal Caracci - 
 the Caracci 
 
 Prospero Fontana - 
 the Caracci 
 Guido 
 
 
 15 Elisabetta Sirani - 
 Giacomo Sementi 
 
 Andrea, her father 
 Guido - - 
 
 
 Francesco Gessi 
 
 Guido - - 
 
 good imitation of 
 i his master 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 253 
 
 Pai nted 
 
 History 
 
 Whims 
 
 SeaPieces 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 
 5 History 
 
 Country, Place, and 13 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 Lucca - 1650 
 
 Antw. Venice — 
 
 39 
 
 Cento nel Bolognese ; 
 Bologna - 1 667 
 
 76 
 
 Cortona; Rome 1 66973 
 
 Messina 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 Rome, Vigna Ludovisia, St. 
 Peter’s; Grotto Ferrata. 
 
 History 
 
 Bevagna; Romel657 
 
 55 
 
 History 
 
 Rome; Rome l66l 
 
 72 
 
 History 
 
 Pesaro; Bolognal648 
 
 36 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna ; Bologna ; 
 
 171S 
 
 91 
 
 10 History 
 
 Bologna - 1602 
 
 42 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - 1655 
 
 80 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - 1668 
 
 91 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - - 1622 
 
 46 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - - 1670 
 
 60 
 
 15 Ilis. Por. 
 
 Bologna - - 1664 
 
 26 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 
 Bologna - - 1625 
 
 Bologna - - 
 
 45 
 
 Rome, Pal. Barberini, Pal. 
 Pamfili, Chiesa nuova, St. 
 Peter’s, St. Agnes; Flo- 
 rence, Pal. Pitti, &c. 
 Rome, St. Andrea dellaValle, 
 Chiesa dei Theatini, &c. 
 Rome, St. Peter’s, St. Giov. 
 in Laterano, Pal. Pala- 
 strina, &c. 
 
 Rome, Pal. Barberini, &c. 
 Chiesa di St. Romualdo, 
 St. Carlo di Catinari, Sec. 
 
 Bologna, Pal. Davia, Cer- 
 toso, &c. 
 
 Bologna, &c. 
 
 Bologna, &c. 
 
 Bologna, &c. 
 
 Bologna, &c. 
 
 Bologna, Sec. 
 
 Bologna, &c. 
 
 Bologna, &c. 
 
 Bologna, See. 
 
£54 
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 Lorenzo Garbieri 
 
 Lud. Caracci 
 
 
 G. Francesco Romanel) 
 
 Pietro Cortona - 
 
 
 Diego Velasquez - 
 
 Francesco Pacheco 
 
 great fire & force 
 
 Alessandro Veronese - 
 5 Mario de’ Fiori - 
 
 Felice Riccio - - 
 
 a weak but agree- 
 able manner 
 
 Michelangelo del Cam- 
 
 Fioraventi - - 
 
 
 pidoglio 
 
 Salvator Rosa - 
 
 Spagnuoletto and Da. 
 
 savage & uncouth 
 
 
 niel Falcone 
 
 places ; very 
 
 great and noble 
 style; stories 
 that have some- 
 thing of horror 
 
 11 Cav. Calabrese 
 
 Guercino - - - 
 
 or cruelty 
 
 Ferramola Fioraventi 
 
 
 
 10 11 Maltese - - 
 
 
 
 Claude Gelee, called 
 Ciaude Lorraine - 
 
 Godfrey Wals; Ago- 
 stino Tassi - - 
 
 rural and pleasing 
 scents, with va- 
 
 
 
 lious accidents 
 of Nature, as 
 
 Nicholas Poussin - 
 
 
 gleams of sun- 
 shine, the rising 
 moon, &c. 
 
 Quintin Varin 
 
 exquisite know- 
 
 
 
 ledge of the an- 
 tique ; fine ex- 
 pression ; skil- 
 ful and well- 
 chosen compo- 
 sition and de- 
 sign. Scenes 
 
 0 
 
 
 of the country 
 wiih ancient 
 buildings and 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 255 
 
 Painted 
 
 History 
 
 History 
 
 Portraits 
 
 History 
 
 5 Flowers 
 Flowers 
 & Fruits 
 Landscs. 
 History 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Yeai of th*:ir Death 
 
 ^2 
 
 < 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 Bologna - 16^4 
 
 64 
 
 Bologna, &c. 
 
 Viterbo ; Rome l66’2 
 
 45 
 
 France, &c. Rome, &c. 
 
 Spain - - - 1660 
 
 66 
 
 Rome, Pal. Pamfili; France, 
 Louvre. 
 
 Verona - - 1670 
 
 70 
 
 France, Versailles, &c. 
 
 Rome - 1656 
 
 
 
 
 Rome - - 167O 
 
 60 
 
 
 Naples; Rome 1675 
 
 59 
 
 Rome,Pal.Palavicini ; Paris, 
 the King’s Collection, &c. 
 
 History Calabria 
 
 10 
 
 Vases, In- 
 strum - 
 entSjCar 
 pets, & 
 Still-life 
 the same 
 Landsc. 
 
 Brescia 
 
 Toul ; Rome 
 
 1688 
 
 1612 
 
 1682 
 
 86 
 
 82 
 
 Rome, St. Andrea della 
 Valle, &c. 
 
 Rome, Pal. Chigi, Altieri, 
 Colonna ; many Collec- 
 tions. 
 
 Andilly; 
 
 Rome 1665 
 
 71 
 
 France, Versailles, Palais 
 Royal, &c. Rome, Cav. 
 Pozzo’s Collection, and 
 in many more elsewhere. 
 
 History 
 
 Landsc. 
 
256 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST 
 
 Names. 
 
 Studied under 
 
 Excelled in 
 
 Caspar du Ghet, called 
 
 
 historical fig 
 ures intermixed 
 
 Nicholas, his brother- 
 
 a mixture of Ni- 
 
 Gaspar Poussin 
 
 in-law 
 
 colas & Claude 
 Lorraine's style 
 
 Eustache Le Sueur 
 
 Simon Vouet 
 
 simplicity, digni- 
 
 
 
 ty, and correct- 
 ness of style, he 
 is called the 
 
 Michelangelo delle Bat- 
 
 
 French Raf- 
 faelle 
 
 Mozzo of Antwerp 
 
 taglie 
 
 
 Jaques Stella - 
 
 his father - 
 
 painted upon mar- 
 
 5 Carlo Maralti - 
 
 Andrea Sacchi - 
 
 ble frequently 
 
 Luca Giordano - - 
 
 Lo Spagnuoletto - 
 
 
 Charles Le Brun 
 
 Simon Vouet; Ni- 
 colas Poussin 
 
 
 Cav. Giacinto Brandi 
 
 Lanfranco - - - 
 
 
 Ciro Ferri - 
 
 Pietro Cortona - 
 
 
OF MODERN PAINTERS. 
 
 2 57 
 
 Painted 
 
 Country, Place, and 
 Year of their Death. 
 
 rs 
 
 C£ 
 
 < 
 
 Principal Works are at 
 
 Landscs. 
 
 Rome - - 1 665 
 
 
 Rome ; Paris, &c. 
 
 History 
 
 Paris - - 1655 
 
 38 
 
 Paris, the Chartreuse and 
 Hotel in the Isle Notre 
 Dame, &c. 
 
 Battles 
 
 
 
 
 History 
 
 Lyons; Paris 1647 
 
 51 
 
 Lyons; Paris, &c. 
 
 Min. 
 
 
 
 5 History 
 
 Ancona; Rome 17 13 
 
 88 
 
 Rome ; many Churches ana 
 Palaces, &c. 
 
 History 
 
 Naples - - 1705 
 
 76 
 
 
 History 
 
 Paris - - 1690 
 
 71 
 
 Versailles. 
 
 History 
 
 Poli ; Rome 1713 
 
 90 
 
 Rome. &c. 
 
 History 
 
 Rome - . 1689 
 
 55 
 
 Rome, St Agnes, Pal. Monte 
 CaYallo, St. Ambrozio, 
 &c. Florence, Pal. Pitti. 
 
— 
 
[ 259 ] 
 
 LIST OF PAINTERS 
 
 MENTIONED IN THE FOREGOING TABLE, ARRANGED IN- 
 
 ALPHABETICAL ORDER 
 
 A 
 
 A.GRESTI, LlVIO 
 Albani, Francesco 
 Albert Durer. See D. 
 Alberti, Cherubino 
 Albertinelli, Mariotto 
 Ailori, Angelo, II Bronzino 
 Allori, Alessandro 
 Andrea del Castagno. See C. 
 Andrea Mantegna. See M. 
 Andrea del Sarto. See S. 
 Angel i, Filippo d’ 
 
 Angelo Michael, il Caravaggio 
 
 Buonarotta 
 
 Antonella da Messina 
 Antonio da Correggio. See C. 
 
 Page. No. 
 242 14 
 
 244 6 
 
 246 4 
 
 230 12 
 
 240 1 
 
 240 2 
 
 246 ? 
 
 - 242 1 » 
 
 232 1 
 
 - 228 14 
 
f 260 ] 
 
 
 
 
 
 Page. No. 
 
 Aristotile, Bastiano 
 
 - 
 
 236 10 
 
 Arpino, Cavalier’. See Pini. 
 
 
 
 Asselyn, John 
 
 - 
 
 - 250 
 
 6 
 
 
 B 
 
 
 
 Baccio 
 
 - 
 
 230 
 
 13 
 
 Badalocchio, Sisto 
 
 - 
 
 244 
 
 8 
 
 Bagnacavallo, 11 
 
 - 
 
 - 230 
 
 5 
 
 Barbalonga, Antonio 
 
 - 
 
 252 
 
 5 
 
 Barbieri, Francesco 
 
 - 
 
 252 
 
 3 
 
 Barrocci, Frederico 
 
 - 
 
 242 
 
 17 
 
 Bassano, 11 
 
 
 
 " 2 
 
 Francesco 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 Leandro 
 
 - - 
 
 242 << 
 
 4 
 
 Giambattista 
 
 
 
 5 
 
 Girolamo 
 
 
 
 L 6 
 
 Battaglie, Michelangelo delle 
 
 - 256 
 
 3 
 
 Beccafumi, Domenico 
 
 - 
 
 - 236 
 
 6 
 
 Bellini, Giacomo 'j 
 
 
 
 fl9 
 
 Gentile i 
 
 - 
 
 228< 
 
 20 
 
 — Giovanni J 
 
 
 
 i 21 
 
 Bernazzano da Milano 
 
 - 
 
 - 234 
 
 11 
 
 Berrettini, Pietro 
 
 - 
 
 252 
 
 4 
 
 Bezzi, Giov. Francesco 
 
 - 
 
 - 236 
 
 13 
 
 $igio, Francia 
 
 - 
 
 - 234 
 
 I 
 
 Bol, John 
 
 - 
 
 240 
 
 11 
 
 Bologna, 11 
 
 - 
 
 234 
 
 8 
 
 Bolognese, Nicolo 
 
 - 
 
 234 
 
 9 
 
[ 261 ] 
 
 
 Page. 
 
 No. 
 
 Bonvincino, Alessandro 
 
 238 
 
 19 
 
 Bordone, Paris - 
 
 238 
 
 17 
 
 Brandi, Cav. Giacinto 
 
 - 25 6 
 
 8 
 
 Briemberg, Barth. 
 
 250 
 
 5 
 
 Brill, Paul 1 
 
 246- 
 
 r 8 
 
 Matthew J 
 
 
 l ^ 
 
 Bronzino 11. See Allori 
 
 
 
 Bruges, John of 
 
 238 
 
 1 
 
 Brueghel, John 
 
 250 
 
 1 
 
 Peter 
 
 - 238 
 
 5 
 
 Buffalmacco, Buonamico 
 
 228 
 
 4 
 
 Buonacorvi, Pierino 
 
 232 
 
 12 
 
 Buonarotta Mich. Angelo 
 
 232 
 
 1 
 
 c 
 
 Cagliari, Paolo 
 
 j 
 
 '*21 
 
 Carlo 1^ 
 
 Benedetto j 
 
 - 240<| 
 
 22 
 
 ' 
 
 | 23 
 
 Gabrielle J 
 
 1 
 
 124 
 
 Calabrese, 11 Cav. - - 
 
 254 
 
 8 
 
 Calvart, Dionigi 
 
 236 
 
 22 
 
 Camaceo, Andrea 
 
 252 
 
 6 
 
 Campidoglio, Michelangelo del 
 
 254 
 
 6 
 
 Cantarini, Simone 
 
 252 
 
 8 
 
 Caracci, Ludovico 
 
 242 
 
 20 
 
 Agostino 'i 
 
 1 
 
 r 1 
 
 Annibale > 
 
 244 j 
 
 2 
 
 Antonio J 
 
 
 l 9 
 
[ 262 ] ■ * 
 
 
 Page. 
 
 No. 
 
 Caravaggio, 11 
 
 242 
 
 19 
 
 Caravaggio, Polidoro da - 
 
 - 234 
 
 16 
 
 Carlo Maratti 
 
 25 6 
 
 5 
 
 Carpi, Girolamo da. 
 
 23 6 
 
 12 
 
 Castagno, Andrea del 
 
 - 228 
 
 16 
 
 Castiglione, Giov. Benedetto 
 
 250 
 
 17 
 
 Cavallini, Pietro 
 
 228 
 
 6 
 
 Cavedone, Giacomo 
 
 250 
 
 14 
 
 Cento, Guercino da. See Barbieri. 
 
 
 
 Cesi, Bartolomeo 
 
 236 
 
 21 
 
 Cignani, Cav. Carlo 
 
 252 
 
 9 
 
 Cigoli, 11 - 
 
 246 
 
 2 
 
 Cimabue, Giovanni 
 
 228 
 
 1 
 
 Claude Lorraine 
 
 254 
 
 11 
 
 Clovio, Dom. Giulio 
 
 - 238 
 
 23 
 
 Cock, Matthias 
 
 238 
 
 9 
 
 Colonna, Angelo Michale 
 
 250 
 
 16 
 
 Correggio, Antonio da - 
 
 - 230 
 
 11 
 
 Cortona, Pietro da. See Berrettini. 
 
 
 
 Cosimo, Pietro de 
 
 230 
 
 14 
 
 Cosmo, Roselli. See Ii. 
 
 
 
 Cousin, Jean - 
 
 - 240 
 
 9 
 
 Lewis 
 
 250 
 
 9 
 
 Coxis, Michael 
 
 240 
 
 10 
 
 Craes, Caspar - 
 
 - 250 
 
 4 
 
 Credi, Lorenzo di - ' 
 
 232 
 
 7 
 
[ 263 ] 
 
 
 Page. 
 
 No. 
 
 D 
 
 Danielo, Pelegrino da San 
 
 234 
 
 13 
 
 Da Ponte, Giacomo 
 
 242 
 
 2 
 
 Da Vinci, Lionardo. See L. 
 Degl’ Impiccati. See Castagno. 
 
 De Vos, Martin 
 
 242 
 
 10 
 
 Domenichino, 11 
 
 244 
 
 3 
 
 Donducci, Giov. Andrea 
 
 252 
 
 11 
 
 Dosso, 11 
 
 234 
 
 10 
 
 Dow, Gerard - 
 
 - 250 
 
 11 
 
 Du Ghet, Gaspar 
 
 256 
 
 1 
 
 Durer, Albert 
 
 - 238 
 
 2 
 
 F 
 
 Fabriano, Gentile del 
 
 228 
 
 17 
 
 Facini, Pietro 
 
 252 
 
 10 
 
 Fa’enza, Marco da 
 
 240 
 
 5 
 
 Farinato, Paolo 
 
 242 
 
 12 
 
 Fattore, 11 - 
 
 232 
 
 9 
 
 Ferri, Giro - 
 
 256 
 
 9 
 
 Feti, Domenico 
 
 246 
 
 3 
 
 Fiesole, Fra. Gio. Angelico da 
 
 - 228 
 
 13 
 
 Fioraventi, Ferramola 
 
 - 254 
 
 9 
 
 Fiori, Mario de 
 
 254 
 
 5 
 
 Floris, Francois 
 
 238 
 
 11 
 
 Fontana, Prospero"! 
 
 234| 
 
 r 5 
 
 • Lavinia J 
 
 L 6 
 
 Fra del Piombo. See Sebastiano. 
 
[ 264 ] 
 
 Page. No. 
 
 Franceschi, Paul - 
 
 242 
 
 9 
 
 Franc-Flore. See Floris 
 
 
 
 Francia, Francesco - 
 
 230 
 
 4 
 
 Francuzzi, Innocenzo 
 
 230 
 
 6 
 
 G 
 
 
 
 Garbiero, Lorenzo r 
 
 254 
 
 1 
 
 Garbo, Raphaelino del - 
 
 230 
 
 15 
 
 Garofalo, Benvenuto - 
 
 236 
 
 11 
 
 Gelee, Claude. See Claude Lorraine. 
 
 
 
 Geminiano, Vicenzo da San 
 
 232 
 
 6 
 
 Gentile del Fabriano. See F. 
 
 
 
 Gentileschi, Orazio - 
 
 246 
 
 6 
 
 Genga, Girolamo - 
 
 236 
 
 8 
 
 Gessi, Francesco - 
 
 252 
 
 17 
 
 Ghirlandaio, Domenico - 
 
 228 
 
 22 
 
 Giordano, Luca - 
 
 256 
 
 6 
 
 Giorgione, Giorgio - 
 
 230 
 
 10 
 
 Giottino, Tomaso - 
 
 228 
 
 9 
 
 Giotto - 
 
 228 
 
 3 
 
 Giovanni da Udina - 
 
 232 
 
 13 
 
 Giovanni Martino da Udina. See M. 
 
 
 
 Girolamo Romanino 
 
 238 
 
 20 
 
 Girolamo da Sermonetta 
 
 240 
 
 6 
 
 Girolamo di Titiano - 
 
 238 
 
 16 
 
 Girolamo da Trevigi 
 
 234 
 
 15 
 
 Giulio Romano - 
 
 232 
 
 10 
 
 Gobbo, Pietro Paolo - 
 
 246 
 
 10 
 
[ 265 ] 
 
 Guercino da Cento 
 Guido Reni 
 
 Page. No. 
 252 3 
 
 244 4 
 
 H 
 
 Hans Holben 
 Heemskirke, Martin 
 Hoefnaghel, George 
 Holben, John. See Hans Holben. 
 
 238 6 
 
 238 10 
 
 240 14 
 
 I AND J 
 
 Jacob, Lucas - 238 4 
 
 II Bagnacavallo. See B. and so of other names 
 with II prefixed 
 Imola da. See Francuzzi, 
 
 Impiccati Degl’. See Castagno. 
 
 John of Bruges - 
 
 238 
 
 1 
 
 L 
 
 Lanfranco, Cav. Giov. - 
 
 244 
 
 5 
 
 Le Brun, Charles 
 
 256 
 
 7 
 
 Le Clerc, Jean - - - 
 
 248 
 
 2 
 
 Legres, F. Dan - 
 
 250 
 
 3 
 
 Le Sueur Eustache 
 
 256 
 
 2 
 
 Licino da Pordenone - 
 
 234 
 
 14 
 
 Ligorio, Pirro - 
 
 238 
 
 22 
 
 Lionardo da Vinci 
 
 230 
 
 9 
 
 Lippi, Fra. Filippo - 
 
 228 
 
 15 
 
 Filippo - - 
 
 230 
 
 1 
 
[ 266 ] 
 
 Little John. See Asselyn. 
 Lorenzetti, Ambrogio - 
 
 Page. 
 
 No. 
 
 228 
 
 5 
 
 Lorenzo di Credi. See C. 
 
 
 
 Lorraine, Claude. See C. 
 
 
 
 Lotto, Lorenzo - 
 
 236 
 
 4 
 
 Luca Giordano - 
 
 256 
 
 6 
 
 Luca d’Ollanda - 
 
 238 
 
 4 
 
 M. 
 
 
 
 Maltese, 11 - 
 
 254 
 
 10 
 
 Manfredi, Bartolomeo - - 
 
 246 
 
 13 
 
 Mantegna, Andrea 
 
 228 
 
 24 
 
 Maratti, Carlo - 
 
 256 
 
 5 
 
 Marco, Bart, di S. See Baccio. 
 
 
 
 Marco da Sienna - - 
 
 242 
 
 15 
 
 Martino, Giov. da Udina 
 
 234 
 
 12 
 
 Masaccio - 
 
 228 
 
 12 
 
 Massari, Lucio - 
 
 244 
 
 7 
 
 Massolino - 
 
 228 
 
 n 
 
 Masteletta, 11 - 
 
 252 
 
 li 
 
 Matsys, Quintin - 
 
 238 
 
 3 
 
 Maturino, 11 
 
 234 
 
 17 
 
 Mauro, 11 - 
 
 230 
 
 7 
 
 Mazza, Damiano - ■ 
 
 288 
 
 15 
 
 Mazzuolo, Francesco - 
 
 236 
 
 1 
 
 Meccarino - 
 
 236 
 
 6 
 
 Memmi, Simon - 
 
 228 
 
 7 
 
 Messer Nicolo. See Bolognese. 
 
 
 
Page. No- 
 
 [ 267 ] 
 
 Messina Antonella da. See A. ^ 
 
 Metelli, Agostino - 250 
 
 Mezzuoli, Girolamo - 236 
 
 Michael Angelo Buonarotta - 232 
 
 il Caravaggio. See C. 
 
 Michelangelo delle Battaglie - - 256 
 
 Miervelt, Michael John - - 240 
 
 Milano, Bernazzano da. See B. 
 
 Modena, Peligrino di. See P. 
 
 Mola, Pietro Francesco - - 250 
 
 Giov. Battista - - - 250 
 
 Mompre, John - 246 
 
 Monsignori, Francesco - - 236 
 
 Montagna, II - - 252 
 
 More, Anthony - 240 
 
 Moretto, II - - 238 
 
 Moses the Little - 250 
 
 Murano, Nadalino de. See N. 
 
 Muttano, II - - - 238 
 
 N. 
 
 Nadalino di Murano - - - 238 
 
 Naldino, Battista - 240 
 
 Napolitano, Ilr- - - - 246 
 
 Nicolo del Pomerancio - - 240 
 
 Nicolo, Messer. See Bolognese. 
 
 Noefs, Peter - 248 
 
 Nosadella, II - 236 
 
 15 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 S 
 
 20 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 
 17 
 
 5 
 
 2 
 
 13 
 
 19 
 
 2 
 
 21 
 
 14 
 
 7 
 
 7 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 13 
 
[ 268 ] 
 
 v ’ ' 
 
 Page. 
 
 No. 
 
 o. 
 
 Orgagna, Andrea 
 
 228 
 
 8 
 
 Otho Vsenius - 
 
 - 248 
 
 1 
 
 P. 
 
 Paduano, 11 - 
 
 246 
 
 1 
 
 Palma Giacomo 
 
 236 
 
 3 
 
 Parmegiano, 11 
 
 236 
 
 1 
 
 Passerotti, Bartolomeo e tre figli 
 
 - 236 
 
 15 
 
 Passignano, Cavaliere 
 
 - 246 
 
 5 
 
 Paul Veronese 
 
 - - 240 
 
 22 
 
 Peligrino di Modena 
 
 232 
 
 11 
 
 Peligrino da San Danielo 
 
 234 
 
 13 
 
 Penni, Giovanni Francesco 
 
 232 
 
 9 
 
 Perin del Vago 
 
 - 232 
 
 12 
 
 Perugino, Pietro 
 
 230 
 
 2 
 
 Peruzzi, Balthazar 
 
 232 
 
 8 
 
 Pietro da Cortona 
 
 252 
 
 4 
 
 Pini, Giuseppe 
 
 - 244 
 
 10 
 
 Pinturichio, Bernardino 
 
 230 
 
 3 
 
 Piombo, Fra del. See Sebastiano. 
 
 Platten, Matthew 
 
 252 
 
 2 
 
 Polembourg, Cornelius 
 
 - 248 
 
 11 
 
 Polidoro da Caravaggio 
 
 234 
 
 16 
 
 Pomerancio, Nicolo del. See N. 
 
 Ponte, Giacomo da - 
 
 242 
 
 2 
 
 Pontormo, Giacomo 
 
 - 236 
 
 7 
 
 Porbus, Peter 
 
 240 
 
 12 
 
 Pordenone, Licinio da. See L, 
 
[ 269 ] 
 
 Page. No. 
 
 Poussin, Nicholas 
 
 254 
 
 12 
 
 Poussin, Gaspar 
 
 - 256 
 
 1 
 
 Primatticcio - 
 
 234 
 
 8 
 
 Procaccini, Ercole 
 
 236 
 
 14 
 
 Camilio 
 
 - 240 
 
 15 
 
 - Giulio Cesare 
 
 240 
 
 16 
 
 Puligo, Domenico 
 
 232 
 
 4 
 
 Q. 
 
 
 
 Quintin Matsys 
 
 238 
 
 3 
 
 R. 
 
 
 
 Raffaelle Sanzio d’Urbino 
 
 232 
 
 2 
 
 Ramenghi, Bartolomeo 
 
 - 230 
 
 5 
 
 Raphaelino del Garbo. See G. 
 
 
 
 Regillo, Giovanni Antonio 
 
 234 
 
 14 
 
 Rembrandt - 
 
 248 
 
 10 
 
 Reni, Guido. See G. 
 
 
 
 Ribera, Giuseppe 
 
 246 
 
 16 
 
 Ricciarelli, Daniel 
 
 236 
 
 18 
 
 Robusti, Giacomo 
 
 242 
 
 7 
 
 Rocca, Giacomo 
 
 242 
 
 16 
 
 Romanelli, G. Francesco 
 
 254 
 
 2 
 
 Romanino, Girolamo 
 
 - 23S 
 
 20 
 
 Rombouts, Theodore 
 
 248 
 
 6 
 
 Rosa, Salvator. See S. 
 
 
 
 Roselli, Cosmo 
 
 228 
 
 21 
 
 Rotbenamer, John 
 
 242 
 
 11 
 
 Rubens, S. Peter Paul 
 
 - 248 
 
 8 
 
[ 270 ] 
 
 s. 
 
