Ulrich Middeldorf 
 
/ > 
 
 RHYMES ON ART 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 3^emott0trance 
 
 OF 
 
 A PAINTER. 
 
S. GosNELL, Printer, 
 Little Queen Street, Holborn. 
 
%^mt3 on M ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE KEMONSTMANCE 
 
 OF 
 
 J PAINTER: 
 
 IN TWO PARTS. 
 
 WITH 
 
 NOTES, AND A PREFACE, 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 STRICTURES ON THE STATE OF THE ARTS, CRITICISM, 
 PATRONAGE, AND PUBLIC TASTE. 
 
 BY 
 
 MARTIN ARCHER SHEE, R. A, 
 
 Quis leget haec ? Nemo hercule, nemo. Persiu», Sat. I. 
 
 The Muse desponding, strikes her lyre in vain. 
 
 She finds no ear at leisure for the strain ; 
 
 Art's toiling sons their slighted stores unfold. 
 
 Each eye is vacant, and each heart is cold. Part II. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PBINTED FOR H. EBERS, SUCCESSOR TO THE LATE JOHN KERBY, 
 33, OLD BOND STREET, CORNER OF STAFFORD STREET. 
 
 1805. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Few writers have the confidence to appear before 
 the public for the first time^ without attempting 
 in some degree to excuse or account for their 
 intrusion. 
 
 Why do you pubb'sh ? is a question ahvays 
 anticipated from the reader; and to answer or 
 evade it is most commonly the business of the 
 preface. 
 
 To speak^ indeed^ with propriety, either from 
 the press or the rostrum, requires qualifications 
 from nature and education, which, perhaps, it is 
 some degree of arrogance to suppose we possess. 
 He, therefore, who voluntarily presents himself 
 in the character of an author. 
 
 Who dares ask public audience of mankind 
 should be sensible that he gives a proof of confi- 
 dence in his own powers, which both occasions, and 
 
 * Young, 
 a 
 
vi 
 
 authorizes an examination of them^ that no 
 deprecating introduction can, or ought to pre- 
 vent. If he will start from the crowd, jump on 
 the literary pedestal, and put himself in the atti- 
 tude of Apollo, he has no right to complain if 
 his proportions are examined with rigour ; if com- 
 parisons are drawn to his disadvantage ; or if, 
 on being found glaringly defective, he is hooted 
 down from a station which he has so unnecessarily 
 and injudiciously assumed. 
 
 A conviction of this perhaps, it is, which has 
 so often occasioned young writers to assure the 
 public with great eagerness, that they have come 
 forward with reluctance ; that they have been, as 
 it were, thrust upon the stage, under all the em- 
 barrassment of conscious incapacity and anxious 
 trepidation. In the hope of disarming censure by 
 diffidence, and obviating the imputation of pre- 
 sumption, it became a kind of established etiquette 
 for a virgin muse to bind up her blushes in an 
 introductory bouquet, and present them to the 
 reader as an offering of humility and conciliation. 
 
 But the good sense of the present day has in a 
 great measure exploded, as idle and impertinent, 
 this species of literary prudery. Whatever a 
 writer may profess, praise or profit will always be 
 
 4 
 
vii 
 
 considered his real motive ; and when he has 
 once overcome his feelings so far as to venture upon 
 the public stage, if his other merits are only in 
 proportion to his modesty, he will find that he has 
 overrated his pretensions. 
 
 An author should disdain to fight under false 
 colours, or owe his security to any thing but his 
 strength ; his object is not to escape with impu- 
 nity, but to acquit himself with credit ; and it can 
 neither provoke his fate, nor prejudice his recep- 
 tion, to avow honestly, that he has more ambition 
 than prudence ; that he pants for distinction, and 
 pursues it at the hazard of disgrace. 
 
 His valour, surely, is not much to be respected 
 who cries out " Quarter !" on coming into the 
 field. 
 
 Under the impression of these sentiments, the 
 author of the following little work would have 
 sent it in silence to its fate, if the evident incom- 
 pletion of the design proposed in the first page of 
 it did not require some explanation ; he would 
 have dropped his bantling at the public door with- 
 out a word, but for some strong marks of mutila- 
 tion, for which, that his offences may not expe- 
 
 a 2 
 
viii 
 
 rieiice unnecessary aggravation^ he thinks it pru- 
 dent to account. 
 
 It is proper, therefore, to state to the reader, 
 that the following pages include the first book of 
 a poem in four books, written on the subject of 
 painting, in which, more particularly, the early 
 progress of the student is attempted to be illus- 
 trated and encouraged. 
 
 But though the author has found some plea- 
 sure in the composition of his work, he is not 
 quite convinced that the public would participate 
 in that sensation if he submitted it to their 
 perusal. How far such an article of his manufac- 
 ture may be acceptable in the market, he confesses 
 he is unable to determine ; and although he has 
 received some favourable intimations from his 
 friends on that head, yet he lays but little stress 
 on assurances so often found to be fallacious. 
 
 Before he obtrudes upon the public, therefore, 
 with a more extensive publication, he wishes to 
 ascertain, in some degree, how far he may be 
 qualified for his subject, and how far his subject 
 may be suited to the taste of the time. As an 
 experiment to these ends, and as affording an 
 opportunity of touching on some points connected 
 
ix 
 
 with the present state of the arts^ he has been in- 
 duced to publish the first book of his intended 
 work, with some additions necessary to its inde- 
 pendent appearance. 
 
 Though, with respect to his general plan, it 
 may be acting somewhat like the man who put a 
 brick in his pocket, in order to enable a purchaser 
 to form a judgment of his house, yet he offers the 
 present production as a fair sample of the com- 
 modity he deals in ; he sends it up as a small bal- 
 loon, to ascertain the current of air before he com- 
 mits himself to the mercy of the elements in his 
 larger and more hazardous machine. 
 
 It happens conveniently enough for this pur- 
 pose, that the portion of his work now published 
 admits of being detached from the remainder with- 
 out any great violence, as it is not so much a part 
 of his plan, as an introduction to it ; and contains 
 also, a remonstrance in favour of pursuits which 
 unfortunately, have been latterly but little distin- 
 guished by public notice or protection. It is here, 
 indeed, that the author feels more particularly in- 
 terested ; — that the collateral subject has gained 
 upon the principal ; — that the incidental has super- 
 seded the direct. It is here, that he could wish 
 
 a 3 
 
X 
 
 himself possessed of powers adequate to what he 
 conceives the importance of his theme. 
 
 Every person interested for the fine arts^ or 
 concerned for the reputation of his country, must 
 perceive with more than regret at the present mo- 
 ment a growing disregard to the fate of the one, 
 which cannot fail materially to affect the splendour 
 of the other. All patriotic interest in the cultiva- 
 tion of British genius appears to be at an end ; 
 those who should be the patrons of artists have 
 ceased to be even their employers ; cedant arma 
 togae" — the painter gives way to the picture-dealer:, 
 they who possess taste are indifferent, and they 
 who pretend to it are hostile. 
 
 This general blight of the field is the more to 
 be lamented, as, though the season has been cold 
 and the crop unsheltered, yet the harvest pro- 
 mised to be abundant. ^ 
 
 In sanctioning the establishment of the Royal 
 Academy, and graciously condescending to place 
 himself at its head, his Majesty has done much to 
 promote the interests of the arts in his dominions, 
 and has displayed a beneficent desire to recommend 
 them to attention and respect. Although the 
 contracted scale of that institution, and its de- 
 
xi 
 
 pendance for support on the exertions of its mem- 
 bers^ necessarily exclude many of the advantages 
 which otherwise might be expected to result from 
 it, yet, had the distinguished honour conferred 
 upon it, in this instance, been seconded by the 
 sensibility of the public, and the generous patronage 
 of our nobility and men of fortune, enough might 
 have been effected to reflect credit on the gene- 
 rosity, as well as the genius of the nation. 
 
 But, unfortunately, the august example set by 
 the Throne has not had the influence which might 
 have been expected ; and while the artists of Great 
 Britain maintain by the profits of their united 
 labours, an institution, from which their country 
 derives both credit and advantage, they are them- 
 selves neglected, unsupported, and unemployed. 
 
 In the general apathy which prevails, upon 
 this subject, and the consequences which must 
 unavoidably ensue, there is more to be regretted 
 than is included in the mere fate of the artist or the 
 art : there is something to affect more general 
 interests — to excite the reflections of the politician, 
 as \vell as the feelings of the man of taste, and to 
 implicate seriously the reputation of the country. 
 
 Whatever may be the power or prosperity of a 
 state, whatever the accumulations of her wealth, 
 
 a 4 
 
xli 
 
 or the splendour of her triumphs^ to her intellec- 
 tual attainments must she look for rational estima- 
 tion ; on her arts must she depend 
 
 " For living dignity and deathless fame." 
 They are the vital principle — the breathing soul of 
 empire, which, after its cumbrous body has de- 
 cayed, — after it has shaken off the mortal coil" 
 of greatness, survives in spiritual vigour through- 
 out the long futurity of time. 
 
 What now of all that Rome or Athens grac'd ? 
 
 In war or conquest — wealth or splendour plac'd ; 
 
 Their gods^-^their godlike heroes — princes^ powers, 
 ''^ Imperial triumphs, and time-braving towers ? 
 
 What now of all that social life refin'd, 
 ^' Subdu'd, — enslav'd — or civiliz'd mankind ? 
 
 What ROW remains ? — save what the Muse imparts. 
 
 Relate their ruins, or unfold their arts." 
 
 Their influence indeed has been acknowledged 
 in all ages ; and their interests have been protected 
 in all countries, in proportion as man became 
 more enlightened, and the principles of society 
 have been better understood. 
 
 " Sunt lacrymae rerum, et mentem mortalia tangunt." 
 The present, and the future, are alike within the 
 grasp of their power ; they humanize the tempers 
 of the living, and they perpetuate the memory of 
 the dead. They are the crystals of immortality, 
 in which all the forms of greatness are imperishably 
 fixed to gratify the wondering eye of time. 
 
xiii . 
 
 If there be a nation in which we might expect 
 more particularly to behold their powers protected 
 with public solicitude^ and their advancement a 
 general concern , — it is Great Britain ; for what 
 other state has such a treasure of reputation to 
 confide to their charge? — such triumphs to transmit 
 — such heroes to commemorate ? Where shall we 
 find in such glittering abundance the materials of 
 renown? Had the ancients possessed them? had 
 Greece or Rome, in the zenith of their glory, been 
 able 
 
 To boast the heroes, statesmen, bards divme. 
 
 That bright in Albion's happier annals shine ! 
 
 What wondrous works had grateful taste essay'd ! 
 ^' What monumental miracles display 'd ! 
 *^ What trophied arches — temples taught to rise ! 
 
 What sculptur'd columns proudly pierc'd the skies ! 
 " What, art achiev'd l^what rocks to statues sprung ! 
 
 What climes had echo'd, and what paeans rung !" 
 
 In Great Britain, however, the fine arts seem 
 never to have been viewed by the public as a 
 national object, nor to have experienced from the 
 state that paternal protection, which less prosperous 
 countries have been forward to bestow^. We 
 
 * In the Academic Correspondence, for 1803 (a work for 
 which the members of the Royal Academy are highly indebted 
 to the liberal zeal and ability of Mr. Hoare, their Professor of 
 Foreign Correspondence, and the regular continuation of which, 
 U is to be hoped, will be encouraged and assisted by every 
 
xiv 
 
 have been always cold, and at the present moment 
 we are unkind to their interests. 
 
 Whether we shall be characterized hereafter as 
 a people no less polished in peace, than powerful 
 in war ; no less distinguished for our pre-eminence 
 in taste, than our superiority in trade ; or whether 
 we shall relapse into rudeness, and revive by our 
 insensibility the sarcasms of our enemies ; are 
 considerations which seem to be of no importance 
 at present with any class of society ; and there 
 is much reason to fear, that, after having, by ex- 
 traordinary efforts, wrested the palms from the 
 
 means within the reach of that establishment), we find the 
 following communication from the Secretary of the Imperial 
 Academy of Petersburg : The munificence of our sovereigns 
 is unquestionably the most solid and infallible support that can 
 be found for the advancement of our artists. Influenced by this 
 principle^his Majesty the reigning Emperor has deigned not only 
 to increase the salaries of the professors and other persons em- 
 ployed in the Academy, but still further to extend his bounty, by 
 lately appropriating, for the maintenance of this institution, the 
 annual sum of 146,000 rubles, instead of sixty thousand, for- 
 merly assigned for that purpose, and by moreover adding the 
 yearly sum of 1 0,000 rubles, for the payment of those artists 
 whose works shall be judged worthy of adorning the public 
 institutions." And in another part of the same communication 
 we find the following passage : " The Academy has had the 
 advantage of experiencing a fresh proof of his Majesty the 
 Emperor's favour, by seeing several of its members recently 
 decorated with various orders of the empire." 
 
XV 
 
 hands of our competitors^ they will be suffered, for 
 want of commom care and shelter, to wither in 
 our grasp. 
 
 Many circumstances have co-operated to deprive 
 the artist even of those inadequate resources, which 
 the active spirit of trade, and the scanty remains 
 of patronage, had lately afforded to him . The dis- 
 orders of the continent in particular, have cut up 
 his interests, with a double edge of operation ; for 
 while they disconcerted all those commercial spe- 
 culations, through which he might have expected 
 employment from the printseller, they also oc- 
 casioned such an inundation of foreign art to be 
 poured upon us, as at once swept away all his 
 hopes of encouragement from the patron. 
 
 Our arts, indeed, have experienced the fate which 
 was denounced against our liberties — they have 
 been invaded from every port upon the continent, 
 — overrun by a posse of picture- dealers ; and yet 
 we have seen no defence hills passed for their pro- 
 tection — no patriotic funds appropriated to their use 
 — no voluntary offers of service tendered through- 
 out the districts of Taste : dangerous principles have 
 spread in their very camp of defence, and all the 
 corps of criticism are disaffected : our connois- 
 seurs are become catamarans to blow up our own 
 pretensions; and even the small craft of critics 
 
xvi 
 
 are proud to shew the colours of the enemy, and 
 cruise against us on our own coasts. 
 
 The superior wealth of this country, and the al- 
 most incredible prices paid here for some celebrated 
 collections, set in motion the trading tribes of 
 Taste in every corner of Europe ; a general rum- 
 mage took place for our gratification ; all the ma- 
 nufacturers of originals — the coiners of antiques 
 — the dryers, smokers, and stainers, of the wor- 
 shipful company of Ciceroni, were put in requisi- 
 tion to supply the voracity of our appetite : all 
 rushed eagerly with their commodities to so pro- 
 fitable a market ; and he was more than an unlucky 
 traveller who could not turn his tour to account, 
 and pick up a Titian, or a Corregio on his road. 
 
 Thus, has the nation been glutted with pictures 
 of every description and quality, from the best 
 that genius can boast, to the worst that fraud can 
 manufacture ; until all the wealth of individuals 
 disposable for the objects of virti^i has been diverted 
 into channels from which our native arts can derive 
 no adv^antage. 
 
 Who will now risk his property, or implicate his 
 taste, in the hopeless encouragement of living 
 talents ? when he may increase the one, and esta- 
 
xvii 
 
 blish the other, by purchasing pictures of acknow- 
 ledged reputation and ascertained value ? 
 
 Thus circumstanced, the arts of the country 
 have no resource left, but in the liberality — in the 
 policy of the state ; and unless some public exer- 
 tion be made in their favour, they must sink under 
 difficulties which neither zeal, industry, nor genius 
 can withstand. 
 
 When it is considered, at what a trifling charge 
 all the great objects which usually result from an 
 enlightened national patronage of the arts might be 
 obtained ; it seems scarcely credible, that a people, 
 generous to prodigality in every other department 
 of expense, should, in this instance, betray a par- 
 simony, as ungracious as it is ineffectual. Can it 
 be thought consistent with the liberality, the dig- 
 nity, the glory, or the sound and comprehensively 
 understood interests of this great empire, to re- 
 main the only example of a civilized nation, in- 
 different to those softeners of human life, those 
 refiners of the rough and drossy ore of humanity, 
 the support and protection of which have been, in 
 all ages and countries, amongst the primary objects 
 of the politician and the pliilosopher ? Shall it 
 be said of Britain, that from the millions supplied 
 by her industry and wealth to answer the exigencies 
 
xviii 
 
 of the state for all the purposes of power and 
 commerce, not a guinea can be spared, to promote 
 her moral ascendancy — her intellectual triumphs ; 
 to save her arts from utter extinction, or to co- 
 operate with those praiseworthy efforts, which 
 oppressed and desponding individuals have made 
 with such perseverance and success ? In vain, 
 however, will it be expected, that they can main- 
 tain the honourable position they have taken, if 
 timely succours are not afforded to them ; if the 
 spirited sallies of genius are not seconded by those 
 resources of vigour and defence, which the state 
 only can effectually supply ; and which the peculiar 
 desertion of all the ordinary powers of support has 
 rendered indispensable to their very existence. 
 
 It is a mistake unworthy of an enlightened 
 government, to conceive that the arts, left to the 
 influence of ordinary events, turned loose upon 
 society, to fight and scramble, in the rude and 
 revolting contest of coarser occupations, can ever 
 arrive at that perfection which contributes so ma- 
 terially to the permanent glory of a state. 
 
 This is the true handicraft consideration of the 
 subject — the warehouse wisdom of a dealer and 
 chapman, who would make the artist a manufac- 
 turer, and measure his works by the yard. The 
 
xix 
 
 arts treated commercially^ — intrusted to that vul- 
 gar and inadequate impression of their importance, 
 which is to be found in the mass of society, never 
 did, and never can flourish in any country. The 
 principle of trade, and the principle of the arts, are 
 not only dissimilar, but incompatible. Profit is 
 the impelling power of the one — praise, of the 
 other. Employment is the pabulum vitce of the 
 first — encouragement, of the last. These terms 
 are synonymous in the ordinary avocations of life ; 
 but in the pursuits of taste and genius, they differ 
 as widely in meaning as coldness, from kindness — 
 as the sordid commerce of mechanics, from the 
 liberal intercourse of gentlemen. 
 
 Wherever the fine arts have been carried to any 
 extraordinary degree of perfection, we find these 
 observations corroborated. Amongst the ancients 
 or the modems, in Greece, in Italy, or in France 
 under Louis the Fourteenth, it was neither the 
 agency of the commercial spirit, nor even the 
 more congenial operation of private patronage, 
 that kindled those lights of genius which irradiate 
 with such splendour the hemisphere of Taste. The 
 spark was struck by a collision more exalted. — 
 The impulse was given from above — from all that 
 was powerful in the state, respecting all that was 
 ingenious in the time ; attending with solicitude 
 
to the birth of Ability, fostering and invigorating 
 the first struggles of his weakness, — stimulating 
 and rewarding the utmost exertions of his strength 
 — setting an example of homage to Genius, which 
 rescued him from the ever ready contumely of 
 vulgar greatness, and taught him to respect 
 himself* 
 
 Noble and national objects are not to be effected 
 by common and contracted means : the stimulus 
 must ever be in proportion to the exertion required ; 
 and they must be themselves honoured, who are 
 expected to do honour to their country. What re- 
 sults can be looked for, from the desponding 
 struggles of genius in a state which shews such dis- 
 regard to the cultivation of her arts, as not to em-^ 
 ploy a thought on their influence, or even hazard 
 an experiment for their protection ? 
 
 The effects likely to be produced in this coun- 
 try, by the animating powers of national patron- 
 age, cannot be calculated, because we have had 
 as yet no experience to govern our conclusions ; 
 but there is the strongest reason to believe, that 
 if the field of Taste were properly protected — care- 
 fully fenced off from the common of life, it would 
 not prove 
 
 A soil ungrateful to the tiller's care." Dryden. 
 
xxi 
 
 Without any adequate assistance^ nay, ob- 
 structed and oppressed by circumstances peculiarly 
 hostile to their interests, the arts of England have 
 already advanced beyond our hopes, and taken 
 precedence of their age. What may we not there- 
 fore anticipate from their exertions, if they shall 
 be so fortunate as to experience those inspiring 
 proofs of public estimation, which, in all former 
 instances, have been essential to their existence ? 
 
 Surely, in concerns of this kind, there can be 
 no room for the considerations of petty economy — 
 for the demurrings of estimate and calculation : — 
 there is an expense which enriches and adorns a 
 state, — -and an economy which impoverishes and 
 degrades it. The one is the enlightened policy of 
 the merchant connected with the commerce of the 
 world ; who, calculating on the broad scale of 
 profit and loss, comprehends remote advantages, 
 combines complicated operations, and pours out 
 his funds with apparent profusion, through a thou- 
 sand outlets of hazardous adventure, — secure in the 
 general result of his principles, and calmly tracing 
 the progress of his interests through all their cir- 
 cuitous channels of return : the other is the short- 
 sighted solicitude of the pedlar, whose ideas are 
 confined to his counter ; who, incapable of gene- 
 ralized views, or extended operations, sees not be- 
 
 A 
 
xxii 
 
 yond the first links of vulgar advantage ; but 
 casting up in his terrified imagination the paltry 
 items of daily disbursement, suffers the apprehen- 
 sions of expense to overcome the hopes of profit, 
 till he has neither understanding to speculate nor 
 spirit to adventure. 
 
 It is the policy of a great nation to be liberal 
 and magnificent ; to be free of her rewards, splen- 
 did in her establishments, and gorgeous in her 
 public works. These are not the expenses that 
 sap and mine the foundations of public prosperity ; 
 that break in upon the capital, or lay waste the 
 income of a state : they may be said to arise in her 
 most enlightened views of general advantage ; to 
 be amongst her best and most profitable specula- 
 tions: they produce large returns of respect and 
 consideration from our neighbours and compe- 
 titors—of patriotic exultation amongst ourselves : 
 they make men proud of their country, and from 
 priding in it — prompt in its defence : they play 
 upon all the chords of generous feeling — elevate 
 us above the animal and the machine, and make 
 us triumph in the powers and attributes of man. 
 
 ^ The examples of her taste and genius, — the 
 monuments of her power and glory — all the me- 
 morials of her magnificence, are, to a great state. 
 
xxiii 
 
 what his dress and equipage are to a great man^-— 
 necessary to his rank^ and becoming his dignity ; 
 but amongst the more trifling charges of his esta- 
 blishment. 
 
 What expense can be more gracious — more be- 
 coming — more popular? can tend more directly 
 " to bless him that giveth, and him who receiveth/' 
 than that which is directed to adorn and dignify 
 our country, — which does honour to her valour 
 and her virtue, — which calls forth the energies of 
 her genius, and directs them to the celebration of 
 her fame ? 
 
 Are these objects of less consequence than the 
 erection of a public office, or the widening of a 
 street? Do they appeal with less force to " men's 
 business and bosoms," to their pleasures or their 
 pride ? But were they even as trifling as they can 
 be proved to be important, the means of attain- 
 ment they require form an object too small for the 
 eye of national economy. A drop from the ocean 
 of our expenditure would sufficiently impregnate 
 the powers of taste, in a country naturally prolific 
 in every department of genius. 
 