 Page. No, 
 
 Sabattina, Lorenzetto - 
 
 234 
 
 4 
 
 Sacchi, Andrea - 
 
 252 
 
 7 
 
 Salvator Rosa - 
 
 254 
 
 7 
 
 Salviati Francesco 
 
 236 
 
 16 
 
 Sammachini, Orazio - 
 
 234 
 
 3 
 
 San Danielo. See D. 
 
 
 
 San Geminiano, Vincenzo da - 
 
 232 
 
 6 
 
 Sanzio Raffaelle. See R. 
 
 
 
 Saracino, Carlo - 
 
 246 
 
 14 
 
 Sarto, Andrea del - 
 
 232 
 
 14 
 
 Saveri, Roland - 
 
 246 
 
 12 
 
 Schiavone, Andrea - 
 
 238 
 
 18 
 
 Schorel, John 
 
 238 
 
 8 
 
 Sebastiano - 
 
 234 
 
 2 
 
 Segres, Gerard - 
 
 248 
 
 7 
 
 Sementi Giacomo > - 
 
 '240 
 
 3 
 
 / 1 
 
 .252 
 
 16 
 
 Sermonetta, Girolamo da. See G. 
 Sienna, Marco da. See M. 
 
 Signorelli, Luca 
 
 230 
 
 8 
 
 Sirani, Giov. Andrea 
 
 - 252<j 
 
 r i4 
 
 Elisabetta f 
 
 L 15 
 
 Snyders, Francis 
 
 250 
 
 7 
 
 Sodoma, 11 
 
 236 
 
 9 
 
 Spada, Leonello 
 
 252 
 
 13 
 
 Spagnuoletto, Lo 
 
 246 
 
 16 
 
 Sprangher, Bartholomew 
 
 240 
 
 19 
 
[ 271 ] 
 
 
 
 , Page. 
 
 No. 
 
 Steinwick, Henry 
 
 - 
 
 248 
 
 5 
 
 Stella, Jaques 
 
 - 
 
 25 6 
 
 4 
 
 S trad a, John 
 
 .. 
 
 - 240 
 
 18 
 
 
 T. 
 
 
 
 Taffi, Andrea 
 
 - 
 
 - 228 
 
 2 
 
 Tassi, Agostino 
 
 - 
 
 246 
 
 19 
 
 Tempesta, Antonio 
 
 - 
 
 246 
 
 21 
 
 Testa, Pietro 
 
 - 
 
 - 252 
 
 1 
 
 Tiarini, Alessandro 
 
 - 
 
 252 
 
 12 
 
 Tibaldi, Pelestrino 
 
 - 
 
 - 234 
 
 7 
 
 Timoteo Urbino 
 
 - 
 
 232 
 
 5 
 
 Tintoretto, 11 
 
 - 
 
 - 242 
 
 7 
 
 — Marietta 
 
 - 
 
 242 
 
 8 
 
 Titiano Vecelli 
 
 - 
 
 - 232 
 
 3 
 
 Girolamo di 
 
 - 
 
 238 
 
 16 
 
 Trevigi, Girolamo da 
 
 - 
 
 - 234 
 
 15 
 
 Turbido, Francesco 
 
 - 
 
 230 
 
 7 
 
 
 U. 
 
 
 
 Uccella, Paolo 
 
 - 
 
 . 228 
 
 10 
 
 Udina, Giovanni da. 
 
 See G. 
 
 
 
 G. M. de. See M. 
 
 Urbino, Raffa’elle Sanzio d’. See R. 
 Timoteo. See T. 
 
 V. 
 
 Vago, Perm del - - 232 12 
 
[ 272 ] 
 
 Valentino, 11 _ - 
 
 Page. 
 
 246 
 
 No. 
 
 15 
 
 Vandensyde, Roger 
 
 238 
 
 7 
 
 Vandyck, Sir Anthony - 
 
 248 
 
 0 
 
 Vanni, 11 Cavaliero Francesco - 
 
 242 
 
 18 
 
 Van-Veen, Octavius - 
 
 248 
 
 1 
 
 Van-Winghen, Jude Indocus 
 
 240 
 
 17 
 
 Vasari, Giorgio - 
 
 236 
 
 17 
 
 Vauvremans, Philip - 
 
 250 
 
 10 
 
 Vecelli, Titiano - 
 
 232 
 
 3 
 
 Vecelli, Francesco! 
 Orazio J 
 
 238 1 
 
 r 12 
 13 
 
 Marco - 
 
 242 
 
 13 
 
 Vecchio, 11 
 
 236 
 
 3 
 
 Veest, Ert - 
 
 250 
 
 8 
 
 Velasquez, Diego - 
 
 254 
 
 3 
 
 Velvet Brueghel - 
 
 250 
 
 1 
 
 Venusto, Marcello - 
 
 240 
 
 4 
 
 Verocchio, Andrea - 
 
 228 
 
 23 
 
 Veronese, Paul - 
 
 240 
 
 22 
 
 Alessandro 
 
 254 
 
 4 
 
 Verzelli, Giov. Antonio da 
 
 236 
 
 9 
 
 Vicenzo da San Geminiano 
 
 232 
 
 6 
 
 Vinci, Lionardo da. See L. 
 
 Viola, 11 ... 
 
 246 
 
 11 
 
 Volterra, Daniel da 
 
 236 
 
 18 
 
 Vos, Martin de 
 
 242 
 
 10 
 
 Vouet, Simon * 
 
 248 
 
 3 
 
 Vroom. See Wroon. 
 
[ 273 ] 
 
 Page. No. 
 
 w. 
 
 WrooD, Henry Cornelius 
 
 246 
 
 18 
 
 Z. 
 
 Zaccolino, Fra Matteo 
 
 - 246 
 
 20 
 
 Zampierij Domenico 
 
 244 
 
 3 
 
 Zelotti, Battista 
 
 242 
 
 1 
 
 Zucchero, Taddeo "] 
 
 1 
 
 " 19 
 
 " — Frederico j 
 
 - 236 < 
 
 20 
 
 VOL. Ill, 
 
 T 
 
r 275 ] 
 
 INDEX 
 
 TO THE ART OF PAINTING, &c. 
 
 Accident, how far favourable to Painters, 6 S . 
 
 Action, the principal requisite in a subject for History-paint- 
 ing, 86 , — See 100. 
 
 Affectation, a hateful quality, 107. 
 
 Albert Durer. — See Z). 
 
 Angelo, Michael,— See M. 
 
 Artist, the qualifications of, 6S, 71 - See Study, Imitation , &c. 
 
 B 
 
 Back Ground, in Pictures, rules as to, 58, 121, 122. 
 
 Bad Pictures, in what respect useful, 129. 
 
 Baroccio, his defect in colouring, 139, 
 
 Bassano, his excellencies, 163. 
 
 Beauty, ideal; what, and the notion of it how to be pursued 
 and acquired, &c. 2 6, 83, 85, 134, 140, 175. 
 
 - of form alone, one great excellence in Sculpture, 92. 
 Bellino, Titian’s first Master, Anecdotes of, l6l. 
 
 Bellori, his fanciful Idea of a Painter, &c. 173, 
 
 Black, its effect in Painting, 53. 
 
 C 
 
 Caracci, Annibal, his character, 74, lf)5. 
 
 Augustino, and Antonio ; Anecdotes of, 165, &c. 
 
 * Lodovico, his mode of colouring, 123. 
 
 Anecdotes of, 165. 
 
[ “276 ] 
 
 Chorus in a Tragedy, Dryden’s observations on, 207 
 Colouring, the third part of Painting, 46'. 
 
 rules with respect to, 47, &c.-As to the reflection 
 
 of Colours, 53.— Their union, 54.— Breaking, ibid. The 
 interposition of Air, 55—The relation of distances, ibid. 
 —Of bodies distanced, 56.— Contiguous and separated, 
 ibid. — Opposite colours not to be joined, ibid. Diversity 
 of Tints and Colours, ibid— Practical Rules 57,— Vivacity 
 of Colours, 58, — See Light. 
 
 cautions as to excellence in, 139* 
 
 of the Venetian School, excellencies of, 137- 
 
 - of a single figure, 108. 
 
 number of colours to be used, 113. 
 
 . harmony of; the various modes of producing, in 
 
 the Roman, Bolognian, and Venetian style, 123, 126. 
 
 of modern Painters, defects of, 128. 
 
 compared to expression in Poetry, 211. 
 
 Composition, what, 89- — See Invention ; Genius; Whole. 
 Connoisseurs, mock, ridicule on, 130. 
 
 Contrast, to be managed skilfully, 35,— 39. 
 
 Correggio, his character, 73, 139, 1*>3. 
 
 Criticism, true; ground of, 131. 
 
 D 
 
 Deity, personification of, 140. 
 
 Dense bodies, how to be painted, as distinct from pellucid; 
 
 as in air or water, 50. 
 
 Design, the second part of Painting, 32. 
 
 Dexterity in Painting, its value and effect, 64, 129- 
 Diligence, requisite to perfection in Painting, 6j. 
 
 false ; instances of, 62, 63.— See Genius. 
 
 Disposition, or (Economy of the whole, in Painting, 122, 123. 
 Domenichino, Anecdotes of, l66. 
 
 Drapery, art of disposing, in painting, 41, 43, 108. 
 
[ 2 77 ] 
 
 Drawings, — See Sketches. 
 
 Dress, unfriendly to true taste, in the Painter or Sculptor, 
 how to be remedied, 122. 
 
 Dumb Persons, how far action is to be learnt from them, 
 34, 100. 
 
 Durer, Albert, cause of his defects, 167. 
 
 Dutch School, — Schools of Fainting. 
 
 E 
 
 Excellencies, superior, the greater object of attention, 62. 
 various, union of, how far practicable, 131. 
 
 F 
 
 Facility in drawing, how to be acquired, 64. 
 
 Feet, rules as to drawing, 38. 
 
 Field of a picture, what, and how to be coloured, 58. — See 
 Back ground. 
 
 Figure, single, how to be painted, 41, 107- 
 Figures, what number of, necessary in historical pieces, 3 7> 
 104, 202. 
 
 disposition of, 35, — See Principal Figure. 
 
 Formality, to be avoided in Painting, 38. 
 
 Fresnoy, Charles Alphonse Du, life of, 13, &c. 
 
 Pictures by, 17. 
 
 G 
 
 Genius of a Painter, to be directed to the expression of an 
 subject, as a whole in its general effect, 80, 81. 
 
 Georgione, a rival of Titian, l6l. 
 
 Ghirlandaio, Domenico, Michael Angelo's Master, 157- 
 Giulio, — See Julio. 
 
 Gothic ornaments, — See Ornaments. 
 
 Grace and Majesty in Painting, 43, 109. 
 
 Grapes, a bunch of, Titian’s rule of light and shade, 53, 119. 
 Groups, of introducing more than one in a picture, 48. 
 rules for disposing, 35, 36, 
 
[ 278 ] 
 
 Guido, anecdotes of, 106, 166, 177, 178. 
 
 his neatness and delicacy of colouring, 125. 
 
 H 
 
 Historical Painting ; locality of character, how far a defect 
 in, 90. 
 
 — distinction between that and Portrait painting, 107. 
 
 requisites to be observed in, 88 — ()0. 
 
 ■ — See Figures ; Subjects, choice of. 
 
 Holbien, his excellence in portraits, 167- 
 
 I 
 
 Imitation, the pleasure produced by, how to be accounted for, 
 
 198 . 
 
 avoiding, often the effect of presumption, 65. 
 
 Invention, what, 88, 200. 
 
 ■ — ■ — the first part of painting, 29, 1 99- 
 Julio Romano, his peculiar merits, 72, 135, l60. 
 
 ■ anecdotes of, l60. 
 
 K 
 
 Know thyself, a precept necessary to Painters, 66. 
 
 L 
 
 Lanfranc, anecdotes of, 167. 
 
 Light, masses of, the properest colours for, 120. 
 
 * not more than one principal one in a picture, 51 ; 115. 
 
 — - — choice of, in colouring, 57. 
 
 and shade ; conduct of the tints of, 48, 116 — 118. 
 
 — to be adapted to the situation a picture is to be placed 
 
 in, 60, 6l. 
 
 • breadth of ; its excellence, 119. 
 
 M 
 
 Michael Angelo, cause of his superior excellence, 72, 13f). 
 
[ 2 79 ] 
 
 Michael Angelo, Fresnov’s character of him, 158. 
 
 Mirror, its use to painters, 59- 
 
 Models, living; rules as to drawing from, 106. 
 
 N 
 
 Nature, forms of, not to be too closely and servilely copied, 
 28. 
 
 imperfections of, how to be remedied by the Painter, 
 
 39, 105, 1 74. 
 
 habits of ; to be distinguished from those of fashion ; 
 
 not only in dress, 34; but manners, 39- 
 
 . never to be lost sight of, 34, 39, 40, 140. See 
 
 Rules. 
 
 Night, See Colouring. 
 
 O 
 
 Ornaments, requisite in Painting, in a moderate degree, 43, 
 108, 201. 
 
 — Gothic ; to be avoided, 45. 
 
 Outline ; flowing, 32, 96. 
 
 P 
 
 Painters, ancient ; their probable excellencies and defects, 
 112—115. 
 
 — Alphabetical List of, 259 — 273. 
 
 Chronological List of, 228 — 257. 
 
 Painting, Art of ; should be employed to reach the mind ; 
 and hence derives its value, 138. 
 
 in what sense it is not an imitation of Nature, 136— 
 
 139- 
 
 Invention ; the first part of Painting, 29, — Design, 
 
 the second, 32,— Colouring, the third, 46. See Poetry. 
 
 Parmegiano, anecdotes of, l64. 
 
 Passions, rules as to expressing, 44, 109, 111* 
 
 Paul Veronese, See V. 
 
 Perspective; how to be regulated in painting, 33,97* 
 
 Philostratus, his rules for painting, 181. 
 
[ 280 ] 
 
 Pietro Perugino, Raffaelle’s Master, 158. 
 
 Place of a picture, See Light and Shade. 
 
 Poetry, comparison between that and Painting, at length, 23, 
 80, 138, 184, &c. 
 
 Polydore, anecdotes of, l60. 
 
 Portrait Painting. 
 
 resemblance, the chief excellence in, 60. 
 
 Practice, how to precede, or be combined with Theory, 28, 
 83. 
 
 Prejudice, how to be indulged or counteracted, 182. 
 
 Pride, an enemy to good Painting, 65. 
 
 Principal figure, in particular, 34, 10 1. 
 
 — the colouring of, 59, 127. 
 
 Principal circumstance in a picture, to extend not only to 
 figure, but to colour, drapery, &c. 108. 
 
 Proportions of the human figure relative to Painting and 
 Sculpture, 93. 
 
 Prudence, rules of, relative to a Painter, 62, 66, 83. 
 
 R 
 
 Raffaelle, anecdotes of, 159. 
 
 Relief, in painting ; its excellencies and defects, 52. 
 
 Repose, in painting, its advantages, 37, 104. 
 
 Rubens, facility of invention and execution, his peculiar 
 characteristic, 129, 1 67. 
 
 his method of painting large pictures, 87. 
 
 his pictures in the Church of St. Augustine at Ant- 
 werp, 103. 
 
 his general character; excellencies and defects, 167. 
 
 Rules of Art, not to be too servilely followed, 28, 64, 129, 
 
 the reason of them to be considered, 28, 135, 136, 
 
 142. 
 
 formed on the works of those who have studied 
 
 Nature most successfully ; and therefore teach the art of 
 seeing Nature, 140, &c. 
 
[ 281 ] 
 
 S 
 
 Schools of Painting, their various principles, 141. 
 
 Venetian : excellencies and defects of, 117, 123. 
 
 Dutch; peculiar merits of, 11(5, 123. 
 
 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, 49. 
 Sketches, to be painted in colours, rather than drawn with 
 the crayon, 87. 
 
 — their utility, 68, 8 7. 
 
 Study of Painting ; hiats for the course of, 130, 134. 
 
 method of, remarks on, 8J, 143. 
 
 Style in Painting ; principles of, 102, 103, 124. 
 
 Subjects, choice of; how to be regulated, 29, 62, 85. 
 
 in what cases to be treated faithfully, 30. 
 
 T 
 
 Tintoret, his excellencies and defects, 163. 
 
 Titian ; his excellence of colouring, 73. 
 
 compared with Rubens, 103. 
 
 his rule for light and shade, 52, 1 19. 
 
 anecdotes of, l6l. 
 
 V 
 
 Vandervelde, his excellency in colouring, 125. 
 
 . Vandyck, a Pupil of Rubens, 168. 
 
 Variety, in figures in Historical Painting, 34. 
 
 of attitude, 35. 
 
 Veronese, Paul; his excellencies and defects, 162. 
 
 his picture of The Marriage at Cana praised, 
 
 125. 
 
 Viola, G. anecdotes of, 167. 
 
 Virtue, necessary to the perfection of Taste, 188. 
 
 Unity of the limbs and drapery with the head of a figure, 
 34, 43, 99 . 
 
[ 282 ] 
 
 W 
 
 Watteau, his excellency in colouring, 124. 
 White, its effect in painting, 53. 
 
 Whole, what is meant by, 65 ; 104. 
 
ESSAYS, 
 
 HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL, 
 
 ON 
 
 ENGLISH CHURCH MUSIC. 
 
 tAASl AE KAI TO NOI. 
 
ESSAY THE FIRST, 
 
 ON 
 
 INSTRUMENTAL CHURCH MUSIC. 
 
[ 287 J 
 
 ESSAY THE FIRST. 
 
 Music, as an imitative art, ranks so much below Poetry 
 and Painting, that, in my own opinion, which I have 
 found confirmed by many late writers of the best judg- 
 ment, it can hardly be so termed with propriety.* Not- 
 withstanding this, it has certain qualities, so analogous 
 to those which constitute Metre or Versification, such as 
 Accent, Rhythm, Pause, and Cadence, that it thereby 
 becomes, equally with Poetry, an object of criticism. It 
 is, however, only within this century that, by our own 
 writers, observations of a critical kind have been made 
 upon it with any degree of philosophical precision. — 
 Thus when Mr. Addison made the Italian Opera, which 
 was then lately introduced into England, the object of 
 his elegant ridicule, he chose rather to dwell on certain 
 absurdities in its stage representation and dramatic exe- 
 cution, than on the merit or demerit of the composer or 
 performers. — Hence a late musical historian f treated 
 him with a flippancy that ill became him to express, had 
 
 * See Harris’s Three Treatises, Dr. Beattie ou Poetry and 
 Music, and particularly Mr. Twining’s Second Dissertation pre- 
 fixed to his Translation of Aristotle’s Poetics. 
 
 t Sir John Hawkins, in the Preface to his History of Music. 
 
[ 28 8 ] 
 
 there been a just cause for it; but this was not the case, 
 for there is one of his Spectators, No. 29, on the subject 
 of Recitative, which contains very just observations on 
 that peculiar species of Music, which may be called 
 declamatory. Observations, which, had they been duly 
 attended to by our earlier English Composers, might 
 have produced, what we shall now probably ever want, 
 a true national recitative; for the present seems only 
 that of the Italian Germanized by Handel. I mention 
 this criticism of Mr. Addison merely as the first of the 
 sort I allude to, that has come within the compass of my 
 reading, written by an Englishman. 
 
 Treatises on the art itself have been numerous. In 
 these the masters of it have criticised their predecessors 
 and contemporaries, but this only as grammarians have 
 criticised grammarians ; either for trespassing on the 
 rules laid down by the old masters, for modulation and 
 harmony; or for breaking, like Piscian’s, Guido’s head. 
 But this, the reader sees, is widely different from the 
 species of criticism I mean, and shall aim to pursue. 
 Therefore, I think, I may safely affirm that the number 
 of disquisitions, of this cast, on Music, has been much 
 fewer than on Poetry, Painting, or any other of those 
 operative modes of fancy and genius, who go under the 
 hacknied titles of the fine and polite arts. 
 
 The French, vain of their national Music, as of every 
 thing else, I suspect were, till of late, as deficient in 
 treatises on the art, as we who made no such boast. 
 
1 289 ] 
 
 The indiscriminate praise, which they gave to Jean 
 Baptiste Lully, we may justly suppose, was all that 
 flowed from the pen of their writers, till the momentous 
 critique of Jean Jaques Rousseau gave them to under- 
 stand, that they had, in fact, no national Music at all. 
 What this daring Swiss had the presumption to say, the 
 Italian, the English, and every other European nation 
 had long presumed to think. But it was reserved for his 
 uncommon force of genius to put their general senti- 
 ments into the most eloquent and energetic language, 
 and, after a literary conflict which nearly cost him his 
 life, to gain a complete victory over the partizans of 
 French Music ; a victory so decisive, that the best 
 judges in France itself, who had not before chosen to 
 declare their sentiments, Messrs. D’Alembert, Diderot, 
 and others, joined their critical forces with the Citizen of 
 Geneva, and a musical revolution spread as speedily 
 through the nation, as that political one, which, with 
 sanguinary fury, is now hurrying to its crisis, while these 
 sheets, written some years ago, are revising for the 
 press. 
 
 However eccentric this singular writer was, who ef- 
 fected the great change we have spoken of, when treat- 
 ing upon religious, moral, and political subjects, it ig 
 certain, that there is less of paradox in his disquisitions 
 on this topic, than on any other. Music was in fact his 
 profession ; upon the art itself he had bestowed intense 
 application. Endued by nature with a fine and discri- 
 
 VOL. Ill, u 
 
[ 290 ] 
 
 minating ear, with an exquisite sensibility and refined 
 feeling, his taste, as well as intellect, led him not only 
 to perceive minutely the effect of musical sounds in 
 melodious succession, hut of these too in harmonieal 
 combination ; it enabled him to make deep and success- 
 ful researches into the causes which produced these 
 effects, and to discover how far the art could go, beyond 
 soothing the ear, to its nobler end, that of moving the 
 passions. Sometimes, it must be owned, that, in the 
 writings he has left us, he refines too much, as indeed 
 he does on every other subject; yet on the whole, I be- 
 lieve, the generality of those who combine musical feel- 
 ing with musical knowledge, talents which are not 
 constantly united, will readily allow, that both these 
 qualities are not more conspicuous in any work of the 
 kind extant, than in the Dictionnaire de Musique of 
 J. J. Rousseau. 
 
 I have said at the commencement of this Essay, or it 
 may be thence inferred, that it is in respect to Accent, 
 Rhythm, and Cadence, Music becomes an object of that 
 species of Criticism, which supersedes what is purely 
 harmonieal. Now, though this assertion be chiefly true 
 of that succession of melodious sounds, which adapts 
 itself to given words, and which we term vocal Music, 
 yet that, which is simply instrumental, is by no means 
 divested of these properties ; for it is less or more per- 
 fect (the rules of modulation and harmony pre-supposed 
 equally observed), in proportion as Accent, Rhythm, and 
 
[ 291 ] 
 
 Cadence are either adhered to or neglected. Many great 
 harmonists, even in the course of this very century, are 
 ) emarkably deficient in these points 3 and however they 
 may be supposed to excel the moderns with regard to 
 fulness of Harmony, I will be bold to say, that they are 
 much surpassed by their successors in delicacy of Me- 
 lody 3 a merit, which certainly prises from their more 
 studious attention to these three properties essential to 
 Poetry. 
 
 But, as I write with a view to make myself intelligible 
 to the hearers and admirers of Music, rather than the 
 masters and composers, I must take leave to explain 
 myself a little more fully on this point. By Musical 
 Rhythm I mean something extremely analogous to Poeti- 
 cal Rhythm: thus, as Stanzas consist of Syllables, 
 Pauses, and Verses 3 so a musical strain must have a given 
 number of Notes, Bars, Passages in a certain propor- 
 tion. Again, for the preservation of this Rhythm in 
 Music, it is necessary that, at least, one note in every bar 
 should be accented, just as one syllable in every word is 3 
 and, as no stanza can read pleasingly, unless proper pauses 
 be intioduced, and these arranged with variety 3 so in a 
 musical movement we usually* find various rests, as the 
 stiain proceeds, answering to commas in verbal punc- 
 tuation 3 and many half cadences, like semi-colons and 
 
 I say usually , because certain airs are composed of notes of 
 the same length, in which accent, or an addition of energy dy 
 the business. 
 
[ 292 ] 
 
 Colons, before it concludes : a perfect cadence then 
 marks its termination, similar to that full point, either in 
 verse or prose, where the sense is compleated, and which 
 is called a period. 
 
 Having thus explained my meaning by that analogy, 
 which certainly subsists between literary and musical 
 compositions, I shall be understood at least, if not as- 
 sented to, when I say that the Music both vocal ana 
 instrumental, produced by the composers in the early 
 part of this century, was less accentual and rhythmical, 
 than that of their later successors. When we hear the 
 Music of the former performed, we may be pleased, it is 
 true, and greatly pleased with the artful contrivance of 
 its modulation, and the strong support given to its me- 
 lody by its accompanying, or rather leading, harmony: 
 yet, like that defect in prose which Mr. Pope calls a 
 period of a mile, or like the long irregular stanzas of an 
 ode, falsely called Pindaric, our ear will ever want due 
 pauses to rest upon ; our attention will find itself be- 
 wildered : the hand or foot, even the most experienced, 
 will with difficulty beat time to it. By such Music we 
 may be entertained and soothed, but seldom moved or 
 affected. Its strains will be void of pathos and expres- 
 sion, and the memory of them, in consequence, imper- 
 fectly retained. But on the contrary where Rhythm, 
 Pause, and Accent are peculiarly attended to by the 
 composer, his productions will have an immediate and 
 striking effect upon the hearer. He will comprehend 
 
[ 293 ] 
 
 the spirit of the air at its very first opening ; every suc- 
 ceeding passage will render it still more gratefully in- 
 telligible ; and this however novel or uncommon the 
 movement, or however varied by extraneous and unex- 
 pected modulation. 
 
 It may be said, perhaps, in opposition to this assertion, 
 that it depends more upon the performer than the 
 composer to make Music of every kind intelligible at 
 least, if not affecting; that, either by his voice or his 
 instrument, he may give to every bar its proper accent, 
 and to every passage its proper pause ; that he may 
 execute certain strains in a rhythmical manner, which 
 the composer formed by notes of an equal length. But 
 experience proves this not to be the fact. A Mass or 
 Miserere of Palestrina’s, will never be found so intelli- 
 gible, on the first hearing, as one of Pergolesi’s, though 
 sung by the same voices equally possest of the highest 
 powers of intonation. Nor will a Concerto of Gemi- 
 niani’s be so readily understood, as an Overture of 
 Jomelli’s, though performed by one and the same per- 
 fect orchestra. I compare these later masters with one 
 another, though nearly contemporaries, because the 
 former, notwithstanding his great and allowed excel- 
 lencies, was much less attentive than the other to the 
 powers of Accent and Rhythm. 
 
 That species of Music therefore, which carries the 
 intellect of the ear (if the expression may be allowed) 
 completely along with it, and renders the air or melody, 
 
[ 294 ] 
 
 at the first hearing, clear and distinct, is, in my opinion, 
 to be found more perfect in the works of our modern 
 masters, than in those of their predecessors. It will not 
 however follow from this, that I hold the compositions 
 of these their predecessors in disesteem. — Whatever 
 superior merit rhythmical and accented Music may have 
 for peculiar purposes, that which is less so, or even de- 
 fective when thus considered, has great attractions of its 
 own, though distinct from the other. My meaning only 
 is, that it cannot properly be the object of such criticism, 
 as I mean to employ in these Essays. This declaration, 
 I hope, may secure me from the censure of those, who 
 patronize and admire exclusively what they call Ancient 
 Music; though some of it, and perhaps the best, did 
 not exist beyond the period of the last sixty years. 
 
 Having said this by way of, what I think, necessary 
 introduction, I shall proceed immediately to my general 
 subject. 
 
 And here, I presume, it will neither be expected or 
 wished, that I should enter upon any defence of Church 
 Music. My business is only to inquire into its merits 
 and demerits, as one, though a principal Genus of the 
 Musical Science ; and to investigate, not by the rules of 
 Harmony and Modulation, but by those of Reason and 
 Common Sense, when it has been well or ill composed, 
 well or ill executed. I am very ready to allow, that it 
 is by no means necessary to salvation, nor even absolutely 
 to devotion ; and that therefore it may be either admitted 
 
[ 295 ] 
 
 or rejected by any religious sect, in proportion as it cor- 
 responds, or does not, with its particular mode of religi- 
 ous worship. Those Christians, however, who admit it, 
 as the Members of the Church of England do, will, I 
 suppose, with no hesitation assent to the following pro- 
 positions. 
 
 1st. If it be adopted only as a preparative to devotion, 
 in order so far to affect the minds of the congregation, 
 as to bring them into a composed, and therefore a proper 
 state for the due performance of that duty, the Music 
 employed ought to be of a kind, which experience has 
 proved to be most efficacious in soothing and tranquil- 
 lizing the spirits. 
 
 2d. If it should be thought expedient to accompany, 
 or make a part of the act of devotion itself, and for that 
 purpose have a choir to take the lead in the performance 
 of this service, it is necessary that the Music be such, 
 as will not perplex or bewilder the general congregation ; 
 but so simplified, that the supplications and thanksgiv- 
 ings, then expressed vocally and in musical strains, may 
 both be distinctly heard, and clearly understood. 
 
 3d. If divested of a choir, Music should be held so 
 Viseful an accessary to devotion, that all the congregation 
 should audibly, or at least mentally join in that office, a 
 species of melody so very simply constructed, that the 
 generality may easily learn and perform it, ought to be 
 exclusively adopted. 
 
 Under these three heads the reader will go before me 
 
[ 296 ] 
 
 in apprehending, that every species of Church Music, 
 now in practice, may be duly arranged ; and, according 
 to such arrangement, become distinct topics of critical 
 speculation. The first, he will see, relates to Instru- 
 mental Church Music only ; the second to that in our 
 Cathedrals, in which the Organ accompanies the Choir 
 and the third to Parochial Psalmody. I shall employ 
 this Essay on the first of these subjects. 
 
 When the Greek and Latin writers treat of Instru- 
 mental Music, it is, I believe, universally agreed that they 
 seldom, if ever, consider it as separated from Vocal ; their 
 tragic dramas, and even their poetical recitations, being 
 usually accompanied by instruments. Even their come- 
 dies had some certain musical strain peculiarly adapted 
 to each, which the title pages of Terence’s inform us was 
 executed by right and left handed pipes, of the effect of 
 which, though we can form no other conception than 
 that these instruments regulated the declamation, yet we 
 may assure ourselves that, as the name of the composer 
 is specified, it was some peculiar effort of Musical 
 Science. Neither did their orators address the people 
 unassisted by a tonapion, or pitch-pipe. There however 
 can be no doubt but that they had also a species of 
 Music purely Instrumental, which served the same pur- 
 poses that we employ it for at present. For, as Virgil 
 nobly expresses it, one of those was 
 
 iEre ciere Viros Martemque accendere cantu, 
 another to add dignity to civic processions \ and a third 
 
[ 297 ] 
 
 to inspire a reverential awe at religious ceremonies, and 
 the performance of public sacrifices. The dance, it is 
 true, sometimes accompanied those instrumental strains, 
 and sometimes also the voice 5 yet they were frequently 
 heard without either, as they were among the Jews, of 
 which the Bible records various instances. Yet, as my 
 present subject confines me to that Music only, which 
 either was formerly, or is still used in Christian congre- 
 gations, I shall content myself with supposing, for I will 
 not assert it as a fact, that Musical Instruments were not 
 introduced into the Church, till our religion became 
 established by the civil power, when, it is to be believed, 
 they would be employed much in the same manner, and 
 perform similar movements to those they were accustomed 
 to execute when attendant on the religious ceremonies 
 of the Pagans, before they became under Constantine 
 converts to Christianity. And this probably was the 
 reason, why the earlier Fathers of the Church so much 
 condemned musical devotion when instrumentally ac- 
 companied. 
 
 And indeed, till the invention of that noblest of all 
 instruments the Organ was brought to some degree of 
 perfection, we can hardly conceive, that the Hymns and 
 Services of a Christian Church could be properly accom- 
 panied. The Tibiae, the Cithara, and the Lyre, which 
 may be called the genuine classical instruments, were 
 little, if in any degree adapted to give force and solemnity 
 to vocal and choral chaunting. They had their use, and 
 a capital one, in dramatic recitation, and lyrical accom- 
 
panyment, by marking the Rhythm, Accent, and Quantity 
 of the iambic, and other poetical metres ; but this use, 
 in the sera I am speaking of, was quite superseded. 
 Versification and Melody were now no longer in alliance ; 
 for, whether poetry or prose were in question, one slow 
 and uniform intonation, consisting of notes of equal, or 
 nearly equal length, was exclusively adopted. The term 
 figurate , which we now employ to distinguish florid from 
 more simple melody, was then used to denote that, which 
 was simply rhythmical or accentual ; * and such Music, 
 as formerly served to make accompanying words more 
 intelligible, was now anathematised for no other reason, 
 probably, than because it had been applied to theatrical 
 and profane purposes. An instrument, therefore, which 
 added to the loudness rather than the length (as Dry den 
 imagined) of solemn sounds , was now the accompany- 
 ment only wanted; and this the vocal frame, of which 
 he supposed his St. Caecilia to be the inventress, was of 
 all others best adapted to produce.f 
 
 * I say this on Dr. Burney’s authority ^(and I cannot rest upon 
 better) who has shewn, with much clearness and erudition, that 
 Canto Figurato, in opposition to Canto Fermo, was anciently put 
 to denominate Rhythmical Music, Canto Fermo being incom- 
 patible with Metre. History of Music, vol. 2, p. 16, note c. 
 
 + At length divine Caecilia came, 
 
 Inventress of the Vocal Frame ; 
 
 The sweet Enthusiast from her sacred store 
 Enlarged the former narrow bounds, 
 
 And added length to solemn sounds, 
 
 With Nature’s motber-wit, and arts unknown before. 
 
 Alexander's Feast, lest Stm%a. 
 
[ 299 ] 
 
 As therefore the judicious performance upon the 
 Organ will be one of the principal topics of this Essay, I 
 hope, it will not be displeasing to the reader, if I here 
 select a few historical notices concerning its progress 
 towards perfection, partly extracted from a very volu- 
 minous work, entituled, L’Art du Facteur des Orgues par 
 D. Bedos de Celles, a Benedictine monk, printed 1766, 
 which seems not to have fallen in the way of Dr. Burney 
 during his indefatigable researches after materials for his 
 History of Music; a work, in which a supreme knowledge 
 of the art, and a judicious discrimination of its perfections 
 and imperfections are uniformly conspicuous. 
 
 The Latin substantive Organum was in the earlier 
 ages of the Church, if not long before, applied indiscri- 
 minately to a variety of instruments. This appears from 
 the following passage of St. Austin’s Comment on the 
 Fifty-sixth Psalm. u All musical instruments are called 
 (( Organs, not only that which is slender and blown with 
 (e bellows, but also every one else of a bodily shape which 
 “ is adapted to song, and which the singer on that ac- 
 “ count employs.” Hence therefore we are not to 
 wonder, that so many mistakes of a chronological kind 
 have been made concerning the origin of the Organ, and 
 the periods, through which it came to perfection.* 
 
 * Organa dicuntur omnia instrumenta Musicorum, non solum 
 sllud Organum dicitur, quod gracile est et inflatur follibus, sed 
 
 tiam quicquid aptatur ad cantilenam et corporeum est, quo in- 
 strument© utitur qui cantat, Organum dicitur. And even the 
 
[ 300 ] 
 
 We shall also ourselves, I think, be under a mistake if 
 we infer from this quotation that St. Austin, though he 
 mentions bellows, means precisely what we now call an 
 Organ ; for from the epithet gracile, which I have trans- 
 lated slender, it seems to have only been a kind of organized 
 Syrinx, or an inferior sort of Regalls in fashion about 
 Queen Elizabeth’s time ; or rather such a portable 
 pneumatic instrument which, if the word of Mersennus 
 may be depended upon, was represented on an ancient 
 monument in the Mattei Gardens in Rome, with a Latin 
 inscription annexed. This represents a little cabinet 
 with a few pipes arranged upon it, and an equal number 
 pf keys, on which a female figure is in the act of playing, 
 while on the other side a man blows into the cabinet 
 with a small pair of bellows, exactly like those in present 
 use.* 
 
 Hebrew and Greek writers frequently use a general term for a 
 single pipe, or a combination of them indiscriminately — Nay, 
 sometimes for a concert of voices, which encreases the difficulty 
 of ascertaining this point. By Guido, and the first writers on 
 counterpoint, the w ord Organum was used for diseant, which still 
 more perplexes the matter. 
 
 See Dr. Burney's Hist, of Music, vol. 2, p. 75. 
 
 * Sir John Hawkins, in his History, vol. 1, B. 4, p. 403, gives 
 us the inscription, and also an engraving of the monument. But 
 the figures are by qo means in the antique style, which makes 
 me question its authenticity. If it be genuine, it will prove that 
 the Romans had such an instrument in small, which may have 
 led to all the improvements in later ages. The Emperor Julian’s 
 well-known Epigram proves, that they had enlarged upon the 
 plan, by making (as it seems) the bellow s of a bull’s hide. 
 
 See Anltiologidi fib. 1. cay. S6, cp. 8. 
 
[ SOI ] 
 
 The learned Benedictine quotes also anotli&r passage 
 on this subject from William of Malmsbury, which I 
 think curious enough to translate. (( By the violence of 
 (e hot water the wind coming out fills the whole cavity 
 “ of the Instrument, which, from several apertures pass- 
 ing through brass pipes, sends forth musical noises. * 
 
 I here suspect, that by the word ventus the Monk 
 meant steam ; because the sound was produced by hot 
 water, aqua calefactce violentia, and if so, we have a 
 new purpose, to which the ingenious steam engineeiS of 
 the present time may, if they please, employ it. And 
 who knows but a certain noble mechanic, when he has 
 navigated his ship with it, may place a steam Organ 
 upon the poop and play £& i ra upon it wfith peculiar 
 propriety ? 
 
 But to return ex fumo, and give what historical light 
 remains on the subject $ I shall translate another very 
 singular passage, which de Celles has taken from du 
 Cange, consisting of eight barbarous Latin verses, written 
 by Wolstan in the tenth century. — They contaih a most 
 faithful description of an Organ erected at Westminster. 
 The lines, I have said, are barbarous, and my translation 
 of them will, I fear, not appear to be very delicate. It is 
 however quite literal, and as such best calculated to give 
 the English Reader an idea of that enormous machine. 
 
 * Aquas calefactas violentia ventus emergens implet concavi- 
 tatem barbiti, et per multiforatiles transitus asneas fistul® modu- 
 latos clamores emittunt. TV. Be Malms. 
 
[ 302 ] 
 
 Twelve pair of bellows, rang’d in stated row,, 
 
 Are joined above, and fourteen more below : 
 
 These the full force of seventy men require. 
 
 Who ceaseless toil, and plenteously perspire ; 
 
 Each aiding each, till all the wind be prest 
 In the close confines of th’ incumbent chest. 
 
 On which four hundred pipes in order rise 
 To bellow forth the blast, that chest supplies.* 
 
 From this surprising description we are not, I think, to 
 imagine that these seventy stout bellows-blowers kept 
 their twenty-six bellows in action all the time the 
 organist was playing. I rather suppose, that his per- 
 formance did not commence till they had filled the chest 
 compleatly with wind, which he was after to expend by 
 due degrees, as he found musical occasion. However 
 this be, it is matter of wonder, that an instrument, as to 
 its principle of construction so very simple, however 
 complicated its mechanism may be when that principle 
 is applied to a variety of stops, should have been for so 
 many centuries in a state of so much imperfection. 
 
 * Bisseni supra sociantur ordine folles, 
 
 Inferiusque jacent quatuor atque decern, 
 
 Quas agitant validi septuaginta viri; 
 
 Brachia versantes, multo et sudore madentes, 
 Certatimque suos quisque movet Socios. 
 
 Yiribus ut totis impellant flamina sursum, 
 
 Et rugiat pleno Capsa referta sinu 
 
 Sola quadragentas, quse sustinet ordine, Musas. 
 
 Wolstun, 
 
[ 303 ] 
 
 For, according to my Author, the first keys were from 
 five to six inches broad, and consequently, though said to 
 be played by the hand, must, like the Carillons at present 
 in Holland, have required the fist to perform that office. 
 Again, the pipes, formed only of brass, must have been 
 so shrill and piercing, that no sounds agreeable to the ear 
 could have been produced by them.'* Half notes, he 
 tells us, were introduced at Venice so early as the 
 beginning of the twelfth century ; yet the compass of the 
 Instrument had not then attained more than two Octaves; 
 neither was its construction so far advanced, as to make 
 it capable of being performed upon by both hands, till the 
 fifteenth century ; for which fact he quotes the authority 
 of Gerson, cited by M. De St. Blaise. From Pretorius, 
 whose work was printed so late as 1615, he learns, that 
 Registers, by which only a variety of stops could be 
 formed, were not invented till towards the conclusion of 
 the preceding century. From all this we may justly 
 conclude, that an Organ, in any degree deserving the 
 name, could not have been fabricated many years before 
 the sera of our Reformation. 
 
 Then indeed, as every part of the Church Service, 
 •xcept, perhaps, the Lessons, still continued to be per- 
 
 * The Organ at Aix, which claims the reputation, though a 
 disputed one, of being the first of the kind, consisted, according 
 to Pretorius, of brass or copper pipes ; and it had such an effect 
 on one of its female auditors, that she died on first hearing it. 
 But whether from terror or rapture the Historian does not 
 record ; I suspect the former gave her the death blow. 
 
[ 304 ] 
 
 formed musically, the Organ might have been employed 
 singly, in order to suffer the officiating Priests and Choir 
 to take their breath, as is still done abroad at proper in- 
 tervals during High Mass, and also in all Protestant 
 Cathedrals at stated times of the Service : neither is it 
 omitted in such of our Parochial Churches, as are possessed 
 of an Organ. 
 
 To the judicous performance upon this solemn Instru- 
 ment, for the purposes which have been previously 
 assigned,* my observations now naturally recur. In point 
 of tonic power, I presume, it will be allowed preferable 
 to all others, and fully capable of obtaining its end, 
 without being assisted by any of them ; nay, if it were 
 deprived of all its numerous imitative stops, it would still 
 do this, by its Diapason, Principal, and other organical 
 pipes, which are of its very essence, and without which 
 it would hardly now have a right to4ts name. 
 
 The species of Music executed upon it in those in- 
 tervals, when it is permitted to be introduced during 
 ecclesiastical service, is called in English a voluntary ; 
 and I know of no Italian or French term strictly of the 
 same signification. Capriccio, perhaps, comes nearest. 
 But, were I to define it, I would chuse to borrow the 
 latter part of that eloquent definition (for he can be 
 eloquent even in a definition) which J. J. Rousseau gives 
 of a Prelude;* where, after saying simply that it 
 
 * Vide supra, page 295. 
 
 * Dictionaaire de Musique— Art. Preluder. 
 
C 305 ] 
 
 means « any irregular and short exertion of the Fancy, 
 “ passing through the essential notes of the Key, to try 
 whether the instrument be in tune before the Performer 
 “ begins his piece,”— he proceeds thus— “ But on the 
 Organ, or Harpsichord, the Art of Preluding is much 
 ‘ more important : it is the faculty of composing, and 
 ‘ executing extempore, pieces replete with every thing, 
 (e either in Design, Fugue, Imitation, Modulation, or 
 ‘ f Harmony, that a composition the most scientific can 
 “ exhlbit - It is principally, during such a prelude, that 
 great Musicians, then exempted from that extreme 
 * s « b serviency to rules, which the critical eye requires 
 
 “ tbem t0 attend to on paper, produce those brilliant and 
 c skilful transitions, which enrapture the ears of an 
 audience, i o do this, a perfect mastery of the Instru- 
 ment, a delicate and well-practised finger are by no 
 means all that are sufficient ; that fire of genius, that 
 U i nvent i ye spirit must be superadded, which instantane- 
 a ously creates and executes passages the most congenial 
 “ to H arm ony ; the most seductive to the Ear.” This 
 is Rousseau s idea of a good Preluder, and if any of my 
 Readers are old enough to recollect how the great Handel 
 executed that kind of Cqpriccio, which he usually intro- 
 duced upon the Organ between one of the Acts of his 
 Oratorios in Covent-Garden Theatre, he will, I believe, 
 agree with me, that words cannot more perfectly express 
 the supreme excellency of that performance, than those 
 which I have translated from this Swiss Critic. For 
 
 VOJL. IJI. X 
 
[ 306 ] 
 
 myself, I own that the superior manner, in point both of 
 Vocal and Instrumental Performers, by which his Ora- 
 torios have been since executed in Westminster Abbey 
 and elsewhere, cannot compensate for the want of that 
 Solo, now alas ! to be heard no more. 
 
 But, however well the above definition applies itself to 
 a good Voluntary, it does not sufficiently describe that 
 which is peculiarly calculated for Divine Service.— Other 
 requisites are wanted to give Instrumental Music, as 
 such, legitimate admission to a devout Audience. A 
 musical composition, either premeditated or not, may 
 have all that fire of genius, that inventive spirit applauded 
 by Rousseau, and yet produce an effect quite opposite 
 from that of tranquilizing the minds of its hearers. It 
 may be too lively, too accented, and tend too much to 
 excite passions very different from those, which are 
 purely devotional. It is necessary, therefore, that this 
 aetherial fire be kept in subjection, not so much by the 
 rules of harmonical composition, as by those of prudence 
 and discretion ; so that, under these guides, its extempo- 
 raneous prolusion should flow on with that equable and 
 easy modulation, which, while it gratifies the ear, should 
 not too strongly affect the intellect. I demand no austere 
 solemnity of strain ; but I would reject all levity of Air. 
 I require no recondite Harmony; but I deprecate too 
 rhythmical a Melody. Nor let it be thought that I here 
 contradict what I have before asserted concerning the 
 superiority of modern Music : it may have, and, I think. 
 
[ 307 ] 
 
 has all that peculiar merit which I then ascribed to it, 
 and yet be ill calculated for the particular purpose of 
 which I am now treating. 
 
 The Citizen of Geneva,* whom I have before quoted, 
 would wish, that to the two general divisions of Harmony 
 and Melody, by which Music is at present distinguished, 
 two terms more might be added, that of natural and 
 imitative. Natural Music, according to his idea, admits 
 all the charms of Harmony and Melody ; but Imitative, 
 “ by its eloquent vocality” (as he phrases it) “ expresses 
 “ all kind of Passions ; paints, as it were, all sorts of 
 Objects, and represents the various situations of the 
 ^ human mind makes all Nature subject to its judicious 
 imitations,f and thus strikes us even to the heart with 
 “ every sentiment capable of giving it emotion.” It is 
 this species of Music, which he calls “ truly Lyric and 
 c Theatrical,” that he rightly supposes accompanied 
 antient Poetry, and which now is attempted to be applied 
 to the Drama, when vocally performed on the Opera 
 
 * Dictionnaire de Musique— Art. Musique. 
 
 + It is not to be supposed, that the terras here of so strong an 
 import refer to the imitation of particular Sounds, Motions, &c. 
 of a corporeal kind; it is the imitation of the human passions, 
 that is here chiefly adverted to. How far the Musical Composer 
 ought to go, with respect to those inferior imitations, has been 
 well ascertained in a posth umous publication of Mr. John Brown, 
 a Painter by profession in Scotland, entitled, “ Letters upon the* 
 
 ‘ k Poetry and Music of the Italian Opera,” see Letter IX. This 
 elegant little book was printed at Edinburgh, 1789, and I wish to 
 recommend it to my Header, as a masterly piece of Musical 
 criticism. 
 
[ 308 ] 
 
 Stage. All this it confessedly does by Accent and 
 Rhythm; whereas, et natural Music, confined merely 
 “ to the physical nature of sounds, and acting only 
 “ upon the senses, never goes to the heart, and can but 
 “ produce sensations less or more agreeable.” 
 
 If then these two distinctions he attended to, I feel as 
 if I should, in the course of this Essay, be acquitted of 
 self-contradiction. I would however chuse to substitute 
 the epithets simple and impassioned, instead of those 
 adopted by Rousseau, because natural Music may be 
 imitative, as in the exquisite and well-known Air of 
 Handel, Hush, ye pretty warbling quire, where a natu- 
 ral, yet imitative symphony accompanies the impassioned 
 strains of Galatea * These terms, therefore, I shall em- 
 ploy as occasion offers, the more precisely to convey my 
 own meaning. 
 
 I pretend not to ascertain the time, when the Organ 
 was first permitted to perform a Solo part in the Church 
 Service. We may assure ourselves, however, that it 
 breathed only liarmonical strains, and was therefore 
 what I have called Simple Music ; for in this term I 
 combine Harmony however complex, and Modulation 
 however recondite, provided it be devoid of Pathos ; and 
 as the severe laws of Counterpoint must have been at 
 
 * See the just panegyric on this air by the Author cited in the 
 preceding note : where with propriety he applies the terra imi- 
 tative to Music, which according to Rousseau is natural, and 
 consequently borrows a periphrasis to express the other species. 
 
[ 309 ] 
 
 this time in full force, and the Melopeia of the Antients 
 totally obliterated, it was hardly possible that Instru- 
 mental Music (especially that on the*Organ) could in 
 any degree deviate from Vocal ; in which, as a multi- 
 plicity of parts adapted to different voices was the crite- 
 rion of merit in a Composer, we must naturally conclude 
 that the crouding together as many tones, as his fingers 
 would suffer him to find keys to impress upon the in- 
 strument, would constitute the principal excellence of 
 the performer. Dulness, or at least what we should think 
 so, would probably be the result of his organical prolu- 
 sion : yet, we may be assured, it would not be levity. 
 To his contemporaries it would seem neither ; who, 
 having heard no other kind, would deem it not only 
 solemn, but in perfect correspondence with the rest of 
 the Service. Let it be considered also, that at the time I 
 allude to, between the Reformation and the Restoration, 
 there was little if any Music printed or published, that 
 could serve as an Archetype for Instrumental Church 
 Service, except such as was intended for Voice ; there- 
 fore it can hardly be doubted, but such Organists, as 
 were Masters of Canon, Fugue, and Counterpoint, would 
 in those styles only execute their separate office. 
 
 Here then what are now called Voluntaries had their 
 origin. But why they should, except for the sake of the 
 name, continue to be always extempore productions, 
 may perhaps not be satisfactorily defended. 
 
[ 310 ] 
 
 During the time when Air was either notin existence, 
 or quite in its infancy, I can easily conceive that Discant 
 purely harmonical might be the best, because the only 
 method of filling up the interstices of the Church Ser- 
 vice instrumentally : and, I can suppose, that an adept 
 in the science might give his scientific hearers supreme 
 pleasure, by his skilful manner of resolving his discords, 
 &c. while the general ear would be soothed with what 
 would be simple Music, according to my use of the term, 
 yet I cannot suppose, that to ears in any degree ac- 
 customed to Air, it would be so far agreeable, as to put 
 the hearers in that state, which, we have said before, 
 was the thing to be aimed at on these solemn occasions. 
 
 Yet, at the time when Music was purely harmonical, 
 it certainly had such an effect. 1 speak this on the 
 authority of Milton, (and I cannot quote a greater) who 
 recommended this species on the Organ, as the fittest 
 mean for composing the minds of his young Academi- 
 cians after they had concluded their gymnastic exercises; 
 and as he could not possibly have heard any other than 
 such Music, in which Harmony chiefly prevailed, the 
 following fine passage in his tractate on Education may 
 here be fitly quoted. “The interim,” says he,' 44 may both 
 44 with profit and delight be taken up, in recreating and 
 44 composing their travailed spirits, with the solemn and 
 44 divine harmonies of Music heard or learnt ; either 
 44 while the skilful Organist plies his grave and fancied 
 
[ 311 ] 
 
 tc Discant in lofty Fugues, or the whole Symphony with 
 C( artful and unimaginable touches adorn and grace the 
 e( well studied chords of some choice Composer.” 
 