 As far as the interference of the government 
 would be required, every thing necessary, or even 
 
 A 2 
 
xxlv 
 
 expedient, to the liberal patronage of arts and ar- 
 tists in this powerful and wealthy empire might be 
 effected at an expense amounting to little more than 
 the perquisites of a clerk in office, or the pension of 
 a superannuated envoy. 
 
 To impress these sentiments on the minds of 
 the few who may be led to look into this little 
 volume — to stir with his pebble the slumbering 
 lake of public feeling, on the subject of the arts, 
 has been a strong motive for the author's publica- 
 tion at the present moment. He has long delayed, 
 in the hope that superior powers would advocate 
 the cause — that some abler hand would 
 
 <c Snatch the quill. 
 
 And save him on the brink of writing ill." Young. 
 
 But the children of Taste are not wealthy clients, 
 and as yet they have had no counsel assigned them 
 by the court. Like Curtius, therefore, he does not 
 hesitate to plunge into the gulf of criticism, regret- 
 ting only that the victim is not of sufficient con- 
 sequence to appease the angry powers, and avert 
 the fate that appears to impend on his profession. 
 
 In treating of the various discouragements which 
 at "present hang heavily on the exertions of the 
 living artist, it was impossible to avoid remon- 
 strating against that unkind and unpatriotic feeling 
 
XXV 
 
 towards the productions of our own time^ which 
 characterizes the criticism of the day. 
 
 To withhold from the painter the pecuniary 
 reward of his exertions^ and contract his means^ in 
 proportion as his expenses increase ; to let him 
 see those who would cavil on the ninth part of 
 an hair/' in dealing out to him a scanty portion 
 of depressing employment, pouring out their 
 thousands with emulous profusion into the pockets 
 of picture-dealers^ and often bestowing on foreign 
 imbecility, that affluence which is sought for in 
 vain through the happiest productions of native 
 strength ; are circumstances sufficiently mortifying 
 to check the ardour of enthusiasm in sensitive 
 minds. Yet these are difficulties which might be 
 surmounted — they still leave something to glitter in 
 the eye of ambition ; though the artist's works may 
 not be purchased, they may be praised ; fame at least 
 may crown his labours, and console him under the 
 coarser cares of life. But to refuse him praise, as 
 well as profit, — instead of the gracious smile of 
 encouragement, to greet him with the frown of 
 scorn, and, by indiscriminate censure, prove that 
 he is tried by the inquisition of prejudice, rather 
 than the tribunal of taste : this indeed is a state of 
 things sufficient to annihilate his hopes, to break 
 
xxvi 
 
 at once the most effective springs of genius^ and 
 extinguish the last embers of ambition. 
 
 Yet to this state^ unfortunately^ we appear to be 
 arrived. Even the unsubstantial breath of praise, 
 that " chamaelion's dish/' which feeds promise- 
 crammed^" the delicate appetite of genius, is con- 
 sidered out of season, and no longer served for his 
 support. 
 
 The balance of trade is indeed (to speak com-r 
 mercially) completely against us ; and although 
 the hardy progeny of Commerce and Manufacture 
 (upon whose rough and lusty limbs the cumbrous 
 swathings of mistaken affection act but as the fetters 
 of obstruction and restraint) are cautiously cradled 
 up in bounties and protecting duties — the tender 
 offspring of Taste are left helpless, naked, and 
 exposed. 
 
 Their situation appears a paradox ; and, like the 
 Spaniards, after the discovery of the treasures of the 
 New World, they are impoverished by an import- 
 ation of wealth. So many rich galleons of art 
 have been brought home from the Peru of picture- 
 dealers, that we disdainfully turn from our native 
 productions ; and even an ingot from the British 
 mine is considered a metal too base for the circula- 
 tion of Taste. 2 
 
xxvii 
 
 Our critics are transformed to antiquaries, with 
 whom every thing is prized that is proved to be 
 old ; and the sterling currency of the day, though 
 stamped in the mint of Genius, is cried down in 
 favour of rusty coins and Queen Anne's farthings. 
 
 The author is aware that these observations 
 apply principally to those, whom Reynolds so justly 
 characterized as purblind critics, and half-learned 
 connoisseurs ; but this class has alarmingly in- 
 creased of late : the hive has swarmed since his 
 time, and while they buz for ever in our unpro- 
 tected ears, they sting us in all directions. 
 
 For the liberal, the enlightened connoisseur, 
 the artist must ever feel affection and respect ; for 
 him he toils, and to him he looks for the reward 
 most congenial to his heart — the applause of pure 
 feeling and cultivated taste : this just tribute to 
 talent the true critic is ever pleased to pay ; he 
 knows what genius has to encounter; he knows the 
 crossings and jostlings of the course, and is care- 
 ful not to obstruct the racer's progress at least, 
 when he cannot stimulate his speed : he is in no- 
 thing more honourably distinguished from the vain 
 pretender, than in the zealous alacrity with which 
 he hails the candidate for fame when he is success- 
 ful, and the generous indulgence with which he 
 treats his feelings when he fails. The one is a 
 
 A 4 
 
xxviii 
 
 liberal believer, who bows in rational homage at 
 the shrine of Taste ; who puts not implicit faith in 
 authority, and brings all the dogmas of criticism 
 to the test of nature and truth. The other is a 
 bigot, who propagates imposture, and blindly 
 adores, who immolates living victims on the altar 
 of his idol antiquity, and damns the creed of others 
 without understanding his own. 
 
 If the author has presumed to direct the shafts 
 of ridicule against this latter description of preten- 
 ders ; if he has been prompted to exclaim with the 
 enlightened President of the Imperial Academy 
 of Petersburgh, " Delivre nous, grand Dieu ! de 
 ces amateurs sans amour, de ces connoisseurs sans 
 connoissance he is convinced that all those will 
 join in the prayer who do not feel its application, 
 and who have a true respect for the taste, the 
 talents, and the reputation of their country. 
 Though, 
 
 Like the bold bird upon the banks of Nile, 
 That picks the teeth of the dire crocodile */' 
 
 he has ventured to sport a little within the tremen- 
 dous and devouring jaws of Criticism, he is satisfied 
 that 
 
 Truths like these 
 
 Will none offend whom 't is a praise to please *.'* 
 
 f Count de Stroganoff — ^Academic Correspondence^ 1603. 
 * Young. 
 
xxix 
 
 And notwithstanding the alarming exclamation of 
 
 the poet, as to the consequence of such a principle 
 
 in the conduct of his rhymes, 
 
 " Nullaque mica salis, nec amari fellis in illis 
 Gutta sit : O demens ! vis tamen ilia legi * ?" 
 
 he has cautiously abstained from any expression 
 which might be suspected of a personal allusion. 
 
 In attempting to uphold the arts of his time 
 against the unpatriotic prejudices, that would not 
 only discourage, but destroy them, the author is 
 proud to be so amply j ustified in the abilities they 
 display ; to enumerate all the merits around him, 
 would appear to be unnecessarily diffuse, and to 
 make a selection from them on the present occa- 
 sion, might seem invidious ; but he has no he- 
 sitation to assert, that from the productions of 
 living genius at this moment in Great Britain, 
 might be produced examples of excellence in every 
 department of art, that would adorn the noblest 
 collections, and reflect honour on any age or 
 nation. 
 
 But were this even a partial opinion — were the 
 arts at as low an ebb amongst us, as those whose 
 
 * Martial 
 
interest it is to decry them would persuade us to 
 believe, still this circumstance would only furnish a 
 more urgent reason why an exertion should be 
 made to retrieve them ; why we should try the 
 effects of kindness, since coldness has so long pre- 
 vailed in vain. 
 
 The object is well worth an exertion, for our 
 morals are materially connected with our arts, and 
 a good taste not only refines, but reforms. But as 
 a state becomes enriched, not by the collection of 
 ancient coins in the cabinets of the curious, but 
 by the active circulation of its present currency ; 
 so also a pure taste is established in a nation, not 
 by hoarding old pictures in the galleries of the 
 great, but by the employment of its living talents, 
 and the circulation of its living arts. 
 
 A pure taste, indeed, is of the first order of 
 national benefits ; it is a talisman which adorns 
 every thing that it touches, and which touches 
 every thing within the magic circle of its sway : — 
 there is nothing too high for its influence, or too 
 low for its attention ; and while it mounts on 
 wings of fire with the poet and the painter, " to 
 the highest heaven of invention," it descends with 
 humble diligence to the aid of the mechanic at the 
 anvil and the loom. 
 
xxxi 
 
 The ancients, sensible of its importance, neglected 
 no means of cherishing those pursuits, through 
 which only, it is to be effectually obtained. With 
 them the painter — the sculptor, were characters of 
 the highest consequence ; they held them not 
 as the mere ministers of elegant pleasures — the 
 curious caterers of intellectual dainties for the 
 luxurious palate of sensibility ; but as the effective 
 agents of moral good, and mechanical improvement 
 — as the real benefactors of society, refining its 
 pleasures from sensuality, its luxuries from gross- 
 ness, and its conveniencies from clumsiness and 
 deformity. They honoured their talents not more 
 in their immediate effects, than they valued them 
 for their remote influence. They cultivated the 
 utilities of life in its ornaments, and took the most 
 certain mode of supplying the circulation of im- 
 provement by invigorating the source from which 
 it flowed. 
 
 Thus enlightened in their views, they were re- 
 warded in a degree proportioned to the wisdom 
 which governed them. A peculiar character of 
 elegance and propriety pervaded the whole circle 
 of their arts, which made even trifles interesting ; 
 and so little have the moderns to pride themselves 
 on their advancement in these respects, that to 
 have successfully imitated their productions, is the 
 boast of our most ingenious manufactures. 
 
xxxii 
 
 If pre-eminence in the polite arts be a distinction 
 worthy the ambition of a powerful state (and that 
 it is^ no enlightened observer of mankind has 
 ever hesitated to assert) ; if the possession of 
 a pure taste (which, wherever it exists, like a 
 penetrating spirit, purifies and improves— informs 
 and animates the whole mass of national ability, 
 from the lowest example of its application, to the 
 highest exercise of its power) be an object of the 
 greatest interest not only to the painter, but to 
 the politician — to the moralist as well as to the 
 manufacturer* how deserving of reprehension are 
 they, who would inconsiderately obstruct us in the 
 pursuit of such an advantage ! — who, to gratify an 
 idle affectation of refinement, would blast the 
 powers of genius at the moment of bloom and pro- 
 mise, and bury the productions of their own times 
 under the ruins of antiquity ! 
 
 To this liberal class of critics, who delight in 
 depreciating the genius of their country, and en- 
 deavour to justify their ungenerous desertion of 
 her arts, by denying the existence of those talents 
 they want the spirit to patronize, the author would 
 reply only in the words of Martial, 
 
 '< Sint Maecenates, nondeerunt Flacce Marones." 
 Generous patronage has never yet failed to produce 
 great artists in other countries ; what effects it 
 
xxxiii 
 
 would have in our own^ is worth an experiment to 
 ascertain. 
 
 Thus far the author has been seduced to enlarge 
 beyond his original purpose ; but the subject springs 
 from his hearty and pours unpremeditated through 
 his pen : — he set out with a view to a short in- 
 troductory excursion ; but he followed his road 
 till he forgot his intention, and on looking back 
 he is surprised, and ought perhaps to be ashamed, 
 to think how far he has rambled. Indeed, when 
 he considers how disproportionate the size of his 
 porch is to the slightness of his edifice, he fears he 
 will be thought to have overlaid his book in his 
 preface, as much as his notes have overrun his 
 rhymes. 
 
 As to the reception of his performance, 
 it may be supposed that in the present state of 
 things the author cannot be very sanguine ; he is 
 too well aware of the important considerations 
 which at this juncture press upon the public mind. 
 — " Quibiis occupatus et ohsessus animus, quantulum 
 loci bonis urtibus relinquit,'^ 
 
 In the general and ardent attention also, to objects 
 more esteemed at least, if not more estimable — 
 more fashionable, if not more refined, he cannot 
 
xxxiv 
 
 Hatter himself that his feeble voice will be heard. 
 Yet there are a few, he trusts, who still feel au 
 interest in the advancement of our national taste, 
 — who may authorize him to exclaim with the poet 
 
 " Non canimus surdis j'* 
 who may catch, even from his faint spark, the 
 generous glow of enthusiasm, and supply, by their 
 vigour, the defects of his weakness. All those 
 who have hearts as well as heads — who are patriots 
 as well as critics, will take part with the subject, 
 whatever they may think of the song ; and he 
 hopes the incompetence of the pleader will not be 
 allowed to prejudice the cause. 
 
 Should his unskilful bearing in the field draw 
 forth some abler champion: 
 
 Should his weak strain some nobler muse excite. 
 He '11 glory in the verse he did not write." Young. 
 
 For the execution of his work, however, he makes 
 no apology, not because he considers it unneces- 
 sary, but that he thinks it always impertinent. 
 All the graces of language — all the refinements of 
 style will not be rigorously exacted from him whose 
 hand is more accustomed to his pencil than his pen. 
 
 Horace has long since declared the fate of those 
 who write bad verses — 
 
 " Ridentur mala qyi componunt carmina." 
 
XXXV 
 
 Should the author be convicted as a culprit of 
 this cast^ and suffer the penalty accordingly, he 
 thinks, after a twitch or two from his vanity, he 
 will have good humour enough left to join in the 
 laugh. He has not indeed so high an opinion of 
 his reputation, as to suppose he can suffer much in 
 the esteem of his readers, by an attempt to awaken 
 the public attention to the neglected arts of his 
 country, even though it should be proved that he 
 had displayed his zeal at the expense of his dis* 
 cretion. 
 
 Candour he is satisfied he will experience, and 
 he has too much respect for the interests of litera- 
 ture, to wish for an indulgence incompatible with 
 that vigilance of criticism which guards the public 
 taste from perversion ; which exposes the errors 
 of ignorance, and punishes the pretensions of 
 vanity. 
 
RHYMES ON ART; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Munus et officium nil ^^^^^^"^ ipse docebo ; 
 Unde parentur opes ; quid alet formetque 
 
 Horace, A. P. 
 
 What various aids the student's course requires. 
 Whom Art allures, and love of fame inspires; 
 But chief, what toils demand his earlier hours. 
 Prepare his triumphs, and unfold his powers. 
 The Muse attempts — with beating bosom springs, 
 And dares adventurous on didactic wings. 
 
 Too long our isle, though rich in stores of mind. 
 Proud to be free, scarce deign'd to be refin'd ; 
 Still with a surly Spartan virtue frown'd. 
 Nor sought to rival states for arts renown'd : 
 
2 
 
 But now no longer heedless we refuse 
 
 The proffered garland of the Graphic Muse ; 
 
 Britannia binds her laurell'd brows once more, 
 
 And adds the only wreath unwon before ; 
 
 While nations long supreme in taste retire, 15 
 
 Confess her claims, and in their turn admire. 
 
 Line 14. And adds the only cwreatht &c.] — Whatever difference 
 of opinion may exist as to the positive merits of the English 
 school of painting, the comparative claims which distinguish it 
 cannot be with justice denied : indeed, when we consider how 
 few states around us, even so much as pretend to the cultivation 
 of the fine arts, it is paying no great compliment to Great Britain 
 to place her at their head. France is perhaps the only country in 
 Europe (except our own) in which the merits of English art are 
 not justly appreciated ; so long, however, as the present meagre, 
 debilitated style of art prevails there, we shall not be very ambi- 
 tious of her approbation. The taste of the French has undergone 
 a revolution as well as their government, and with as little advan- 
 tage to the one, as to the other; in morals, politics, and art, they 
 seem to be alike perverted and depraved ; the changes, however, 
 have operated in opposite directions ; for as, in politics, they pro- 
 ceeded from servility to licentiousness, so in taste they have passed 
 from licentiousness to servility; they have exchanged the fire, and 
 flutter of meretricious extravagance, for the frost, and phlegm of 
 timorous detail; the shackles they fondly imagined they had 
 finally torn from their liberties, they have cast upon their arts, and 
 the pencil of a modern French artist moves in the heaviest mana- 
 cles of servile imitation. The bravura and inflation of the school 
 
Yet while supine our gentler genius lay. 
 And war and commerce bore exclusive sway; 
 Ere Taste her orb from Latium had withdrawn. 
 Or yet the cliffs of Albion caught the dawn, 20 
 
 of Bouchet, are succeeded by the tame constraint, the dry and 
 sapless, statue-like insipidity of the school of David. However 
 enthusiastic, volatile, and unsteady the character of the French 
 may be in other respects, in the arts they are remarkable for 
 plodding perseverance, for heavy, dull, undeviating toil : 
 
 A patient tribe, who turn the graphic wheel 
 With dog-trot diligence, and drowsy zeal ; 
 Minutias-mongers, microscopic wights. 
 Whom Denner captivates, and Dow delights ; 
 Who spend on petty cares their puny powers, 
 And live to polish pores, and hairs, and flowers ; 
 To place a pimple with scorbutic skill, 
 To fix a freckle, and to plait a frill. 
 
 They are examples of the ill consequence of suffering theory 
 to advance too far before practice ; they reason so much about 
 their works, that they neglect the means to execute them, and 
 spend years of laborious idleness, in frivolous application to sub- 
 ordinate parts. Occupied by the plan of his edifice, the French 
 painter forgets the superstructure to be raised upon it, and after 
 he has amassed his materials, and erected his scaffold, discovers 
 that he is unacquainted with his tools. 
 
 They design, however, with more diligence than we do, and 
 have more academical knowledge of the figure ; they also take 
 
 B 2 
 
Coxcombs, exulting, dar'd her powers despise, 
 Aspers'd her sons, and slander'd e'en her skies : 
 But now no more th* injurious taunt is thrown; 
 Her arts, triumphant as her arms, are known; 
 
 more pains, and presume less upon the unassisted powers of 
 genius. Their preparatory studies, when about to execute a large 
 work, are numerous, and minute beyond what can be readily cre- 
 dited, or conceived in this country, where we are perhaps, too 
 much in the opposite extreme. They, are timorous combatants, 
 who exhaust their powers in preparation, and chill the ardour of 
 eiiterprise by the coldness of precaution ; we, on the other hand, 
 are often rash adventurers, who plunge into dangers against which 
 we have not provided, and rush into the field before we are suffi- 
 ciently armed for the fight. 
 
 Line 2i. Coxcombs^ exulting, &c.] — The sagacious reveries of 
 Du Bos, and Winkleman, on this subject, have been ably exposed 
 by Barry, in his spirited defence of English genius. He has, in-* 
 deed, combated those philosophical speculators on climate with 
 twofold powers ; he has employed his pen, and his pencil with 
 equal ability, and not only foiled them in argument, but con- 
 founded them by fact. — Vide the great room in the Adelphi. 
 
 Count Algarotti was not unwilling to compliment the superior 
 imagination of his countrymen, as contrasted with our northern 
 dulness. In a letter to Mr. Taylor Howe, printed in Mason's 
 Life of Gray, we find the following passage : " Cotesta maggior 
 dose di pittura diro cosi ch'entra nella nostra poesia, e forse una 
 efFetto anchiessa della delicatezza, ed irritabilita della fibra, delli 
 
Arous'd^ her genius soars on wing sublime, • 25 
 
 Asserts her taste^ and vindicates her clime. 
 Insult ! to think the land where Shakspeare sprung, 
 The heav'n he breath'd— where seraph Milton sung ! 
 
 nazioni posti sotto climi caldi ; onde sentono, ed immaginano pm 
 vivamente delli nazioni settentrionale, piu atte per aventura, che 
 noi non siamo ; a pensare con patienza, ad annalizarc, a penetrare 
 sino al fondo delle cose." 
 
 Nor can we be much surprised at observations of this sort from 
 foreigners, when we find even amongst ourselves men of eminence 
 like Blair expressing similar ideas. 
 
 Blair, in his thirteenth lecture, speaking of the admiration 
 which Cicero relates to have been produced in an assembly of 
 Romans, by an harmonious sentervce in one of Carbo's orations, 
 adds the following reflections : " Now, though it be true that 
 Carbons sentence is extremely musical, and would be agreeable at 
 this day to an audience, yet I cannot believe that an English sen- 
 tence equally harmonious would, by its harmony alone, produce 
 any such effect upon a British audience, or excite any such won- 
 derful applause, and admiration as Cicero informs us this of Carbo 
 produced : our northern ears are too coarse, and obtuse ; the melody 
 of speech has less power over us, Sec." Though it may be granted 
 to Blair, that the effects described by Cicero would not be pro- 
 duced in a British audience by a sentence equally harmonious 
 with that of Carbo, yet we are not called upon to admit the rea- 
 son he assigns for it : indeed Blair himself, in the first part of the 
 paragraph from which the above quotation is taken, accounts for 
 
6 
 
 In strains more sweet than erst from fabled shell 
 Of Orpheus old, or faniM Amphion, fell : 
 Where Pope, where Dryden swept the sounding lyre. 
 With Maro's melody, and Homer's fire ! 
 
 this difFercnce between a Roman, and a British audience, without 
 ascribing any part of it to the coarseness of our northern ears ; for 
 he there observes, that, <* in consequence of \ht genius of the Greek, 
 and Roman languages, and the manner of pronouncing them, the 
 musical arrangement of sentences did in fact produce a greater 
 effect in public speaking among the ancients, than it could possibly 
 do in any modern oration," 
 
 If we are less sensible of the harmony of speech than the 
 Romans, it is not, surely, because our ears are naturally 
 coarser than theirs, but because they are in this respect le«s culti- 
 vated ; it is not that our sense of hearing is more obtuse, but that 
 our language is less musical. The organs of sense are to be im- 
 proved by education, as well as the faculties of the understand- 
 ing; we find by experience, that the eye, and the ear in particular, 
 must be taught with considerable attention, before they are enabled 
 to perform their functions with any extraordinary accuracy or re- 
 finement. The genius of their language induced,^ and enabled the 
 Romans to carry the musical arrangement of sentences to a degree 
 of nicety, which ihe nature of our tongue neither requires, nor 
 admits ; the Public orators studied all the graces of melody with 
 the most scrupulous solicitude, and consequently the ears of their 
 auditors become delicate, and susceptible in proportion to the re- 
 finements to which they had in that respect been acc^tomed. 
 
Where Science, (long on weak Conjecture's wing, 
 
 A thwarted falcon, fluttering from the string,) 
 
 LoosM by her Newton's hand, first shot on high, 3;$ 
 
 And perchM amid the mansions of the sky : 
 
 Insult! to think, where valour, virtue sway! 
 
 Where beauty sheds around her brightest ray ! 
 
 Where Reason boasts how Locke — how Bacon shone ! 
 
 And triumphs on her philosophic throne : 40 
 
 Insult ! to think this garden of the globe. 
 