 The former part of this quotation, the reader sees, 
 accurately describes the extempore mode, of which I am 
 now treating; — and the latter the premeditated. By ana- 
 lyzing, therefore, the great Poet’s ideas, the less informed 
 Reader will comprehend all that is necessary on the sub- 
 ject. In the first place, the performer of a good Voluntary 
 must be skilful both in the theory and practice of his 
 art ; for without a full share of theoretical science, as 
 well as a practised executive finger, it will be impossible 
 for him either to invent within the rules of legitimate 
 composition, or convey, what his fancy spontaneously 
 produces, with any truth or precision to his Auditors. 
 His Discant * must be of a grave and solemn cast 
 throughout, yet enlivened with sufficient fancy to pre- 
 serve it from being dull and tedious. And lastly, the 
 Fugue is the best species of Music he can employ, 
 provided its subject be lofty or sublime, which it can 
 only be by deviating from every thing that is trivial, 
 secular, or common. The Fugue is indeed come into 
 disrepute with modern Masters, and with reason ; because 
 it does neither so easily and generally admit, nor so 
 
 * By Discant, the Musicians of Milton’s time meant preluding 
 on a given ground, which, from the specimens they have left us, 
 was extremely plain and simple, consisting of a very few bars, 
 and therefore not worthy of the name of Air. 
 
C 312 ] 
 
 variously introduce those accentual inflections, which 
 they love to employ, with a view of imitating the pre- 
 sent mode of vocal, impassioned Music, that produces 
 its effect more from rhythmical than harmonical prin- 
 ciples. It is too fluent fox their purpose. It has, not- 
 withstanding, a merit peculiar to itself, which is never 
 so fully perceived as when executed on the Organ by an 
 extempore Performer, provided he has all the requisites 
 of invention, science and execution, which Rousseau re- 
 quires in a good Preluder. It may here be observed, 
 that w 7 hat the modern Composers have in a great mea- 
 sure rejected, the more antient were so fond of, that 
 even their partizans at present, will hardly admit a 
 Chorus or a Concerto to be a grand one, in which a 
 Fugue does not constitute the principal movement. 
 
 Yet since the introduction of Air, I am apt to think 
 that a mode of Voluntary might be pursued of much less 
 elaborate contexture than this, which would much more 
 perfectly answer our assigned purpose. Prompt, and, as 
 it were, casual strains, which do not fix the attention of 
 the hearer, provided they are the produce of an original 
 fancy which scorns to debase itself by imitating common 
 and trivial melodies, are, of all others, the best adapted 
 to induce mental serenity. We in some sort listen to 
 such Music, as we do to the pleasing murmur of a 
 neighbouring brook, the whisper of the passing breeze, or 
 the distant warblings of the lark or nightingale; and if 
 agreeable natural noises have the power of soothing the 
 
[ 313 ] 
 
 contemplative mind., without interrupting its contempla- 
 tions, simple musical effusions must assuredly have that 
 power in a superior degree. All that is to be attended 
 to by the Organist is to preserve such pleasing simplicity ; 
 and this musical measures will ever have, if they are 
 neither too strongly accented, nor too regularly rhyth- 
 mical. But, when this is the case, they cease to soothe us, 
 because they begin to affect us. Add to this, that Air re- 
 plete with short cadences and similar passages, is apt to 
 fix itself too strongly on the memory ; whereas a merely 
 melodious or harmonical movement glides, as it were, 
 through the ear, awakens a transient pleasing sensation, 
 but leaves behind it no lasting impression. Its effect 
 ceases, when its impulse on the auditory nerve ceases ; 
 an impulse strong enough to dispel from the mind all- 
 eating Care , (to use our great Poet’s own expression) but 
 in no sort to rouse or ruffle any of its faculties, save 
 those only which attend truly devotional duty. 
 
 But, when I say this, I would not he supposed to mean 
 that these lullaby strains, (as some of my Readers may, 
 perhaps, please to call them) should be exclusively ad- 
 hered to, except when preparative to devotion. If the 
 Organist preludes an Anthem of praise or thanksgiving, 
 a spirited movement is certainly in its place, if kept 
 within the limits which dignified exultation would pre- 
 scribe; or, if the Anthem, which is to succeed his 
 Voluntary, be of a supplicatory or penitential cast, he is 
 then free to exert his utmost power of pathetic expression. 
 
[ 314 ] 
 
 I would only wish, that, in either of these instances, he 
 avoided too marked a melody. Nothing, I fully grant, 
 affects a hearer on some occasions more than a March, 
 and nothing is more accentual and rhythmical than that 
 movement ; yet the judicious Organist, whenever he 
 adopts it, will take care to difference it greatly from the 
 usual military airs of that species, and if he preserves the 
 measure, will vary the mode. Instead of using either 
 the trumpet stop, or the full organ, lie will modulate on 
 a few of the more delicate and softer series of pipes, 
 which the variety in that sublime instrument affords him. 
 He will call to mind the noble passage in Milton, who, 
 after he has arrayed his fallen Seraphs, makes them 
 move 
 
 “ In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood 
 “ Of flutes, and soft recorders.’ 5 * 
 
 The Siciliana movement is also of a very rhythmical 
 kind; yet, when executed with taste and tenderness, 
 comes under the denomination of Simple Music, and 
 may most fitly be adapted to ecclesiastical purposes. In 
 vulgar hands, however, nothing is more apt to degene- 
 rate into those light quirks of Music , broken and un- 
 even , which, as our great satiric Poet expresses it, 
 
 “ Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven.” f 
 
 * Paradise Lost, Book I. v. 550. 
 
 + Pope’s Moral Essays, Ep. IV. v. 143. 
 
[ 315 ] 
 
 On the contrary, the Organist, who feels what he per- 
 forms, and recollects the place and occasion of perform- 
 ance, will not fail to throw in those Apogiaturas and 
 delicate notes of passage, which from accentual change 
 it into fluent Melody. 
 
 But is this attention to strict propriety to be expected 
 from any practical Musician of the present day ? Cer- 
 tainly not. Brilliant and rapid executive powers are what 
 they chiefly aim at, and what their audience almost ex- 
 clusively applaud. To produce a fine tone, is what is 
 also, and more justly, held in high estimation : but this 
 is a merit which belongs not to the Organist, but the 
 Organ-maker j he is excusable, therefore, in my judg- 
 ment, for frequently overstepping the boundary of so- 
 lemnity, so long as extempore performance remains his 
 peculiar office, which, I think, might now with more 
 propriety admit of a change, than at the first introduc- 
 tion of the Voluntary. It was then, and could only be 
 (as we have seen) simple and harmonical ; but since 
 the invention of Air, it must lose all power of pleasing, if 
 novel arrangements of melodious sounds do not rather 
 lead than follow their accordant harmonies. This re- 
 quires an innate inventive faculty, which is certainly not 
 the lot of the many ; and the happy few who possess it, 
 
 I cannot think will at all times be able to restrain it 
 within the bounds which Reason, and, in this case. 
 Religion would prescribe. 
 
 It were to be wished, therefore, that in our established 
 
[ 316 ] 
 
 Church extempore playing were as much discounter 
 nanced, as extempore praying ; and that the Organist 
 was as closely obliged, in this solo and separate part of 
 his office, to keep to set forms, as the officiating minis- 
 ter ; or, as he himself is, when accompanying the Choir 
 in an Anthem, or a parochial congregation in a Psalm. 
 Of these musical set forms however he might be in- 
 dulged with a considerable quantity, and, if he approached 
 in some degree to Rousseau’s high character of a Pre- 
 luder, he might be allowed to discant on certain single 
 grave texts, which Tartini, Geminiani, Corelli, or Handel 
 would abundantly furnish, and which may be found at 
 least of equal elegance and propriety in the Largo and 
 Adagio movements of Haydn or Pleyel. 
 
 But if these restraints, or more judicious ones were 
 put upon the executive powers of the Organist, I ques- 
 tion whether at present the congregation would be af- 
 fected so forcibly with, what I will venture to call, 
 truly devotional strains, as they formerly were with 
 Music of far inferior efficacy. The pealing Organ, in 
 Milton’s time, and previous to it, was properly, what it 
 ought ever to have been, a sacred instrument, ordained 
 almost exclusively to 
 
 Blow 
 
 To the full-voic’d choir below. 
 
 In service high, and anthem clear. 
 
 As may with sweetness, through the ear. 
 
[ 317 ] 
 
 Dissolve the soul in ecstacies, 
 
 And bring all heav’n before our eyes.* 
 
 Now we know its peculiarly grave, as well as affecting 
 tones, are become common and trivial. They, therefore, 
 who know the power of ideal associations must own, that 
 on this single account it has lost much of its original 
 dignity, I may even add sanctity. Another, and perhaps 
 a much greater detriment has been sustained by the 
 Organ from the admission of instruments, which are 
 purely secular, into the Cathedral Service. The jocund 
 Rebeck, f whose first and appropriate purpose was 
 
 To sound 
 
 (When the merry bells ring round) 
 
 To many a youth, and many a maid, 
 
 Dancing in the chequer’d shade, | 
 
 has, since Milton’s time, under the prouder denomina- 
 tion of a Violin, presumed to mingle its heterogeneous 
 tones with those of the Organ, and on some occasions 
 almost to overpower them. 
 
 Sorry I am to accuse the greatest genuine English 
 composer, Purcel, and the best adopted one, Handel, of 
 
 * See II Penseroso,'T. Warton’s 2d ed. p. 92. 
 
 t See Mr. T. Warton’s Note (in loco) page 55 of his 2d edition 
 of Milton’s Poems. 
 
 + L’Allegro, same page. 
 
r sis ] 
 
 being the cause of this innovation j* the former by add- 
 ing Violin accompaniments to some of his anthems and 
 services, the latter by erecting an Organ on the play 
 house stage, with a view undoubtedly to difference as 
 much by its dignified form, as by its solemn tones, that 
 semi-dramatic species of composition the Oratorio from 
 a genuine Opera. Let it not, however, be thought, that 
 I mean to depreciate the Violin by any tiling I have here 
 said, especially by deducing its parentage from so very 
 mean and vulgar an ancestor. — On the contrary, I hold 
 it, in its present improved state, and in the hands of a 
 Giardini, a Cramer, or a Giornovichi, in supreme admi- 
 ration. I know and confess that this and the Violoncello 
 are the most perfect of all stringed instruments ; that 
 the Organ, like the Harpsichord, is incapable of express- 
 ing those delicate gradations of Forte and Piano, Dimi- 
 nuendo and Crescendo, which add such peculiar grace 
 to accentual melody ; to remedy which defect in these 
 keyed instruments, another has of late been successfully 
 introduced, taking its name from one defect that it was 
 intended to remove. — Yet after all, a fine Violin must, 
 and ever will be, the best adjutant to a fine voice. 
 Hence it is, that modern composers judiciously affix a 
 Violin accompaniment to the Vocal Part, and confine the 
 keyed instrument to that Thorough Bass, which may assist 
 with its Chords the Violoncello j and this in perfect eon- 
 
 * For these two facts I rest on Dr. Burney’s authority. See 
 History of Music, V. III. p. 484 ; V. IV. p. 360. 
 
[ 319 ] 
 
 sistency with the present refined state of our secular 
 Music. Yet this Essay, if it tends to any real purpose, 
 tends to establish a discrimination between what is se- 
 cular and what is sacred ; and therefore I feel myself in 
 this place obliged to assert that, as on the one hand no 
 instrument should ever have been admitted into the 
 Church, the tone of which was naturally calculated to 
 produce merriment and festivity, so on the other, the 
 sublime and solemn character of the Organ should never 
 have suffered that degradation, which, during this cen- 
 tury and the latter part of the last, it has been its fate to 
 experience. 
 
 But I will go further ; I will assert, that all musical 
 sounds breathed from wind instruments (of which the 
 organ is surely the principal, because it can imitate them 
 all) never accord with those drawn from the string by 
 the bow; and that by their dissimilarity of tone and 
 temperament they miserably injure one another. 
 
 What is it that makes the Music on the Parade in St. 
 James’s Park so constantly attract the attention of the 
 general ear, in so singularly pleasing a manner ? Is it 
 because the strains are what Shakspeare poetically calls 
 of the spirit-stirring or ear-piercing species ? Certainly 
 not; for they are generally soothing, and sometimes 
 even pathetic. No : it is because the sound of every 
 individual instrument bears a perfect affinity with the 
 rest ; because they are all of the same tribe and family ; 
 all generated in the same manner, and, of many per- 
 
[ 320 ] 
 
 fectly united melodious members, forming one complete 
 harmonious boay. I will be bold to say, that every good 
 natural ear must, at least on the first hearing of such 
 Music, have felt a most singular sensation from this 
 simple combination of wind instruments, superior, so far 
 at least as pleasure depends upon tone, to any other. 
 With myself, it has continued through life. 
 
 Again, let me ask a person of the most refined musi- 
 cal taste, an absolute cognoscente, if you please, when he 
 has heard the finest Quintetto of Haydn executed by 
 four of the first Violins in the kingdom, and the finest 
 Violoncello, if he would desire it to be repeated with a 
 duplication of the parts performed by Flutes, or Hautboys 
 and a Bassoon ? If he should, I must shrewdly presume, 
 that a love of the Sonorous has unaccountably mingled 
 itself with his passion for the Pathetic and Sublime. 
 
 My own opinion, however, on this point, which some 
 persons may think I have expressed in too dictatorial a 
 manner, ought to be supported by better authorities than 
 my own 3 and two such are not wanting. 
 
 The late Mr. Gray, the justness and delicacy of whose 
 musical taste must still be held in remembrance by his 
 few remaining friends, was clearly of the same senti- 
 ment. To convince my reader of this, let me request 
 him to cast his eye on that idea which he gave of a 
 proper Overture for his Ode, intitled f The Bard/ which 
 1 printed from his manuscript, and is to be found in my 
 second note on that exquisite poem. Here, although 
 
[ 321 ] 
 
 present musical propriety required him to admit both 
 wind and stringed instruments, it will be found that he 
 sedulously prescribed, that their very dissimilar tones 
 should never be blended ; and this in subserviency to 
 our common opinion which, I know, was with him a 
 favouiite one, though, like myself, he never expected it 
 to be put in general practice ; for he well knew, that 
 when any art has overstepped the boundaries of simpli- 
 city, it very seldom deigns to take that retrograde motion, 
 which would bring it within its true limits : and how far 
 In stiu mental Music has exceeded these, the present mode 
 of performing Oratorios is a powerful instance. 
 
 Pope, when he gave the illustrious Handel, their first 
 introducer, a just and noble panegyric, spoke perhaps 
 hyperbolically, when he compared him 
 
 <c To bold Briareus, with a hundred hands.” 
 
 We must now read near five hundred, to give a com- 
 petent idea of bis Musical Phalanx, of which the Organ 
 seems to be the least principal ; because it is seldom, if 
 ever, distinctly audible, except when before the opening 
 of the Overture it gives that pitch-note in full, which 
 always leads me to expect a succession of more solemn 
 sounds than in reality succeed it. 
 
 My second authority is still greater, because founded 
 on a public fact of recent and happy celebrity ; when 
 a more striking, more awful, more dignified, more 
 Y 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
[ 322 ] 
 
 <e interesting, more edifying spectacle was exhibited, in 
 « the venerable Cathedral of St. Paul’s, than scarce ever 
 (i was presented to the observation of mankind. * On this 
 most solemn of all occasions, let it be remembered, that 
 a judicious prohibition of every other instrument, during 
 Divine Service, left the Organ in full possession of its too 
 frequently violated rights. Then it was, that it joined 
 its deep-toned symphony, not only with the full-voiced 
 choir below, but with six thousand infant voices arranged 
 round that immense dome, which re-echoed with the 
 praises of their Maker, for the recovery of their Sove- 
 reign : then it was, that every ear felt the stupendous 
 effect both of unison and harmony purely devotional, 
 and that every heart glowed with pious and loyal rapture. 
 Nor let this be tamely imputed to the general effect of 
 sympathy. I will grant, that the scene and occasion, 
 singly considered, might have elevated sympathy to the 
 highest degree of sensibility, had the Church Service been 
 merely recited; yet, I still affirm, that the species of 
 Music then commanded to be performed, was, of all 
 other, the best calculated to accompany that awful act 
 of thanksgiving. With respect to my own feelings, I 
 am convinced that, if I could have had the happiness of 
 
 * I here employ the well-appropriated epithets of Dr. rortcus, 
 Bishop of London, who preached the Thanksgiving Sermon 
 April 24, 1789. See his Second Volume, p. 326, for the w o * 
 eloquent and pathetic passage. 
 
[ 323 ] 
 
 being present at the august ceremony, I should have 
 been infinitely more affected by that plain Cathedral, and 
 still plainer parochial Music, than by a new Te Deum 
 executed by the best and most numerous band of vocal 
 and instrumental performers $ even if a genius equal 
 to Handel s had composed the Score, and led the 
 Orchestra. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST ESSAY. 
 
ESSAY THE SECOND, 
 
 ON 
 
 CATHEDRAL MUSIC. 
 
[ 327 ] 
 
 ESSAY THE SECOND.* 
 
 At the time of the Reformation Cathedral Music, 
 as has been mentioned in the foregoing Essay, was ex- 
 tremely intricate. Abstruse harmonical Proportions, 
 which had neither common sense, nor, in this case a 
 better judge, the approbation of the common ear, for 
 their support, were universally and diligently studied. 
 Hence arose a multifarious contexture of parts, a total 
 disregard of simple Melody, and, in consequence , a ne- 
 glect even of syllabic distinction ; insomuch that notes 
 originally set to any words, in any language, might 
 readily be adapted to different words in that or any other; 
 being also totally inexpressive of sentiment, they were as 
 well, or rather as ill, calculated to answer the purposes of 
 praise as of penitence, of sorrow as of joy. Accordingly, 
 we find that the thirty-two Commissioners, who were ap- 
 pointed to reform the Ecclesiastical Law in the time of 
 Henry VIII. and who executed their commission in the 
 days of his son Edward VI. justly condemned this species 
 of singing, as causing confusion in the audience, and 
 
 * This Essay -was originally prefixed to a Collection of the 
 Words of Anthems, &c. in the year 1782; it is here reprinted 
 with some additions. 
 
[ 328 ] 
 
 rendering the very language it was meant to express 
 unintelligible.* 
 
 This intricate or, as it was then termed, curious Music 
 had, it seems, at this time, taken possession of the whole 
 Church Service ; it not only was joined to the Psalmo- 
 dical and supplicatory part, but even with those few 
 fragments of Scripture which were selected from the 
 New Testament and admitted into the Liturgy, under the 
 title of Epistle and Gospel ; these were all sung, not 
 merely in simple intonation or chaunt, but in this mode 
 of figurate Discant, in which the various voices following 
 one another, according to the rules of an elaborate Canon, 
 
 * The words are, “ Itaque vibratam illam et operosam 
 musicam quae figurata dicitur auferri placet, qua; sic in multi- 
 tudinis auribus tumultuatur, ut saepe linguam non possit ipsam 
 loquentem intelligere.” I was some time at a loss to find out 
 what was the meaning of the epithet vibratam in this passage, but 
 the verb tumultuatur seems to explain it ; for when we consider 
 that this music was constantly choral, it was necessary each per- 
 former should, in order to do justice to his part, make it audi- 
 ble; hence each voice, struggling with the rest for audibility, 
 the result was mere noise. I would, therefore, translate it Noisy 
 Music, which choruses, as commonly performed, continue to be 
 at this day. The epithet operosa , I suppose, means difficult to be 
 learnt, which this music certainly was, and withal not worth the 
 pains of learning — See Ref. Leg. Eccles. c. v. "Vet it may pro- 
 bably have been used literally for labour both of lungs and 
 limbs ; for from a passage which I lately saw translated from 
 Ailred, Abbot of Revesby, and which might be added to what I 
 have said of the first Organ in my prior Essay, it appears that 
 Music was a very Operose business in the twelfth century, and 
 possibly continued so, with little abatement, till the Reformation. 
 — See Andrews's History of Great Britain , vol. i. p. 231. 
 
[ 329 ] 
 
 were perpetually repeating different words at the same 
 time.* 
 
 It does not appear that King Henry VIII. did any thing 
 towards reforming these absurdities ; which indeed he 
 could not have done without sacrificing a part of his own 
 science, that we may suppose he held valuable ; for he 
 was himself a composer in this mode, as an Anthem left 
 behind him sufficiently proves ; which Dr. Boyce has 
 given in complete Score, as the first piece in his Collection 
 of Cathedral Music ; yet it is so devoid not only of syllabic 
 but metrical distinction, that the skilful Editor of that Score 
 seems not to have discovered that it was metre ; for he 
 has printed the first line, O God, the maker of all things , 
 which destroys the subsequent rhyme. I shrewdly sus- 
 pect that King Henry was the author of the words as well 
 as the music, for they are certainly very Royal Poetry.f 
 
 * One example of this kind may suffice, and a more ridiculous 
 one can hardly be conceived ; I found it accidentally in a Missal 
 or Breviary, in the Library of the Cathedral at York, printed in 
 the reign of Queen Mary. The Genealogy in the first Chapter 
 of St. Matthew’s Gospel was there set to Music, and the single 
 part noted led me to conclude, that, if it was performed in 
 Canon, according to the mode of the Age, while the Bass was 
 holding forth the existence of Abraham, the Tenor, in defiance 
 of Nature and Chronology, would be employed in begetting 
 Isaac ; the Counter-Tenor, Jacob ; the Treble, Joseph and all his 
 Brethren. 
 
 + Dr. Burney, in his History, doubts whether the Music be 
 the King’s own, “ for on a careful examination, it appears to 
 him, not only too good for his Majesty, but almost for any 
 English Composer during his reign.”— See his History of Music, 
 
[ 330 ] 
 
 In the reign of his son Edward VI. John Marbeck, an 
 Organist of Windsor, noted the new Liturgy in English, 
 and his notes were printed in the year 1550;* it is not, 
 however, clear that in the short reign of that King, his 
 Music was universally established in our Cathedrals, or 
 had the Royal sanction. However this be, the Service, 
 which Thomas Tallis composed in the reign of Queen 
 Elizabeth, f was so very similar to Marbeck’s with respect 
 to its plan, that Dr. Boyce was certainly in an error when 
 he gave to Tallis the merit of being the first Composer of 
 the musical part of Divine Service in the English 
 language. J 
 
 One thing is very remarkable in these two composi- 
 tions, that those parts or versicles, which are meant to 
 
 vol. iii. p. 1, chap. 1. I take for granted Dr. Boyce corrected it 
 before he published it, since the Historian seems to have re- 
 viewed it in his edition. It appears from the same Author, that 
 King Henry composed a Motett beginning quam pulchra es, 0 
 arnica mea ! which he thinks “ not too masterly for a Royal 
 Dilettanti.” As these words are taken from Solomon’s Song, 
 probably the Monarch selected them about the time when (as 
 Mr. Gray pleasantly expresses it) 
 
 Gospel light first dawn’d from BuimEir’s eyes. 
 
 * It is to be found in Sir John Hawkins’s History of Music, 
 vol. iii. p. 470, who has also given many curious anecdotes of 
 this singular person, and also in Dr. Burney’s, vol. ii. p. 578. 
 
 t In the intervening reign of Queen Mary, all the old Popish 
 Missals and Liturgies were re-printed at considerable cost, and 
 their use ordained. One of these I have already quoted in a 
 former note. 
 
 + See his succinct Account of Musical Composers prefixed to 
 the first volume of his Cathedral Music 
 
[ 381 ] 
 
 be pronounced by the Priest in a kind of chaunt that 
 frequently varies very little from a monotone, are yet 
 syllabically distinguished by notes of different musical 
 duration, and this with such exactitude, that if we con- 
 sider them merely as marks of the length of syllables, and 
 of due pauses, without any reference whatever to Music, 
 they may still be looked upon as good guides to a speaker, 
 or reciter of those parts of the Service. In the Responses 
 also, which are noted for various voices, this syllabic 
 distinction is sufficiently attended to : but in the Te 
 Deum and other Hymns, where somewhat more than in- 
 tonation or chaunt is introduced, it is greatly if not entirely 
 disregarded. Figurate Discant here begins to take place ; 
 which, if not so intricate and curious as it was in the 
 Popish Liturgy, is yet too much so to convey to the 
 hearer the words with sufficient distinctness, to enable him 
 to go easily along with the choral performers, and compre- 
 hend what sentence they are singing : a defect which, as 
 it certainly arises from the kind of music there employed, 
 ought to have been remedied by one which was united 
 more closely with syllables and their accents : Yet the 
 remedy is still to seek, for the numerous Composers who 
 succeeded Tallis, in setting the same parts of the Liturgy, 
 rather increased than diminished this indistinction of the 
 words, by introducing more elaborate harmonies, and by 
 making the sense, in consequence, still more subservient 
 to the sound; and the later Composers, though more 
 intelligible than their predecessors, have not yet conde- 
 
[ 332 ] 
 
 scended to make so great a sacrifice of their Musical 
 Science to Simplicity, as Church Music seems to require, 
 to make it perfectly answer its purpose. 
 
 That musical sounds, when applied to express words, 
 should have this ill effect, does not arise from the intrinsic 
 nature of those sounds, we have many reasons for con- 
 cluding. Little as we know of the antient Greek and 
 Roman Music, we may yet be certain, from the concur 
 rent voice of all antiquity, that it highly assisted the sense, 
 and marked the measure so precisely, that without its aid 
 the higher kinds of Poetry were found defective.* We 
 know too that our own simple Melodies, when they are 
 really simple, and not broken into too many divisions of 
 notes, never induce any degree of obscurity. Our Har- 
 mony also, when it proceeds equably and regularly, is 
 generally as intelligible as a Chorus would be when per- 
 formed in unison, and when it is otherwise, the defect 
 arises rather from the inarticulate manner of the per- 
 former than from the species of composition. It is, there- 
 fore, only the misapplied art, which combines a variety of 
 parts in various intricate manners, and gives to the dif- 
 ferent voices that perform those parts, different words to 
 express at the same time, which occasions this confusion ; 
 a confusion which constantly perplexes the common ear, 
 and which the most practised in harmony cannot always 
 easily develope. 
 
 * See a note on Mr. Gray’s Poems, vol. i. p. 119, last edition 
 in small octavo. 
 