 This spangle shining bright on Nature's robe ! 
 
 From finer joys in cold seclusion plac'd, 
 
 A kindless clime beyond the beam of taste I 
 
 On wings of fire sustain*d, th' immortal mind, 45 
 
 Nor clime controls, nor fog, nor frost can bind. 
 
 Where freedom, man's most cheering sunshine, glows. 
 
 Whether on Libyan sands, or Zemblan snows ; 
 
 Where life exults, with each bold feeling fraught. 
 
 And Fancy fearless springs the mine of Thought : 50 
 
 May V7C not, therefore, in this more assiduous cultivation of the 
 harmony of speech among the Romans, find the cause of that 
 superior sensibility of which Blair takes notice, without examin- 
 ing our station on the map, or conjecturing, with the philoso* 
 phers Du Bos, and Winkleman, what precise degree of latitude, 
 taste, genius, and sensibility, may be found to inhabit ? 
 
8 
 
 There, blooms the soul, there, every muse delights. 
 Swells her full strain, and soars her highest flights : 
 Luxuriant there, from moral roots arise 
 Pure joys which compensate inclement skies ; 
 Spontaneous sweets that torrid tracts endear, 
 Redress th€ cold, and calm the raging year. 
 
 To Albion's view what mental glories rise ! 
 Though winter rudely revels in her skies; 
 Though fogs engender there, and frosts deform 
 The agu'ish clime, an intermitting storm; 
 The orb of genius cheers her hardy sons. 
 And bright through every sign of science runs. 
 Pervades with ripening ray each art refinM, 
 And glows through all her atmosphere of mind. 
 
 O pride of culture ! rare achievM, and late, 
 High-finish'd grace of an accomplishM state 1 
 Ye nobler arts! as life's last lustre given. 
 Gilding earth's grossness with the gloss of heaven ! 
 ^T is yours to crown complete the social plan. 
 And harmonize the elements of man ; 
 To raise in generous breasts a glow divine, 
 And polish every gem of virtue's mine. 
 As when long shut in shades, the eye of day 
 Shoots from his lids of cloud a sudden ray. 
 
9 
 
 Swift o'er the sombre scene effulgent flies 75 
 
 The golden gleam, and skims along the skies. 
 
 Flames up the mountain, flashes on the main. 
 
 Till one broad glory bursts upon the plain ; 
 
 Thus, lowering life the liberal arts illume, 
 
 Adorn its prospects, and dispel its gloom ; 80 
 
 Chase passion's scowling tempests from the scene. 
 
 And o'er the mind's horizon shine serene. 
 
 By worth unaided won, we mourn no more 
 Their long-felt absence from our sunless shore ; 
 In yonder pile * by royal bounty plac'd, 85 
 The Graphic Muse maintains the throne of Taste, 
 
 * Somerset House. 
 
 Line 85. In yonder pile, &c.] — They who have examined with 
 unprejudiced attention the progress of art in this country, from 
 its first introduction, cannot but acknowledge the rapid strides 
 of improvement made within the last fifty years ; and particularly 
 since the estabHshment of the Royal Academy. The influence 
 of this institution as a seminary of instruction, and the advantages 
 its annual exhibitions afford by promoting emulation, and furnish- 
 ing the student with an opportunity of seeing his faults, and dis- 
 playing his merits, are sufficiently exemplified in the general abi- 
 lity apparent in every department of art. Though we cannot at 
 present boast of a Raphael, a Reynolds, or a Vandyke, yet we 
 have many eminent artists, whose names will be inserted with ho- 
 
10 
 
 Surveys again reviv'd, her ancient powers, 
 And smiles as genius there unfolds her flowers. 
 Though public favour still but feebly glows, 
 And no fond care th' incumbered state bestows ; 
 Surprised she views in vigorous verdure rise 
 Th' exotic blooms that bless'd serener skies ; 
 And lays exulting, as the fruits refine. 
 Her annual offering at the public shrine. 
 Disdain it not, ye critics ! nor decry 
 Your country's arts, nor view with adverse eye ; 
 Indulgent still, the rig-id brow unbend. 
 And e'en in censure shew that you befriend * : 
 
 nour in the records of fame ; and there is a general diffusion of 
 respectable talents, which, if urged forward by the generous 
 stimulus of public favour, cannot fail to make this country as 
 pre-eminent in the pursuits of taste, as she is already distinguished 
 in the paths of science, and philosophy. Excellence is always 
 comparative, and to estimate justly what we are, it is necessary 
 to consider what we have been. Under disadvantages of national 
 neglect, and public apathy, which were never before surmounted 
 in any country, the English school has grown and ripened within 
 the reign of his present Majesty to a degree of strength and ma- 
 turity, which may fairly challenge comparison with the past state 
 of art in this country, and the present state of art in every other 
 country of Europe. 
 
 * At, pater ut gnati, sic nos debemus, amici 
 
 Si quod sit vitium, non fastidire. Horace, Saf. L 
 
 90 
 
 95 
 
n 
 
 Prize not the skill of foreign realms alone, 
 
 Nor think it taste to stigmatize your own ; loo 
 
 With generous bias lean to British art, 
 
 And rather wrong your judgment, than your heart. 
 
 Nor deem in soft, beseeching tone the Muse 
 
 From kindness courts, what candour might refuse ; 
 
 No, from her soul though rising to her eye, 105 
 
 What times remote, and realms around supply. 
 
 She hails with honest pride her country's claim. 
 
 And calls on Taste to ratify her fame. 
 
 Yet while exulting o'er each bold essay 
 Of British genius brightening into day, i ic 
 
 In fond remembrance flows the grateful tear. 
 To think what stars have fallen from our sphere. 
 Lo ! pensive leaning o'er th' illumin'd page. 
 Where History meditates the madd'ning age. 
 And mourns her Mortimer : while, kind too late, 115 
 Relenting Fortune weeps o'er Wilson's fate ; 
 
 Line 115. And mourns her Mortimery &c.] — The talents of 
 Mortimer were prominent in his day, and generally directed to 
 the higher objects of his art. King John signing Magna Charta, 
 and the Battle of Agincourt, of which there are well-known 
 prints, afford no mean specimens of his strength in history, of 
 his conception of character, and his powers o^ composition. 
 
12 
 
 Remorseful owns her blindness, and to fame 
 
 Consigns with sorrow his illustrious name. 
 
 Hogarth, with thee ! satiric Humour fled, 
 
 Proclaims our graphic moralist is dead ; 120 
 
 His mind seemed to partake in a great degree of that romantic cast 
 of thought so conspicuous in Salvator Rosa. He delighted to re- 
 present Banditti under all the circumstances which the mode of 
 life pursued by these picturesque plunderers naturally suggests to a 
 fertile imagination. But though he could exhibit the robber with 
 success, he wanted the powers of Salvator, to place him in an 
 appropriate scene. He was inadequate to express that wild 
 grandeur, that savage sublimity of nature, of which the ferocious 
 and half-armed freebooter appears to be the characteristic in- 
 habitant. 
 
 The works of Mortimer in general shew condderable skill irt 
 anatomy, and a well-grounded knowledge of the human figure 
 in all its varieties of action and repose. He drew with great fa- 
 cility, particularly with the pen, which he used in a style of un- 
 common spirit, and effect : his sketches with this instrument in- 
 deed, may be classed among the happiest of his productions. His 
 forms are sometimes incorrect, but seldom vulgar : and though 
 his characters are occasionally overcharged and exaggerated, they 
 rarely fail to be appropriate and expressive. In the other parts of 
 his art the merits of Mortimer are not equally conspicuous. His 
 finished works retain but little of that vigour and spirit of execu- 
 tion which characterize his sketches. His oil pencil is tame and 
 Liboured; his colouring betrays no great sensibility to the beau- 
 
13 
 
 Who Sampson-tike, in conscious might secure, 
 Burst the strong bonds that meaner minds endure ; 
 Disdain'd the beaten track, the common crown. 
 And fore 'd an untried passage to renown. 125 
 
 ties of tone ; and his effects, little scientific arrangement of light 
 and shade. On the whole, however, his powers appear to have 
 been of a superior class ; and such as, under better regulation, 
 might have raised him to the highest rank of competition. His pro- 
 ductions were few and irregulaT ; they were flashes of intellect, 
 which, while they dazzled by their own light, strongly impressed 
 us with the brilliancy of that fire from which they proceeded. 
 
 Line iio. Rele^iting Fortioie lueepj er Wihon' s fate.'] — The name 
 of this extraordinary man is a reproach to the age in which he lived: 
 the most accomplished landscape-painter this country ever pro- 
 duced ; uniting the composition of Claude with the execution of 
 Poussin; avoiding the minuteness of the one, and rivalling the spirit 
 of the other. With powers which ought to have raised him to the 
 highest fame, and recommended him to the most prosperous for- 
 tune, Wilson was suffered to live embarrassed, and to die poor*. 
 Conscious of his claims, however, he bore the neglect he expe- 
 rienced with firmness and dignity ; and though he had the morti- 
 fication to see very inferior talents preferred in the estimation of 
 the public, yet he was never seduced to depart from his own style 
 
 ^- So much did the res angustadomi" oppress the latter years of poor 
 Wilson, that the place of librarian to the Royal Academy, the whole emo- 
 lument of which anlounts but to fifty pounds per year, was conferred 
 ■upon him to enable him to eke out a mere subsistence ! I ! 
 
14 
 
 To nature true, his sportive pencil movM, 
 Taught while it trifled, pleas'd while it reprovM : 
 Struck by the harlot's woes, with shame oppressed. 
 Reviving virtue wins the wanton breast ; 
 
 of painting ; or to adopt the more fashionable and imposing qua- 
 lities of art which his superior judgment taught him to condemn, 
 and which the example of his works ought to have exposed and 
 suppressed. But the merits of Wilson are now found out, though 
 unhappily too late for him to benefit by the discovery ; and the 
 authentic productions of his hand are purchased at all fashionable 
 sales, with an avidity which procures for the picture- dealer that 
 affluence which was denied to the painter. How often has the 
 liberal mind occasion to lament that perverseness of taste, which 
 refuses to be pleased with the efforts of genius while the pleasure 
 can be reciprocal I which affects apathy and indifference to all 
 living merit, and disdains to bestow either praise or profit, till 
 the one can be no longer heard, and the other no longer useful — 
 " Cineri gloria sera venit." — Martial, 
 
 Line 119. Hogarth, ^vitb thee! &c.] — Hogarth has conferred 
 that kind of obligation upon his country, which peculiarly entitles 
 him to her regard and gratitude. Civilized nations have ever 
 eagerly contended for the honour of originality in arts and sciences; 
 and have considered as their most conspicuous ornaments, those 
 extraordinary characters, who, starting from the common herd of 
 mankind, seem born to explore new regions, and discover new 
 springs of instruction and amusement. Among the few who 
 come under this description, Hogarth has every claim to be num- 
 
15 
 
 / 
 
 No more the midnight scene to riot vvarms^ 130 
 The rake reviews his progress, and reforms. 
 
 The cottage group their Gainsborough bemoan, 
 And with tl^e Muses' sorrows mix their own ; 
 
 bered : his genius appears to be as peculiarly orit^^nal, his fire to 
 be as much kindled from within, as that of any other painter, of 
 any other age or nation. From his outset he disdained to travel 
 in the high roads of art, or to avail himself of those directing 
 posts set up by his predecessors : he treads in do man's steps, 
 moves within no prescribed limits, and adopts no established com- 
 binations : he has, perhaps, less of common-place than any other 
 artist ; less of loose material ; less dead matter. His subjects, his 
 arrangement, his characters, his style, his manner, are all hiv> own, 
 derived immediately from Nature ; drawn pure from the fountain^ 
 without passing through those ducts and channels of intermediate 
 communication, which always tinge the stream, and betray the 
 soil through which it flows. His path of art was before him tin- 
 opened, and it appears to have closed after him. But wliile his 
 works remain to be consulted, Britain may confidently boast of 
 having produced one of those distinguished spirits, those daring 
 navigators of the intellectual ocean, who launch boldly forth in 
 quest of new discoveries, and bring home unexpected treasures 
 from territories before unknown. 
 
 Yet notwithstanding the reputation which Hogarth, during the 
 latter part of his life, enjoyed, he .had much reason to complain 
 of that coldness and neglect, which so frequently depress the vi- 
 
 5 
 
16 
 
 Sad o'er his grave^ regardless of the storni^ 
 The weeping Woodman bends his toil-worn form ; 135 
 His dog half-conscious hears his master mourn. 
 Looks in his furrow'd face, and whines forlorn. 
 
 gour of genius, and disgrace the sensibility of taste. Poets and 
 painters are, generally speaking, estimated with little justice while 
 they live ; they may be said to stand in their own light ; to inter- 
 cept, as it were, the eye of the critic, who cannot discover the 
 merits of their works till the authors are removed from his 
 view. " Le tems," says a French writer of the Lives of the 
 Painters, " qui est I'arbitre de la reputation des artistes, ne pent en 
 augmenter la valeur, qu'apres avoir soumis a sa puissance, celui 
 qui en est I'objet : dans la peinture plus qu'on tout autre genrer 
 on est, pendant sa vie, son propre rival." 
 
 The Marriage a-Ia-Mode, that celebrated series of pictures 
 now in the collection of Mr. Angerstein, affords a striking in- 
 stance of the supercilious indifference with which the connoisseur 
 too often allows himself to regard the happiest productions of 
 his day, Altliough a work possessing the most valuable qualities 
 of art ; as moral in design, as masterly in execution ; striking 
 Vice irresistibly in. her strong holds of fashionable dissipation, and 
 compressing the experience of a life to a compendium of instruc- 
 tive example, the Marriage a-la-Mode found no purchaser amongst 
 its admirers, and Hogarth was reduced to the mortifying neces- 
 sity of attempting to procure by a raffle that reward for his la- 
 bours, which the generosity, if not the justice of taste, ought to 
 have conferred upon him. 
 
17 
 
 There too, Lavinia her swellM heart relieves 
 
 In grateful tears, and for her patron grieves ; 
 
 His model now^ no more — no more to share 140 
 
 The picture's triumph, or the painter's care. 
 
 But even this expedient failed of success ; the prize was not 
 sufficiently attractive to excite the spirit of adventure, and for a 
 sum too contemptible to be named, a Mr. Lane, whose taste in 
 this instance was amply rewarded by his good fortune, became 
 the proprietor of a work which merits to be considered an orna- 
 ment to the noblest collection. 
 
 Though as the dramatist of art, as a satirist exposing by his pen- 
 cil the vices of his time, Hogarth may be said to have left behind 
 him no legitimate successor; yet in the display of broader cha- 
 racter and lighter humour, his place has been ably supplied by an 
 artist now living, and it is to be hoped, likely long to remain 
 amongst us. With talents distinguished in the higher sphere of 
 art, Mr. Smirke has, on various occasions, displayed such proofs 
 of comic ability as entitle hira to the praise of original humour; 
 and his illustrations of the Arabian Nights Entertainments shew 
 a picturesque fancy, a power of characteristic expression, which 
 rank him among the ablest artists of his age. 
 
 Line 132. The cottage group their Gainsborough bemoan.~\ — This 
 excellent artist, (whose pastoral subjects, and peculiar representa- 
 tions of rural scenery, raise him to a competition with Murillio and 
 Hobbima) is said, in some of his walks about the neighbourhood 
 of London, to have been particularly struck with the family of a 
 cottager, from which he was supplied with some of his most 
 
 c 
 
]8 
 
 But lo ! where Reynolds lies, without a stone 
 To mark his grave, or make his relics known ; 
 No pomps of death the pious eye engage. 
 No trophies testify a grateful age ; 145 
 No sculptur'd lays of love memorial flow, 
 To indicate the hallow'd dust below : 
 But he, whose genius rais'd his country's name, 
 Refin'd her taste, and led her arts to fame ; 
 Whose powers unrivalFd Envy's self disarmed, 150 
 Whose pen instructed, and whose pencil charm'd ; 
 He, summon'd hence, submits to nature's doom, 
 And sleeps unhonour'd in a nameless tomb. 
 Yet nobler trophies sooth his hovering shade, 
 Than e'er sepulchral pageantry display'd : 1^5 
 
 picturesque models of children ; and to which he, during the 
 remainder of his life, shewed much kindness and protection. 
 
 In his Lavinia, the Girl and Pigs, Children by a Cottage Fire, 
 &c. there are characters of affecting simplicity and rural beauty, 
 which nature only could have supplied, and taste and sensibility 
 selected. 
 
 Line 135. The creeping Woodman^ &c.] — The picture of the 
 Woodman and his Dog in a Storm, is equally known and admired. 
 
 Line 155. Than eer sepulchral, &c.] — Surely, no character in 
 society can have stronger claims to all the honours of the sepul- 
 chre, than he whose taste has contributed to render them credit- 
 able to the present age, and interesting to posterity. While 
 
19 
 
 Genius, like Egypt's monarchs timely wise, 
 Constructs his own memorial ere he dies; 
 Leaves his best image in his works enshrin'd. 
 And makes a mausoleum of mankind. 
 
 Hail, star of art! by whose instinctive ray i6o 
 Our boreal lights were kindled into day ; 
 Reynolds ! where'er thy radiant spirit flies, 
 By seraphs welcom'd ^midst acclaiming skies ; 
 
 grateful to the valour that defends us, ought we to neglect the 
 virtue that improves, and the genius that exalts us ? Can he be 
 more reasonably said to die in the service of his country, who 
 lays down his life in the field, than he who exhausts it in the pur- 
 suits of science, or devotes it to the interests of morality ? The 
 subalterns in arts as well as in arms, must doubtless be content to 
 pass away unhonoured and unknown ; but the distinguished 
 leaders in each pursuit have equal claims to immortality ; and 
 while the soldier, and the sailor, are commemorated with all the 
 zeal of public gratitude, the sage, the bard, and the artist, 
 should not be forgotten. 
 
 But it is the pride and boast of genius, to confer immortality ra- 
 ther than to receive it. Masonia is known by her poet, Urbino 
 by her painter ; and Britain will derive honour and consequence 
 from the name and genius of Reynolds, when many of those to 
 whose deserts she has been more munificent will be remembered, 
 only in their monuments. 
 
 C 2 
 
20 
 
 Whether by friendship fondly led to rove. 
 
 With Learning's sons in some elysian grove, 165 
 
 Where moral Johnson, bright in all her beams. 
 
 To listening angels treats celestial themes; 
 
 Or join'd by him, the sage whose reverend form 
 
 Was seen amidst the tumalt of the storm. 
 
 High waving Wisdom's sacred flag unfurl'd, 170 
 
 In awful warning to a frantic world. 
 
 Prophetic Burke ; thou share the patriot glow, 
 
 To mark Britannia's bright career below. 
 
 To see her time-built throne unshaken stand. 
 
 And law and order triumph through the land : 175 
 
 Line 168. Or joined by hirriy &c.]] — Alluding to the intimate 
 friendship which subsisted for many years between Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, and Edmund Burke, the three great lu- 
 minaries of their age in literature, politics, and art ; and to each 
 of whom we may with more than ordinary propriety apply the 
 lines of Virgil : 
 
 " Dum juga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit, 
 Dumque thymo pascentur apes, dum rore cicadas 
 Semper honos, nomenque tuum laudesque manebunt*.*' 
 
 * The author understands, that, despairing of any national or public 
 tribute to the memory of Reynolds, his relatives have determined to pro- 
 cure the erection of a monument at their own expense. 
 
 Mr. Flaxman is said to be the sculptor appointed ; and from that able 
 artist something may be expected worthy of his subject, and suitable to 
 his reputation. 
 
21 
 
 Whether on Titian's golden pinion borne, 
 
 BathM in the bloom of heaven's immortal monij 
 
 Thou sunward take thy sympathetic flight. 
 
 To sport amidst the progeny of light ; 
 
 Or rapt to thy lov'd Buonaroti's car, i8o 
 
 ^Midst epic glories flaming from afar, 
 
 With him, in awful frenzy fir'd to rove 
 
 The regions of sublimity above, 
 
 Seize Grandeur's form, astride the lightning's blast. 
 
 On death's dark verge, or danger's summit cast : 185 
 
 Immortal spirit ! lo ! her virgin lays. 
 
 The Muse to thee an humble tribute pays ; 
 
 A muse unknown, unequal to aspire, 
 
 A truant from the pencil to the lyre 3 
 
 Alternate cool'd, and kindled to a blaze, 1 90 
 
 As fear, or fancy, whisper blame or praise 5 
 
 Who, though she oft has mark'd, with moral aim. 
 
 The harpies hovering o'er the feast of Fame ; 
 
 Has heard, in hollow sounds with awe impress'd. 
 
 The nightmare moanings of Ambition's breast ; 195 
 
 Yet touch'd to rapture oft, her thrilling soul 
 
 Through all its chords, aspiring thoughts control ; 
 
 And, fondly musing o'er what time may crown. 
 
 She feeds wild hopes in visions of renown. 
 
 No rhyming parasite of travell'd pride. 
 She courts no coxcomb from the Tyber's side ; 
 
 c 3 
 
 200 
 
22 
 
 Suborns no pedant from the critic throng. 
 
 No mock Maecenas supplicates in song ; x 
 
 From all that meanness courts, that pride reveres. 
 
 She asks no sanction, and no censure fears ; 205 
 
 Or sink, or soar, on her own strength relies. 
 
 And scorns the flatterer's passport to the skies. 
 
 But lend a ray of thy peculiar light. 
 
 Guide of her art, and guardian of her flight ! 
 
 Through Nature's paths conduct her doubtful way, 210 
 
 Nor let a thought unworthy stain the lay. 
 
 Of all th' adventurous spirits who disdain 
 To plod in dull content, life's level plain. 
 The painter only, with the poet dares 
 An equal flight, and combats equal cares ; 2*15 
 Alike aloft, their arduous progress lies. 
 O'er shoreless seas, amid unshelter'd skies; 
 Where, dread expanse ! fierce-driving tempests blow, 
 And only genius shuns the gulf below : 
 Where fools half fluttering and half floating still, 220 
 Who flounder on against Apollo's will. 
 Become the general jest, the vulgar game. 
 And sink at last beneath a weight of shame. 
 