[ 333 ] 
 
 The disregard of melodious Air was a necessary con- 
 sequence of this affectation of harmonical science, just 
 as at the same time, plain and solid reasoning gave place 
 to metaphysical subtilties, among the learned; for I am 
 speaking of an age when every thing was scholastic ; 
 when there were Schoolmen in Music as well as in 
 Letters; and when, if learning had its Aquinas and 
 Smiglecius, music had its Master Giles and its Dr. Bull, 
 who could split the seven notes of Music into as many 
 divisions as the others could split the ten Categories of 
 Aristotle. A Descant of thirtie-eight proportions of sondry 
 kind was the wonderful work of Maistre Giles ; but Dr. 
 Bull could produce to the astonished reader (not hearer, 
 for the hearer would know nothing of the matter) a 
 piece of harmony of full forty parts. I should not have 
 taken pains to put down this nonsense, were not an 
 absurd multiplication of more than four even still af- 
 fected by professed Harmonists. 
 
 But before I proceed further, I would wish to premise, 
 that whatever I say critically on this subject, I mean to 
 confine not only to Vocal Music, but to that particular 
 species employed in our Cathedral Service. r ihe title of 
 this Essay might perhaps sufficiently denote this : but as 
 I shall frequently use the general term Music, without 
 any epithet of discrimination, I think it right here to ex- 
 plain my precise meaning, and also to intimate that it 
 is the defect of intelligibility that I mean chiefly to lay 
 to its charge : A defect which, if it did not really 
 
[ 334 ] 
 
 subsist, would give no occasion to supply the congrega- 
 tion with an Anthem-Book, a thing now constantly found 
 necessary in all Choirs, nay, one for a similar purpose 
 at the performance of English Operas and Oratorios, 
 and what is more wonderful, even at those performed in 
 Italy. This appears from the celebrated Count Alga- 
 rotti’s Treatise on the Opera, where he entitles his 
 chapter on the poetical part II Libretto * However, 
 with respect to my present subject, was Church Music 
 simplified so much as it ought to be, the ear would not 
 then require the assistance of the eye, in order to be 
 convinced (as a good Protestant ought) that what was 
 sung was not sung in an unknown tongue. 
 
 And I chuse to explain my meaning thus particularly, 
 because I am well aware that many profound Harmonists 
 may be disgusted at what I have already advanced, and 
 think their craft in danger, when I seem to attack the 
 very citadel of Music : But I mean no such thing, I 
 mean only to restrain them to a more simple kind of 
 Harmony when they compose for the service of the 
 
 * I question much if, at Athens, when the Tragedies of So- 
 phocles, &c, were exhibited, one part of the trade of the Orange 
 Wenches in the Theatre was the sale of a Book of the Tragedy. 
 
 How great a dramatic writer would Metastasio have been, 
 had he not been compelled, in subserviency to his musical Com- 
 posers, to furnish them only with Libretti! It must however be 
 allowed, that his Lyrical Dramas, as originally written, in respect 
 to theatrical contrivance and judicious developement of the 
 story, infinitely excel the generality of our modern Tragedies. 
 
[ 335 ] 
 
 Church. In their Catches, their Glees, and their seeular 
 Canons, I leave them the free use of this complicated 
 science ; I only wish them to be more sparing of it when 
 employed for the purposes of divine public worship. 
 
 Neither is my opinion a novel one : Dr. Tudway, a 
 school-fellow of Purcel, Organist extraordinary to Queen 
 Anne, and consequently a Composer by profession, had 
 the boldness to declare, “ that the practice of fuguing in 
 “ vocal music obscured the sense.” Sir John Hawkins 
 (from whom I take this and many more of my anecdotes) 
 deems this « a singular opinion, because it is contradict- 
 ed (as I own it is) by the best Masters and adds, 
 “ this obscurity is either the case or not, as the point 
 « is managed But as this laborious Compiler has 
 not taught us how to manage the point, I shall be apt 
 to think Dr. Tudway in the right ; and rather suppose 
 that the mediocrity of genius, which Sir John imputes 
 to him ( I know not whether truly or falsely, being but 
 little acquainted with his compositions) arose rather from 
 same defect of original faculty than from this singularity 
 of opinion.t But be this as it may, I have a much 
 greater authority on my side than Dr. Tudway s, and 
 this is no less than that of the celebrated Benedetto 
 
 * See his History of Music, vol. V. p. 92. 
 
 + Dr. Burney tells us that Tudway often composed in Fugue, 
 but without excelling in it. If so, what has been quoted is his 
 esoteric doctrine only : as a Doctor of Music he was necessitated 
 to conform to popular practice. 
 
[ 336 ] 
 
 Marcello, who, though in subserviency to custom, he has 
 set some of his Psalms in a harmony of many parts; yet 
 owns, “ that this kind of composition, which is rather to 
 “ be called an ingenious kind of Counterpoint than any 
 <<: other, is more likely to please the learned reader who 
 “ peruses it than the ordinary hearer, as well from the 
 “ perpetual conflict of Fugues and imitations, as from 
 <c the multiplicity of mixed consonances which accom- 
 “ pany them in order to complete and form the Chorus ;* 
 therefore, when the subject requires that the words and 
 sentiments should be clearly and properly expressed, we 
 find the music of this great master for the most part 
 composed for no more than two voices ; and when he 
 wishes to be more peculiarly pathetic (as in his Miserere) 
 for only one. On his authority, surely, I may safely rest 
 the merits of the cause, and shall proceed to adduce a 
 few more anecdotes taken from this writer’s exhaustless 
 store, to prove, that the earlier Masters had not the least 
 idea of what we now call Vocal Expression ; and that 
 those who succeeded them were too much misled by the 
 affectation of musical science duly to attend to it. 
 
 The first Anthem set to English words after the Re- 
 formation, I believe, was that of Dr. Tye, beginning I 
 will exalt thee. This Composer was Musical Preceptor 
 to Edward VI. who also, for his Pupil’s use, set the first 
 fourteen chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, having 
 
 * See Marcello’s Preface, translated in Mr. Garth’s English 
 Edition of his Psalms. 
 
[ 337 ] 
 
 first translated them into very conscientious Poesy ; for 
 he says of his work, in his dedication to his Royal 
 Disciple, 
 
 Unto the text I do not ad, 
 
 Nor nothynge take awaye ; 
 
 And though my style be gross and bad, 
 
 The truth perceyve you maye. 
 
 His moral motive for doing it is also delivered in a sub- 
 sequent stanza : 
 
 That such good things your Grace may move, 
 
 Your lute, when ye assaye, 
 
 Instede of songs of wanton love. 
 
 These stories then to playe. 
 
 Yet, aftei all, his good sense may be called in question 
 for thinking historical narrative a proper species either 
 to be converted into literal verse, or set in regular Canon. 
 He had, however, some authority to support him, for it 
 seems the ie boke of Kings,” as well as the (e boke of 
 1 salens, (as he tells us) had been already versified, 
 if not set to music j and this the good Doctor, who saw 
 no difference between the two, because they were both 
 parts of Holy Scripture, thought sufficient. 
 
 But to do justice to the age in which so absurd an at- 
 tempt was made, it does not appear that these musical 
 Acts of the Apostles received either the royal or the 
 VOL. in. z 
 
[ 338 ] 
 
 public sanction ; and although the Music to the genea- 
 logy of Christ was received into the Liturgy by Queen 
 Mary, yet it was probably old Popish Music revived, not 
 new composed. In Elizabeth’s reign no historic portions 
 of the Scripture were thus treated ; and, if we except 
 the Creeds, no part of the Service was accompanied by 
 Music, which was not either of the supplicatory or 
 thanksgiving species. 
 
 I might here quit Or. I ye, did not a curious story, 
 which Sir John Hawkins has given us from Anthony a 
 Wood, tempt me to transcribe it, “ The Doctor, it 
 iC seems, was a peevish and humoursome man, especially 
 « in his latter days ; and sometimes playing on the Organ 
 « in the Chapel of Queen Elizabeth, what contained 
 “ much music, but little delight to the ear, she would 
 <c send the Verger to tell him that he played out of tune, 
 « whereupon he sent word that her Majesty’s ears were 
 (C out of tune.” In this story Anthony a Wood, without 
 knowing it, and his Transcriber, without confessing it, 
 has told us precisely what the merit and demerit of Dr. 
 Tye’s Music, and that of his contemporaries were ; they 
 had all the learning of their profession, without knowing 
 or aiming to make it useful. The primary use of Music 
 is to please the ear, and of vocal to convey the words it 
 is joined to in a pleasing and intelligent strain; the 
 secondary, yet much more essential use, is to convey 
 sentiment, and to affect the passions. 
 
 But as the art of the old masters was deficient in both 
 
C 339 ] 
 
 these points, many men of learning, who were either 
 actual reformers, or well-wishers to that cause, reprobated 
 it. Amongst these the great Erasmus declares himself 
 an enemy (not to Church Music in general, as Sir John 
 Hawkins supposes him to be, but) to the Church Music 
 then in use. The sentiments of so great a man, when 
 they tend so much, as they do, to corroborate the lead- 
 ing principle which runs through this Essay, it will be 
 prudent in me to quote at large. u Hujusmodi Musices 
 “ genus inductum est in cultum divinum, ut ne liceat 
 te quidem ullam vocem liquide percipere. Nec iis qui 
 tc canunt otium est attendendi quid canant: tantum vo- 
 “ cum tinnitus aures ferit, et mox peritura dilectatiuncula 
 cc mulcet.* Haec adeo placent, ut Monachi nihil aliud 
 “ agant, prsesertim apud Britannos.” — Which passage I 
 thus literally translate : t£ The kind of Music introduced 
 <£ into Divine W orship is such that we are not able to 
 (i understand a single word distinctly, nor have those 
 “ who sing it leisure to attend to what they sing; the 
 4C tinkle of the words is all that strikes the ears, and 
 u soothes them with a transient and slightly pleasurable 
 ie sensation. f With this they are so much delighted, 
 
 * Erasrai Annot. in XIV. Cap. 19. V. prim. Epist. ad Corin- 
 thios. 
 
 + So I translate “ mox peritura dilectatiuncula mulcet.” Sir 
 John Hawkins renders it “ an empty sound which glides delight- 
 “ laky into their ear.” It seems fully to support the explana- 
 tion which I lately gave of the terms operosa and vibraia in the 
 censure of the Ecclesiastical Commissioners. 
 
[ 340 ] 
 
 “ that the Monks do nothing else, especially among the 
 “ Britons.” 
 
 Tallis and Bird, though they were contemporary with 
 Tye, survived him so long (particularly Bird) that they 
 may be called his successors. In Mary’s reign they were 
 of the court religion, and composed their Church Music 
 to Latin words, but in her successor’s they were Protes- 
 tants. Br. Aldrich has adapted the music of two of 
 their motets to English words ; but when I say adapted, 
 
 I mean only syllabically, which, with regard to such 
 music, is a matter of much facility; yet the intelligent 
 hearer will find cause to commend the ingenious Dean 
 for his taste, in finding words more suited to the original 
 strain than those to which they were set; that is, if he 
 carefully peruses the words which he hears sung, other- 
 wise I can tell him, from repeated experience, that he 
 will find them almost utterly unintelligible :* Yet it must 
 be confessed, that when the words are attended to by the 
 eye, there is a plaintive cast in the strain which makes 
 the well-known Anthem, I call ancl cry, somewhat af- 
 fecting ; I think, however, a modern Composer would 
 judge ill if he chose to set the same words chorally. 
 
 The strain in question was set originally to an Eucha- 
 ristical Hymn, the initial words of which were O sacrum 
 Convivium ; the other to a Hymn beginning Civitas 
 sancti tui , and were originally so published by T allis 
 
 * The same may be said of that celebrated piece ot full har- 
 mony, Non nobis Jjomine. 
 
L ™ ] 
 
 and Bird, in their collection of Motets intituled Can- 
 tiones Sacrce. The first of these, it is clear from the 
 sentiment which the words convey, ought to have been 
 expressed by a movement of devout exultation and 
 thanksgiving ; and the latter, to which Dr. Aldrich has 
 applied the words, “ O Lord, turn away thy wrath 
 “from us,” seems not necessarily to have required that 
 of a supplicatory kind. But as it was recondite Har- 
 mony, not vocal Expression, which these old masters 
 affected, it was easy, as I have said above, to take their 
 Music from one set of words, and give them to another, 
 either in the same or a different language. Dr. Aldrich, 
 I imagine, found it a more difficult matter to adapt the 
 Music of Palestrina, and still more of Carissimi, to En- 
 glish words, and yet this, we know, is an experiment 
 which he tried, and in which' also he succeeded. But it 
 is still more singular, that of late years the very inge- 
 nious Mr. Garth, of Durham, should have been able to 
 do the same thing with the Music of fifty Psalms in 
 succession, which Benedetto Marcello originally com- 
 posed to a fine poetical version in Italian, by Giustiniani, 
 and transfer it to the words of our old prose translation. 
 This indeed is a phenomenon not easy to be accounted 
 for. We are able frequently to perceive, that these 
 transmutations have been for the worse, which, exclu- 
 sive of other reasons, the different degrees of softness in 
 the two languages must necessarily occasion ; but that 
 it could ever be done at all is the wonder. We are able 
 
[ 342 ] 
 
 also to perceive, that in the Choral parts the experiment 
 has succeeded better than in the Solo Airs and Duets, 
 and this, as might be expected, from Harmony taking 
 more the lead in the former, than in the latter : for 
 simple Melody appropriated to particular words, seems 
 the more difficult to twist from its original accents, than 
 syllables mingled together by a multifarous succession of 
 harmonical sounds, are to a like variation. — However 
 this be, it must be allowed, that all the attempts in this 
 way have been attended with greater success than might 
 in any reason have been expected ; insomuch that we 
 may venture to pronounce, that our English Cathedral 
 Music has gained as much from this naturalization , as 
 it may be called, of Italian Masters, as our English 
 Oratorios have by Mr. Handel’s adaptation of those 
 Italian Opera Airs, which he composed in the vigour of 
 his genius, to a species of English Music, which he in- 
 troduced in its decline, merely to acquire (to the shame 
 of the time in which he lived be it spoken) a compe- 
 tence to sustain the miseries concomitant on blindness 
 and old age. 
 
 As therefore we have seen that Music of a much 
 higher cast, than that of Tallis or Bird, permits itself to 
 be, as it were, torn from either its prosaic or poetic 
 trunk, and engrafted on a foreign stock of either species, 
 we are not to wonder if this operation might easily be 
 performed, when we learn that the art of expressing 
 sentiment by musical terms was in an imperfect state. 
 
[ 343 ] 
 
 even in Italy, long after the time of Tallis and Bird in 
 England. Claudio Monteverde, who was, as it is gene- 
 rally thought, the first composer of the Musical Drama, 
 called the Opera, published a set of Madrigals in the 
 year 1638 ; in a preface to which he tells us, “ that he 
 (e is the first who has attempted to express the livelier 
 ee passions * it is not, therefore, to be expected that a 
 hundred years before his time our Church Music should 
 have spirited movement enough in it to convey senti- 
 ments of gratitude and thanksgiving, though it might 
 serve to accompany in slow and solemn tones the stiams 
 of penitence and supplication : and therefore Dr. Aldrich 
 did judiciously in putting the music, which was origi- 
 nally set to a Eucharistical Hymn of Thanksgiving, to 
 a penitential one, to which, it is evident, the supplica- 
 tory strain was much better adapted. 
 
 It is true, indeed, that in Dr. Aldrich’s time, i. e. in 
 the latter part of the 17 th century, a great and original 
 genius arose in this country, who, had he lived longer, 
 or had the best parts of the compositions which he left 
 behind him been made the object of future imitation, 
 would have gone a great way towards advancing Vocal 
 
 * These Madrigals are preserved in the Library of \ork 
 Minster: The words alluded to are, “ Ne havendo in tutte le 
 “ composition! de’ passati compositori potuto ritrovare esempio 
 “ del concitato genere ma ben si del molle e temperato. The 
 lovers of antient music would do well to consider of how very 
 modern a date this first attempt to express the different passions 
 appears to have been. - „ ' 
 
[ 344 ] 
 
 Music to its desired point of perfection. In proof of 
 this, I need only refer to the Anthems of Purcel, which, 
 in point of clear articulation and verbal expression, to 
 which merit I am here chiefly adverting, are so much 
 superior to all his predecessors, contemporaries, and even 
 successors, that they seem to stand single in this respect; 
 insomuch, that were they cleared of their scientific mo- 
 dulation, which they might be in many passages without 
 prejudicing their general harmony, they would certainly 
 be the best models of that style, which ought to prevail 
 in Church Music. 
 
 Yet a studious mind seems in general to acquire, by 
 applying itself to what is antient, so great a prejudice 
 for it, that I do not wonder the late judicious Dr. Boyce, 
 after having employed himself many years in giving a 
 correct and elegant Score of the Services and Anthems 
 of the older masters, came to a conclusion very different 
 from this, and declared, in a preface to the last volume, 
 “ that the early writers were not wanting in musical 
 “ expression, though not so particularly marked ; but 
 <c that their successors deviated from the gravity of their 
 “ predecessors, and in compliance with the gay taste of 
 <c Charles II. had adopted a lighter species of music : 
 i( however, they still preserved a solemnity and learning 
 “ in their compositions which have rendered them last 
 “ ing monuments of ingenuity and expression.” Now 
 it is this learning and ingenuity that I chiefly object to 
 in them : solemnity and expression J am certain they 
 
t 345 ] 
 
 might have had without it, and the result would have 
 been, that their compositions would have been more in- 
 telligible and pathetic. There seems, for instance, to 
 be little learning or ingenuity in that very plain and 
 simple harmony which Purcel has set to Peace be with- 
 in thy iv alls, and to O visit me ivith thy salvation ; 
 yet the expression and pathos of these passages have a 
 greater effect on even the learned ear, than any compli- 
 cated contrivance in Fugue or imitation which that sub- 
 lime genius ever produced. But the musical historian 
 has gone farther,* and asserted, that Purcel himself 
 followed the example of Humphreys, Wise, &c. who had 
 introduced into their Church Compositions such dancing 
 movements as the King had acquired a great fondness 
 for in France. I own I am rather more inclined to give 
 credit to what Purcel himself says in one of his prefaces, 
 “ that he has faithfully endeavoured at a just imitation 
 “ of the most famed Italian Masters, with a view to 
 “ bring the gravity and seriousness of that sort of Music 
 (C into vogue and reputation among our countrymen, 
 <e whose humour it is time now should begin to lose the 
 “ levity and balladry of our neighbours.” It is true, 
 that this Preface was written a year after the death of 
 King Charles II. and prefixed to a set of Sonatas but 
 supposing he might have humoured the Monarch in his 
 secular music, I cannot be persuaded that either he or 
 the other great Ma-ters ever admitted Coran to or Gavot 
 * Hawkins, p. 360 and p. 49T, v. 4. 
 
[ 346 ] 
 
 movements into their sacred Harmony ; at least I have 
 found no instances in them of such depravity of taste. 
 
 The only fault, therefore, that I would impute to 
 Parcel, is what the mere Harmonist would deem his 
 principal merit, that of pursuing the old Masters in 
 sometimes too ostentatious a show of musical learning, 
 by which, though he did not obliterate pathos and ex- 
 pression, he frequently rendered it less forcible and 
 striking ; and what is true of him, is still more true of 
 all his predecessors and contemporaries in that sera. 
 
 Yet I am far from denying that his contemporaries 
 had many of them great merit. They certainly carried 
 the musical art much farther, with respect to conveying 
 vocal sentiment, than the Composers of the century 
 which preceded them ; and this even in their fuller 
 pieces. There are Anthems to be found amongst them, 
 where every syllable has its just length; each part of a 
 sentence its proper pause : where the words are not 
 confused by perplexing alternations, or rendered tedious 
 by unnecessary repetitions ; but which proceed in one 
 full, yet distinct, strain, harmonically, and at the same 
 time, intelligibly.* Indeed it may be said, that the art, 
 considered in the way I would be understood only to 
 
 * I might give an instance of this, were the Anthem suffici- 
 ently known, which was composed by Mr. Tucker, one of the 
 Gentlemen of the Chapel to King Charles, and which begins 0 
 give thanks unto the Lord. 
 
 Psalm 105, v. 1, 2, 3, for four Voices. 
 
[ 347 ] 
 
 consider it, as a vehicle for verbal sentimental expres- 
 sion, did hardly exist before their time. It was the 
 pleasing Melodies of Wise, the pathetic Airs of Clarke, 
 the majestic Movements of Blow, and the sublime Strains 
 of Purcel, which at once proved the good sense, as well 
 as genius, of these Masters ; and at the same time the 
 powers, which Vocal Music might have upon the mind, 
 when so managed, that sound might be subservient, or 
 rather assistant, to sense. Yet as this can never be the 
 case, but when Melody, and consequently appropriated 
 Air are principally attended to, it has led, as we have 
 seen, Dr. Boyce and other professed Harmonists to 
 think, that by the addition of too much Air, by which 
 these Masters deprived Harmony of its absolute supre- 
 macy, they robbed Church Music of its ancient solem- 
 nity. The public ear, however, will, I believe, generally 
 allow, that Music in their hands became more intelli- 
 gible and expressive than it had been heretofore : a 
 matter of all others the first to be attended to in com- 
 positions of this kind ; and without which, the merit of 
 Music, of this species, consists only in that of prolonging 
 certain Notes to make the Music more solemn ; a merit, 
 which, though attributed by Dryden, as I observed in 
 the former Essay, to his St. Cecilia, I imagine was given 
 her by the Poet, rather to fill up his Stanza, than to 
 impress any precise idea on the mind of his reader. 
 
 But, when I give this deserved applause to the con- 
 temporaries of Purcel, I capnot, as I have said, help 
 
[ 348 ] 
 
 attributing to them the same defect which I have im- 
 puted to him, and that in a greater degree. Happy 
 would it have been for the Vocal Art, if their successors 
 had attempted to rectify this fault in their own compo- 
 sitions : but, instead of doing so, they superadded a new 
 one, and this from a natural, and in some degree ex- 
 cusable, cause : for it is here to be observed, that it was 
 not above a century ago, and when Purcel was in the 
 meridian of his short life, that the powers and delicacies 
 of the human voice began to be somewhat attended to. 
 Before that period, to sing, as it is called, in tune and 
 in time, seems to have been the only merit required 
 from the performers ; for the old Vocal Music being 
 almost constantly choral, or moving in a succession of 
 short intervals, it demanded only that every part should 
 be equally audible ; it required no flexibility of throat, 
 or delicacy in the organs of sound; for when the per- 
 formers had so complex a harmony, and so simple a 
 melody to attend to, nothing except now and then hold- 
 ing out a note (the office rather of the lungs than of the 
 throat) was necessary to produce all the execution re- 
 quired ; but when Air and Melody became more preva- 
 lent, as they did at this time, the powers of the human 
 voice were more studied and more cultivated : first, 
 indeed, for the use of the Theatre, where the delicacies 
 of a fine voice were more in their place ; but they soon, 
 as might be expected, were introduced into the Church. 
 This revolution, as it may be called, in Vocal Music, 
 
[ 349 ] 
 
 though attended with much additional pleasure to the 
 hearer, induced also a new defect in point of simplicity, 
 which, as the old one of complex harmony was not re- 
 moved, prevented the art from attaining to what I call 
 its perfection in the next century. The defect I mean 
 is that of long and intricate divisions, unnecessary, if not 
 improper, repetitions of parts of the Melody. 
 
 The first composer, who seems to have given much 
 into this error, is Dr. Croft. In his time, it seems, there 
 was a very fine Contra-Tenor in the Royal Chapel, called 
 Elford, to whom, in the Preface to his Anthems, he 
 gives great and I suppose deserved applause, and for 
 whose voice he purposely set several Solos. Where a 
 voice (considered as an instrument) is to be shewn, the 
 frittering of one syllable into almost half a century of 
 semiquavers, is perhaps the best and only expedient for 
 shewing its executive powers ; for, though it has other 
 powers, and those of a kind which no other instrument 
 can rival, yet the term execution is generally applied to 
 that volubility of throat which expresses accurately such 
 divisions ; and the quicker the succession of notes in these 
 divisions, the more perfect are deemed the performer’s 
 powers in this point. This being the case, the reader, 
 ^dare say, is ready with his assent to my assertion, that 
 a too great indulgence, or indeed any at all, to the per- 
 former in these instrumental tricks, must not only greatly 
 diminish the gravity and solemnity of Church Music,* 
 
 * The late Dr. Nares, whose memory both as a man and 
 
[ 350 ] 
 
 but also render it, as a vehicle for words, much less in- 
 telligible 5 and when to this is added the same affecta- 
 tion of science which prevailed before in the Composer, 
 it might reasonably be expected that the art would now 
 be rendered totally unfit for the purpose, and that the 
 Composer, in this latter period, sacrificing both to his 
 own and the performer’s reputation, had rendered his 
 Music totally unintelligible. 
 
 This, however, is not the fact : for though almost all 
 the Scholars of Croft gave, as much as their Master, into 
 this fashionable folly, yet still, when we compare theirs 
 with the works of their predecessors, we find them full as 
 intelligible as those in Purcell s time, and much more so 
 than in those of Tye, Tallis, and Bird. Nor is the phe- 
 nomenon difficult to account for, if we consider the 
 
 Composer I greatly respect, in a short but judicious preface ex- 
 presses the same sentiment concerning a collection of his own 
 Anthems. “ I have been very sparing (says he) of Divisions, 
 “ thinking them too airy for the Church, and have rather en- 
 “ deavoured to enforce the sentiment of the words, than to 
 “ display the Art of Musical Composition .” It is certainly this 
 fondness of Division, indulged for the purpose mentioned above, 
 which Croft sometimes exhibited, and Green carried to much 
 greater excess, that rendered many of their Anthems too light 
 and theatrical ; and as in several of their choral movements we 
 find sentiment neglected, and the Art of Musical Composition 
 solely attended to, it is not improbable, but the Author of the 
 Preface had these two Composers principally in view; though 
 he might with equal justice have included Dr. Boyce in his idea, 
 as to the latter foible, and the great Handel himself both in the 
 former and the latter. 
 
[ 351 ] 
 
 nature of Air and Melody, which, when simple and un- 
 adulterated with foreign mixtures, never obscure verbal 
 expression. But these Masters, at least in the outset of 
 their strains, were careful to preserve Air ; and as, for the 
 sake of this, they admitted a variety of Melody to many re- 
 petitions of the same verbal passage, it is clear that these 
 very repetitions, though blameable in one sense, as taking 
 from solemnity, were yet useful in another, as affording 
 different channels, through some one of which the words 
 would certainly be conveyed to the hearer. 
 
 The foregoing remarks, though many of them refer 
 solely to that part of our Cathedral Music, called the 
 Anthem , will yet be found to apply even with greater 
 force to those Hymns which Church Musicians call by 
 the technical term of Services , by which they mean the 
 Te Beum , Magnificat , &c. which the Rubric appoints 
 to be sung after the first and second Lessons at Morning 
 and Evening Prayer.* 
 
 The Music usually applied to these is so peculiar in 
 itself, and differs so much from all other, that it may be 
 called sui genei'is. The length of the majority of these 
 Hymns will not admit them to be set in a continued 
 
 * I believe they include the Nicene Creed under the same title, 
 for it has been usually set to the same kind ot Music ; but in my 
 opinion any Music whatever is improper to accompany a solemn 
 declaration of our Faith. It is certainly only in its place, when 
 it tends to express the sentiments either of supplication, peni- 
 tence, or thanksgiving. Creeds are and must be, of necessity, 
 narrative. 
 
[ 352 ] 
 
 strain of Melody, or with so many repetitions as find their 
 place in Anthems ; and being all composed after Bird’s 
 old model, they have consequently that defect in point of 
 intelligibility, which has been shewn above to attend on 
 that sort of Music. For though it must be owned that 
 the more modern Masters have paid greater regard to 
 syllabical accent and emphasis than their predecessors, 
 yet whenever the Laws of Quantity happen to clash with 
 the Laws of Counterpoint, they are ever ready to make 
 the former subservient to the latter, as might be proved 
 from a variety of examples. I have often thought that 
 this defect was owing to the want of a preparatory exer- 
 cise in the Composer, to which if he would submit before 
 he began to arrange either his Melody or Harmony, he 
 Would find it of no little use : Having made an Experi- 
 ment myself of the kind, I will here venture to give a 
 short account of it. 
 
 I engaged a young person perfectly well grounded in 
 the rules of composition, and of promising abilities as a 
 composer, to attend to me for some time while I re- 
 peatedly read one of the shortest of these Hymns with all 
 the care and accuracy, with respect to accent and pause, 
 that I was capable of ; and, when he had got a complete 
 sentence perfectly in his head, to write down on a single 
 line, with the common musical characters, a variety of 
 minims, crotchets, and quavers, equivalent to the times 
 of my pronunciation, either in common or triple measure, 
 as he found most convenient. The novelty of the attempt 
 
[ 353 ] 
 
 was a little embarrassing at first, but it soon became suf- 
 ficiently easy to him, and proceeding, sentence after sen- 
 tence, he produced on paper, with much exactitude, the 
 musical time in notes, rests, and bars, of the whole 
 Hymn,^ according to my recitation. The ground-plan 
 (as I may call it) of the musical structure being thus ad- 
 justed, I told him this was the foundation on which he 
 was to proceed in the composition of a new Service ; that 
 he was to observe all the dimensions precisely, and 
 neither lengthen or shorten a single note, or vary a 
 single rest in the whole of the Melody, and that his 
 Harmony also must proceed under the same strict limi- 
 tations. He thought, as might be expected, this law 
 wonderously severe, and seeming not only to doubt the 
 justice but sagacity of the lawgiver, pleaded strongly 
 to be at least indulged in a few repetitions of the words 
 in order to facilitate his Modulation ; this was refused, yet 
 still his youth and docility led him to undertake the 
 task, till under all these restrictions he produced the 
 Nunc Dimittis in four full parts, which answered my 
 idea so perfectly, that I ventured to practise his abilities 
 under the same limitations on the Te Deum ; but in this, 
 
 * The Musical reader will recollect, that as the whole was 
 w ritten on a single line, all the notes were the same, marking 
 only one sound of the Octave. Hence this scheme regulated 
 only the duration and pauses, emphasis being put out of the 
 question, because the duration of each syllable being ascertained, 
 emphasis, if the Music was well performed, would result from it, 
 so far as was necessary for the purpose. 
 
 A a 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
[ 554 ] 
 
 before he sat down to compose, we regulated together 
 what part of the words should be set chorally, and which 
 in Trio, Duo, or Solo, and for what kind of voices. He was 
 even more successful in this second attempt than in the 
 former. His composition had an unaffected simplicity 
 in the style, and agreeable variety in its modulation ; and 
 in point of articulation was so intelligible, that, without 
 losing any thing of musical sweetness, it expressed every 
 word almost as distinctly as solemn speaking . I say 
 almost, because in such Music, to produce this perfectly, 
 the Performers must also submit to a new regulation, and 
 must occasionally be taught to trespass a little on the 
 length of a musical bar, with the rests within it, so as to 
 make it as much as possible accord with the true punc- 
 tuation of the sentence. 
 
 The recommendation of this breach of Time, I know, 
 will offend the Musical Reader at the first ; but I would 
 wish him to consider that the invention of Bars* in Music 
 
 * The Historian tells us, with his customary and commend- 
 ahle accuracy, that their “ use is not to be traced higher than 
 “ 1574, and it was not till some time after, that the use of them 
 “ became general. Barnard’s Cathedral Music, printed in 1641, 
 “ is without Bars, hut they are found throughout in the Ayres 
 “ and Dialogues of Henry Lawes, published in 1653. from 
 « whence it may be conjectured, that we owe to Lawes this 
 “ improvement. See Hawkins , vol. iii. p. 518. This Henry 
 Lawes was the friend of Milton, and set the songs in his Comus. 
 He found, 1 imagine, the use of bars more necessary to mai t e 
 time of his Ayres, than to span the just accent and quantity o 
 his words. By the well-known Sonnet, which this Poet addresse 
 
[ 355 ] 
 
 is of no long standing, and their use not of equal impor- 
 tance in every species of Music. In continued Airs, and 
 dancing measures, they are of essential service : but to 
 the Music in question they appear to me by no means so 
 necessary; for though I would not absolutely reject them, 
 I would not suffer them to mark the time so precisely as 
 to occasion any improper breaks in the continuation of a 
 period : for this Music, though very different in itself 
 from Recitative, ought in a great degree to be performed 
 as that is, and might occasionally admit Recitative into 
 it, if we had a real national one : * but whether I am 
 right or wrong in this notion, (which I know is too 
 
 to him, we are to conclude, that he thought him the first 
 English Composer, who attended to this point; for he there 
 *ays that his 
 
 Tuneful and well-measured song 
 First taught our English Music how to span 
 Words with just Note and Accent, not to scan 
 With Midas’ ears, committing short and long. 
 
 And if Milton, who was certainly a competent judge, is allowed 
 to have spoken truth on this occasion, it is left with the lovers 
 of very antient Music to set their own value on that of the 16th 
 and part of the 17 th Century. 
 
 * Had Purcell lived longer, it is probable this want would 
 have been supplied. The model which Handel has given us, 
 though as good as could possibly be expected from a foreigner, 
 who had little knowledge of the genius and turn of our language, 
 is not what a native like Purcell would have formed, or that 
 which might, perhaps, yet be formed from the specimens he has 
 left us, were they divested of those quavering divisions which 
 he has set, probably to please his Scholars, and which (if in any) 
 are in the French Taste. 
 
[ 356 ] 
 
 singular to find easy and general acceptance) I am per- 
 suaded, from the success of the experiment here described, 
 that these Services by this means would be cleared of their 
 principal defect, though performed in the usual manner ; 
 for I have had the pleasure to find my young Composer’s 
 attempt not only admired by the generality of hearers, 
 but approved by many well-versed in Musical Science. 
 
 And let it not be imagined that Church Music, so far 
 simplified as I wish it to be, would require less real Art ? 
 or Taste, either in the Composer or Performers, than th e 
 complex style now in use. It is true these powers must 
 take a different direction ; for in order to make Sound 
 subservient to Sense, the Composer, on his part, will find 
 it necessary to study the force and genius of his own lan- 
 guage, full as much as the old laws of Counterpoint ; to 
 enter also, somewhat philosophically, into the nature of 
 Sounds, to find those which best express the different 
 passions, in order to adapt the tone and movement of the 
 strain to the verbal sentiment; and though he must 
 refrain from that part of his art which the eloquent 
 J. J. Rousseau (under the article Fugue in his Musical 
 Dictionary) calls “ L’ingrate chef-d’oeuvre d’un bon har- 
 i( moniste,” yet he is precluded from no other exertion 
 of his Musical Science. 
 
 With respect to the Performers, their business, it is 
 true, will be rendered less operose, yet it will not, there- 
 fore, have less merit ; for to sing with taste is surely 
 snore difficult than to sing in tune. The effect of all 
 
[ 357 ] 
 
 those supplemental graces which really serve to assist 
 Musical Expression, they must diligently study, and judi- 
 ciously apply, either to inforce a single word, or give the 
 proper effect to a whole sentence ; and though they must 
 do this without sacrificing distinct articulation to delicacy 
 of tone, yet must they still endeavour to hit that precise 
 medium in the vocal faculty, which pronounces and sings 
 at the same time, and which is at once, in point of sound, 
 melodious, and in point of speech articulate. A merit to 
 which only first-rate Performers generally attain ; the 
 rest may be met with in every Catch-Club throughout 
 the kingdom. 
 
 I have now taken notice of every Musical part of our 
 Cathedral Service, except that of the unaccompanied 
 Chaunt used in the Versicles and Responses, and that 
 other which is accompanied by the Organ in the use of 
 the Psalter. As to the former, its long prescriptive use 
 is its best defence, except, indeed, that in very large 
 Churches it serves to make the voice more audible j and 
 though the monotonous cast of it, in some measure, pre- 
 vents emphasis and expression, yet by a minute obser- 
 vance of those pauses in pronunciation, which come not 
 within the restriction of even a comma in our marks of 
 punctuation, it may be performed with sufficient intelli- 
 gibility ; and has this one great merit, that it prevents all 
 affectation of what is called modern fine Reading, a thing 
 almost as misplaced in the Church Service as old curious 
 Music. 
 
[ 358 ] 
 
 / 
 
 Concerning the accompanied Chaunt used in the 
 Psalter, I agree with Dr. Bayley,* that “ some regard 
 “ ought to be had to the general subject of the Psalms for 
 “ the day, using plaintive chaunts with mournful Psalms, 
 “ and chearful with thanksgiving.” But as the Psalms, 
 in their present order, vary materially among themselves 
 in this point, so that a penitential one is often immedi- 
 ately followed by another of a different cast, I would go 
 farther, and wish that a Cathedral Psalter was composed 
 by some judicious person, in which every Psalm should 
 have a peculiar Chaunt affixed to it; and that these 
 Chaunts, succeeding one another in the allotted portions 
 of the Rubric for the day, should pass from major to 
 minor keys, and vice versa, according to the established 
 rules of Modulation. For this purpose no new Chaunts 
 need be invented, but only a good selection made from 
 the great variety now in use. The metrical Psalms, we 
 know, have long had their peculiar Melodies, and I know 
 no reason why those in prose have not as good a right to 
 their peculiar Chaunts. 
 
 I shall now close this Essay ; which, short and super- 
 
 * See Dr. Bayley’s Preface to his Anthem Book. for the Royal 
 Chapel, p. xv. 1 remember, -when I was a Scholar in St. John’s 
 College, Cambridge, it was the constant practice with the Organ- 
 ist, and I suppose a long established custom, after the 136th 
 Psalm, 0 give Thanks , tyc. had been chaunted in a major key, to 
 change the chaunt into a plaintive one in a minor for the suc- 
 ceeding Psalm, By the Waters of Babylon. I know not whether 
 this is still done, but I thought, at the time, it had a good effect. 
 
[ 359 ] 
 
 ficial as it is, may yet go some way towards abating an 
 ill-grounded deference to antiquity, merely because it is 
 antiquity. I am conscious that had Dr. Burney’s elabo- 
 rate Work been published before the first edition of this 
 went to the press, I should have made it somewhat more 
 worthy of the public attention ; considered merely, for 
 what it was designed, an Historical Summary of the 
 Progress of Cathedral Music in this country, with such 
 critical reflections as might occur to me in an account of 
 that progress. 
 
 The partiality however, which he has shewn to it, has 
 induced me in this edition to revise it with more care, 
 than otherwise I might have done ; and, though I cannot 
 withdraw the strictures I made on many of our Compo- 
 sers, in point of Vocal Intelligibility ; I entirely submit 
 to his superior judgment in every thing that respects 
 scientific Harmony. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND ESSAY. 
 

[ 363 ] 
 
 ESSAY THE THIRD. 
 
 The authority of Erasmus was produced in the pre- 
 ceding Essay, and more might have been added, to shew 
 that many of the most learned and judicious Persons, 
 who flourished at the dawn of the Reformation, repro- 
 bated very strongly that complicated Harmony, which 
 accompanied the Church Service. It was all indeed 
 mere sing-song, or rather (if the expression be not too 
 quaint) sing without song; for the term Song implies 
 some certain degree of Melody and Air, of which that 
 Music was utterly devoid; it therefore could only be 
 called plain singing or chaunting, which, perhaps, is the 
 best translation of the term planus Cantus. 
 
 But it was not on account of this deficiency, that our 
 first Reformers disapproved of Popish Church Music; it 
 was, because it rendered the words of the Liturgy indis- 
 tinct and unintelligible. They would have been con- 
 tented not to have received pleasure from it, had the 
 Congregation received edification. 
 
 This not being the case, we have reason to think that, 
 as Reformation proceeded, the two principal leaders of 
 it, Luther and Calvin, resolved to make a considerable 
 
[ 364 ] 
 
 change in its mode of performance. Calvin, who had 
 certainly less Music in his soul than the other,* rejected 
 both Vocal and Instrumental Harmony, and admitted 
 only unisonous Psalmody. Conveniently for his purpose 
 a part, at least, of a French translation of the Psalms 
 had been very lately published, and had become popular 
 in the Court where it had its origin ; but this, as it 
 seems, not because it was a version of Psalms, but a 
 version in Rhyme, and what the taste of the time deemed 
 good Poetry. They were not only sung, like Ballads, 
 about the streets of Paris, but many of the Court Ladies 
 adopted several of them, as their peculiar favourites, and 
 honoured them with their own titles.f Devotion, it must 
 he believed, had little to do in this matter. It was suffi- 
 cient for the French, that the version was fashionable. 
 
 Calvin thought otherwise. He conceived, that it 
 might be turned to a pious purpose. The verses were 
 easy, and, like the generality of French verse, prosaic 
 enough to be intelligible to the meanest capacity. The 
 Melodies, to which they were set, rivalled the words in 
 plainness and simplicity : they, who could read the one, 
 would find little difficulty in learning to sing the other. 
 As therefore it was the Protestant Father’s primary aim 
 
 * Luther was an adept in the Science and a Composer also. 
 See his Colloquia Mensalia, chap, lxviii. For specimens of his 
 Compositions see Dr. Burney's History, vol. i. page 45, &c. 
 
 + This fantastic fact is circumstantially recorded by Mr. T. 
 Warton, in his History of Poetry; see vol. iii. p. 163. — And also 
 by Sir John Hawkins, in his History of Music. 
 
[ 365 ] 
 
 to open the Scriptures entirely, which had been so long 
 shut up in a dead language, nothing could come more 
 opportunely to his aid than this Version of the Psalter, 
 which, united with Prayer in the vernacular tongue, 
 would enable his Congregation, not only to understand 
 and join in the supplications of the one, but also become 
 themselves Choiristers of the other. 
 
 This is, I think, a more true as well as a more candid, 
 account of the Reformer’s proceeding, than that 
 given by our ingenious Poetical Historian, who resolves 
 Calvin’s conduct in this matter entirely to prejudice. 
 But without disputing the point, I need only say, that 
 as the Church of England has ordained in her Cathedrals 
 one species of Music to be used, and in her Parish 
 Churches allowed another, I should leave my general 
 subject imperfect, if I did not allot the present Essay to 
 Psalmody. 
 
 About the same time that Marot published his Version 
 in France, T. Sternhold versified fifty of the Psalms in 
 England, in the completion of which work he had seve- 
 ral coadjutors.* The whole did not appear in print till 
 1562, and were then attached to the book of Common 
 Prayer, as allowed to be sung in Churches. Hence Mr. 
 Warton infers that they never received the Royal appro- 
 bation, or obtained Parliamentary sanction. Yet, it is 
 
 * The names of all these, if it be worth while to know them, 
 are enumerated by that indefatigable searcher into momentous 
 parts of antiquity, Sir John Hawkins. 
 
[ 366 ] 
 
 clear, that Metrical Psalmody had been adopted in 
 England full ten years before Sternhold’s Version was 
 published; for “ on March 15, 1550, Mr. Veron, a 
 “ Frenchman by birth, but a learned Protestant, and 
 “ Parson of St, Martin’s Ludgate, preached at St. Paul’s 
 “ Cross before the Mayor and Aldermen, and, after 
 “ Sermon done, they all sung in common a Psalm in 
 “ Metre, as it seems now was frequently done, the Custom 
 <c being brought to us from abroad by the Exiles.”* 
 Hence we may infer, that if Queen Elizabeth patronized 
 Cathedral Music exclusively, she did not interdict 
 Psalmodical ; and therefore, three years after so public 
 an exercise of it, Sternhold, or his Printer, might fairly 
 enough assert, that his Version was allowed to be sung 
 in Churches. 
 
 Nothing more need be said historically on the subject, 
 except that the tunes, or, as they are commonly called, 
 Melodies, were borrowed by Sternhold from the old Ger- 
 man and French Masters, particularly Goudimel and Le 
 Jeune, who had composed them originally for Marot : 
 for specimens of these I refer my Readers to the two 
 English Musical Historians, especially the latter. f I also 
 beg their patience if, before I enter into any further 
 disquisition of the musical part of Psalmody, I make 
 some remarks on the Metrical; and I am induced to 
 
 * See Nichols’s Progress of Queen Elizabeth , Vol. I. p. 54, in a 
 kind of Diary taken from Strype. 
 
 t See Hawkins, Vol. III. p. 518, — Burney, Vol. III. P. 45. 
 
[ 3 67 ] 
 
 this more particularly, because the late professor of 
 Poetry has in his History declared, t( that he reprobates 
 (S any Version at all of the Psalms, especially if intend- 
 ed ed for the use of the Church.* A writer too of a 
 much inferior poetical taste, in my opinion, though of a 
 more dictatorial spirit, has condemned all devotional 
 Poetry whatever.! Let his Paradoxical Dogmas have 
 what weight his admirers please to give them, I chuse 
 only to attend to the strictures of Mr. T. Warton, who had 
 never confined his Poetical Powers within the narrow 
 compass of the Couplet, hut had initiated himself early 
 into all the various provinces of Versification ; had taken 
 a number of the best models for his imitation, and in each 
 had eminently succeeded. It is however to be lamented 
 that a premature inclination for Antiquarian researches 
 led him aside from the original bent of his Genius, else 
 there is no doubt but he would have produced in every 
 species of Poetry, what he did in several, proofs of as 
 true a Poetic Spirit, as in his Comments on preceding 
 Poets he has shewn a truly critical judgment. It must 
 be owned, however, that on this subject he had his Pre- 
 judices ; not indeed so violent and unreasonable as the 
 Biographical Critic, but which seem to have originated 
 from the same cause, an outrageous zeal against every 
 thing that he deemed Puritanical : and as Metrical 
 
 * Warton’s Hist, of Poetry, Yol. III. p. 179. 
 
 t Dr. Johnson’s Lives of the Poets, at the end of the Life of 
 Waller. 
 
[ 368 ] 
 
 Psalmody was certainly much used in Conventicles, 
 before it was practised in our Established Church, it 
 is no wonder, that he was disinclined to allow it a place, 
 in which he thought nothing but the pealing Organ 
 should accompany a full voiced Choir. I take these 
 phrases from a passage which I have before quoted from 
 Milton, because he was a Puritan Poet, though perhaps 
 not deeply tinged with the prejudices of the Sect, when 
 he wrote those verses ; and 1 venture to call Mr. Warton’s 
 prejudices also, though of a contrary kind, because in 
 this instance he has not produced any sufficient reason in 
 support of them. For was Psalmody, let me ask, not to be 
 introduced into offices of Devotion, merely because it was 
 Metrical ? Surely not ; for Metre had long prevailed in 
 the Church previous to the Reformation ; witness the 
 Stabat Mater, and almost all the Hymns to the Virgin : 
 witness Henry the Eighth’s English Anthem quoted in 
 the preceding Essay, and performed most probably after 
 the Church had become Protestant, and when Henry 
 had quarrelled with the See of Rome. Or was it not to 
 be used, because it was Psalmody ? The same reason 
 would weigh against the antient Rituals, for select 
 Psalms, though not the whole Psalter, had been used at 
 Matins, Vespers, &c. in the Church from a very remote 
 antiquity. — His reason then can only be, that a Version 
 of the Psalms in Metre must of necessity be bad Poetry. 
 
 That few, if any, of the versions of the book of Psalms, 
 can deserve the name of good Poetry throughout, I am 
 
[ 369 ] 
 
 ready to allow him; but this I cannot think arises so 
 much from the impossibility of the thing, as from the 
 false idea which has prevailed, concerning the best mode 
 of rendering Hebrew Poetry into English Verse. A 
 literal Version may boldly be asserted impracticable; for 
 if it were not, a Poet so great as Milton would not, even 
 in his earliest youth, have proved himself so very little of 
 a formidable rival, as he has done, to Thomas Sternhold. 
 That to proceed in the way of Paraphrase is also as un- 
 likely to obtain its end seems to me to be equally evident, 
 because it is the genius, nay, the very essence of Oriental 
 Poetry to be so very paraphrastical in itself, as not to 
 admit of further dilatation in any modern Version. 
 Voltaire, though he says it with a French philosophical 
 sneer, f Les repetitions et le desordre qui etaient peut-etre 
 “ un merite dans le style oriental, n’en sont point dans 
 “ le notre,” cannot in this point be confuted; and the 
 gieat Corneille also mentions its innumerable redites as 
 a supreme difficulty. 
 
 Mr. Merrick, the last English Versifier of them, and 
 most indubitably the best, hopes in his preface, “ that the 
 “ judicious reader will not be offended, if he finds the 
 “ same Phrases, and even the same lines occur in differ- 
 ent Psalms, when he considers what liberty of Repeti- 
 “ tions the Hebrew Poetry admits in one and the same 
 Psalm ; which liberty Dr. Lowth, in his preface to his 
 celebrated translation of Isaiah, shews was so far from 
 being I oetical Licence, that it was its constituent 
 vol. in. b b 
 
[ 370 ] 
 
 principle :* for according to him “ parallel lines, syno- 
 « nymous in Sense, are in it equivalent to metrical 
 « couplets, or measures in modern Languages.’ Parallel 
 antithetical Expressions are, in like manner, substituted 
 for Rhythm and Cadence. Sentences of a similar gram- 
 matical construction, which he calls synthetic parallels, 
 are another of its constituents ; from all which arises a 
 Rhythmus of propositions, and a Harmony (not of sound 
 but) of Sentences. I put the learned Bishop’s prosodical 
 System thus in short, to draw from it this short conclu- 
 sion, that such Poetry must abound so much in Pleonasms 
 and Repetitions, that it is impossible to make them ap- 
 pear either forcibly or gracefully in English verse, parti- 
 cularly in Rhyme ; for if Rhyme does not condense the 
 sense, which passes through its vehicle, it ceases to be 
 good, either as Verse or Rhyme : it is of the kind, which 
 a Lord or a Lady Fanny spins a thousand lines in a day, 
 a loose flimsy kind of smooth verbiage, which ought 
 never to come into the world, without being first hot 
 
 pressed and on wove paper. 
 
 But to proceed with my subject. As, on account of 
 the diffused sense in the original, even an exact copy 
 would appear diffuse also in a literal version, paraphrase 
 
 * I know not whether the learned Bishop was the original 
 disco verer of this principle, which certainly annihilates eve y 
 idea of Metre, a thing essential to verse in every other an B u „ 
 His Hypothesis has however been adopted by all later tr 
 tors of the Poetical part of the Hebrew Text, and or mjs 
 am too ignorant and, I hope, too modest to gaaisaj it. 
 
[ 371 ] 
 
 here, of all things, seems the worst method to be adopted. 
 If then I am asked, what seems to be the best ? I an- 
 swer, it is by proceeding in the way of a judicious selec- 
 tion of the meaning, metaphors, &c. of the original. 
 By this all the principal, and frequently sublime images 
 in it might be transfused, and those parallelisms, which 
 contain an identity of sentiment only omitted. By such 
 a selection, therefore, which I will venture to call poeti- 
 cal compression, however difficult it might prove to the 
 Author, would secure his Version, if competently exe- 
 cuted, an adequate approbation from the Reader; be- 
 cause he certainly would be far from finding it prolix, 
 feeble, or tedious : and though it failed to give him the 
 same sublime simplicity, which is often so very striking 
 in our Prose translation of the Poetical parts of the Old 
 Testament, it would have all the merit that can justly 
 be claimed by any English metrical translation. There 
 exists in our Bible version a certain dignified prose 
 Rhythm, which accords wonderfully with the sentiments 
 it conveys, and which it would have been well if even 
 Dr. Lowth, and the more modern translators from the 
 Hebrew Original had tuned their ears by, and this I 
 think they might often have done without impairing the 
 fidelity of their emendatory process, though it would 
 have hurt the linear poetical semblance of their pages. 
 But be this as it may, my affair is with Metrical, not 
 Prose, A ersions. I shall, therefore, by way of explaining 
 my meaning, produce an instance taken from the first 
 
t 372 ] 
 
 four lines of the twenty-first Psalm, as Dr. Lowth has 
 translated, arranged, and given for his primary specimen 
 of those parallel Synonymes, 
 
 Parallel 1. 
 
 O Jehovah ! in thy strength the King shall rejoice ! 
 
 Parallel 2. 
 
 And in thy salvation shall he greatly exult. 
 
 Now if in this verse we omit all the synonymous terms, 
 and retain only the general sentiment, it might in prose 
 be expressed shortly, but fully, thus : 
 
 How greatly, O Jehovah ! shall the King lejoice in 
 thy salvation ! 
 