 Who boldly then the common track depart, 
 Toil after fame, and take the paths of art ; 
 
 225 
 
23 
 
 Ye finer souls ! in Fancy's eye who see 
 Whatever young hopes, and sanguine hearts decree ; 
 While yet unspell'd, unplighted you remain. 
 Pause, ere you join the art-enamour'd train ; 
 
 Line 229. Pause, ere you join, &c.J — The choice of a profession 
 is always a subject of serious consideration. To fix on the path in 
 which we are to travel through life, which is to lead us to fame, 
 to fortune, and to happiness, is a decision we are called upon to 
 make at the outset of our career, though demanding a degree of 
 judgment and experience, seldom attained before the end of it. 
 The wisdom of our parents may indeed assist us to select one of 
 the many avocations, in which industry, prudence, and plain 
 sense only are required : whether a youth shall be made a farmer 
 or a mechanic, a merchant or a manufacturer, may be easily 
 determined by motives of mere convenience, without any scrupu- 
 lous investigation of his powers, or attention to his propensities. 
 Common qualities are sufficient for such employments ; they 
 may descend, as they do in China, from father to son, through 
 different generations, without any danger to the necessary stock 
 of ability. But with respect to the professions which are con- 
 nected with genius and taste, the case is different : in these, in- 
 terest and inclination rarely coincide; our parents are seldom 
 competent to assist our choice ; for, generally speaking, they are 
 either ignorant of the qualities required to excel, or so prejudiced 
 as to suppose we possess them. Left, therefore, to our ov/n 
 guidance, and actuated by what is commonly considered the 
 impulse of nature, we should anxiously endeavour to ascertain the 
 
 C4 
 
24 
 
 Consult your powers, the fancied passion prove, 230 
 Nor transient liking take, for lasting love ; 
 The nymph once wedded, you repent too late. 
 To change your fortune, or to check your fate; 
 
 precise direction in which that impulse may most effectually 
 operate ; for if we mistake or misapply our powers, the error is 
 irretrievable, and the consequence fatal. Adventurers in poetry 
 and painting are a kind of intellectual desperados ; they may be 
 said to go on the forlorn hope of life, from which few are found 
 to escape with safety or reputation. How necessary, therefore, 
 to deliberate, before we proceed in so hazardous an expedition ! 
 before we embark on a service, in which failure is not only disap- 
 pointment, but disgrace ; at once condemning us to poverty, and 
 exposing us to contempt. 
 
 *< Of all vain fools with coxcomb talents curs'd. 
 Bad poets and bad painters are the worst." 
 Yet how shall we distinguish between genius and inclination ? 
 With what line shall we sound our capacity, so as to discover the 
 extent of its powers, and find out the proper channel in which 
 they should be directed ? Whether we are inspired by genius, or 
 possessed by vanity, is to be ascertained by a long and painful 
 process only, and unhappily the prime of life is lost in the 
 experiment. 
 
 In the arts, the most flattering indications of talent are often found 
 to be fallacious; gleams of ability frequently brighten the first years 
 of study, which afterwards prove to have been false lights, tending 
 only to render the subsequent darkness more conspicuous. There 
 
25 
 
 When time shall tinge her beauties in your sight. 
 And all seem labour which was once delight ; 235 
 From hope^s fond dreams unwillingly awake. 
 When slow conviction whispers your mistake ; 
 
 is a kind of superficial ingenuity, well calculated to take the lead 
 in drawing-schools, and academies, which, assuming all the airs 
 of genius, often passes for that quality amongst inaccurate ob- 
 servers : but this glittering tinsel kind of talent, rarely attains to 
 eminence ; it belongs more to the hand than the head ; and most 
 commonly ends in a manufacture of mannered insipidity, and un- 
 feeling mechanism. 
 
 But if it be thus dijfficult for the student to estimate with accu- 
 racy the extent of his abilities for the fine arts, it is doubly in- 
 cumbent on him, at least to ascertain the strength of his attach- 
 ment to them ; let him beware lest, as the text observes, 
 
 " He transient liking take for lasting love 
 lest his disposition to painting should prove but the fickle avidity 
 of a child, who, this moment seizes his plaything with rapture, 
 and the next throws it from him with disgust. 
 
 Enthusiasm, though not always a sign of genius, is always 
 essential to excellence ; nothing great or elevated in poetry or 
 painting was ever produced without it : it is the only quality 
 which can enable the mind to surmount the obstructions of 
 difficulty, and support the pressure of disappointment. A 
 strong love for the art is always good security for a steady ap- 
 plication to it ; and without steady unremitting application, 
 the best opportunities are lost, and the best abilities unavail- 
 
 J 
 
26 
 
 Then, shall you wish some less adventurous aim 
 
 Had fix'd you safe below the cares of fame; 
 
 To some obscure mechanic toil had sway'd 240 
 
 Or left you humbly diligent in trade ; 
 
 ing. — The young votary of art should, therefore, look into his own 
 mind with attention, and examine its dispositions ; he should 
 contemplate the profession he is about to adopt, not only in its 
 pleasures but in its pains ; in its defeats as well as its successes. 
 Let him reflect, that what has hitherto captivated him, as the 
 amusement of his leisure, must now become the serious occupa- 
 tion of his life, losing (like all serious occupations) much of its 
 agreeable character in the obligation by which he is bound to it : 
 demanding an attention undivided, a patience inexhaustible, and 
 a perseverance steady and energetic, under every change of hu- 
 mours, seasons, and situations. If, on this candid examination, 
 he finds not in his breast a passion for the art that rises superior to 
 remonstrance, that cannot calculate consequences, or compro- 
 mise with prudence; if he can balance advantages, if he can 
 doubt or hesitate, let him be assured that his call is not genuine ; 
 let him lay aside his pencil, and forbear to toil in a pursuit for 
 which he wants the most essential qualification : which can tend 
 
 * " Soyez plutot ma9on, si c'est votre talent 
 Ouvrier estime dans une art necessaire 
 Qu'ccrivain du commun et poete vulgaire." 
 
 BOILEAU. 
 
27 
 
 While foil'd ambition weeps his wasted prime, 
 
 And disappointment drags the load of time. 
 
 To gain th' immortal wreath of art requires. 
 
 Whatever of worth, or Muse, or Grace inspires; 245 
 
 Whatever man, of heav'n, or earth, obtains. 
 
 Through mental toil, or mere mechanic pains ; 
 
 A constant heart, by Nature's charms impress'd. 
 
 An ardour, ever burning in the breast; 
 
 A zeal for truth, a power of thought intense; 250 
 
 A fancy, flowering on the stems of sense ; 
 
 A mem'ry, as the grave retentive, vast; 
 
 That holds to rise again, th' imprison'd past; 
 
 A feeling, strong, instinctive, active, chaste ; 
 
 The thrilling electricity of taste; 255 
 
 That marks the muse on each resplendent part. 
 
 The seal of nature, on the acts of art ; 
 
 An eye, to bards alone and painters given, 
 
 A frenzied orb, reflecting earth and heaven ; 
 
 Commanding all creation at a glance, 260 
 
 And ranging Possibility's expanse ; 
 
 A hand, with more than magic skill endow'd. 
 
 To trace Invention's visions as they crowd; 
 
 only to unfit him for common enjoyments, and expose him to all 
 the misery of disappointed hopes and mortified pretensions. 
 
2S 
 
 Embody thoughts beyond the poet's skill, 
 
 And pour the eloquence of art at will ; 265 
 
 ^Bove all_, a dauntless soul to persevere, , 
 
 Though mountains rise, though Alps on Alps appear; 
 
 Though Poverty present her meagre form. 
 
 Though patrons fail, and Fortune frown a storm. 
 
 O! rare assemblage ! rich amount of mind ! 270 
 Collective light of intellect refin'd ! 
 Scarce once an age from Nature's niggard hands 
 Bestow'd on man, yet such the Muse demands; 
 Such, where'er found, let grateful states hold dear. 
 Reward them wisdom, wealth and rank revere. 275 
 
 Line 275. Reward them (wisdom, ^wealth and rank re'vere.2 — 
 Great talents, when directed to improve and adorn society, can 
 never be too highly esteemed, nor too conspicuously distinguished. 
 Men of genius are seldom mercenary: as the qualities which 
 characterize them are above all price, so money alone, however 
 necessary to their wants, can never be considered the adequate 
 reward of their exertions* 
 
 They require and deserve a nobler recompense ; the homage of 
 wisdom and virtue ; the respect of their own times, and the re- 
 gard of posterity. 
 
 There is no other description of subjects, from which a state 
 can derive so much reputation, at so little expense. They are 
 the pillars of its present dignity, and the foundations of its future 
 
29 
 
 Alas! how many cast of meaner mould, 
 
 Life's common clods, we every day behold, 
 
 In evil moment to the Muse aspire. 
 
 Degrade the pencil, and abuse the lyre ; 
 
 Persisting toil, by no one talent grac'd, 280 
 
 And rot like fungi on the field of Taste, 
 
 What plumeless bards still pine as poetasters I 
 
 What graphic dunces drop to drawing-masters ! 
 
 fame. The acts of heroes live only in the enterprises of mind, 
 and Csesar's pen has done more to immortalize him than his 
 sword. 
 
 Men of genius are luminous points on the great disk of society, 
 which shine even after the sun of power and prosperity has 
 withdrawn its beams, and rescue the nations they adorn, from 
 total darkness in the long eclipse of time. 
 
 Commerce may make a people rich, and power may render 
 them formidable : in the one case, they excite envy without admira- 
 tion, in the other, fear without respect. But exploits of intellect 
 only, can secure that genuine estimation, that grateful homage of 
 the heart, w^hich it is almost as honourable to pay as to receive. 
 The powers of genius consecrate the claims of greatness, invest 
 wealth with dignity, and add veneration to submission. 
 
 Line 284. What graphic dunces drop to dranjuing-masters I'} — 
 To teach an art, even in its rudiments, must always be con- 
 sidered an honourable occupation ; and the preceptor in drawing, 
 if he be competent to his office, has a just claim to esteem 
 amongst thosfe who devote themselves to communicate agreeable 
 5 
 
30 
 
 Blockheads pursu'd through every nobler shape, 285 
 In miniature take refuge, and escape. 
 But chief, all you whom vulgar thirst of gain 
 Degrading sways, the graphic fount refrain ; 
 
 talents, or useful knowledge. But unfortunately, we too often 
 find, that the drawing-master himself wants the instruction he 
 pretends to give to others ; and that (however paradoxical it may- 
 appear) an incapacity to learn his art, has made him a teacher of 
 it. Though some professors of eminence have occasionally un- 
 dertaken the task of tuition ; yet, in general, artists of talent will 
 not submit to the drudgery of such an employment : hence the 
 greater number of those who would add to their other accom- 
 plishments a little skill in the fine arts, are obliged to apply to 
 persons but ill qualified to direct them, and become rather per- 
 verted than improved. They lose the light of natural understand- 
 ing in the mist of imaginary knowledge, and confound the sim- 
 plicity of plain sense, in the prejudices of mistaken principles and 
 false taste. 
 
 Line 286. In miniature take refuge, &c.]— To paint a good 
 miniature requires no mean exertion of talent. That so few have 
 excelled in this kind of painting amongst the multitude who 
 practise it, suflaciently proves that it requires no common qualities. 
 It is natural to conclude, that the operation must be somewhat 
 arduous, of which it may be said, that though the labourers are 
 many and the competition great, yet the work is rarely well per- 
 formed. But from the prompt means of subsistence which minia- 
 ture-painting affords to every manufacturer of a face, it will 
 
31 
 
 Th' insulted spring dries up as Avarice sips, 
 
 Or turns to poison on his tainted lips ; 290 
 
 Each muse, the mercenary suitor spurns. 
 
 Nor fires the breast, but where ambition burns. 
 
 Ye venal herd ! to Pluto's fane repair. 
 
 And breathe your souls in sordid incense there ; 
 
 Pay court to power, or sooth inflated pride, 295 
 
 And fortune bears you buoyant on her tide : 
 
 But search of wealth is here a vain pursuit. 
 
 The groves of Taste produce no golden fruity 
 
 They sprout in palms alone, or bloom in bays, 
 
 O'erpaid the culture, when the crop is praise. 300 
 
 Nor yet too sanguine, fondly deem that fame 
 Awaits to crown your triumphs, and proclaim 5 
 That honour still on excellence attends. 
 And praise in clouds at Merit's shrine ascends; 
 Foes pleas'd to crush coeval worth combine, 305 
 And censure circulates, the critic's coin; 
 
 always be the refuge of imbecility : a receptacle for the poor and 
 disappointed in art ; where all who want the vigour that impels to 
 higher game, or the means to support a longer pursuit, will sit 
 ■down with humbled expectations, consoled by the reflection, that 
 if their fame be more confined, their profit is less precarious. 
 
32 
 
 The modem's claim, fastidious taste denies. 
 
 Or, while he lives, reluctant grants the prize 
 
 Fame lurks behind, till Merit's death delay'd. 
 
 And, having lost the substance — crov^ns the shade. 310 
 
 What time on Arno's silver tide entliron'd. 
 Her sceptred sway, exulting Commerce own'd 5 
 Exhausted climes to grace her fav'rite's seat t. 
 And pour'd the wealth of empires at his feet; 
 When, phoenix-like, (triumphant o'er their foes,) 315 
 The arts from their own mould'ring ruins rose. 
 Reviving Science felt Protection's hand. 
 And Leo finish'd, what Lorenzo plann'd 3 
 Then, due regard the Muses' offspring found J, 
 Then, public wreaths exalted Genius crown'd : 320 
 Sagacious power his path with roses strew'd. 
 And praise, and honour, all his steps pursu'd; 
 
 * Thus, Martial : 
 
 " Miraris veteres, Vacerra solos 
 Nee laudes nisi mortuos poitasP 
 f Lorenzo de Medici. 
 
 J « Tunc par ingenio pretium ; tunc utile multis 
 Pallere, et vinuni toto nescire Decembri." 
 
 Juvenal. 
 
33 
 
 Their best ambition, and their fairest fame. 
 Princes were proud to boast the patron's name ; 
 Creative art earth's admiration rais'd, 325 
 And grateful nations gloried as they gaz'd. 
 
 Line 324. Princes <were proud, &c.] — Roscoe, in his justly- 
 esteemed Life of Lorenzo de Medici, makes the following obser- 
 vation : " In affording protection to the arts of architecture, 
 painting, and sculpture, which then began to revive in Italy; 
 Cosmo set the great example to those, who, by their rank and 
 their riches, could alone afford them effectual aid. The counte- 
 nance shewn by him to those arts was not of that kind which their 
 professors generally experience from the great ; it was not con- 
 ceded as a bounty, nor received as a favour, but appeared in the 
 friendship and equality that subsisted between the artist and his 
 patron. 
 
 In the Inquiry* concerning the real and imaginary Causes 
 which have obstructed the Advancement of the Fine Arts in this 
 Country, Barry (among other circumstances, highly favourable to 
 the rise of art in Italy during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries) 
 has noticed the superior estimation in which artists were then held ; 
 and the beneficial effects which resulted from the taste of those 
 times having kept such even pace with the talents that adorned 
 them, as constantly to supply to the powers of genius the neces- 
 sary stimulus of admiration. 
 
 The disadvantages which attend the modern artist are indeed 
 sufficiently obvious : he is exposed to a contrast of the most in- 
 
 * The substance quoted from memory. 
 D 
 
34 
 
 Lorenzo hall ! in whom united blend 
 Thy country's pride, usurper, foe, and friend ! 
 Lo ! what new honours crowd around thy name, 
 In Roscoe's page recah'd again to fame ! 330 
 
 vidious kind ; he is a pigmy who olFers himself to be measured 
 with those whose real grandeur is magnified through the mist of 
 antiquity ; whom the tradition of taste has established as giants. 
 
 He finds the affections of the connoisseur already preoccupied, 
 who considers the new claimant on his kindness, as disturbing the 
 repose of his judgment; as one whose pretensions are to be exa*^ 
 mined with rigour, if not repelled with disdain. 
 
 In the happier days of art, a very different feeling prevailed to- 
 wards the artist and his works ; a feeling which resulted from the 
 sympathy and correspondence then existing between the refine- 
 ment of taste and the powers of performance : a feeling which 
 operated at once as an incentive, and a reward ; which called forth 
 all the vigour of genius, and was the cause, rather than the conse- 
 quence, of that excellence to which it attained. A fastidious age is 
 a frost £0 the flowers of fancy ; they droop and wither in the cold 
 air of criticism. When the sense of natural sweets is superseded 
 by the false rehsh of affectation, and the man of taste degenerates 
 to an epicure, the terrors of criticism disturb the enthusiasm of 
 genius : the artist becomes more solicitous to avoid defects than to 
 create beauties, and presents himself at the public tribunal with 
 the apprehensions of a culprit for trial, rather than the hopes of a 
 candidate for approbation. 
 
 The offspring of Taste are delicate children, that never thrive 
 when they are treated roughly : they require to be attended with 
 
35 
 
 Though reason prompts to check th' applausive lay, 
 That sounds the triumphs of despotic sway. 
 And sad experience shews in colours clear, 
 That, bought with freedom, e'en refinement's dear. 
 
 care, and caressed with kindness. The man of genius, like the 
 humourist, rarely exhibits his powers with effect, but when he 
 thinks they will be well received. 
 
 The connoscenti of " Leo's golden days" had (comparatively 
 speaking) but little means of displaying their taste, except in the 
 sensibility with which they regarded the talents of their time, and 
 the liberality with which they rewarded them. The virtuoso, 
 indeed, might have employed his leisure and his wealth in the 
 collection of manuscripts and antiques, medals and coins ; but 
 with respect to painting, the connoisseur of the sixteenth century 
 neither possessed, nor affected to possess a degree of judgment 
 superior to the merits of his contemporaries, or which might be 
 thought to warrant him in the indulgence of critical disdain, or 
 supercilious indifference. There were then, but few tenants in 
 possession on the estate of Taste ; few old masters to gratify the 
 splenetic admiration of the " laudatores temporis acti few old 
 pictures to draw on time for reputation, and no picture-dealers 
 to negotiate the bills. The temple, the palace, and the cabinet, 
 were to be adorned by the labours of the living artist; he put forth 
 his powers unchecked by despondency, unchilled by neglect, as 
 secure, if he failed, of pardon and respect, as of glory and gratitude 
 if he succeeded. 
 
 But perhaps it may be said, that the disadvantages above men- 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 Their brightest beams while taste and science shed, 335 
 And glow in grateful radiance round thy head. 
 The dazzled Muse her Cato's cause resigns. 
 Nor sees a Cassar — where Maecenas shines. 
 
 tioned, as attached to the modern artist, are not peculiar to him ; 
 that whatever prejudices prevail to the detriment of living talent, 
 the painter has no more reason to complain of them than the poet, 
 the historian, and others, who are subject to their influence. 
 That the evils resulting from affectation, pedantry, and false taste, 
 are not confined to painting and sculpture, is indeed most true : 
 what Johnson calls " the general conspiracy of human nature 
 against contemporary merit," operates in every department of 
 genius ; but the fine arts feel the effects of it at the present mo- 
 ment, with peculiar severity. Literature, since the invention of 
 printing, may be said to be in a great measure independent of 
 particular patronage ; the press has opened for it a market too 
 extensive to be much affected by critical intolerance, and the 
 public judgment, more matured in books than in pictures, will not 
 now easily submit to be retained in the leading-strings of autho- 
 rity. Though the fastidious arrogance of the few may disdain a 
 modern production, for no other reason, than because it is modern; 
 yet the suffrages of the many, not to be influenced by such a 
 consideration, will always be obtained by those who possess the 
 "powers of amusement or instruction. If an author is read, he 
 may be said to receive half his reward, and the incense of popularity 
 will always revive him, when sinking under the censure of pe- 
 dantry or prejudice. But the artist of the present day, has no 
 
37 
 
 But no, though dear, most dear the joys of art. 
 The Muse too, shrin'd within my heart of heart,"' 340 
 Though throbbing there, their mingled raptures warm. 
 My Hfe's employment, and my leisure's charm j 
 
 resource against the bigotry of taste : his profit is as much de- 
 pendant on the connoisseur as his fame ; for his market is almost 
 exclusively confined to those, who consider it a proof of superior 
 refinement to contemn what he offers to their acceptance. 
 Amongst the ancients, indeed, literature and the arts, with respect 
 to patronage and encouragement, approached nearer to an equa- 
 lity. Literature was then an expensive luxury, necessarily con- 
 fined to the few whose wealth enabled them to indulge their 
 curiosity. A collection of books, like a gallery of pictures, was 
 the possession of a prince, the appendage of opulence and 
 splendour. The manuscript of the poet, or historian, was to be 
 purchased at a price which few were able, and fewer still would 
 have been willing to pay, if it had been the prevalent practice of 
 criticism to decry the value of the work, or discredit the talents 
 of the author. Now his pictures, and his statues, are (if it may be 
 so expressed) the manuscripts of the modern artist. He cannot 
 dispose of them at a price within the means of the multitude, 
 nor multiply copies by mechanical process ; his hopes, therefore, 
 both of fame and fortune, rest entirely on the great and rich, who 
 unfortunately, seem at present but little disposed to foster his 
 exertions, and appear to have lost all relish for the fruits of native 
 genius, in an ungenerous, often unjust, and always an unpatriotic 
 preference for the productions of other times, and other countries. 
 
38 
 
 My souPs first choice, my fancy's early flame; 
 My chance of fortune, and my hopes of fame ; 
 No, not e'en these should bribe the patriot strain, 345 
 To shed false lustre round ambition's reign ; 
 Or wreath his brow (howe'er his country grec'd). 
 Who sapp'd her freedom, while he sav'd her taste. 
 No, not for these, though else denied their charms. 
 Shut from the pure elysium of their arms, 350 
 Would I, my country, see in evil hour, 
 Thy freeborn sons the sycophants of power 5 
 See the rough virtues of thy clime replaced 
 By smooth servility, with polish'd taste ; 
 Thy blunt bold spirit, now that fires the brave, 355 
 Sink in the state, and languish in the slave ; 
 The man unnerv'd — in silken bonds suppressed, 
 And life a listless, lacker'd gloom at best. 
 Shall it be said ? while time attesting shews 
 What shining lights despotic skies disclose ; 360 
 Shall it be said ? where power gigantic awes. 
 And rides rude will unbridled through the laws ; 
 Where life hard breathing heaves the general breast. 
 In apprehension's asthma sore oppress'd : 
 Shall it be said ? that there the nobler arts, 365 
 That calm our passions and reclaim our hearts. 
 Felt, foster'd, lov'd, their highest honours find ; 
 Ambition's best atonement to mankind I 
 4 
 
39 
 
 What though ! in Greece, when Ammon's glory swayM, 
 When prostrate Rome Augustus' power obey'd, 370 
 In latter days, when Leo's lustre shone. 
 And gorgeous Louis grac'd the Gallic throne ; 
 What though ! like rockets from the hand of time, 
 Through life's long gloom, shot sparkling and sublime. 
 These meteor ages of mankind were given, 375 
 To mark with cluster'd stars the mental heaven. 
 And pour their blaze on earth's astonish'd view, 
 When Freedom's cloud-encompass'd orb withdrew 1 
 
 Line 378. When Freedom^ s cloud-encompass' d orb 'withdrew.'] — 
 Voltaire, in his Age of Louis XTV. has selected four different 
 periods of history, as particularly entitled to be considered the 
 most enlightened ages of the world: — the age of Pericles and 
 Alexander — the age of Augustus — the period of the Medicasan 
 ascendency in Italy, or the age of Leo as it is usually called — and 
 "though last, not least in his dear love," the reign of Louis le Grand. 
 