 The passage thus abridged might also be completely 
 expressed in a single couplet. But if all the terms are 
 to be introduced, perhaps, it might require two couplets, 
 or a stanza of four lines. So, with his usual awkward- 
 ness, Sternhold 
 
 O Lord, how joyful is the Kin£ 
 
 In thy strength and thy power ! 
 
 , How vehemently does he rejoice 
 In thee, his Sa-vi-our. 
 
 Tate and Brady have turned it somewhat better, yet 
 with their usual tameness. 
 
C 373 ] 
 
 The King, O Lord, with songs of praise 
 Shall in thy strength rejoice ; 
 
 With thy salvation crown’d shall raise 
 To thee his cheerful voice. 
 
 Superior as Mr. Merrick’s version is, it is necessarily 
 too much dilated, and by no means faultless. 
 
 By thy unwearied strength upheld, 
 
 To thee the King his thanks shall yield. 
 
 And, taught by blest experience, know 
 What joys from thy salvation flow. 
 
 Here the address to the Deity, which ought to have 
 appeared in the first or second line, is wanting, or not 
 found till five lines after the epithet iC unwearied,” which 
 is in itself an unnecessary adjunct, as is- also the phrase 
 “ taught by blest experience.” 
 
 But let us proceed to the next two Parallels. 
 
 Parallel 1. 
 
 Ihe desire of his heart thou hast granted him; 
 
 Parallel 2. 
 
 And the request of his lips thou hast not denied him. 
 
 The selected sense, as before, might be expressed 
 briefly thus : 
 
 Thou hast granted him the desire of his heart, and the 
 request of his lips. 
 
[ 374 ] 
 
 Omitting to insert the passage as it is versified in the 
 old and new version, I shall here only produce Mr. 
 Merrick’s, which, though more poetical, is not less 
 prolix : 
 
 Thy cares his heart’s desire complete ; 
 
 His prayer from thy eternal seat, 
 
 As low to thee his knee he bends. 
 
 In full acceptance back descends. 
 
 I need not observe on the laxity of this version. I 
 will only attempt to show, that, what all the three me- 
 trical translators have employed eight lines to express, 
 might without difficulty, and, perhaps, with more energy, 
 be compressed into four. 
 
 Great God ! by thy salvation blest, 
 
 What rapture glows* in David’s breast ! 
 
 * I am well aware that a protest Hebraist will say, that in this 
 version I have taken an unwarrantable liberty with the original 
 text, by using the present for the future tense, by saying What 
 raptures glow in David’s breast; whereas it ought to be, What 
 raptures shall glow. Thus our Liturgical version translates 
 rightly, The King shall rejoice; and Merrick also rightly, To 
 thee the King his thanks shall yield. Tate also rightly ; and poor 
 Sternhold and myself only falsely : for he dares to say, that David 
 actually does rejoice. We have, however, Buchanan to support 
 us, who renders the passage thus : 
 
 Quod Hoste victo Rex triumphal gaudio 
 Curis solutus anxiis, 
 
 Tibi id fatetur Rex beate coelitum 
 Debere. 
 
 I trouble the reader with this grammatical point merely to 
 
t 3/5 ] 
 
 To Heav’n and Thee he lifts his prayer. 
 
 That finds its full acceptance there. 
 
 Here the terms full acceptance , which I have adopted 
 from Mr. Merrick, and which are not only concise but 
 lyrical, say in two words, “ thou hast granted him,” and 
 (e hast not denied him for the rest, I hope, the Readei 
 will be candid enough to think, that what I have pro- 
 duced instead, was not meant as a trial of my 1 oetical 
 Skill, but merely as an illustration of my Critical 
 Meaning. 
 
 I hope also it will not be imagined, that I would wish 
 thus to compress every thing, which in the Hebrew text 
 is arranged by Dr. Lowth, as Parallelisms. I know that 
 there is a figure in Rhetoric called Amplification, which 
 is often to be found in the higher kinds of Poetry applied 
 with the greatest success; of this sort instances innu- 
 merable might be produced. I shall only refer mysell 
 
 observe upon it, that if an English versifier, or even a prose 
 translator, of the Psalms is to be tied down strictly to the ori- 
 ginal tenses, or even persons, no translation devoid of anomalies 
 will ever appear. My opinion is, that as the Hebrew verb has 
 fewer tenses than that of any other language, some liberty may 
 be taken with it, when a variation of the tense clearly improves 
 the sense; and always suspect when I see, which I frequently 
 do, that such variations, if admitted, would make the text and 
 context much more consistent in our prose versions, that these 
 translations are in themselves faulty. Whether there be less 
 impiety in this suspicion, than in imputing inconsistency to the 
 inspired Original, let all but professed Hebraists determine. 
 
[ 376 ] 
 
 to the line of Virgil, quoted in my first Essay,* which* 
 we are told, that great Poet hit off extempore in recita- 
 tion to fill up a hemistich. All I mean is, that a versi- 
 fier would do well to compress those parallelisms only, 
 which, whatever effect they may have in the Original, 
 would appear mere repetitions in English ; but always 
 to admit those, which tended to give additional force and 
 energy to the sentiment. 
 
 Neither would I have it taken for my opinion, that 
 such a Version could in any degree convey that peculiar 
 idea of dignity, which is in a manner annexed to our 
 biblical Prose Version, and which from our very infancy 
 we have imbibed. On this account I have often thought, 
 that the Translator or Fabricator of the Works of Ossian 
 (call him which you please, for the authenticity of them 
 is of no consequence in my present argument) did 
 wisely when he imitated that style. For had he given 
 them to us either in Blank Verse or Rhyme ; had he 
 imitated either Milton and Thomson, or Dryden and 
 Pope instead of his Bible, those JVumeri soluti, which 
 give such an air of majestic simplicity to the Erse Poems, 
 would have been lost. As it is, the judiciously adopted 
 style serves to veil that identity of imagery and sameness 
 of metaphor, which would, by any other kind of poetical 
 cookery, have palled the appetite of the Reader. 
 
 * See page 296. See also a fine Criticism upon it in Dryden’s 
 Parallel between Poetry and Painting, affixed to his version of 
 M. Du Fresnoy. 
 
/ 
 
 [ 377 ] 
 
 Yet still a Metrical Version, happily executed on the 
 model I have proposed, might have merit intrinsically of 
 irs own. It might be good and even nervous Verse ; it 
 might have strong devotional Pathos ; it might express 
 a fervency of gratitude to the Deity, a heart-felt sensa- 
 tion of benevolence to our Fellow-Creatures, and answer 
 every laudable purpose, which is wished to be obtained 
 by Parochial Psalmody. 
 
 And this it might do, so far as the Public Service of 
 our Church is concerned, without being a translation of 
 the whole Psalter. Nobody, I hope, will think I have 
 a tendency to Popery, when I give it as my opinion that 
 the Church of Rome did well when she inserted only a 
 small portion of the Psalms in her Liturgical Offices, 
 Yet the Church of England, which opens the whole 
 Psalter to the People, who, with the Priest, are appointed 
 alternately to repeat it, cannot be accused of shutting 
 up any page of it, if in the Psalmodical part it makes 
 use only of a judicious selection; a selection of those 
 (and there are many in that sacred miscellany) which 
 refer neither to Jewish ceremonials, nor abound with 
 Jewish imprecations. 
 
 But to Christianize them, as Dr. Watts has done, 
 would, I presume, deviate too far from the present prac- 
 tice of our establishment. Instead of this, therefore, I 
 would arrange a certain number under the following 
 heads : 1st, Psalms of Instruction ; 2d, Psalms of Pe- 
 nitence and Supplication; 3d, Psalms of Praise and 
 
C 378 ] 
 
 Thanksgiving. From the Prophetical Psalms also might 
 be selected such as might occasionally be sung on the 
 greater Festivals. Where complete Psalms can be found 
 of sufficient brevity, these, I think, should have the pre- 
 ference, because they form a Lyrical whole, and also 
 because they could not be frittered into portions by an 
 ignorant Parish Clerk 5 and I would wish them to be 
 adapted, if not originally written, to one particular Me- 
 lody or Tune, suited either to the plaintive or joyful 
 nature of the words, and never applied to any other. 
 
 The use of this, in practice, is greater than at first 
 may be apparent; yet it certainly tends to combine the 
 Poetry and the Music together in the minds of the Con- 
 gregation, and will lead them the better to understand 
 the one, and more accurately to perform the other. 
 
 It may be, and, I believe, is the wish of some persons 
 to make Psalmody more popular, by making it more 
 pleasing, that is, by introducing a variety of new Tunes 
 of a more refined and modern cast. But, as my subject 
 is only general Congregational Psalmody, it is not my 
 intention either to approve or condemn the attempt, my 
 purpose being merely to shew that the melodies, whether 
 old or new, ought to be executed in a less monotonous, 
 and consequently more intelligible, manner. 
 
 And here I should quit the Metrical and Poetical part 
 of my Subject, and proceed to what was originally my 
 only intention, the Musical, did I not find it necessary 
 first to remove some objections, which have been urged 
 
[ 379 ] 
 
 against Psalmodical Music in general by an Author, 
 from whose opinion on such topics I am always sorry to 
 dissent. 
 
 “ Why,” says J)r. Burney, “ is all the congregation 
 “ to sing, any more than to preach or to read Prayers?”* 
 I answer by asking, why do the congregation in Cathe- 
 drals chant, and in Parish Churches read the verses in 
 the Psalms alternately, either with the Choir or the 
 Minister ? In our Liturgy there is no part, in which the 
 congregation is not only permitted, but appointed to 
 have a share, except in the Exhortations and the Lessons, 
 Is not then the joining with the Clerk in a metrical 
 Psalm analogous to the rest of the Service? But the 
 Doctor proceeds, u It is well known to all, who read 
 “ the Scriptures, that both singing Men and singing 
 u Women were appointed to perform distinct parts of 
 “ religious rites among the antient Hebrews as well as 
 “ the Christians.” That this is true, with respect to 
 the Hebrews, will be allowed, but persons conversant 
 both with the New Testament and Ecclesiastical History 
 will hesitate, before they give their assent to the latter 
 part of his assertion. They will recollect, that the 
 Founder of their holy religion sung a Hymn jointly with 
 his Disciples immediately after he had eaten the Pass- 
 over, and instituted the solemn Rite, which was to 
 supersede it : they will recollect that St. James exhorted 
 the primitive Christians so to sing, and that St. Paul 
 * History of Music, vol. III. p. 64. 
 
[ 380 ] 
 
 regulated the Practice. They will perhaps quote from 
 a heathen writer, Pliny the Younger, a passage too well 
 known to be here cited, which proves that this made 
 a part of their earliest ritual. But if by the Scriptures 
 he only means the Old Testament, they will readily 
 allow, “ that it does not appear there, or by any thing 
 “ that the most antient and learned commentators have 
 c< urged concerning the performance of the Psalms, or 
 by Rabinical traditions, that they were originally in- 
 “ tended to be sung by the multitude or whole congre- 
 “ gation indiscriminately.” Yet they will be apt to tell 
 him, that the Jewish ritual is abolished, and that the 
 single instance of our Saviour’s singing a Hymn with 
 his Disciples, with them outweighs a thousand Rabinical 
 traditions, 
 
 But I find myself here drawn into a defence of a part 
 at least of Church Music, contrary to my original inten- 
 tion, which was, that these slight Essays should be purely 
 Historical and Critical ; yet I have no occasion to de- 
 viate further from my plan, because the rest of my 
 Friend’s objections are entirely of the Musical kind, and 
 therefore may with more propriety be critically examined. 
 Singing,” says he, “ not only implies a tuneable Voice, 
 “ but skill in Music, for Music either is, or is not an 
 u Art, or something which nature and instinct does not 
 “ supply. If it be allowed that title, Study, Practice, 
 “ and Experience may at least be a necessary to its 
 attainment, as that of a mechanical trade or calling. 
 
[ S 81 ] 
 
 u Every Member of a Conventicle, however it may 
 ce abound with cordwainers and tailors, would not pre- 
 <e tend to make a shoe or a suit of clothes without serv- 
 a ing their several apprenticeships, and yet in our Church 
 <c all are to sing. Such singing, as is customary in 
 “ our parochial Service, gives neither Ornament nor 
 u Dignity to the Psalms or Portions of Scripture, which 
 “ are drawled out and bawled with that unmusical 
 ee and unmeaning vehemence, which the Satirist has 
 u described, 
 
 ie So swells each windpipe — * 
 
 lt Such as from lab’ring lungs th’ Enthusiast blows, 
 
 “ High sound attemper’d to the vocal nose.” 
 
 Pope’s Dunciad, 
 
 This argument, we see, proceeds, as Logicians term 
 it, ab Ahusu , and is rendered more poignant by the en- 
 tertaining zest of Ridicule, with which it is mingled; 
 but it surely applies rather to the superior Provinces of 
 Music, than to humble Psalmody. To sing an Air, 
 either in an Opera or Oratorio, however simple, requires 
 a good ear, a voluble voice, and perhaps some skill in 
 Music : Yet a Psalm tune, containing much more mo- 
 dulation than our old ones do, may be sung by a person 
 endued with a natural musical ear, and without the least 
 skill in the art itself. Many popular and pleasing 
 Ballads, replete both with air and melody (for these are 
 qualities which tend rather to aid than impede the singer 
 
[ SS2 ] 
 
 who has Nature only for an assistant) we hear frequently 
 in the streets ; and if the voice be a good one, executed 
 in no unpleasing manner, even when, as a Poet of much 
 original humour says, 
 
 Dolly, in her master’s shop, 
 
 Encores them as she twirls her mop.* 
 
 In fact. Music, though in one sense an Art, yet is in 
 another a natural faculty, like many other distributed in 
 an unequal proportion among the Human Species. 
 Some say, that they are utterly devoid of it, which with 
 me is a matter very problematical ; yet, admitting that 
 they are, some too are born blind, or deaf, or dumb, which 
 does not destroy the position that seeing, hearing, and 
 speaking, are natural faculties. — It is from not making 
 the trial that many persons are led to believe, they cannot 
 succeed in Arts, of which practice and perseverance 
 would make them at least tolerable proficients •, and that 
 the generality of ears and of voices might by these means 
 be, and in fact are, often improved so far, as to execute 
 very simple Music, is, I think, not to be disputed. f 
 
 * See Whitehead’s Apology for Laureats.— Poems, vol. III. 
 p. 98. 
 
 + Those who are acquainted with the Opera stage, I believe, 
 would assent to me, had I instead of simple, said florid Music. I 
 was told some years ago thatSignior Lovatini, than whom a finer 
 Comic Singer never appeared in England, was extremely defi- 
 cient in Music as a Science, and, to use a Green-Room phrase, 
 was in his best Airs parotled by the Composer. Whether this b« 
 
r S83 ] 
 
 Our first Reformers were, however, clearly of this 
 opinion; and thinking with St. Paul, that a Christian 
 congregation should sing with the spirit and with the un 
 derstanding also, they rejected, as I have shewn, those 
 complicated harmonies, which were so great an impedi- 
 ment to both, and which had made so principal a part 
 in the ritual of that Church, against whose doctrines 
 and discipline they had so strongly protested. They 
 founded their new institution on primitive practice. 
 They had learned that singing Men, much less singing 
 Women, as a separate Choir, made no part in the few 
 simple orders, which St. Peter and St. Paul had regulated 
 and appointed. They referred themselves also to the 
 sublime Apocalyptic visions of St. John, and thence con- 
 cluded, that as in Heaven the whole company of Saints 
 and Martyrs, and of just men made perfect joined in 
 one immense Chorus before the Throne and the Lamb, 
 the Church, then militant and visible upon Earth, might, 
 in the humblest yet devout imitation, attempt a similar 
 act of Praise and Thanksgiving. 
 
 These reasons, and others of the same kind, were un- 
 doubtedly what gave the first rise to metrical Psalmody. 
 Simple Metre was chosen, because it facilitated the 
 
 a fact, I pretend not to say. Yet I dare venture to assert, that 
 many of their second, and some even principal singers have been 
 less skilled in the Art of Solmization, than many of our Lanca- 
 shire aHd Yorkshire cordwainers. 
 
[ 384 ] 
 
 geheiral memory ; simple Melody, because it was the 
 easiest to be performed by the general voice. 
 
 Yet when a natural faculty is subjected to rules and 
 advanced into an Art, as was then the case with Music, 
 and that a very intricate one, its Artisans are ever ready 
 to apply their exertions to it. Hence, what old Calvin 
 meant to be sung in unison, they chose should be per- 
 formed in Counterpoint, or in four parts. Now Counter- 
 point is certainly so much an Art, that to be, what they 
 call, a learned Contrapuntist, is with Harmonists a title 
 of no small excellence. Accordingly w r e read in the first 
 complete edition of Sternhold and Hopkins’s Psalms > 
 printed by T. Est in 1594, that cc the tunes were com- 
 “ posed by nine sondry Authors, and so labored in this 
 u worke, that the unskilful by small practice maie attain? 
 ie to sing that part, which is fittest for his voice.” But 
 how little a way such practice will go, even at present, 
 towards producing real Harmony, almost every village 
 Church in the kingdom will give us a grating specimen, 
 unless the voices are regulated by an Organ, or at least a 
 well-tuned, and accurately stopped Violoncello. 
 
 It will be, perhaps, supposed from what I have said, 
 that I wish the Psalms were always sung in unison. I 
 own that I think the part, in which the Melody lies, be 
 it either treble or tenor, accompanied by a Bass Voice’, 
 would sufficiently answer every Psalmodical purpose. 
 For although the same Notes in the different Octaves are 
 
[ 385 ] 
 
 in reality unisonous, yet there is a variety of Tones in 
 Treble, Contratenor, Tenor, and Bass voices, which, 
 when combined in a numerous Chorus, produces an 
 effect of a noble, if not a sublime kind, that must be felt 
 rather than described. 
 
 And here let me fly again to Authority for refuge. 
 Let me take it from a great and professed Harmonist, 
 the late Mr. Charles Avison, with whom I was happy 
 long ago to be acquainted. He writes thus on the sub- 
 ject, ec however trifling it may appear to consider this 
 “ species of Music,” viz. Psalmody, (lie is here speaking 
 as a Harmonist to Harmonists) fc I cannot but own, that 
 “ I have been uncommonly affected with hearing thou- 
 “ sands of v °ices hymning the Deity in a style of Har- 
 “ mon y adapted to that awful occasion.”* We see here, 
 that he ventures to call this species of Musical perform- 
 ance Harmony, though certainly far from being performed 
 accuiately in four parts. Yet Harmony it would cer- 
 tainly be, when accompained by himself on the full 
 Organ, foi by his own judicious performance, he would 
 add instrumentally all the intermediate parts, which 
 might give it u legitimate claim to the title.f For here 
 
 * See Avison on Musical Expression, p. 92, 2d Edit, 
 t Tins excellent Composer (though of Instrumental Music 
 chiefly) was Organist, during life, of St. Nicholas’s Church in 
 Newcastle-upon-Tyne, containing one of the most numerous 
 Congregations in the kingdom ; consisting greatly of seamen, 
 who, ii ever they learned to sing in parts, could probably only 
 learn it in Dutch land. 
 
 VOL. HI. 
 
 Cc 
 
[ 386 ] 
 
 he might be considered as the Choragus, and that he so 
 thought, and justly, of himself appears from the re- 
 mainder of . the paragraph, which contains a proper 
 stricture on the general practice of Organists, when per- 
 forming this part of their duty. “ But sorry I am to say, 
 
 “ that the chief Performer in this kind of noble Chorus 
 ec is too often so fond of his own conceits, that with his 
 ee absurd graces, and tedious and ill-connected interludes 
 ee he misleads or confounds his congregation, instead of 
 ee being the rational Guide and Director of the whole. 
 This false taste, perhaps, might be prevented by a Rector 
 or a Vicar, who had authority enough to confine the 
 Organist to a slightly ornamented Refraine, or Ritornello 
 at the end of each Stave or Stanza 5 and 1 have heaid 
 this done in some of the Chapels at the west end of 
 London in what I thought a decent manner. 
 
 Yet Stanzas, though the most proper method of versi- 
 fying the Psalms for a musical purpose, have something 
 in their very institution, like all other Lyrical Poems, 
 which prevents them from being uniformly in accoid 
 with any given Melody ; and this because, as I observed 
 on another similar occasion,* no Strain, Air, 01 Melody 
 can unite itself so well with the succeeding Stanzas, as 
 it did with the first ; for as the Accent or Rhythm of the 
 verse varies, so also should the Rhythm and Accent of the 
 
 * See Preface to H. Lawes’s Psalm Tunes, published by Mr. 
 M. Camidge of York, who composed the two Services mentioned 
 in the former Essay. 
 
[ 38 ; ] 
 
 Music. But it is not to be expected, that a Poet of any 
 Rhythmical ear, even though a mere versifier of the 
 Psalms, could bear the monotony which would result in 
 recitation from arranging his lines to a perfectly similar 
 flow and cadence, in order to adapt them to those of the 
 first four or six lines, to which the Music perfectly suits ; 
 yet these anomalies (if they may be so called) in which 
 the respective accents of Metre and Music do not pre- 
 cisely agree, are in common Psalmody little observed, 
 except where a poetical and musical ear unite in one 
 critical hearer ; nor indeed by him, in the present state 
 of it, when the Accent and Rhythm both of the Verse and 
 the Melody are equally and compleatly absorbed by the 
 equal prolongation of each Musical Note. This tedium 
 occurred to the truly pious Dr. Watts, who, in the pre- 
 face to his Psalms, observed “ that if the method of 
 
 singing were but reformed to a greater speed of pro- 
 “ nunciation, we might often enjoy the pleasure of a 
 “ longer Psalm with less expence of time and breath, 
 “ and our Psalmody would be more agreeable to that of 
 * the antient Churches, more intelligible to others, and 
 “ more delightful to ourselves.” He also ventures to 
 condemn a practice, which in our established Church has 
 been long laid aside, of reading each line first, and then 
 singing it, which, however absurd, I am told still prevails 
 in the Kirk of Scotland. 
 
 From all these real or alledged defects, which have 
 now been fully noticed. Psalmody is become not only 
 
[ 3S8 ] 
 
 despicable to persons of a refined Musical taste, but is 
 now hardly tolerable to our Village Practitioners, if they 
 either can, or, what does as well, fancy they can sing at 
 sight. For these, since the rage of Oratorios has spread 
 from the Capital to every Market Town in the Kingdom, 
 can by no means be satisfied unless they introduce Chaunts, 
 Services, and Anthems, into their Parish Churches, and 
 accompany them with, what an old Author calls, scolding 
 Fiddles ,* squalling Hautboys, false-stopped Violoncellos, 
 buzzing Bassoons ; all ill-tuned and worse played upon, 
 in place of an Organ, which, if they had one, they would 
 probably wish to improve by such instrumental assistance. 
 The tintamarre which this kind of squeaking and scrap- 
 ing and grumbling produces, I will not pain my Reader 
 by bringing stronger to his recollection, but shall now in 
 conclusion only answer this simple quere ; u Is the 
 <£ Musical part of metrical Psalmody so incapable of 
 “ being meliorated, that it is vain to attempt it ? and I 
 give it, as may be expected, in the negative ; for I should 
 hardly have taken the trouble of pointing out, what im- 
 provement might be made in the Poetical part, if I had 
 not thought that it might also be improved in the Musi- 
 cal. To do this, I would first remove that capital defect, 
 
 * See Mace’s Music’s Monument, or some curious quotations 
 from it in Dr. Burney, vol. iii. p. 62. Dryden, in his Ode on St. 
 Cajcilia’s day, calls them sharp Violins, and, 1 doubt not, wit 
 propriety ; for in his time they could not have arrived at that 
 delicacy of tone, even in the hands of the best Masters, whic i 
 they now have in those of an inferior kind. 
 
[ 389 ] 
 
 which results from its being totally divested of Accent 
 and Rhythm by the prolongation of each note to almost 
 an equal, and always a tedious length; by which the 
 words become as unintelligible, as if they were united to 
 Airs of the most modern cast, frittered into divisions, or 
 even loaded with parts as much in sequence as in a Catch 
 or a Glee. Music thus performed is as liable to obscure 
 the sense of the words by its simplicity, as a more refined 
 mode is by its complexity ; for, as in the intonation of 
 any given word, the vowels overpower the consonants in 
 proportion as that intonation is prolonged, and, as the 
 meaning of every word is distinguished more by different 
 consonants than vowels, so, when the former are inau- 
 dible, little more than the unmeaning sounds of the more 
 open vowels remain. Let a person attend to a Psalm, 
 sung in the usual way by a full congregation, and, I 
 think, he will acknowledge this to be nearly the fact. 
 The remedy, I am now to point out, which I think both 
 natural and easy, is this : Let the Psalm tune be divested 
 of all its bars, as it was at the first formation of that kind 
 of Music, retaining only a single bar at the end of every 
 line of the verses, and a double one at the conclusion of 
 the Stanza. The ear, in reading rhymed verse, always 
 dictates a pause to the voice at the end of each line, and 
 a longer at the conclusion of the sense ; and these two 
 bars are admitted for the same purpose. In the next 
 place, as every verse, in the various metres employed in 
 our common version, is usually of the Iambic species. 
 
 / 
 
[ 390 ] 
 
 that is, the first syllable, whether long or short in actual 
 quantity, is always pronounced short, and the next syl- 
 lable long, and so alternately to the end of every line : 
 Therefore the accompanying notes of the Melody should 
 be regulated by the same law. For this purpose there 
 would be no occasion to change the Notes already in use, 
 but only to give them different durations, always singing 
 the first as short again as the second ; the third as the 
 fourth, and so to the end of each line, prolonging the 
 time of the whole strain to about twice that of solemn re- 
 citation. This, while it added to intelligibility, would 
 take from Psalmody its tedious drawl, and certainly leave 
 it sufficient gravity.* 
 
 But what we term gravity or solemnity in Music is not 
 governed by such precise laws, as Melody and Harmony. 
 It varies as the caprice of individuals, and the fashion of 
 ages varies. f W hat was deemed grave and solemn three 
 
 * Notes of different duration occur constantly in the old Me- 
 lodies as Semibreves, Minims, and sometimes Crotchets, but not 
 with any regard to syllabic quantity; nor is their respective 
 value attended to in the performance. Hence Rousseau ob- 
 serves, “ That the Music of the Psalms in the Protestant Con- 
 “ gregations is even more imperfect, than the plain Chaunt of 
 “ the Catholics; because they never distinguish in their mode 
 “ of singing the Longs and the Breves, the Semibreves and 
 “ Crotchets, though they have retained their characters,” Diet, 
 de Musique — Art. Notes. 
 
 f An ingenious medical Philosopher has lately gone far beyond 
 me on this point; for he says that “ Our Music, like our Archi- 
 “ tecture, seems to have no foundation in nature, they are both 
 “ arts purely of human creation, as they imitate nothing. And 
 
[ 391 ] 
 
 or four centuries ago may now appear tedious and dull ; 
 and this very alteration, which I propose in Psalmody, 
 though it would certainly have been thought profanely 
 light by Pope Gregory, may, perhaps, be esteemed suffi- 
 ciently grave for a devotional purpose by our Protestant 
 Bishops. Nothing but the duration of syllabical sounds, 
 considered in the relation they bear to one another, can 
 now be accurately ascertained, and this not in florid 
 Music, but only when joined with those simple Melodies, 
 which usually accompany the metrical versions of our 
 Psalms. 
 
 For this purpose, (though I know that the declaration 
 will not escape ridicule) I own, I should prefer the me- 
 chanical assistance of the Cylindrical or Barrel Organ to 
 
 “ the Professors of them have only classed those circumstances, 
 “ that are most agreeable to the accidental taste of their age, or 
 “ country ; and have called it proportion. But this proportion 
 “ must always fluctuate, as it rests on the caprices, that are in- 
 “ troduced into our minds by our various modes of education. 
 “ And these fluctuations of taste must become more frequent 
 “ in the present age, where mankind have enfranchised them- 
 “ selves from the blind obedience to the rules of antiquity in 
 “ perhaps every Science, but that of Architecture.” Zoonomia, 
 p. 157. 
 
 Those who are acquainted with the modern Adamitical Taste, 
 as it has been called, to distinguish it from the Vitruvian, will per- 
 haps wonder at the exception. For myself, I only wonder, that 
 the whole Science of Harmonics founded, as has been thought, 
 on Mathematical Principles, can be thus subject to fluctuation. 
 But we seem to live in an age, when demonstrative, as well as 
 
 “ Moral evidence shall quite decay.” 
 
 Dunciad, B. iv. L. 462. 
 
# * , ■ 
 
 [ 392 ] 
 
 the Finger of the best parochial Organist. My reason 
 for this is, what every person acquainted with its ingeni- 
 ous construction will agree to, that the duration of every 
 Note is capable of being adjusted by exact and visible 
 mensuration, so that the eye and rule of the artisan may 
 strictly determine, what the ear and hand of the former 
 could seldom perhaps so accurately execute; and this, 
 because the strain would not move according to Musical, 
 but Metrical laws. It is well known also that the relative 
 duration of the notes remains invariably the same, whether 
 the Cylinder be moved quicker or slower. In Musical 
 terms the strain will be performed either Adagio, Largo, 
 or Allegro ; but it will be still either in common or triple 
 time. 
 
 This is all I have to advance on my present subject, 
 which is, perhaps, more than many of my readers may 
 think necessary. Yet as the epithet metrical, affixed so 
 constantly to Psalmody, clearly points out that, in the 
 performance of it, the laws of Metre ought to be strictly 
 attended to, I thought it expedient not only to prove, 
 that they have been constantly neglected, but also to 
 shew what seems to me to be the best method, by which 
 they may so far be observed, as to make this part of our 
 Church ritual, instead of a dull and unintelligible, a 
 pleasing and reasonable Service. 
 
 END OF THE THIRD ESSAY. 
 
ESSAY THE FOURTH, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 CAUSES OF THE 
 
 PRESENT IMPERFECT ALLIANCE 
 
 BETWEEN 
 
 MUSIC AND POETRY. 
 
[ 395 ] 
 
 ESSAY THE FOURTH. 
 
 A s many cursory observations have been made in the 
 preceding Essays, which tended to prove how far Music, 
 considered as an ally to Poetry, has deviated from what 
 it was in the ages we call classical, it may seem to my 
 Reader unnecessary to add any thing more on that sub- 
 ject. And indeed it was not my original intention so to 
 do. Yet, if the fact be sufficiently proved, the causes^ 
 which have gradually operated to establish it, have 
 not either been with sufficient precision historically 
 deduced, or yet critically examined. To have done this 
 in either of the two former Essays would have too much 
 interrupted their particular subjects, and, like too long 
 an Episode in a didactic Poem, impeded their progress. 
 I have therefore thought it best to consider this point 
 separately. And I flatter myself that the brevity and 
 method, by which I shall extract the chronological 
 notices of our two voluminous Musical Historians re- 
 specting this matter, will give the less informed Reader 
 not only a general knowledge of the subject, but that if 
 he admits my additional reflections on the various fluc- 
 tuations, not of Musical Science but of Taste, he will 
 
[ 396 ] 
 
 find the causes of this imperfect alliance sufficiently 
 ascertained. 
 
 I must however previously observe, that although the 
 Music of antient Greece and Rome might be a necessary 
 assistant both to their Poets and Orators, we are not 
 thence to conclude, that it was (when considered as a 
 separate Art) then more perfect than it is at present. I 
 was of this opinion in very early youth, and communi- 
 cated my sentiments to my friend Mr. Avison in a lettei 
 which he was pleased to adopt, and to insert in one of 
 the notes to his Essay, which therefore, supported by 
 such authority, I shall here with a little variation repeat. 
 u The * antients, when they speak of the marvellous 
 “ effects of Music, generally ( I might have said con- 
 u stantly) consider it as an adjunct to Poetry. Now an 
 “ Art, in its progress to its own absolute perfection, may 
 (C arrive at some intermediate point, which is its point 
 u of perfection, considered as an Art to be united with 
 “ another Art ; hut not to its own, when taken separately. 
 “ If then the Antients carried Melody to that precise 
 <e point, it is probable, they pushed the musical Art as far 
 (e as it would go, when considered as an adjunct to Poetry, 
 “ but Melody united with Harmony is the perfection of 
 “ Music as a single Science. Hence then we may deter - 
 <c mine the specific difference between the antient and 
 ee modern Compositions, and conclude, that if Music a» 
 « an Art is now more perfect in itself, it is not so, when 
 
 * See Essay on Musical Expression, 2d Edit. p. 72. 
 
C 397 ] 
 
 “ considered as a kind of vehicle to Poetry.” Thus then 
 by allowing to antient and modern Music their separate 
 merits, I endeavoured to cut the Gordian knot, which 
 it has not been in the power of the profoundest Musical 
 Critics to unravel. 
 
 That the antient Musicians, who composed the modes 
 for every species of metrical composition, attended 
 strictly to the laws of each respective Metre, to which 
 they adapted their melodies, is a matter universally as- 
 sented to; and that this attention to Rhythm, Accent, 
 and Quantity continued to the days of the Emperor 
 Constantine historical evidence is not wanting; for then, 
 when Christianity became the established religion, the 
 Ambrosian Chaunt, governed by those antient rules, was 
 spread from the Church of Milan through the rest of 
 the Roman Empire.* It was not till near two hundred 
 years after, that Pope Gregory, by introducing the Cantus 
 
 * See Burney’s History of Music, Vol. II. p. 17, and Note. 
 Ambrosius was made Bishop of Milan A. D. 374, Gregory in 590. 
 That some part of the sacred Music of the Apostles and their 
 immediate successors, when among their Gentile converts, was 
 governed by the rules of Greek Poesy is by no means impro- 
 bable, or that the Music of the Hymns, which were first received 
 into the Church, wherever Paganism had prevailed, mighthave 
 resembled that species of Rhythmical Music, which had been 
 used for many years in Pagan ceremonies. The Versification of 
 those Hymns gives us good reason to believe that this might 
 have been the case. Examples may be found in all the antient 
 Breviaries, Missals, and Antiphonaries, as well as in the modern, 
 of every species of Metre, which has been practised by the 
 Greek and Roman Poets, particularly the Alcnanian, Alcaic, and 
 
[ 398 ] 
 
 whicli goes by his name, deprived Poetry and Prose also of 
 its Rhythm, Accent, and Cadence ; and this by establish- 
 ing what is called Canto Firmo, and by banishing Rhyth- 
 mical singing as too lively. He would not suffer verse 
 to be sung, or rather, perhaps, would not let it be sung as 
 verse, which his Canto Firmo, or notes of equal length, 
 would most effectually prevent, because it was gay and 
 paganish. 
 
 We are not therefore to impute the drawling prolonga- 
 tion of notes, in our mode of Psalmody, solely to a Calvinis- 
 tical original ; or the general neglect of verbal Rhythm, 
 in our first English Composers of Anthems, to any other 
 cause, than this old Pope’s misconception of musical 
 solemnity : for, as the same judicious Historian remarks 
 in a subsequent place,* “ Our first reformers were of 
 <e the same mind, and rejected the Romish mode of 
 “ Chaunting, which Ambrosius had introduced, thinking 
 
 Sapphic: See the above quoted History, Vol. II. p. 8, where 
 also in a note the Historian tells us that Prudentius, who died 
 A. D. 393, was the Author of most of the Hymns in the Roman 
 Breviary. The Sapphic Hymn too, whence Guido took his 
 names for the Gamut, ut queantlaxis resonare fib r is, tyc. is another 
 instance, among many, of this fact. But when Monkish and Leo- 
 nine Verses afterwards came into fashion, the old Churchmen 
 readily adopted them ; and such Hymns, as jingled like the 
 Stabat Mater dolorosa 
 Juxta crucem lacrymosa, &c. 
 
 were soon added to the more antient ones written in classical 
 measures. 
 
 * See Burney’s History, Vol. II p. 22. Note (9). 
 
[ 399 ] 
 
 it too light, and like common singing ; and that there 
 ts would be more reverence and solemnity in making 
 ce every syllable of equal length and importance, a prac- 
 “ tice which is still continued in parochial Psalmody.” 
 
 Hence it was, that a short time after the introduction 
 of Canto Firmo, the Melopeia of the Antients, that best 
 of friends to their Tragic and Lyric Poets, was so entirely 
 lost, that those, who hunt for its vestiges in Aristoxenus 
 and other writers on Music, who existed the nearest 
 to Classic times, have been unable to trace them. 
 Hence it was that Pope Gregory, by adding a most un- 
 justifiable length to solemn sounds, broke through every 
 boundary of Nature and Reason •, that sense was exiled, 
 and sound only predominant ; that the brighter beams 
 of Poetry became eclipsed, at first totally, and of late, 
 though sometimes partially, yet always enough to take 
 away much of their original splendor. But the Muse 
 became still more subservient to her younger Sister 
 about 450 years after the Pontificate of Gregory, and 
 sixty after Guido Aretin had formed his musical Scale 
 or Gamut for, as his invention related only to an 
 arrangement of the succession of the sounds of the 
 Octave, it was capable at first of doing her but little 
 
 The following chronological references may perhaps not 
 he without their use to some of my Readers. The Greek Appel- 
 latives for the musical scale were used by Gregory, which were 
 known to Boetius, who died 526, sixty-three years before he 
 was Pope. The musical stave, or linear notation, was invented 
 950. Guido’s Gamut 78 years after, in 1028. 
 
[ 400 ] 
 
 disservice : Yet now a Mathematician, of the name of 
 Franco, formed a table for the duration of musical time, 
 in a Treatise which he wrote de Cantu mensurabili; 
 and this he atchieved by inventing a species of Notation 
 much more numerous, as to its characteristic signs, and 
 capable, by these and other means, of ascertaining the 
 length of particular notes relative to one another, as well 
 as of specifying the distinction of different movements : An 
 invention this, not only extremely ingenious in itself, but 
 of such high importance to Music, considered as a single 
 and separate science, that it never could have arrived at 
 its present eminence, had not such an artificial mode of, 
 what may be called, musical punctuation, and an improve- 
 ment of its orthography been, as it then was, received 
 into general use. It is indeed from this original scheme 
 of Franco s that Composers and Performers are now 
 possessed of the best and easiest mode, the one for con- 
 veying his Ideas, and the other for expressing them. 
 “ The modern musical Language or Character” (as Dr. 
 Jortin truly says) u being, perhaps, of all Languages, as 
 i( expressed by our notation, the most true and exact, 
 “ and liable to the fewest obscurities and difficulties.”* 
 
 So far then Music is undeniably indebted to the trea- 
 tise de Cantu mensurabili, and the Time-table of Franco. 
 
 * See Letter to Mr. Avison on the Music of the Antients, 
 printed as an Appendix to his Essay on Musical Expression. It 
 abounds more with erudition than taste, and seems to have beea 
 the gleanings of the great Scholar’s common-place book. 
 
[ 401 ] 
 
 But whether either Poetry or Prose, when united with 
 Melody, received a proportionate advantage, is a very 
 different consideration. Sir John Hawkins was pleased 
 to affirm, that by this improvement metrical and harmo- 
 nical combinations were associated.* I say quite the 
 i everse ; that it added to the wounds which Pope Gre- 
 gory had given to Rhythm, Accent, and Quantity, the 
 constituent part of Metre, and made them much more 
 incurable. But let us turn to the later, and much more 
 intelligent Historian, who, at the same time that he 
 justly applauds the Invention, gives us in the very first 
 words of his Panegyric a truth, which clearly supports 
 my opinion, and confutes that of the Historical Knight. 
 This invention,” says he, ee constitutes the true sera of 
 Musical Independence. ”f An independence of what ? 
 Of the very thing, which the other Historian had said it 
 was become the Associate, Metre : for thus he proceeds : 
 Till then, if Melody subsisted, it was entirely subser- 
 
 “ vient t0 S y ]labic Laws - Soon after this epoch, Music 
 f became free and independent, perhaps to a licentious 
 “ de S ree > with res Pect to Vocal Music ; but Instrumen- 
 “ tal in parts and in Florid Counterpoint certainly could 
 ** not subsist without a well-regulated Measure, and a 
 moie minute and subtile division of time, than could 
 u be derived from that of long and short syllables.” 
 This is writing like an Author perfectly acquainted with 
 
 * See Hawkins, vol. II. p. 31, 
 
 + See Burney, vol. II. p. 17 0. 
 
 Dd 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
[ 402 ] 
 
 his subject, not like a mere Compiler ; and if he seems 
 to congratulate Music on the independence she hereby 
 obtained, he clearly discriminates how far she justly 
 obtained it, allowing that she sometimes misapplied her 
 freedom, by letting it run into licence, which, in my 
 own opinion, as well as bis, she could only do in that 
 species of the art, which is called Vocal ; for short and 
 long syllables certainly require only two marks of nota- 
 tion to express tlieir respective durations. .The youngei 
 Vossius, therefore, however extravagant he is in Ins 
 praises of the Antients and his reprobation of the Mo- 
 derns, has occasionally many just sentiments; from his 
 tract de Poematum Cantu et Viribus Rhythmi, I shall 
 translate the following passage.* “ As there are no 
 “ other syllables but long and short ones, and as of these 
 a the short only consist of one time, and the long of 
 “ two ; so should there be no more notes introduced, 
 “ than of two kinds agreeing with the Minim or Semi- 
 te minim now called Crotchet. For whoever heard of 
 « Syllables of eight, sixteen, or thirty-two notes in du- 
 et ration ? Or of others so short that no speech can ex- 
 c p ress them ? Who but must smile, when he hears the 
 <t sound of one syllable prolated so slowly, that two or 
 “ three heroic verses may most commodiously be recited 
 (e in the same interval of time ?” and again “ If we re- 
 « store the Rhythmus, joined to a distinct pronunciation 
 (( of the words, so that the antient form and beauty of 
 * Isaac Vossius, p. 9. 
 
[ 403 ] 
 
 u Music may return, all the common Ornaments of the 
 “ modern Cantus, I mean the small Inflexions or * ite- 
 “ rations, fugues, syncopes, and other foolish artifices, 
 “ will vanish, as shades and clouds do, on the appear- 
 “ ance of the sun.” 
 
 The Reader, I hope, will not conclude that, from my 
 having inserted this passage, I am entirely of the learned 
 Critic’s opinion. I think he is much too rigid, in trying 
 to reduce modern Music so precisely to antient Metrical 
 and Syllabic Laws. My opinion has always been, that, 
 so far as Prosody has to do with Quantity, it has ever 
 been a ridiculous attempt to apply it to any other Lan- 
 guage than Greek and Latin. Yet there is a Prosody in 
 all modern tongues, which, though independent of Quan- 
 tity as understood by the Greeks and Romans, is yet 
 governed by something analogical to it. Thus when I 
 say, as many of the best writers on the subject have 
 said, that the English Heroic verse consists of Iambics, 
 I do not mean that it will bear to be scanned by the 
 rules of Lilly’s Prosodia, but that we read it, as if it were 
 composed of legitimate Iambics : and so of our other 
 various Metres. Yet, on account of this analogy, though 
 by no means strict identity, I think the measure, or rather 
 motion of the Verse should be preserved in the Music, 
 which, I believe, it may, if more than two or even three 
 or four notes be applied to one syllable, whether of a 
 long or short duration ; provided that duration be strictly 
 * Teritismata. 
 
attended to. The purpose of Vossius is clearly to pre- 
 vent a want of intelligibility of the words ; but, I fancy 
 he was not Musician enough to know that, in modern 
 Languages, this would not be destroyed by certain pass- 
 ing Notes or Apoggiaturas, and that, if one syllable short, 
 or articulated so, was sounded by a Crotchet, the next 
 long might have tw’o Crotchets applied to it instead of 
 one Minim ; so that by this means an Iambic, in our 
 English sense of the word, would be musically produced, 
 though in fact three Notes, instead of two, were em- 
 ployed. This single and very simple instance may be 
 applied to every English Metre, which bears analogy to 
 those which are antient, of which there are several : * 
 and they who so apply it, will find that though this strict 
 rule of Vossius is now not only impracticable but unne- 
 cessary, yet our metrical and syllabic Laws may be at- 
 tended to, even strictly, by a Composer of Vocal Music 
 (for of this only I speak) without his being too much 
 confined, with respect to agreeable Air and elegant Mo- 
 dulation. 
 
 * See a Note of Mr. Gilbert West in his Translation of the 
 Iphigenia in Tauris. West's Pindar , yoI. I. p. 217. Where he 
 compares the Greek Trochaic with the measure of the Song of 
 Hosier’s Ghost. But of all antient measures the Hexameter is 
 least adapted to the genius of our language. Read Sir Philip 
 Sidney’s Imitation of it, and every line puts you in mind of an 
 old trotting horse, the Butter-woman’s rank to market; they 
 may be sung, as an ingenious friend once observed to me of 
 Hexameters in general, to the tune of “ 0 my kitten, &c.” 
 
[ 405 ] 
 
 But to return to our historical deductions. The Art. 
 now emancipated from syllabic restraint and being, as 
 Dr. Burney phrases it, in a state of Independence, be- 
 eame, in the space of about five hundred years after she 
 had been set at Liberty by Franco, so very licentious, 
 that the Church, which for a very obvious reason was 
 more affected by her irregularities than the State, thought 
 it prudent to interfere. Accordingly the Council of 
 Trent, in the year 156!, and that of Rheims two years 
 after, not only animadverted on her corruption, but de- 
 creed that, with regard to the Ecclesiastical Cantus, only 
 one note should be applied to each syllable, and that the 
 specific syllabic quantities should be strictly observed 
 which was in fact reducing her to those limits, which 
 we have said she had in the time of Ambrosius, when 
 
 “ *. S Clear ’ ,ll! “ antient Greek Music was not yet’ 
 Obliterated. It i s , however, to be suspected, that the 
 drawling of the Gregorian Chaunt was still in favour, in 
 consequence of the false Idea, which must then have 
 obtained; because, we know, it is the opinion of the 
 
 multitude, that nothing but very slow Music can be 
 solemn. 
 
 In support of this decree, which certainly was a wise 
 one, I find from Sir John Hawkins, that Monsieur 
 Nevers, Organist of a Church at Paris, who published 
 an elaborate Dissertation sur la Chaunt Gregorien in 
 ^ 1683 , asserted “ that no more than two Musical Cha- 
 ‘ racters are necessary in the Cantus Ecclesiastics, 
 
[ 406 ] 
 
 « namely, the Long and the Breve, or are indeed admis- 
 u s jble into it * in this respect, so far as Church Music 
 was concerned, agreeing with Isaac Vossius. But, what 
 is still higher authority, the great Palestrina, when in 
 the foregoing century he regulated the Cantus, admrtted 
 only the Long, the Breve, and Semibreve. These mu- 
 sical characters are, however, of little consequence, as 
 the modern Crotchet, Quaver, and Semiquaver might 
 answer the same purpose, if the Performer of the Music 
 previously agreed to prolong their intonatron, according 
 to any preconcerted rule. The former notes, it is true, 
 give to the eye an appearance of greater Solemnity, and 
 in fact are meant to express a longer duration of sound ; 
 but the specific degree no musical signs can accurately 
 express. Therefore Dr. Jortin, after the just encomium 
 which he has given of the modern Musical Character 
 which I have before quoted, adds, “ that if the time of 
 « Grave, Adagio, Largo, &c. could be equally ascer- 
 « tained, nothing would be wanting to make it com- 
 « plete " And indeed it is only by these terms prefixed 
 to every movement, that a Performer can guess how 
 slowly or how quickly, or by what mode of expression 
 the Composer meant his Music should be executed 
 It may, however, be thought, and justly, that if Voca 
 Music could be brought so far hack to what I have sup- 
 posed to be classical Simplicity, and the Accent an 
 Rhythm of words constantly attended to, yet sti w 
 * See Hawkins, vol. IV. p. 2i4-5. 
 
[ 407 3 
 
 the Writers on Verbal Pronunciation mean by acute 
 and grave sounds, or what they technically term Arsis 
 and Thesis would want a proper discrimination. I ad- 
 mit the objection, yet, I apprehend, it is greatly in the 
 Composer’s power by rightly applying his higher and 
 lower Notes, his sharper and flatter Key, with that variety 
 of tones -and semitones, which melodies of the greatest 
 simplicity will admit, to remedy this defect, so far at 
 least as may be necessary in so weakly accented a Lan- 
 guage, as our own certainly is, when compared with 
 those of Rome and Greece, or even of modern Italy : 
 that of France I hold too nasal to be taken into musical 
 consideration. 
 
 And thus, in as clear a manner, as the subject would 
 possibly admit, I have enumerated the various changes, 
 which Vocal Music has gone through since the Christian 
 iEra. A very short recapitulation may, however, not 
 be improper. In the very primitive times, before Chris- 
 tianity extended beyond the region of Judaea, the antient 
 Hebrew Music must have necessarily prevailed, of which 
 we certainly know less than Erasmus* in his time 
 
 The passage I allude to, occurs in his Annotations on St. 
 Matthew’s Gospel, chap. xxi. ver. 42 . “ Ubi est igitur .error 
 
 ihe inextricabilis ac periculosus, nisi hie novus Hebrajus suc- 
 ‘ currisset? Addam ridiculum quiddam : A duobus, utdixi, locus 
 ‘ hie tuit impetitus, quorum prior confessus est apud Hebrreos 
 sic habere, quemadmodum ego notaram ; alter affirmat contra 
 ‘ habere; uterque se profitetur scire Hebraice et uterque suam 
 sententiam scriptis evulgavit, et interim Erasmus vocatur in« 
 
[ 408 ] 
 
 thought was known of the language itself. When the 
 Apostles had preached to, and converted so many per- 
 sons to the Christian Faith at Athens, Corinth, &c. it is 
 highly probable, that what I have called Classical Music 
 was united with their Hymns or Psalmody, which, when 
 the Church became established under Constantine, soon 
 after, though perhaps with some corruptions, laid the 
 foundations of the Ambrosian Chaunt, and was, as we 
 have seen, syllabic and intelligible. But if the Grego- 
 rian retained this merit, it was rendered quite ineffec- 
 tual ; because, for the sake of what was deemed solem- 
 nity, every note was prolated in one uniform mode of 
 Intonation. When Guido invented his Gamut, Sense 
 became still more subservient to Sound; because the 
 result of this invention was, that of Counterpoint, florid 
 as well as plain, and the introduction of a variety of 
 parts. But when Franco presented Music with his Time 
 Table, her Charter of Independency was signed, sealed, 
 and delivered ; so that to this moment, where she deigns 
 to take Poetry for a kind of humble companion, she 
 suffers her to give her a Libretto, but takes the freedom 
 to deliver to the public the contents of it, in whatever 
 manner may best display her own absolute supremacy. 
 Nay, she has sometimes gone farther, and, like the Ty- 
 rant Procrustes, stretched or contracted the metrical 
 
 « traclabilis, qui diffidat talibus monitoribus. Alque ego sane 
 “ vix unqiiam duos vidi , qui in re Hcbraicu consenlivent, sive hoc 
 “ linguaj, sive hominum est vitium.” 
 
C 409 ] 
 
 limbs of our very best Poets ad libitum, as her musical 
 exigencies might require.* 
 
 I can recollect only one instance in which the sons 
 of the Lyric Muse have maintained their own indepen- 
 dency j and this but of late date, for when Colley Cibber 
 furnished his pittance towards swelling the Chapel Royal 
 throat, f he did it in the mode of Recitative, Air, and 
 Chorus, but the succeeding Laureats, I speak it to their 
 praise, have thought it their duty, both out of respect to 
 their office and their reputation, to form their Odes on 
 a classical, rather than musical model, and seem to have 
 said to the Composers and their Band, with a slight 
 variation of gender, what Horace said to those of the 
 same tribe, 
 
 “ Demetri, teque Tigelli, 
 
 “ Discipulorum inter jubeo plorare Cathedras.’^ 
 
 * See the Oratorio of Sampson, l’Allegro and Penseroso, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 + See Dunciad, Book I. v. 319. + Satyr. X. Lib. I. v. 90. 
 
 END OF VOL. III. 
 
 London : Printed by W. Bulmer and Co. 
 Cleveland-row, St. James’s.