 These periods, however distinguished by the splendid achieve- 
 ments of the human mind in sciences and arts, appear to have 
 been but little favourable to the interests of human liberty : the 
 influence of Pericles at Athens may be said to have in a great 
 degree undermined that free system, the total subversion of which 
 was eiFected by Philip and Alexander. The majestic liberties of 
 Rome, so long convulsed in the agonies of dissolution, at last ex- 
 pired without a groan in the arms of Augustus. The liberal and 
 magnificent House of Medici, suppressed by their power the 
 factious and turbulent contentions of the republic of Florence j 
 
 D 4 
 
40 
 
 Britain, for thee ! a brighter age expands, 
 
 Bless'd rock, on which the church of Freedom stands! 
 
 From whose pure shrine expell'd with idol power, 381 
 
 Anarch's grim gods a pagan world devour. 
 
 Britain, for thee ! when calmer hours arrive, 
 
 And our cold year, th' unshelter'd arts survive, 
 
 For thee remains to prove, what radiant fires 385 
 
 Gild the clear heaven, where liberty inspires^ 
 
 To shew-what springs of bounty from her hand. 
 
 As gushed the rock at Moses' high command. 
 
 O'er Art's impoverish'd plains refreshing flow. 
 
 And cheer the fainting tribes of Taste below. 390 
 
 but her freedom did not long outlive the operation. Louis XIV. 
 made himself despotic in France, and endeavoured to become the 
 tyrant of Europe. He patronised through vanity, and oppressed 
 through pride. He seems to have been less cruel, than arrogant, 
 less generous, than vain-glorious. 
 
 Let us hope, that the fifth great epocha of the civilized world, 
 may be derived and denominated from the splendours of British 
 genius ; that it is reserved for Great Britain to prove that the purest 
 system of civil freedom, is creative of the noblest powers of nitellec- 
 tual excellence. — Let us hope, that the liberal policy of our princes, 
 and our statesmen will excite and second the geniusof their country ; 
 and that we may shortly see the arts and sciences revolving in plane- 
 tary splendour round the enlivening sun of British liberty ; refined 
 to a degree of perfection unattained in former periods ; deriving 
 vigour from its heat and lustre from its beams. 
 
41 
 
 While meaner states, like meaner men, endure 
 To slumber life in luxury secure, 
 Sunk in the selfish present; check'd, suppress'd. 
 The heaven -wrought springs of glory in the breast. 
 That shoot th' elancing soul through time's career, 395 
 To reach renown, and grasp hereafter here ; 
 Be thine, Britannia, thine the nobler aim. 
 To live through long futurity of fame ; 
 To gain the wreaths that grateful arts bestow> 
 Power's proudest immortality below ! 400 
 In Time's decay, ere Albion's empire dies. 
 To leave her constellation in the skies ; 
 Eclipse the glories of the world combin'd. 
 And give a fifth great aera to tnankind. 
 
RHYMES ON ART; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 PART 11. 
 
 Omnia, si nescis, loca sunt plenissima nugis 
 Quarum tota cohors, est inimica tibi. 
 
 John of Salisbury. 
 
 Far other views our age exclusive claims, 
 Repress our hopes, and check our flight to fame. 
 As- sickness fouls the palate, and no more 
 We bear those sweets, the sense enjoy'd before ; 
 
 Line i. Far other -vienvs our age exclusi've claim.~\ — Though the 
 wreath of art has for some years bloomed upon the brow of 
 Britain, it must be confessed, that neither the spirit of the times, 
 nor the liberaHty of the state, have much contributed to place it 
 there. If she has excelled her neighbours, in every department of 
 painting; in history, portrait, and landscape ; if she has displayed 
 a power, a vigour, a spirit, a richness of effect in water-coloured 
 drawings, which rival the productions of the easel, and surpass 
 
44 
 
 Distemper'd times each finer feeling lose. 
 Disrelish taste, and turn from every muse i 
 And as the passive patient, for his good. 
 Will swallow physic, while he nauseates food ; 
 
 the efForts of every other age, and nation ; to her genius, her un* 
 fostered, un sustained, uninvigorated genius the praise is due. We 
 have seen no great exertions of power, to stimulate ambition, or to 
 revi^ard desert : there have been no fruits forced in the hot-beds of 
 patronage ; individuals have done every thing — the nation, nothing. 
 The plants of Taste have sprung up around us, to a luxuriance suffi- 
 cient to prove the fertility of the soil, though the care of the 
 gardener has been wanting, and the shelter of the green-house 
 unknown. Thus, though the character of the natives of these 
 countries has been rescued from the imputation of dulness, and 
 inability to excel in the pursuits of taste ; yet the character of the 
 nation, as far as it is connected with the fine arts, or can be ex- 
 emplified in the various forms of public patronage and the protec- 
 tion afforded to those who profess them, remains yet to be re- 
 lieved from an aspersion more mortifying, because better founded. 
 
 The Royal Academy (the only * institution for the cultivation 
 of art, of which we can boast) was formed by artists ; and though 
 it was fortunate enough to obtain the countenance and high sanc- 
 tion of his Majesty, and to be assisted in its first years by his bene- 
 
 * The Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and 
 Commerce, may here occur to the reader : but the plan formed by this 
 very respectable body, is so extensive, and the cultivation of thefne arts 
 appears to be so inconsiderabre,and subordinate a part of it, that the author 
 does not conceive how, in his view of the subject, it can be considered an 
 exception to his observation. 
 
45 
 
 The feverish state rejects the healthful fare, 
 
 The cordial cup Apollo's sons prepare, lo 
 
 While pill, drop, drug, and potion, all go down, 
 
 As mountebanks discharge them on the town. 
 
 In heat of brain, a rude, eruptive race. 
 
 Break out in blotches on the public face. 
 
 Ferment each acrid humour to offence, 15 
 
 And propagate the leprosy of sense ; 
 
 Till lazar life, unseemly grown and sore. 
 
 Begs for relief again at Giffard's door. 
 
 ficence ; yet, from the nature of its plan, and the necessary limita- 
 tion of its expenditure, if we except the utility of its exhibitions, 
 already noticed, it affords but slender means of improvement, and 
 ' no encouragement to rising genius. 
 
 This establishment, which ought to be national, and compre- 
 hensive ; which should include within its walls, every thing that 
 is essential, expedient, or inviting, to the progress of the student; 
 which should rest on a foundation worthy of the freest, the richest, 
 the most powerful, and the most generous people on earth ; and 
 which by foreigners is supposed to be a splendid example of public 
 munificence, derives its income from the disinterested labours of 
 artists, possesses not a single original example of the old masters ; 
 and, excepting the advantage of apartments at Somerset Place, has 
 not for many years received the smallest assistance from the state. 
 
 With means of support, so inadequate to what ought to be the 
 prime object of the institution, the surprise is not, that so little 
 has been done, but that so much has been effected. 
 
4& 
 
 Why, Giffard, why like Dives dost thou hoard 
 Those crumbs of wit thou canst so well afford ? 20 
 Why fly to former ages — foreign climes * ? 
 Thou Juvenal of more prolific times ! 
 Beneath thy club though Hydras dire have bled. 
 Again, mis-shapen monsters rear the head; 
 Again, th' Antasus folly, from the ground, 25 
 Starts into strength, and struts, and swells around ; 
 Another labour yet demands thy pen. 
 To drag each critic Cacus from his den : 
 With generous zeal to Art's assistance haste ; 
 And free once more the suffering state of Taste. 30 
 
 * Alluding to Mr. GifFard's late translation of Juvenal's 
 Satires. 
 
 Line zg. With generous %eal to Art's assistance haste. '\ — Could 
 the author of the Baviad condescend to follow in the track of 
 another bard, what a subject for his muse would the Pursuits of 
 Taste afford ! — what a rich field for the exercise of his powers ! 
 
 Nor shoots up folly to a nobler bloom, 
 " In her own native soil — the drawing-room." Young, 
 
 Compared to this prolific theme, the Pursuits of Literature are but 
 a dry and barren topic. 
 
 W ere Mr. Giffard inclined to canter his satirical Pegasus over 
 the course of Criticism, and sport a little with the follies of Virtu, 
 he can be at no loss for the necessary technical knowledge, — he has 
 
47 
 
 The blooms of life, the flowers of heaven that blow, 
 
 To deck the souPs dark gloomy grave below ; 
 
 That breathe refining fragrance through the air. 
 
 And purify this atmosphere of care 5 
 
 Chill'd by the blast, fall wither'd in our walk, 35 
 
 Or droop the head, and die upon the stalk. 
 
 The fence neglected, lays the garden bare. 
 
 For all life's ruder herds to revel there. 
 
 With horn and hoof who ravage root and spoil. 
 
 Browse every sweet, and batten on the soil, 40 
 
 Ungrac'd, ungracious, dull, demure, and vain, 
 A caviling, cold, pert, disputatious train ; 
 The nation's obloquy, the time's offence, 
 Infest philosophy, and torture sense ; 
 Pervert all truth, proscribe each finer art, 45 
 Fire the weak head, and freeze the feeling heart ; 
 Adrift in Passion's tempest turn the mind. 
 And cut the moral cables of mankind. 
 In patchwork of exploded follies wrought. 
 Close quilted in good housewifery of thought, 50 
 
 a friend well qualified to place the subject in a picturesque point 
 of view — 
 
 Hoppner, would aid the Muse with hand and heart, 
 And bring in bold alliance wit, and art. 
 
48 
 
 Their heads with straws from Rousseau's stubble crown'd. 
 
 Our metaphysic madmen rave around : 
 
 With kings and priests, they wage eternal war, 
 
 And laws, as life's strait waistcoats they abhor. 
 
 As crafty means to check the mind's career, 55 
 
 And put inspired philosophers in fear; 
 
 To cramp the energies of soul and sense, 
 
 And constitute enjoyment an offence. 
 
 Line 58. And constitute enjoyment an offence.~\ — If history did 
 not sufficiently prove that nations, like individuals, have their 
 periods of weakness, and their paroxysms of frenzy, it would be 
 matter of wonder, that the opinions here alluded to, should have 
 made such a progress in society, in opposition to the strongest 
 current of experience, and the clearest deductions of common 
 sense. The ingenious speculations of men whose minds are 
 wound up to an Utopian enthusiasm ; who seek in human nature 
 for something which the sifting scrutiny of ages has not been able 
 to find in it ; and fondly expect from the future, results materially 
 different from the past, might indeed be considered amusing sub- 
 jects of discussion, if they were not dangerous causes of discontent. 
 
 But it never can be safe to trifle with doctrines, which inculcate 
 contempt for the gathered wisdom of ages ; which unsettle the 
 established relations of right and v^rong, and seduce us from the 
 just estimation of our present state, by visions of impracticable 
 good, and unattainable perfection. 
 
 The author's quarrel with them, however, in this place, arises 
 on other grounds — from the conviction, that they tend not only 
 
49 
 
 What food for ridicule ! what room for v/rath ! 
 When study works up folly to a froth ! 60 
 When dulness bubbling o'er ambition's fire. 
 In cloud, and smoke, and vapour will aspire ; 
 
 to disorganize, but to vulgarize society, and despoil it of all those 
 graces, and refinements, which have grown out of that order of 
 things they are professedly directed to amend. Of this, it is no 
 bad illustration, that amongst many disciples of what has been 
 emphatically termed the nenu school, it became a frequent subject 
 of doubt and discussion — whether mankind had derived most 
 good, or evil from the introduction of the fine arts ! ! ! Indeed, it 
 is impossible to say, to what excess such extravagant notions 
 might not have proceeded, if the good sense of the time had not 
 stepped forward to expose them. We were in some danger of 
 seeing the whims of Cornelius Agrippa* revived with more serious- 
 ness, and less learning ; of witnessing new declamations on the va- 
 nity of arts and sciences, issuing from the prurient brain of dis- 
 ordered speculation, and denouncing those ornaments of life at 
 the bar of political regeneration, as the pestilent promoters of in-, 
 equality, and the corrupters of all civic virtue. 
 
 But even if it should be allowed (and it is certainly highly pro- 
 bable) that the founders of the new philosophy could never have 
 had it in contemplation to pluck up, and eradicate as pernicious 
 
 * Cornelius Agrippa, a learned philosopher and reputed magician of 
 Belgia, who flourished in the sixteenth century, and amongst other extra- 
 ordinary and ingenious productions, published a treatise on the vanity of 
 the arts and sciences ; ascribing them to the sgeacy of the devil, for the 
 corruption of man. 
 
 S 
 
50 
 
 Through each foul funnel of the press will rise. 
 And fill with fog the intellectual skies ! 
 
 Caught by the chemic mania raging round, 65 
 The votaries of the crucible abound ; 
 
 luxuries those tender plants of civil culture ; yet vSurely, that result 
 could scarcely fail to follow from the general adoption of the 
 principles they avow. Though the author does not consideV 
 himself very well qualified to analyze the materials of human 
 society, or to discriminate nicely, between causes and concomi- 
 tants, in the confused and puzzling progrer« of moral and political 
 operations, yet he thinks he can see all the finer arts and orna- 
 ments of life, all the delicate flowers of taste and genius blooming 
 on the very stems of the garden, to the roots of which the axe of 
 modern amelioration seems most particularly directed. From the 
 innumerable complications of civil interest and social dependance ; 
 from the influence of wealth and luxury in their most unrestrained 
 and extended operations ; from the inequalities of fortune, rank, 
 and degree, holding out object to ambition, and impulse to la- 
 bour ; spurring the poor by necessity, the rich by distinction ; 
 offering ease to diligence, and leisure to curiosity ; and furnishing 
 every individual with his appropriate motive of exertion in the 
 general struggle, may be traced to arise, whatever softens, refines, 
 elevates, adorns, and dignifies the character of human nature. 
 From the grand collision of mind operating, and operated on, in 
 this unremitting contest of rival hopes, pretensions, and powers, 
 are struck out those brilliant sparks of civilization, those electric 
 
51 
 
 The moles of Science ! who her soil explore, 
 
 And buried deep in matter's darkness pore ; 
 
 Who, cold to wit and beauty, bend their cares, 
 
 To earths and acids, alkalis and airs ; 70 
 
 lights of arts and sciences, which irradiate the otherwise sombre 
 scene of oUr existence, and shine the beneficent planets of the 
 social firmament. 
 
 T 0 simplify society therefore, (as far as that expression means, to 
 check the progress of wealth, luxury, and inequality) would be 
 (in the author's opinion) to do it a very great injury : it would be 
 to take a direction the very reverse of that in which cultivation 
 has travelled, since first the simple shelter of the forest and the 
 cave was forsaken for the less equalized accommodations of the 
 cottage and the town. 
 
 Wherever society is most refined, there also, its forms appear 
 the most complicated. Society is a grand machine, all the parts 
 of which depend on each other in such dehcate and intricate con- 
 nexion, and are so nicely adjusted by the cautious hands of time 
 and experience, that it seems no easy matter for the most expert 
 political mechanic to ascertain exactly what pin or wheel can be 
 pulled out, or removed, without danger to its most ingenious 
 and essential movements. Interest, self-interest, is the firm sup- 
 porting pivot on which the whole enginery rests and turns ; want, 
 passion, ambition, are the main springs of its operation ; wealth, 
 power, pleasure, glory, luxury, the principal wheels, which, 
 communicating motion to all the dependant arrangements of 
 minuter mechanism, at length set forward the golden hands of 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 Slight e'en the sage endowed with skill refin'd. 
 To mark the whole phenomena of mind ; 
 With nobler zeal develope virtue's plan. 
 And analyze the properties of man. 
 
 But chief their toils with zest peculiar charm, 75 
 Who teach to feed the flock, and till the farm ; 
 Who still in view man's lofty function keep, 
 To fatten calves, and mend the breed of sheep : 
 A rough- shod race ; who Fancy's flowrets scorn, 
 And trample down as tares among the corn ; 80 
 The Muses' hill reclaim as common waste, 
 Parnassus plough, and rake the field of Taste. 
 
 genius and taste to move on the dial of existence, and point to 
 the brightest periods of time, and the most memorable epochas 
 of man. 
 
 But these, as Mr. Burke says, " are high matters" not to be 
 dispatched in a note, or touched by a rhymer on art ; the author, 
 therefore, had better check his presumptuous pen, lest the reader 
 should suspect that he intended to set himself forward as a philo- 
 sopher. Luckily there is now but little to be apprehended from 
 the ameliorating mania he has noticed ; the new lights of civiliza- 
 tion are nearly burned down, at least in this country ; but while 
 a spark remains in the socket, the extinguishers of reason and ridi». 
 cule should be applied, for we may be offended by the snuff, after 
 we have blown out the candle. 
 
 I 
 
53 
 
 What bliss to live ! if life's best hopes decay, 
 And thoughtless folly fling each flower away 5 
 If low-born toils usurp the public hive, 
 And from the utile y the dulce drive ; 
 If partial zeal, perverting Reason's plan. 
 Regard the animal, and not the man 3 
 Provide with provender the stalls of sense. 
 And pamper appetite at wit's expense. 
 
 A morbid pride, a torpor has surpris'd 
 Taste's leading nerve, and life is paralyz'd ; 
 The blood still circulates, though feeling 's dead. 
 The body fattens, but the mind is fled. 
 
 Line 94. The body fattens, but the mind is Jled.'} — Gibbon re- 
 marks, in his Essai sur I'Etude de la Literature, " That all ages 
 and countries have seen some particular sciences made the subject 
 of an unjust preference, to the irrational neglect and exclusion of 
 the rest." The observation seems to apply to the present period 
 with peculiar force; physics, politics, and rural economy bear 
 down all competitors for public notice and protection. If you 
 cannot explain, or describe some new chemical phenomenon, 
 construct an ingenious system of civil polity, or discuss with 
 learned prolixity the merits of the drill, the hoe, and the oil-cake, 
 your productions are of little importance, and can expect but 
 little attention. The press groans vv^ith agricultural reports, sta- 
 tistical surveys, and chemical controversies ; " system on system in 
 
 «3 
 
 85 
 
 90 
 
54 
 
 Each nobler aim that bids ambition rlse^, 
 And wings the soul of genius for the skies. 
 Pursuits, which on the vulgar world look down, 
 And lead to life immortal in renown ; 
 
 confusion hurled^'' shake to their foundations the established prin- 
 ciples of past times, and loosen the concerns of society, to toss 
 and fluctuate in the troubled sea of experiment and speculation. 
 Much credit is certainly due to that investigating spirit which has 
 for its object the amelioration and accommodation of man ; 
 which penetrates the inmost recesses of the state edifice ; detects 
 the injuries of time and storm ; and roots out lurking abuses from 
 the neglected nooks, and cobwebbed corners of society. But still 
 we should not suffer an inconsiderate zeal to mar its own projects; 
 " est modus in rebus we should reflect that the operations of 
 altering and refitting, in the political as well as in the domestic 
 establishment, are attended with great confusion, exposure, and 
 inconvenience to regular habits and sober inhabitants ; that with- 
 out the judgment of the skilful surveyor, we are *in danger of 
 mistaking the settlements of time, which confirm security, for 
 the symptoms of decay, which demand repair ; and may be led 
 by capricious ignorance, or unfounded fears, to disturb and dila- 
 pidate, where we intended to arrange and improve. We should 
 also consider, in the fervour of our devotion to favourite pursuits, 
 that experiments may be multiplied till the principles to be de- 
 duced from them are forgotten ; that our kitchens may be con- 
 verted into laboratories without improving our cooks j and evi^n,^ 
 that oxen may be fattened — to disease. 
 
55 
 
 Neglected, slighted, rue the tasteless hour. 
 
 When every Muse laments her lessening power; loo 
 
 When dull projectors crowd from every clime. 
 
 To prey upon the follies of the time ; 
 
 Their crafty schemes of low ambition lay. 
 
 And sweep the meed of wit, and worth away. 
 
 Philosophy, no more content to dwell, lo^ 
 With hermit Study whispering in his cell ; ' 
 Forsakes in speculative pride the sage. 
 And walks the wildest maniac of the age. 
 Spell'd by her eye where'er the spectre strays, 
 Insurgent shouts the maddening rabble raise ; i lo 
 
 The more elegant, the more refined, and surely in an enlight- 
 ened view, not the least useful pursuits of life, experience in the 
 present day but little kindness ; they are out of the pale of public 
 solicitude, unnoticed in the press of bolder claimants. We hear 
 of no institutions formed to protect and encourage them ; of no 
 prizes granted to the caterers of mind, to the prime feeders of in- 
 tellect, to the best culti'vators of taste and refinement : the growth 
 of genius is neglected for the propagation of monsters ; and again 
 the fatted calf has become the most acceptable offering at the 
 shrine of power and patronage. " Pingue pecus domino facias 
 is the universal prayer, but the " et caetera praeter ingenium," is 
 forgotten. 
 
 * Horace. 
 K4 
 
56 
 
 Life raves around through each infected brain. 
 Confusion reigns and chaos comes again. 
 Science, that erst on eagle pinion soar'd, 
 Where wisdom wonder'd, and where faith ador'd 
 To regions, whence eternal truths diffused, 
 Enlighten'd man, and bless'd a world abusM ; 
 Now with clipp'd wing, familiar flirts away 
 In Fashion's cage, the parrot of the day ; 
 The sibyl of a shrine where fops adore, 
 The oracle of culinary lore. 
 
 On every side th' insatiate passion spreads. 
 Subdues all hearts, and occupies all heads ; 
 Rank, sex, and age possess'd beyond belief, 
 To physics fly, and Fuscus for relief. 
 Who, like a nursing mother at command. 
 With soup, and science, suckles all the land. 
 Lo ! e'en the fair with learned fury fraught ! 
 On beauty's brow affect the frown of thought. 
 To studious seeming discipline their face. 
 And wear the mask of meaning in grimace. 
 Clorinda with electric ardour glows. 
 And frights with fuU-charg'd battery her beaux, 
 The common conquests of her eyes disdains, 
 And holds her slaves in scientific chains ; 
 
57 
 
 Each weeping Grace her shrine deserted views, 135 
 And calls for vengeance, on th' indignant Muse, 
 While Cupid trembling, flies th' infected ground, 
 Scar'd at the philosophic scowl around. 
 
 Line 138. Scared at the philosophic scoivl around.^ — ^Thc reader 
 will readily believe the author cannot mean to cast a reflection on 
 the serious pursuits of science in general, or the regular cultiva- 
 tion of chemistry in particular, from which so much unequivocal 
 advantage has resulted in almost every department of life. The la- 
 bours of a Fourcroy, a Kirwan, and a Davy, must always attract 
 our regard and gratitude ; and he should regret to find himself for 
 a moment suspected of designing to depreciate their value, or dimi- 
 nish their just influence. " Ludimus tnnocui?'' He has the highest 
 respect for the physical sciences, but he thinks they have at pre- 
 sent more than their share in the partition of public favour ; that 
 they engross too much of the little disposable attention the requi- 
 sitions of politics and war have left us to bestow. He would only 
 rally that exclusive preference of inanimate, to animate ; of matter, 
 to mind ; of earth, to heaven, which exists to the utter neglect of 
 objects more elevated, more in need of protection, and not less 
 important in every liberal view of morals, of manners, and of 
 national estimation. He would in particular venture to call in 
 question the advantages to be derived from that rage for scientific 
 amusement, which has for some time operated on all ranks and 
 degrees. He would ask what is expected from this nenu union of 
 fashion and philosophy, this alliance of antipathies, this treaty 
 offensive and defensive between natural enemies? " A little 
 
58 
 
 Nor yet in private life alone display'd, 
 A solemn farce in Fashion's masquerade; 140 
 To higher spheres th' ambitious rage resorts. 
 Pollutes e'en politics, and catches courts : 
 
 learning is a dangerous thing." It seems to be the peculiar dan- 
 ger of the age we live in — the distemper of the times, which taints 
 the whole mass of mind, and converts society into a general hos- 
 pital of disordered wits and disabled faculties. It is safer not to 
 see at all, than to see only to be deceived ; as in dense fogs the 
 blind are found to be the best guides. In the darkness of igno- 
 rance we are humble and cautious ; we feel our way step by step, 
 and make use of old marks and established conductors to assist 
 our progress ; but in the glimmerings of superficial knowledge we 
 rush on our danger, because we presume on our light ; we dash 
 against difficulties unseen or misconceived ; we mistake forms for 
 things, and shades for substances ; and are either terrified to in- 
 action by false fears and erroneous appearances, or stimulated to 
 rashness in the confidence of imaginary safety. 
 
 What beneficial effects can result from this superficial smatter- 
 ing of science at present so prevalent ? this duck and drake dip in 
 the profound of physical erudition, which seems calculated only 
 to divest ignorance of her diffidence without removing her de* 
 fects; which flatters folly and frivolity with the semblance of 
 skill ; and heightens affectation by tricking her out in all the airs 
 of philosophy ? Though the author is far from being one of those 
 who would restrict the studies of the fair to the mere economy of 
 the household, the productions gf the tambour-frame, or the 
 
59 
 
 Professors there in pride of power elate. 
 
 Would try experiments on every state. 
 
 Reorganize the globe on Reason'' s plan, 145 
 
 New-temper Nature, and new-model man. 
 
 precepts of Glasse's Cookery ; yet he confesses he has no relish for 
 science in coteries, and professors in petticoats : he thinks the 
 new chemical nomenclature makes an awkward addition to the 
 vocabulary of the loves and graces. The very sounds of oxygene, 
 and hydrogene, and caloric, and carbonic, proceeding from the 
 delicate lips of Beauty herself, operate like a chill on the heart, 
 and a check to the ardour of admiration. It is to be feared also, 
 that as yet there are no very convincing examples to prove, that 
 the fair derive much improvement in person, manners, or mind, 
 as women, as wives, or as mothers, from dabbling in the crucible 
 with the chemist, or charging a battery with the electrician. The 
 author acknowledges that he is jealous of those favoured rivals, 
 whom he thinks neither sufficiently sensible of their charms, nor 
 grateful for their attentions ; he has so much regard for the gentler 
 sex, that he would spare them the pain of traversing the dry and 
 thorny wilds of science ; and seduce their graceful steps through 
 flowery paths to the more congenial regions of taste, and the 
 more amusing bowers of fancy. 
 
 But the accomplished belle of the present day, slights the muses 
 and graces for the more alluring charms of physical phenomena ; 
 she performs with a grave face the farce of philosophical experi- 
 ment, and terrifies her unscientific papa, by mimic thunders, 
 electric shocks, and artificial earthquakes. 
 
6o 
 
 No more her ancient settled system priz'd, 
 
 Lo ! Europe like a compound analyzed ! 
 
 Her laws, modes, morals, melted down, to try 
 
 What forms the fighting elements supply; 150 
 
 What shapes of social order rise refin'd. 
 
 From Speculation's crucible combined ; 
 
 While cool state chymists watch the boiling brim, 
 
 And life's low dregs upon the surface swim. 
 
 What ! though 'midst Passion's fiery tumults toss'd, 155 
 
 A generation 's in the process lost. 
 
 Regardless of his raw material, man, 
 
 The calm philosopher pursues his plan ; 
 
 Looks on the ruin of a race with scorn. 
 
 And works the weal of ages yet unborn, 160 
 
 Caught by the desolating blasts that sweep. 
 With sable pinions o'er the social deep, 
 Life's gentler joys, that spread their silken sails. 
 In calmer seas, and summer-breathing gales, 
 Disaster'd wander o'er the waste that roars 165 
 In threat'ning tumult round Refinement's shores. 
 The public mind with pond'rous cares oppress'd. 
 While Europe's dangers throb in every breast. 
 Can scarce a thought on humbler claimants waste, 
 The drooping sons of genius, and of taste. 170 
 
6l 
 
 Stunn'd by the crash of empires falling round, 
 
 The deafenM sense admits no softer sound ; 
 
 Each Muse desponding strikes her lyre in vain. 
 
 She finds no ear at leisure for the strain ; 
 
 Art's toiling sons their slighted stores unfold, 175 
 
 Each eye is vacant, and each heart is cold. 
 
 Line 176. Each eye is vacant, and each heart is cold."} — Not only- 
 have our native arts to combat this general indifference to theif 
 interests, and the preference of the public attention, which inferior 
 pursuits have so unaccountably obtained, but even circumstances 
 which might naturally be supposed to assist their progress are 
 deprived of all beneficial influence, and converted into a means of 
 depressing their exertions. 
 
 Thus, the influx of foreign art, which the convulsions of the 
 continent have occasioned here, were it the means of establishing 
 accessible public or private collections, might, by contributing 
 to his improvement, afford the painter some consolation for the 
 diminution of his profits ; but unfortunately, from the spirit of 
 j-eserve and seclusion which pervades all our establishments, pub- 
 lic and private, this immense mass of ancient art at present ope- 
 rates only to engross completely that wealth and attention, some 
 portion of which would, under other circumstances, be directed 
 to stimulate and reward the exertions of British genius. 
 
 In this country, indeed, more than any other that pretends to 
 the cultivation of the fine arts, public collections of the works of 
 taste are wanting to facilitate the studies of the painter. The 
 many fine pictures we possess, are dispersed in the cabinets of 
 
61 
 
 Nor harder fate neglected Art attends 
 From open foes, than false affected friends ; 
 Ungenerous guardians^ who their trust betray. 
 And squander her inheritance away ; i8o 
 
 private individuals, who, for the most part, are little disposed to 
 communicate beyond their own circles the advantages to be de- 
 rived from contemplating their beauties. In many cases they are 
 wholly removed from the examination of the student ; and almost 
 in every case where the opportunity of viewing them for the pur- 
 pose of improvement can be procured at all, it is attended with 
 so many forms and difficulties, that he must have more zeal than 
 spirit who would not rather forego the privilege in disgust, than 
 encounter the obstructions which stand in the way of its attain- 
 ment. 
 
 It is not in the cursory and confused view of fine art, occasion- 
 ally caught at sales and auction-rooms, and still less, in that tan- 
 talizing glimpse, en passant, allowed by the Ciceroni, who con 
 duct the gazing groups of periodical visitors in procession 
 through our celebrated collections, that the young painter can 
 obtain from the works of the great masters that improvement 
 which they are so well calculated to afford. To study a picture 
 with advantage, we must see it at our ease ; there must be leisure 
 for observation, and tranquillity for thought ; in the eagerness of 
 hurried examination the mind is confused, one impression is obli- 
 terated by another, till all our remarks are jumbled together in a 
 chaos of imperfect recollections, which neither satisfy curiosity 
 nor improve taste. 
 
63 
 
 Fame*s older sons with fruitless love embrace. 
 But look repulsive on the rising race. 
 To her first ages partial, critics find. 
 That Nature all her stores of wit assigned. 
 
 A few fine examples of the different schools, collected with 
 judgment, and placed within the reach of the student, either to 
 copy or contemplate at leisure, is a desideratum of the highest 
 consequence to the advancement of British art, and an object 
 certainly not unworthy the interference of the government to 
 cjffect. Without attempting to rival the treasures of the Louvre, 
 by imitating either the plunder by which they have been amassed, 
 or the parade with which they have been produced to public in- 
 spection, it would be a graceful act in those who superintend 
 the interests of the state, to assist in establishing a national depot 
 of art, which might supply to native genius the advantages of 
 foreign travel, and secure to us the superiority which our unas- 
 sisted efforts have so honourably obtained. There is more real 
 knowledge, more solid instruction to be derived from the study 
 of one fine work of art, than can be supplied by all the powers 
 of precept, or the laboured refinements of criticism. 
 
 The late excellent President of the Royal Academy (Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds) lost a noble opportunity of setting an example of pub- 
 lic spirit and munificence, which might have been attended with 
 the best effects, and would have entitled him to be considered 
 the benefactor of his profession by his generosity, as well as by his 
 genius. If, instead of leaving several excellent pictures from his 
 collection to enrich the cabinets of his noble friends, which pro- 
 
64 
 
 Heirs of her love endowM above the rest^ 
 By right of primogeniture possessed : 
 But we, dull sons of her exhausted powers, 
 Brought forth in Time's degenerating hours. 
 Cut off from genius, and curtail'd of sense. 
 Are left to prey at large on Providence ; 
 A refuse race, unfinished, unrefin'd ; 
 Drawn from the dregs and sediment of mind. 
 
 In better times, ere pride had yet suppressed 
 The generous love of country in the breast ; 
 Ere philosophic lights had clearly shewn, 195 
 ^Tis vulgar prejudice prefers our own; 
 
 bably stood but little in need of the addition, he had selected a 
 successful specimen of his own powers, with two or three good 
 examples of the old masters, and bequeathed them to the Royal 
 Academy, expressly to operate as the germ of a future collection, 
 they would have formed a nucleus, round which a gallery might 
 liave grown by this time, from the liberal contributions of those 
 who would have been induced to follow an example so truly 
 patriotic, and thereby connect their names most honourably with 
 the arts of their country. Had Sir Joshua done this, it had been 
 worthy the greatness of his character, though perhaps, more than 
 either his country or his profession had any right to expect of 
 him. But his memory has sufficient claims to our veneration, 
 although it should be said, 
 
 " Hoc defuit unum Fabricio." 
 
 i8s 
 
 190 
 
65 
 
 That pure benevolence impartial glows 
 
 Alike for Albion's, and for Afric's woes ; 
 
 High soars on philanthropic flight refin'd. 
 
 In bird's-eye view embracing all mankind. 200 
 
 In better times, when better feelings ruPd, 
 
 The patriot kindled, ere the critic cool'd ; 
 
 Though candour freely spoke, yet kindness cheer'd. 
 
 And fann'd the embers while a spark appear'd ; 
 
 In wit, or war, whate'er the field of fame, 205 
 
 Each honest heart upheld his country's claim, 
 
 And deem'd with equal wound the treason harms. 
 
 That stabs her arts, or counteracts her arms. 
 
 But now those narrow, local views unknown. 
 
 We learn to prize all countries but our own; 210 
 
 Find wit, and art, and taste, and genius given 
 
 To every happy nation under heaven. 
 
 Save just at home 5 — there Nature's bounty fails, 
 
 And critic pride o'er patriot worth prevails. 
 
 O ! dead to shame, to life's best feelings lost ! 215 
 
 Whose taste can triumph at his country's cost 1 
 
 Painting dejected views a vulgar band. 
 From every haunt of dulness in the land. 
 
 Line 217. Painting dejected views a 'vulgar hand^ — Though 
 painting is evidently a subject less within the grasp of the unprac- 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 In heathen homage to her shrine repair. 
 And immolate all living merit there; 220 
 From each cold clime of pride that glimmering lies. 
 Brain-bound and bleak, 'neath Affectation's skies. 
 
 tised amateur than perhaps any other object of criticism, yet 
 there is no topic upon which the ignorant are less reserved, or 
 the superficial more confident. 
 
 The objects of art are supposed to be familiar to every eye ; 
 the forms of animals, the effects of light and shade, the varieties 
 of colour, the characteristics of passion, offer themselves on 
 every side to our contemplation ; and no man willingly admits 
 that he is unimpressed by his experience, or that he has cast his 
 eyes around him through life, and yet observed nothing. We find 
 also, that what is supposed to be received from nature, is 
 more a subject of vanity than that which we bestow upon our- 
 selves ; we may perhaps be content to be thought deficient in those 
 things which depend upon our own exertions, but do not like to 
 be ranked amongst Nature's neglected children, or to be supposed 
 ungraced with those qualities by which she usually distinguishes 
 her favourites. Thus, he whose vanity never affects the praise of 
 learning, does not so easily resign his pretensions to taste ; he may 
 admit that he has little wealth of his own acquiring, but he^puts 
 in his claim to that which he considers his inheritance, rience it 
 is, that all descriptions of people would be thought critics in 
 painting, and that the professor encounters in all societies with 
 those who unceremoniously contend with him in his proper pro- 
 vince, and seem as little disposed to respect his judgment as to 
 
67 
 
 In critic crowds new Vandal nations come, 
 And worse than Goths — again disfigure Rome ; 
 With rebel zeal each graphic realm invade, 225 
 And crush their country's arts by foreign aid. 
 
 encourage his skill. Dissent, indeed, may be hazarded with im- 
 punity where an ipse dixit decides ; and there is no great fear of 
 conviction before a tribunal, the competence of which it seems 
 the privilege and boast of criticism to question. 
 
 To study an art systematically, to trace it by long and labo- 
 rious efforts from its rudiments to its refinements, has been gene- 
 rally considered the most effectual means of acquiring not only 
 skill, but judgment ; indeed, a plain understanding would suppose 
 that the former, included the latter ; and that the same process 
 which improved the one, must necessarily refine the other. In 
 the pursuits of taste, however, this, opinion has been often 
 doubted ; and with respect to painting in particular, it is now 
 unreservedly denied. Lookers-on, we are gravely told, know 
 more of the game than those who play it; and, strange to say ! 
 the best judges of art are not to be found amongst those who de- 
 vote to it their lives, but those who bestow upon it their lei- 
 sure ! not amongst those who pursue it as an occupation, but 
 those who sport with it as an amusement ! What the dull artist 
 cannot hope to obtain by years of assiduous application, divided 
 between the study of art and the contemplation of nature, the 
 enlightened critic receives by inspiration, acquires without an 
 
68 
 
 Dolts from the ranks of useful service chasM, 
 Pass muster in the lumber troop of Taste; 
 Soon learn to load with critic shot, and play 
 Their pop-guns on the genius of the day. 
 
 effort — by lounging a few idle mornings in an auction-room — 
 poaching in Pliny and Pausanias, for classic scraps, that he may 
 
 " With learning lard the leanness of his sense 
 
 or by a pop visit to the Louvre and the Vatican. 
 The moment 
 
 " Some demon whispers — 5trephon, have a taste," 
 
 all the mysteries of art are unfolded to his view ; he falls in love 
 at first sight with — the old masters: 
 
 " Insanit veteres tabulas Damasippus emendo." 
 
 He assumes without farther ceremony the character of a connois- 
 seur, and expresses upon all occasions a laudable contempt for 
 the ignorance of the profession. 
 
 Were that profound critic, and formidable assailant of the 
 judgment of artists, Mr. Daniel Webb, to indulge the world in 
 the present day with his lucubrations, he would have little reason 
 to observe, " That nothing is a greater hindrance to our advances 
 in art than the high opinion we form of the judgment of its profes' 
 son, and the proportionable diffidence of our own*." He would 
 be charmed to find how completely this obstruction to the science 
 
 * Inquiry into the Beauties of Painting, Dial. II. 
 
69 
 
 No awkward heir that o'er Campania's plain, 
 Has scamper'd like a monkey in his chain; 
 No ambush'd ass that, hid in learning's maze. 
 Kicks at desert, and crops wit's budding bays ; 
 
 of connoisseurship is removed ; how very little " a diffidence of 
 their own judgment" operates on the Webbs of the day. To this 
 happy effect he certainly contributed both by precept and ex- 
 ample ; he inculcated no respect for the persons or opinions of 
 artists, who, according to his polite and discriminating expression, 
 seldom like gentlemen and scholars rise to an unprejudiced and 
 liberal contemplation of true beauty." And in a work, (the best 
 parts of which Winkleman roundly asserts to be taken from a 
 manuscript communicated to him by Mengs the painter) he with 
 equal modesty and liberality declares, that " a sketch" from his 
 pen, " rude as it is, will carry with it more of the true features 
 of the original than any you could collect from the ^writings of our 
 painters f or the authority of our Ciceronis f ! ! !" 
 
 Quid dignum tanto feret hie promissor hiatu ?" 
 
 Let it be remembered, however, that these sentiments have pro- 
 ceeded from a " subtilis veterum judex," who talks of " the 
 
 f Winkleman, in a letter quoted in the Memoirs of the Life of Mengs, 
 says of Webb's book : *' Ce qu'il y a de meilleur dans ce livre est tire d'un 
 manuscr'tt sur la pienture que Mengs communica a I'auteur, que j'ai 
 beaucoup connu. Cependant le Fat ose avancer, qu'il n'y a point de 
 peintre que soit en etat de faire par lui-meme, les observations qu'il 
 donne tandis que c'est de Mengi quil a emprunte ces observations," 
 
 ^3 
 
70 
 
 No baby grown, that still his coral keeps, 235 
 
 And sucks the thumb of Science till he sleeps ; 
 
 No mawkish son of sentiment who strains 
 
 Soft sonnet drops from barley-water brains ; 
 
 No pointer of a paragraph, no peer. 
 
 That hangs a picture-pander at his ear ; 240 
 
 No smatterer of the ciceroni crew. 
 
 No pauper of the parish of Virtu ; 
 
 But starts an Aristarchus on the town. 
 
 To hunt full cry dejected Merit down; 
 
 With sapient shrug assumes the critic's part, 245 
 
 And loud deplores the sad decline of art. 
 
 The dunce no common calling will endure. 
 May thrive in taste, and ape the connoisseur; 
 No duties there, of sense, or science paid. 
 Taste 's a free port where every fool may trade ; 250 
 A mart where quacks of every kind resort. 
 The bankrupt's refuge, and the blockhead's forte. 
 
 splendid impositions of Rubens, and the caricatures of Michael 
 AngeloJ." 
 
 Line 252. Tbe bankrupt's refuge, and the blockhead's forte.'] — The 
 real connoisseur is a character almost as rare and estimable, as 
 
 X To oppose the annihilating dictum-of this trenchant critic respecting 
 these two great artists, we have only the 'vulgar testimony and tasteless 
 admiration of such men as — Reynolds and fuzeli. 
 
71 
 
 E'en they, with learning, spirit, sense endow 'd. 
 Whom real feeling rescues from the crowd ; 
 The finished few, on whom each Muse depends 255 
 For candid judges, and for generous friends. 
 
 the affected connoisseur is common and ridiculous ; but as there 
 is no counterfeit of less value than the latter, so there is none 
 more easily detected ; the eye of taste discovers him at the first 
 glance ; and it would be no disadvantage to society if in all cases 
 the impostor were to be exposed on the spot, as bad coin is some- 
 times nailed to the counter at which it has been fraudulently 
 uttered. The true connoisseur is a man of sense and sensibility, 
 led by the love of nature to the contemplation of art ; superior to 
 common cant and vulgar prejudice, his feelings are alive to mei^it, 
 ancient or modern, living or dead : having formed to himself a 
 standard of reference, the result of attentive observation, accurate 
 comparison, and mature reflection, he can measure merit without 
 consulting the critical scale of reputation ; he can give his opinion 
 of a picture without first inquiring the painter's name ; and has 
 even the courage and the kindness to distinguish contemporary 
 talent, though unsanctioned by time or authority. The affected 
 connoisseur, on the other hand, is the dupe of delusion, the crea- 
 ture of caprice ; his code of criticism is a catalogue raisonne ; he 
 talks in technicals like a parrot, and takes a picture-dealer as his 
 oracle of art ; he judges of nature by pictures, and sees the model 
 only in the imitation ; having no criterion of judgment but that 
 which is derived from the " whistling of a name," or the whis- 
 perings of an auction-room; he is unable to discriminate, and 
 
72 
 
 E'en they unmov'd behold the bower defac'd. 
 
 Nor more delight to raise the plants of Taste. 
 
 O ! doubly grac'd to rival worth, and raise, 
 
 Worth " fallen on evil tongues and evil days." 26a 
 
 L , B , H , must th' unwilling strain 
 
 Accuse your coldness also, and complain ? 
 Complain that high in Fortune's favour plac'd, 
 Fashion's chief umpires in the court of Taste, 
 
 blames and praises by the lump ; borne down by the bulk of repu- 
 tation, he has no test by which to assay its real purity, and sepa- 
 rate the metal from the dross ; conscious of his incapacity, he 
 never hazards approbation but on the back of authority, and 
 therefore sacrifices without mercy or remorse, the claims of his 
 contemporaries to the security of his own judgment, and covers 
 his ignorance, and insensibility of the merits around him, with a 
 cloak of affected and indiscriminate contempt. 
 
 But the name of a great master is a passport through all the 
 outposts of criticism; Raphael, Titian, Rubens, Correggio, are 
 sounds with which all the beauties of art are associated. The 
 question is not so much the excellence, as the authenticity of 
 the work ; the latter established, the former follows of course, 
 and the contented enthusiast forgets in the fervour of his zeal, that 
 the greatest genius proceeds at first in ignorance, and rises late 
 from mediocrity ; forgets, that the accomplished master he admires 
 was once an unskilful scholar ; and often bestows on the abortive 
 efforts of his inexperience that applause which should be reserved 
 for the best productions of his maturity. 
 
73 
 
 Aloof in careless apathy you stand, 265 
 And leave the arts unshelter'd in the land. 
 
 So long our passion, and so late our prize, 
 Must hapless Painting fly our faithless skies ? 
 Shut from our sordid view her opening charms, — 
 Lur'd by our vows, yet slighted in our arms; 270 
 While each low interest which assumes to aid 
 Th' o'erwhelming powers of politics and trade. 
 Stirs the whole state to work th* imagin'd weal. 
 And shakes the senate with superfluous zeal ; 
 Will no warm patriot take the Muses' part, 275 
 And rouse his country in the cause of art ? 
 Plead for her present glory — future fame. 
 And save the age from everlasting shame ? 
 
 Line 278. And save the age from e'verlas ting shame. ~\ — It ap- 
 pears somewhat extraordinary, that among the many liberal and 
 enlightened individuals who adorn the senate of the nation, there 
 should not be found one, desirous of distinguishing himself by an 
 exertion to excite the attention of the state to the neglected in- 
 terests of the fine arts. And yet, on what subject could zeal be 
 employed more gracefully, or eloquence plead with more effect ? 
 In what light more favourable could the patriot present himself to 
 the view of his country, than that which exhibits him as the 
 guardian and advocate of those pursuits on which her present 
 splendour and her future estimation so materially depend ? Such 
 
74 
 
 Is Taste the only suffering stranger known. 
 
 That finds no refuge 'neath Britannia's throne ? 2S0 
 
 What hope remains when public spirit fails ! 
 When power forsakes, and prejudice assails ! 
 
 a cause is in itself so honourable, that but to appear in it must be 
 reputation, and to fail in it could be no disgrace : but, unhappily, 
 we have no representative of the Muses — no volunteer deputy of 
 the department of Taste. 
 
 The fine arts are considered as little better than a sort of vagrants 
 — a kind of wandering gypsies, without home or settlement, who 
 must be content to glean the stubble of society for a precarious 
 subsistence, and to whom even the claim of commonage is allowed 
 as a favour. 
 
 Let us hope, however, that the children of Taste, like the chil- 
 dren of Israel, will, ere long, find an establishment in the Canaan 
 of public munificence ; that some enlightened Moses will arise to 
 lead them to the promised land of patronage and protection: 
 already, a light has dawned which omens well for their deliver- 
 ance. Surely, while we are expending thousands to preserve, as 
 mere curiosities, the mutilated remains of ancient arts, we shall 
 not see with indifference our own arts falling to decay ; while we 
 generously contribute to enshrine in splendour and magnificence 
 the sacred relics of Egyptian genius, v^re shall not shut the temple 
 of patronage against the living genius of Britain, or refuse to ex- 
 tend the shelter of the state to those interesting claimants, who 
 
75 
 
 When not e'en praise the churlish time supplies, 
 And patronage in picture-dealing dies ! 
 The tide of fortune in full current view, 285 
 PourM on each upstart trader in virtu. 
 While the skilPd artist finds each prospect fly. 
 The stream exhausted, and the fountain dry. 
 
 No high excitements from the state addressed. 
 Wake slumb'ring genius in the painter's breast; 
 To themes divine recall his truant hand. 
 And bid proud Art her heav'n-ward wing expand 5 
 No patriot acts adorn our public halls ; 
 No Gospel glories grace Religion's walls ; 
 No martial pomps in pictur'd lore allure — 
 In taste alone is public spirit poor : 
 Art's mild complaint still sleeps in Power's ear, 
 And lavish ministers are misers here. 
 
 290 
 
 295 
 
 repay with such grateful interest whatever favour they experience, 
 as to make protection policy, and stimulate the sensibility of 
 taste by the purest considerations of patriotism. 
 
 Line 297. And laws h ministers are misers here.~\ — About three 
 years since, at a time when an attempt was made to raise a sub- 
 scription for the purpose of commemorating, by a naval pillar, 
 the maritime glories of Great Britain, Mr. Opie, an eminent 
 artist well known to the public, pointed out through the medium 
 of a newspaper, the inadequacy of such a memorial ; and sug- 
 
76 
 
 Say, what avails it, from Italia's plains. 
 Her ransackM palaces, and plunder'd fanes. 
 That fraud or folly draw delusive stores, 300 
 And empty Europe's refuse on our shores ? 
 
 gested a plan more comprehensive in its objects, and calculated 
 at a comparatively trifling expense, at once to celebrate the 
 heroism, and encourage the genius of the country in a way that 
 would reflect credit on its taste and liberality. 
 
 Mr. Opie, supported by the zealous co-operation of Mr. Flax- 
 man and other members, submitted his ideas to the Royal Aca- 
 demy: that body, conceiving the moment propitious for making 
 an exertion in favour of the arts over which they preside, adopted 
 his plan ; and, impressed with the danger of total annihilation, 
 to which the failure of all private encouragement had exposed the 
 higher classes of art, presented an address on the subject to their 
 gracious founder and patron, his Majesty. 
 
 This application, the author understands, has not hitherto 
 produced any effect. As his Majesty's beneficent disposition to 
 countenance and promote the advancement of every useful under- 
 taking-is well known, and as it is not to be expected, that the pri- 
 vate purse of the Sovereign should defray the charges of a plan 
 designed for the attainment of objects peculiarly public and na- 
 tional, we must attribute the unfortunate failure of the Academy's 
 endeavours in this instance, to the coldness and indifference of 
 those to whose management the treasures of the state were in- 
 trusted ; who perhaps conceived it no part of their duty to attend 
 to such applications, and thought that the public money (even in 
 
77 
 
 That pedigree'd on proud patrician walls, 
 
 In cloister'd cabinets, and costly halls. 
 
 The time-touch'd wonders of meridian taste. 
 
 In close-kept solitudes of state are plac'd ? 305 
 
 so small a portion as was required to effect the plan proposed) 
 might be better employed than in cultivating the flowers of taste, 
 ^ encouraging the productions of art, or stimulating by public 
 honours the achievements of patriotism. 
 
 Line 305. In close-kept solitudes of state are placed.'] — It would 
 be worthy the liberality and patriotism of some of our distinguished 
 collectors, to set apart one day in the week during the most 
 convenient season of the year, for the untaxed admission to their 
 galleries of every person with the appearance of a gentleman. 
 The curiosity of taste is neither so strong, nor so generally diffused 
 among the British public, as to render such an arrangement 
 either prejudicial or incommodious. The mere idle lounger would 
 soon discontinue his visits in pursuit of novel attraction, while the 
 man of taste, and the artist, would frequently enjoy a pleasure, 
 which their admiration and respect would, to a generous mind, 
 abundantly repay. Or should the domestic habits of society in 
 this country, and the contracted scale of our houses, render a 
 general admission so inconvenient as to infringe on private comfort, 
 still means might be adopted to facilitate the admission of those, 
 whose professional studies make such an advantage of the greatest 
 consequence. The President of the Royal Academy, for instance, 
 might be empowered to grant cards of access on particular days, 
 to those students and artists who might be desirous of such per- 
 jnission, and his character and station would be a sufficient secu- 
 
78 
 
 If cold, and kindless to our country's arts, 
 We shut our eyes, our houses and our hearts; 
 With foreign blooms long faded, fill our bowers. 
 Yet find no fragrance in our native flowers ; 
 
 rity that the privilege would not be abused. What an advantage 
 to the painter ! during the composition of his work, to have the 
 means of occasional, unceremonious intercourse with the old 
 masters ; to have opportunities of refining his taste, of kind- 
 ling his enthusiasm, and elevating his ideas of perfection, An 
 the unembarrassed contemplation of such examples of art as are to 
 be found in the collections of the late Duke of Bridgewater, Lord 
 Carlisle, Mr. Angerstein, Lord Radstock, Mr. William Smith, 
 Mr. Agar, and others. 
 
 This privilege of admission, however, if granted at all, should 
 be allowed to be enjoyed in perfect ease and independence ; the 
 artist should be left to himself, to his own observations and reflec- 
 tions : there is no enjoying a picture in peace while the proprietor 
 is expatiating on its beauties ; all pleasure is destroyed, all im- 
 provement prevented, when 
 
 The connoisseur his cabinet displays. 
 And levies heavy penalties of praise ; 
 Exacts your admiration, without end, 
 Watches your eye, nor waits till you commend. 
 
 Neither politeness nor prudence will allow you to dissent, how- 
 ever erroneous you may think his remarks, or misplaced his pane- 
 gyric ; for in the present day, when old pictures bear a price so 
 extraordinary, to hint a doubt of the various, and often incompa- 
 
79 
 
 If that high impulse, which the bounding soul 310 
 
 Of genius urges to its utmost goal. 
 
 The great refuse, nor grant one favouring smile, 
 
 1^ gild the hope, or glad the heart of toil : 
 
 tible merits, which the owner of a celebrated work chooses to 
 ascribe to it, seems not only an insult, but an injury, since it 
 tends to depreciate his property, as well as to disparage his taste. 
 Criticism may roam at large in the library, and discuss without 
 ceremony, the merits and defects of the poet, the historian, and 
 the philosopher ; but in the cabinet of pictures, her privileges are 
 circumscribed ; there " the walls have ears," and no sounds are 
 safe but the echoes of admiration. 
 
 In this city alone, there are examples of the old masters of suf- 
 ficient variety and excellence, to commui^icate to the student 
 almost as much improvement as perhaps can be obtained outside 
 the walls of the Vatican, were the means of studying the treasures 
 we possess liberally placed within his reach, were they not un- 
 fortunately too often 
 
 With selfish zeal, in pride's recesses plac'd, 
 Secluded from the curious eye of taste. 
 Till squandered thousands leave the spendthrift poor, 
 And Coxe, or Christie, break the prison door. 
 
 -When a celebrated collection is brought to the hammer, it affords 
 a transient treat to the connoisseur, and particularly to the artist. 
 An auction-room is a privileged place ; a sale of pictures is the 
 painter's Saturnalia, when, like the slaves amongst the ancient 
 Romans, he may enjoy full liberty of opinion, and speak his mind 
 freely, even of his masters. 
 
80 
 
 Their various uses, meaner toils commend. 
 
 And commerce finds in every want a friend; 315 
 
 Like plants of bold and vigorous growth, they bear 
 
 Spontaneous fruit, and ask but room and air y 
 
 But arts, a tribe of sensitives, demand 
 
 A hot-house culture, and a kinder hand ; 
 
 A taste to cherish every op'ning charm, 320 
 
 A shade to shelter, and a sun to warm. 
 
 Few now the gen'rous spirit feel, or feign. 
 That prides to call forth genius, and sustain ; 
 
 Line 323. That prides to call forth genius y and sustain.'] — Mr. 
 West, the able artist who fills the chair of the Royal Academy, in 
 his last discourse, delivered on the anniversary of the establishment 
 of that institution, observed, " that the encouragement extended 
 to the genius of a single living artist in the higher classes of art, 
 though it may produce but one original work, adds more to the 
 celebrity of a people than all the collections of accumulated foreign 
 productions." This remark, at all times just, seems to apply with 
 particular force to the peculiar taste of the day ; never was there 
 a time when picture-dealers occupied so much of the public atten- 
 tion, and painters so little ; when there was more disposition to 
 traffic in the arts, and less to cultivate them ; when the possession 
 of celebrated pictures was so much contested, and the protection 
 of native genius so little attended to. Works of art are now not 
 so much objects of taste, as articles of trade ; and a fashionable 
 gallery, or cabinet, is little more than a warehouse of established 
 4 
 
81 
 
 That flies e'en Failure's drooping wing to raise, 
 
 To sooth with kindness, and console with praise : 325 
 
 No learnM Maecenas fans the Muse's fires* ; 
 
 No Leo lives, no Medici inspires : 
 
 reputation, in which goods are exposed to view before they are 
 brought to market : unluckily, however, the living artist is ex- 
 cluded, from all share in the profitable speculations of taste, for 
 his wares are not in demand : the cast is of no value till the mould 
 is broken : life is an apprenticeship to reputation, which the 
 painter must serve to the last, before his name can be suffered to 
 sound in the firm of virtu, or he can arrive to be made free of the 
 guild. 
 
 " Indignor quidquam reprehendi, non quia crasse 
 Compositum, illepideve putetur, sed quia nuper.'* 
 
 Horace. 
 
 Doubtless, many of those persons, who, at an immense epcpense, 
 form collections of old pictures,- are impressed by the conviction, 
 that while they gratify their own taste, they also enrich their 
 country, and take the most effectual means of assisting the efforts 
 of native talent, by introducing the best examples for study and 
 imitation. But though good examples are highly useful in the 
 education of a painter, they will lose much of their beneficial in- 
 fluence on him, if instead of being offered to his emulation with 
 encouraging kindness, they are held out with invidious comparison 
 to his defects ; if they are brought to triumph over him, rather 
 
 * Quis tibi Maecenas ? quis nunc erit aut Proculeius, 
 Aut Fabius ? quis Cotta iterum ? quis Lentulus alter ? 
 G 
 
82 
 
 The patron is a name disowned — disgrac'd; 
 A part exploded from the stage of Taste. 
 While fierce, from every broken craft supplied, 
 Pretenders, arm'd in panoply of pride, 
 ^Gainst modern merit take the field with scorn. 
 And bear down all in our dull asra born ; 
 With bigot eyes adore, and beating hearts. 
 The time-worn relics of departed arts ; 
 Gem, picture, coin, cameo, statue, bust. 
 The furbish 'd fragments of defrauded rust. 
 All, worship all, with superstitious care. 
 But leave the living genius to despair. 
 
 Dug from the tomb of taste-refining time, 340 
 Each form is exquisite, each block sublime ; 
 Or good, or bad, disfigur'd, or deprav'd. 
 All art, is at its resurrection sav'd 3 
 All crownM with glory In the critic's heav*n. 
 Each merit magnified, each fault forgiven*. 345 
 Taste views indignant pagan rites restor'd. 
 And idol monsters in her shrine ador'd ; 
 
 than to assist him ; and operate only, to sharpen the asperity of 
 the critic, and intercept the munificence of the patron. 
 
 * Ingeniis non ille favet, plauditque sepultis 
 Nostra sed impugnat, nos nostraque lividus odit. 
 
 33€> 
 
 335 
 
/ 
 
 83 
 
 With holy rage each prostrate pedant spurns, 
 And in a Proctor's fate, a Phidias mourns. 
 
 Seclude me, Heav'n ! from every light of art, 350 
 Cloud every joy that Painting can impart ! 
 All love of nature, sense of taste confound, 
 .And wrap me in Cimmerian gloom around ; 
 But never more, in mercy, let me view 
 Timander's pictures — and Timander too ; 355 
 "Tis past all human patience to endure. 
 At once the cabinet, and connoisseur: 
 Behold ! how pleas'd the conscious critic sneers, 
 While circling boobies shake their asses ears; 
 Applaud his folly, and, to feed his pride, 360 
 Bray forth abuse on all the world beside ; 
 Hear him, ye gods ! harangue of schools and styles. 
 In pilfer'd scraps from Walpole and De Piles ! 
 Direct the vain spectator's vacant gaze. 
 Drill his dull sense, and teach him where to praise ; 365 
 Of every toy, some tale of wonder frame. 
 How this, from Heav'n, or Ottoboni came ; 
 
 Line 349. And in a Proctor^ s fate, a Phidias mourns.'} — Proctor, 
 a young sculptor of uncommon powers, who, a few years ago, 
 died neglected and unknown. 
 
 Line 367. How this fromHea'v'ni or Ottoboni came.'] — Ottoboni, 
 
84 
 
 How that, long pendant on plebeian wall. 
 
 Or lumber'd in some filthy broker's stall. 
 
 Lay, lost to fame, till by his taste restored, 370 
 
 Behold the gem — shrin'd, curtain'd, and ador'd ; 
 
 Hear hitn, ye powers of ridicule ! deplore, 
 
 The arts extinguish'd, and the Muse, no more; 
 
 With shrug superior now in feeling phrase. 
 
 Commiserate the darkness of our days; 375 
 
 Now loud against all living merit rage, 
 
 And in one sweeping censure — damn the age. 
 
 Look round his walls — no modern masters there, 
 Display the patriot's zeal, or patron's care ; 
 
 a celebrated Italian cardinal, collector, and connoisseur : such 
 was the reputation of his taste, that, for many years after his 
 death, no picture was esteemed in the market of virtu, that could 
 not be traced to have been in his collection ; or that was not by 
 some ingenious picture-dealing anecdote connected in some way 
 or other with his name. On the dissolution of the Jesuits, a late 
 Doctor, of high renown in the annals of picture-dealing, expressed 
 himself in the following terms, to an eminent artist now living : 
 The dissolution of the Jesuits ! heavens, what an occurrence ! 
 what a bait for the connoisseurs ! ! Oh ! that I were young again ! 
 Sir, the only lucky event that happened in my time, was the death 
 of Cardinal Ottoboni, and I ran his name with success against the 
 field for five-and-twenty years." 
 
85 
 
 His Romish taste a century requires, ' 380 
 
 To sanctify the merit he admires ; 
 
 His heart no love of living talent warms. 
 
 Painting must wear her antiquated charms. 
 
 In clouds of dust and varnish veil her face. 
 
 And plead her age, as passport to his grace. 38 5 
 
 To critic worship, time's a sacred claim. 
 
 That stocks, with fools, the calendar of fame. 
 
 Shame on the man, whatever his rank or state. 
 Scorn of the good, and scandal of the great ; 
 Who callous, cold, with false fastidious eye, 390 
 The talents of his country can decry. 
 
 Line 385. And plead her age, as passport to his grace.~\ — To pre- 
 vent idle conjecture, or absurd misapplication ; it may not be 
 improper to state, that the character drawn above is not a por- 
 trait : on the contrary, every thing has been studiously avoided 
 which could be suspected of an allusion to any particular person. 
 The features, indeed, like those of the celebrated Helen of 
 Zeuxis, are all derived from nature, in various models ; but the 
 whole face is ideal, and intended to represent the species, not an 
 individual. 
 
 " Hunc servare modum nostri novere libelli ; 
 
 Parcere personis, dicere de vitiis." Martial. 
 
86 
 
 Can see unmov'd^ her struggling genius rise. 
 
 Repress the flight, and intercept the prize. 
 
 Profuse of fame to art's past efforts roam. 
 
 And leave unhonour'd, humble worth at home, 3 
 
 Nor less in every liberal mind debas'd, 
 
 The servile tribe — the tadpole train of Taste, 
 
 Who crown each block, as Jove in jest decrees. 
 
 And skip, and sqnat around such fops as these : 
 
 Wherever power, or pride, or wealth keep court, 4 
 
 Behold this fulsome, fawning race resort; 
 
 A motley group — a party-colour*d pack. 
 
 Of knave, and fool — of quidnunc, and of quack, 
 
 Of critic sops insipid, cold, and vain. 
 
 Done in the drip of some poor painter's brain, 4 
 
 Dabblers in science — dealers in virtu. 
 
 And sycophants of every form and hue. 
 
 Low artists too, a busy, babbling fry. 
 
 That frisk and wriggle in a great man's eye, 
 
 Feed on his smiles, and simp'ring at his side, 4 
 
 Catch the cold drops that flatt'ry thaws from pride; 
 
 A cunning kind of fetch and carry fools. 
 
 The scum of taste, that bubbles up in schools; 
 
 Savcalls of art, that shed a glimmering ray. 
 
 And burn the snuffs their betters cast away; 4 
 
 As abject, crouching, void, and vile a train. 
 
 As wit cari well deride, or worth disdain. 
 
87 
 
 But turn the verse^ my Muse, indignant quit 
 These common counterfeits of worth, and wit — 
 This lacker'd coin of critics, cHpp'd, debas'd, 420 
 The dross and residue of sterling taste : 
 To hail the few, who friendly shine to cheer 
 This graphic gloom, this cold inclement year ; 
 To greet with glowing heart, and grateful lay. 
 The War wicks, Lockes, and Cecils, of the day : 425 
 
 Line 425. The Waruoicks^ Lockes^ and Cecils, of the day^] — At a 
 time when the antipatriotic affectation of criticism considers it a 
 kind of stigma on the taste of a connoisseur, to shew any favour to 
 living talent ; or to employ the pencil of pining genius, except for 
 the preservation of family physiognomy in the subordinate depart- 
 ment of portraits, the author is happy to offer the humble 
 homage of his verse, to those who disdain to found their preten- 
 sions to taste on a contempt for their contemporaries, and do not 
 forget the claims of the hving, in their veneration of the dead. The 
 conspicuous characters named above, have sufficiently evinced 
 their favourable disposition to the merits of the day, to justify 
 their selection on the present occasion ; and it is to be hoped, 
 that the patriotic partiality, so honourably displayed, will yet 
 ripen to a strength of patronage, and protection, which may 
 rescue the interests of the arts from ruin, and succeed in placing 
 them upon a footing at once liberal, national, and secure. 
 
 Lord Warwick and Mr. Locke are too well known as the friends 
 of arts, and artists, to require any instances of their kindness to be 
 enumerated here. 
 
 G 4 
 
88 
 
 And you, proud Fortune's favourite sons, who guide 
 The helm of trade triumphant o'er the tide, - 
 Ye Angersteins I , through whose expansive hearts, 
 Britannia's commerce cultivates her arts ; 429 
 Who, though well stock'd from Time's maturing store. 
 Can prize the greener growth of Albion's shore. 
 With fostering care the curling tendril twine. 
 And hope a vintage from the grateful vine. 
 
 IMor^ venerable Boydell, thou refuse 
 This passing tribute from no venal Muse; 435 
 
 The Marquis of Exeter (unfortunately deceased since the lines 
 were written in which his name occurs), in affording to the fertile 
 pencil of Mr. Stothard, on his own terms, a liberal opportunity 
 of displaying his powers in his noble residence of Burghley, has 
 set an example to the higher orders of the state, as worthy of 
 record as of imitation. 
 
 Nor, 'vejierable Boydell, &c.] — The claims of the venerable 
 patriarch of public spirit, Alderman Boydell *, rest upon a 
 different, but not less honourable foundation ; whether we con- 
 sider the gigantic project of the Shakspeare Gallery, as a vast 
 commercial speculation, combining views of laudable and liberal 
 advantage, with the cultivation and advancement of the arts, 
 from which his profits were to be derived : or whether we 
 look on it, as a plan originating in the patriotic ambition of a 
 man, already by a long course of honourable industry raised above 
 
 * While this work was printing the worthy Alderman paid the debt of 
 nature. 
 
89 
 
 Who, though uncall'd her inexperienced hand, 
 To aid the edifice thy spirit plann'd ; 
 Yet owns thy worth, asserts thy honest claim. 
 And 'mongst the friends of art enrolls thy name. 
 
 Yet while the Muse's ready wreaths extend, 440 
 To crown the few whom candour dare commend. 
 
 the temptation of interest, and enthusiastically determined to risk 
 the accumulations of his life, in an effort to encourage the de- 
 pressed genius, and promote the peaceful glories of his country ; 
 in either case, whether we view it as arising from the enlightened 
 spirit of trade, or the liberal impulse of patriotism, the Shakspeare 
 Gallery, in its origin and its completion, must be an object of 
 interest to every generous mind, and has claims on our admira- 
 tion, which neither malignity can misrepresent, nor prejudice 
 deny. Whatever may be the final result of this nobly conceived 
 scheme of national embellishment and splendid poetical illustra- 
 tion ; if we reflect on the talents it has called into action, the 
 persevering spirit with which through the most unpropitious 
 period it has been conducted, and the animating impulse it has 
 communicated through all the minor operations of typographic 
 taste, we shall pay our just tribute of applause to the merits of 
 the projector, and hail with respect the name of Boydell, as de- 
 serving to be held dear by every friend of art, and to be recorded 
 with honour in the fairest annals of his country. 
 
 Line 441- To cronun the feiv uohom candour dare commend. ~\ — 
 Though an ambition to encourage and protect the efforts of rising 
 
90 
 
 Shall Egerton* depart without a tear ? 
 
 And press in silent state a plumeless bier ? 
 
 No, though his tomb no martial glories grace, 
 
 No trophies won in wild Ambition's race, 445 
 
 Though no vain pen on History's pompous page 
 
 Paint the deep statesman to th' astonish'd age ; 
 
 Lay open all the labyrinth of his breast — 
 
 What plans he form'd — what factions he suppressed; 
 
 What flames of war broke forth as he desir'd — 450 
 
 Cool'd as he calm'd, or kindled as he fir'd ; 
 
 genius, is not, unhappily, the fashion of the day ; yet the author 
 would be sorry, either to believe, himself, or to impress upon his 
 reader, that there were not many other individuals, whose zeal 
 and liberality form an honourable exception to the general indif- 
 ference he deplores. He has heard many persons mentioned with 
 respect, as not only distinguished for taste, but as displaying to- 
 wards the arts of the day, a cordiality of feeling, which, if not 
 amounting to patronage and protection, at least shews a friendly 
 interest in their reputation, and advancement. In the text, how- 
 ever, he has confined his verse to the few only, of whom such in- 
 stances of kindness, and encouragement to contemporary talents, 
 have been reported to him, as warrant his paying homage under 
 their names, to all those whose liberal qualities in this respect, may 
 perhaps be deserving of more particular, as well as more eloquent 
 commendation. 
 * The late Duke of Bridgewater. 
 
91 
 
 Yet life's mild arts their spotless ensigns wave, 
 And grateful swains strow garlands on his grave : 
 Though crown'd with all in rank or wealth that charms, 
 And lulls th' enfeebled soul in Pleasure's arms, 455 
 Behold him, yet in man's meridian hour, 
 Fly the false glare of pomp, and pride, and pow'r : 
 Decline the court's intrigues, the senate's strife, 
 To serve his country in secluded life ; 
 
 Line 452. Tet life s mild arts -their spotless ensigns wave.^ — To 
 the spirit and example of the late Duke of Bridge water may in a 
 great measure be attributed the important advantages we derive 
 from the extension of our inland navigation; with a zeal and 
 perseverance more than meritorious in persons of his exalted rank, 
 he prosecuted his canal speculations until their success repaid his 
 exertions with interest, and roused the spirit of enterprise and 
 emulation in every part of the country. 
 
 The principal amusement of his leisure in the latter years of his 
 life, was the formation of a collection of pictures, which, in merit, 
 it not in number, may perhaps proudly vie with any private 
 gallery in Europe. But though possessed of the finest examples 
 of the old masters, he was not one of those affected admirers of 
 art, who regard the productions of their own time with indiffer- 
 ence or contempt ; nor did he conceive it an impeachment of his 
 taste, to place as an ornament in his collection, a work of ability 
 from the pencil of a living artist (Mr. Turner), though selected at 
 a price, which even the merit of Wilson could never extort from 
 the parsimonious patronage of his day. 
 
92 
 
 To ope new arteries of public health, 460 
 Propiote her pride, and circulate her wealth ; 
 Call forth a Brindley's genius, and command. 
 To pierce opposing mountains with his wand. 
 Through wondering vales, in liquid course to lead 
 Corrimercial keels, and navigate the mead ; 465 
 Bid in bright tracks obedient currents glide, 
 And, like a river-god, direct the tide. 
 
 When love of painting (late a passion) came. 
 With kindling zeal he caught the novel flame. 
 To joys unfelt before with rapture sprung, 470 
 Forgot his age and found he still was young. 
 Though late he fell, had fate deferred the blow. 
 And left him yet a few short years below ; 
 His country's genius sure, had found a friend, 
 Pleas'd to reward, and pow'rful to defend. 4^5 
 The sons of Taste had shed the grateful tear. 
 And Painting wept the patron, in the peer. 
 
 Gods ! what a glory would invest his name ! 
 What palms perennial spring around his fame ! 
 
 Line 462. Call forth a Brindleys genius^ &c.] Brindley, 
 
 3 most ingenious mechanic and skilful engineer, employed by 
 the Duke of Bridgewater in planning and executing his operations 
 ©f inland navigation. 
 
93 
 
 Whose gen'rous spirit should our age reprove;, 480 
 
 And to the living arts extend his love : 
 
 Who, leaving to the selfish pedant crew. 
 
 The barren bliss of impotent virtii; 
 
 The sterile triumphs which result from taste 
 
 To buried worth in tardy homage placed, 485 
 
 Should to his cares the nobler task assign, 
 
 To draw the gems of genius from the mine ; 
 
 Assist the little lustre life allows. 
 
 And set them blazing on Britannia's brows. 
 
 Give me the critic bred in Nature's school, 450 
 Who neither talks by rote, nor thinks by rule; 
 Who feeling's honest dictates still obeys. 
 And dares, without a precedent, to praise ; 
 Whose hardy taste the bigot crowd disclaims, 
 That chorus catalogues, and worship names ; 495 
 Unbiass'd still to merit fondly turns. 
 Regardless where the flame of genius burns. 
 Whether through Time's long gloom transmitted bright. 
 Or pour'd a later lustre on the sight ; 
 From Rome's proud dome it dart a beam divine, ^00 
 Or burst spontaneous from a Cornish mine. 
 
 Where judgment cool, correct, yet kind reveals, 
 A head that studies, and a heart that feels } 
 
94 
 
 Where zeal, with sense attemper'd, we discern, 
 A skill to teach, and yet a love to leain ; 
 An eye, to truth attracted strong, a mind. 
 By Nature vigorous, and by Art refin'd; 
 Slave to no system — bigot to no school, 
 Consulting reason, while respecting rule ; 
 Aw'd by no pedant — echo to no peer, 
 In censure civil, and in praise sincere; 
 A soul to rescue worth by pride abas'd. 
 At once the patriot, and the man of taste; 
 There, bow ye sons of Art ! in homage down ; 
 Respect the patron, and the critic crown. 
 
 Yet rarely, though such merits now combine. 
 And stars like these are seldom known to shine; 
 Ye generous youths ! by Nature's bounty grac'd ! 
 Whose throbbing hearts have heard the call of Taste, 
 With honest ardour in the lists of Fame, 520 
 Risk every hope, and rival every claim. 
 What though the age on Art unfriendly lowers ! 
 And public apathy benumbs her powers ; 
 Though Painting still deplores her luckless fate. 
 Shut from the church, and slighted by the state; 525 
 
 Line 525. Shut from the church, and slighted by the state J\ — 
 While the contest between the two greater sects of Christians was 
 
 505 
 
 510 
 
95 
 
 Denied each nobler theme the soul that fires. 
 That pious zeal, or patriot pride inspires ; 
 Though Fortune's self with Fame confederate flies^ 
 To crown th' overvalued skill of foreign skies ; 
 
 comparatively new and unabated, it was perhaps, not wonderful 
 that the zeal of the reformer sometimes led him into extremes, and 
 prompted him to reject with horror many things indifferent in them- 
 selves, on no other ground than because they were sanctioned by 
 those from whose principles in other respects he so earnestly dis- 
 sented. From this overstrained spirit of opposition at the outset of 
 the Reformation, it resulted,that our churches were stripped of their 
 ornaments, and pictures expelled as objects of Pagan idolatry and 
 Popish superstition ; the house of God was reduced to the naked- 
 ness of bare walls ; and though the art of architecture was allowed 
 to be displayed in all its capricious varieties, and that of sculp- 
 ture occasionally called in, to adorn the shrine of the hero and the 
 saint, yet the art of painting was proscribed as a profane abomi- 
 nation, unworthy of contributing its portion of pious decoration 
 to the temple, or even furnishing a frontispiece to the book o#- 
 Common Prayer *. But surely, in an age like the present (amongst 
 the dangers of which, certainly those resulting from idolatry and 
 superstition are not much to be apprehended), some relaxation of 
 this puritanical prejudice might be admitted, without any injury 
 to religion, and with much advantage to the arts. As there ap- 
 
 * Queen Elizabeth is reporled to have reprimanded severely one of her 
 chaplains, for having presumed to present to her a Prayer Book with 
 cuts. 
 
9(i 
 
 Still undismay'd, let Hope her light impart, 530 
 And bold Ambition brave the ills of Art. 
 
 Grac'd by the Muse with all her gifts divine, 
 Or pious led by Taste to Nature's shrine^ 
 
 pears no very good reason, why a picture should be esteemed more 
 profane than a statue ; v^^hy a prophet in fresco should be con- 
 sidered a less becoming ornament to a cathedral than a statesman 
 in stone ; or why the acts of the Apostles should not be comme- 
 morated in our temples, as well as the exploits of kings and con- 
 querors ? Surely, it would not be inconsistent with the purest 
 piety to take off this long interdict of taste, and admit painting 
 once more within the pale of the church. 
 
 It has been observed of our national mode of worship, as well 
 as of our national manners, that there is a coldness and reserve 
 about it, an unalluring formality, a repelling plainness but little 
 calculated to excite fervour or to fix attention. Though it may 
 be unworthy of rational piety and a pure faith, to prop their in- 
 terests by meretricious aids, and the author is far from recom- 
 mending such assistance, yet in loose and negligent times it may 
 not be unv/ise to use every innocent means of animating indiffer- 
 ence, to zeal ; and by furnishing the scene of our devotions with 
 objects to stimulate our feelings, and illustrate the events of 
 sacred history, attract those by taste who might not be influenced 
 by piety. A judicious representation of some of those striking 
 incidents which are recorded in the pages of Holy Writ, might 
 warm the heart to a sentiment of devotion, when the best pro- 
 
 5 
 
97 
 
 The soul to purer worship raisM — refin'd^ 
 
 Disdains the common idols of mankind ; 53$ 
 
 Exults in joys to grosser minds unknown, 
 
 A wealth exhaustless, and a world her own. 
 
 nounced prayer from the reading-desk, or the most eloquent dis- 
 course from the pulpit, might be delivered without effect * : 
 
 Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures, 
 Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus. 
 
 A few years ago, a proposal was made by some of our most emi- 
 nent artists, to furnish a number of appropriate pictures for the 
 decoration of St. Paul's Cathedral ; but, unfortunately, it was not 
 approved by those persons vi^hose consent wa.s essential to the 
 plan. However, as an example has been set by the august head 
 of the church in his Majesty's chapel at Windsor, and also, in the 
 chapel of Greenwich Hospital, without any apparent ill conse- 
 quence, it is to be hoped that the remains of this conventicle 
 spirit will be soon exhausted : perhaps the decoration of our reli- 
 gious temples may yet call forth the genius of a British Raphael or 
 Michael Angelo, and become so productive a source of encou- 
 ragement to the arts, as to authorize us to apply the words of 
 Juvenal, and say of the national taste, 
 
 " Et quam votiva testantur fana tabella 
 Plurima : pictores quis nescit ab Iside pasci V* 
 
 * ** Pictura, tacens opus et habitus semper ejusdem, sic in intimos 
 penetiat afFectus, ut ipsam vim dicendi nonnunquam superare videatur." 
 
 QUINTILIAN. 
 
98 
 
 The painter's eye, to sovereign Beauty true, 
 Marks every grace, and heightens every hue ; 
 Follows the fair through all her forms and wiles, 540 
 Studies her airs, and triumphs in her smiles ; 
 Imagines wondrous scenes as Fancy warms. 
 And revels, rich in all Creation's charms : 
 
 Line 543. And re'vels, rich in all Creation* s charms.'] — ^What 
 has been said of madness, may also be said of painting — ^there is 
 a pleasure in it which none but painters know. The painter en- 
 joys moments of delight in the practice of his art (if he truly loves 
 it), which more than compensate for its anxieties, and cheer with 
 a ray of consolation even the gloom of neglect and obscurity. 
 
 Accustomed to direct his attention to all that is picturesque 
 and beautiful in nature or in art, in form, character, and senti- 
 ment, his ideas are exalted, his feelings are refined beyond the 
 comprehension of common minds, or the attainment of ordinary 
 occupations ; he is, as it were, let into a new world, and looks 
 around him with an eye conscious of the wonders he beholds ; he 
 is an enlightened spectator in the vast theatre of the universe, 
 under whose critical eye the great drama of human life is per- 
 formed; he observes with discriminating accuracy the actions, 
 passions, and characters, the manners, scenery, and situations; 
 and though the wants of nature, and the duties of society, oblige 
 him to mingle occasionally in the busy group before him, yet the 
 world is not his element ; he is not at home on the stage of active 
 life ; his mind is ever struggling to escape the claims of common 
 incident, and soaring to those heights of abstracted contem,pla- 
 4 
 
99 
 
 His art her homage, and his soul her shrine. 
 
 She rules his life, and regulates his line ; S4S 
 
 While rapt to frenzy as the goddess fires. 
 
 He pours to view the visions she inspires. 
 
 Presented to the cultur'd eye of Taste, 
 No rock is barren, and no wild is waste ; 
 
 tion, from which he may view the actors and the scene with the 
 calmness of a looker-on. 
 
 The painter derives pleasure from a thousand sources, which arc 
 not only unknown to 
 
 " The plodding herd of coarser clay compbsM," 
 
 but even generally unappreciated by the most enlightened minds 
 devoted to other occupations ; his art may be said to furnish him 
 with a new sense, through which new qualities appear to exist in 
 things ; objects are invested with new splendours, and the whole 
 face of Nature seems to wear an appropriate charm, whether 
 dressed 
 
 <* In smiles or frowns — ^in terrors or in tears." 
 Beyond the poet in the strength of his conceptions, as well as 
 in the force and fidelity with which they are expressed, he is 
 more alive to what passes around him ; external objects take a 
 stronger hold of his imagination ; the impressions of beauty, oi, 
 grandeur, of sublimity, sink deeper into his soul. His art, esti- 
 mated according to its noblest examples, considered in every view 
 of mental or majiual ability, appears to be the most arduous en* 
 
 H Z 
 
100 
 
 No shape uncouth, or savage, but in place, 
 Excites an interest, or assumes a grace ; 
 Whether the year's successive seasons roll. 
 Or Proteus passion paint the varying soul ; 
 Whether, apart considered, or combin'd, 
 The forms of matter, and the traits of mind ; 
 
 terprise of taste, and, without injustice to other pursuits, may be 
 termed the most extraordinary operation of human genius; in its 
 theory and principles unfolding the most subtle refinements of the 
 intellectual power, in its practice displaying the most dexterous 
 achievement of mechanical skill. 
 
 The only character indeed that can pretend to rank with the pain- 
 ter in the great scale of human ingenuity, is the poet ; but /je has 
 not been satisfied with equality, he, has c-ommonly contended for a 
 higher station ; and having been usually judge and jury in the 
 cause, he has always taken care to decide it in his own favour. 
 Yet an impartial investigation, by abilities competent to the task, 
 of the powers displayed in both arts ; of the qualities from nature 
 and education which they respectively require, would perhaps 
 amend the record, if not reverse the decree. What is there of 
 intellectual in the operations of the poet, which the painter does 
 not equal ? what is there of mechanical which he does not sur- 
 pass ? He, also is one " cui sit ingenium, cui mens divinior." 
 The " OS magna sonaturum," indeed, is not his ; but he has a 
 language more general — more eloquent — more animated ; as much 
 more arduous in its attainment, as it is more extraordinary in its 
 effects. Where their arts resemble, the painter keeps his level 
 
 555 
 
101 
 
 Nature, exhaustless still, has power to warm, 
 And every change of scene a novel charm : 
 The dome-crown'd city, or the cottag'd plain. 
 The rough cragg'd mountain, or tumultuous main; 
 The temple rich in trophied pride array'd, 560 
 Or mould'ring in the melancholy shade ; 
 
 with the poet ; where they difFer, he takes a more elevated 
 ground. 
 
 The advantage which poetry possesses over painting, in con- 
 tinued narration and successive impression, cannot be advanced 
 as a peculiar merit of the poet, since it results from the nature of 
 language, and is common to prose. 
 
 The eye of the painter is required to be as much more sensible and 
 acute than the eye of the poet, as the accuracy of him who imitates, 
 should exceed that of him who only describes. What is the verbal 
 expression of a passion, compared to its visible presence ; the nar- 
 ration of an action, to the action itself brought before your view ? 
 What are the ** verba ardentia" of the poet, to the breathing beau- 
 ties, the living lustre of the pencil, rivalling the noblest productions 
 of nature, expressing the characteristics of matter and mind> the 
 powers of soul, the perfection of form, the brightest bloom 
 of colour, the golden glow of light ? Can the airy shadows of 
 poetical imagery be compared to the embodied realities of art ? 
 
 Where the poet cursorily observes, the painter studies in- 
 tensely ; what the one carries loosely in his memory, the other 
 stamps upon his soul. The forms and combinations of things, 
 
 H3 
 
102 
 
 The spoils of tempest, or the wrecks of time ; 
 The earth abundant, and the heaven sublime : 
 All, to the painter purest joys impart. 
 Delight his eye, and stimulate his art. 
 
 From sense reclaim 'd to bliss of nobler birth. 
 He envies not the bustling sons of earth, 
 
 the accidents of light and colour, the relations of distance and 
 degree, the passions, proportions, and properties of men and 
 animals ; all the phenomena of " the visible diurnal sphere," the 
 painter must treasure up in his mind in clear, distinct, indelible 
 impressions, and with the powers of a magician call them up at a 
 moment's warning, like " spirits from the vasty deep'* of his 
 imagination, 
 
 ** To do his bidding, and abide his will." 
 
 From the nature of the medium through which the poet ope- 
 rates, he has an advantage over the painter which considerably 
 facilitates his progress. As verse is constructed of language mo- 
 dified by number and measure, the poet may be said to pursue, 
 in some degree, a preparatory course of study from his cradle ; 
 he never talks but he may be considered as sharpening his tools, 
 and collecting his materials ; his instrument is never out of his 
 hands, and whether he reads, writes, or converses, he exercises 
 his faculties in a way that appears to have a direct reference to his 
 art, and to be a prelude to his performance. 
 
 56s 
 
103 
 
 Who anxious climb the heights of wealth and power. 
 
 The care-cloth'd pageants of a restless hour; 
 
 For him, unlock the springs of finer joy, 570 
 
 The stores of soul — the sweets that never c\oy y 
 
 Nature for him, unfolds her fairest day. 
 
 For him, puts on her picturesque array ; 
 
 The painter, on the other hand, makes use of a medium that 
 has no analogy to speech, no connexion with any of his ordi- 
 nary habits or acquirements; his art speaks a language of the 
 most uncommon construction, and most comprehensive influence; 
 demanding the unremitting application of a life to produce that 
 facility of expression — that fluency of graphic utterance, by which 
 only, he can hope to address himself effectually to the passions 
 and understandings of men. 
 
 If to become familiar with the writings of the ancients, to com- 
 prehend their beauties, and compose in their language, be the 
 proudest attainments of the scholar and the poet; how much 
 more worthy of admiration is the skill of him who pours forth his 
 ideas in the glowing language of Nature ! who becomes familiar 
 with all her beauties, who learns by heart all her characters, 
 though numerous and varied, to an extent that reduces the am^ 
 plitude of the Chinese tongue to a contracted alphabet ; and who 
 can trace them through all their combination*, from the simplest 
 blade of grass in the field, to the most complex example of her 
 power, in that alpha and omega of *er hand— the hieroglypjiic 
 miracle, man. 
 
104 
 
 Beneath his eye new-brightens all her charms. 
 And yields her blushing beauties to his arms ; 
 His prize, and praise, pursuM in shades or crowds j 
 He fancies prodigies, and peoples clouds ; 
 Arrests in rapid glance each fleeting form, 
 Loves the mild calm, and studies in the storm. 
 
 Such instances of premature excellence as we so often see 
 with surprise in the other pursuits of genius, are entirely un- 
 known in the annals of painting ; the difficulties of his art, while 
 they condemn the painter to unremitting exertion, at least spare 
 him the mortification of finding himself outdone by rivals from 
 the school-room or the nursery ; no spring of inspired infancy, no 
 sallies of premature vigour, can snatch from his astonished hopes 
 those wreaths which are never yielded but to the patient energies 
 of time and toil. 
 
 The citadel of art is not to be taken by a coup-de-main ; no 
 forced march of the faculties can surprise it : we must besiege it 
 in form, proceed by regular approaches, and depend more on 
 persevering vigilant investment, than sudden or violent assault. 
 
 The head and the hand are required to act with such equal in- 
 fluence, the intellectual and mechanical to combine in such cor- 
 dial co-operation, that the most exalted genius must submit in 
 the arts, to be indebted to long and laborious application for those 
 powers which no precocious abilitJy can attain. 
 
 If we remark the different periods at which poetry and painting 
 have respectively adorned the progress of society, it may still 
 further illustrate the characters of the two arts. Poetry appears 
 
105 
 
 to be the first powerful product of human genius *, painting the 
 last and most dehcate of its offspring : the one is a plant that 
 shoots up often to its greatest luxuriance in the open field of 
 society ; the other, a flower never produced till the soil has been 
 long laboured and purified — till the field has been converted into 
 a garden. 
 
 Poetry attained to its greatest perfection in times comparatively 
 simple and rude, when man was little more than emerging from 
 the shepherd to the agricultural state ; Hesiod poured forth his 
 strains while tending his flocks on Mount Helicon, and Homer 
 exhausted all the treasures of the muse some ages before the 
 combined operations of nature and cultivation had produced an 
 Apelles, a Parrhasius, or a Zeuxis. 
 
 The works of taste seem to be performed by the last and highest 
 process of the human intellect, when in the full maturity and ex- 
 pansion of its powers, sifted and refined through a long succes- 
 sion of ages : they are enjoyments only to be obtained when the 
 full supply of all our coarser necessities has impelled us to look 
 for higher gratification ; when long possession of the useful has 
 excited a demand for the ornamental, and ease has left us leisure 
 for elegance. 
 
 Great poets, like the stars of the morning, are often seen to 
 shine in the early dawn of cultivation : great painters gild the 
 horizon of society only in its meridian blaze. 
 
 The influence of the poet is more general, more commanding, 
 more important in the great concerns of life : but the task of the 
 
 * Voltaire, Age of Louis XIV. remarks, " Such has been the fate of 
 the human mind in all countries, that verse has every where been the 
 first child of genius, and the parent of eloquence." 
 
io6 
 
 painter appears more arduous, is m'ore out of the high road of 
 human ability, and demands a more extraordinary combination of 
 natural and acquired powers. 
 
 The painter may be said to unite the talents of the poet and 
 the actor ; he composes the scene, and fills up the characters of 
 the drama ; he realizes the visions of fancy, and not only recalls 
 the exploits of antiquity, but revives the heroes by whom they 
 were performed. 
 
 His, are the supepiorities of imitation over description — of sen- 
 sation over reflection ; he writes in the characters of nature the 
 language of action and expression, and approaches nearest to the 
 powers of the Creator in the noblest imij^ation of his works. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 S. GosNELt, Printer, 
 Little Queen Street, Holborn. 
 
/a 2,