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Ifeg Works of Sir Joshua R. containing his discourses, idlers, a 
 journey to Flanders and Holland ( new first published) and his 
 connentary on Du Fresney’s Art of Painting ... to which is prefixed 
 an account of the life and writings of the author by Sdnond Malone. 
 2v L 1797, 30x24, new half leather, corners, (finely bound set), 
 port, Ixxxiv, 3^ 2p, 2 ff, 373p, 9 ff. A fine set. An appendix p352- 
 373 contains a chronological list of painters by Gray. Schlosser 
 p£>75. First edition. nrt 
 
 8 Malone, E., The Works of Sir Joshua Reynolds 3 Bde . 3 • korr . 
 
 u . erw . Auf 1'. Zus . LXX IV , 1o83 S. , 1 gest.Portr. , Lond . I 80 I .Ldr.d.Zt. 
 ( Rrl . 1 nhnp T)pnVftl.Bd.2 u.3:Rucken ausgebessert ) I 80 .-- 
 
 434o REYNOLDS. — MALONE (Ed.). The Works of Sir Joshua Reynolds; 
 Knight; late President of the Royal Academy containing his discourses, idlers, 
 a journey to Flanders and Holland, and his commentary on Du Fresnoy’s art 
 of painting. London, 1809, 3 vol. in-8, rel. demi-bas. de l’epoque (cxxvii-288 + 
 427 + 370 pp.). Portrait lithographic. 180 fr. 
 
 The Literary Works of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Containing his Discourses, Papers in 
 
 the Idler, the Journal of a Tour through Flanders and Holland, and also his Commentary on 
 Du Fresnoy’s Art of Painting. Printed from the Author’s revised Copies with his last Correc- 
 tions and Additions. To which is prefixed some Account of the Life of the Author by E. 
 Malone. Fifth Edition, corrected, in which is now included a Memoir of the Life of Sir J. 
 Reynolds by J. Farington. 
 
 3 vols., 8 vo., with portrait and one plate ( both spotted ); contemporary boards, cloth spines, 
 worn, uncut. 1819 £20 
 
 REYNOLDS, Sir Joshua. The ¥forks, to which is Prefixed an 
 Account of the Life and Writings of the Author, by E. MA.L0NE. 
 
 2 vols. 1968 . Orig. cloth. 
 
 Subscription price valid until 3 O.IX. 6 B about £14/-/“ ($35*20) 
 Price after that date ... ... about £17/-/- ($47 -60) 
 
 Reprint of the London 1797 edition of Sir Joshua Reynolds* 
 works. xc, 7^0 pp. To be published shortly. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/worksofsirjoshua01reyn_2 
 
THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS, Knight; 
 
 LATE PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL ACADEMYa 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 

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THE 
 
 
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 i 
 
 WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS, Knight ; 
 
 LATE PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY J 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 HIS DISCOURSES, IDLERS, 
 
 A JOURNEY TO FLANDERS AND HOLLAND, 
 
 AND HIS COMMENTARY ON DU FRESNOY’S ART OF 
 PAINTING j 
 
 PRINTED FROM HIS REVISED COPIES, 
 
 (with his last corrections and additions*) 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THE 
 AUTHOR, 
 
 By EDMOND MALONE, Esq, 
 
 ONE OF HIS EXECUTORS,, 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION CORRECTED, 
 
 —QUASI NON EA PRAXIPIAM AEIIS, QUv£ MIHI IPSI DESUNT, CICERO. 
 
 VOLUME THE FIRST. 
 
 LONDON s 
 
 PRINTED FOE T« CABELL* JUN, AND W, DAVIES* IN THE STRAND, 
 
 1798. 
 
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 THE KING. 
 
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 • ..Th^‘« regular progrSss^ of • cultivated life is • 
 from necessaries to accommodations, f/om 
 t accommodations to ornamenfs; By your^ • 
 illustjjious predecessors were established . 
 
 Marts for manufactures, : and Colleges fbr 
 
 * 
 
 science; but; for the arts of elegance, those 
 arts by which manufactures are embellished * 
 and science is refined, to found an Academy 
 was reserved for Yc^ur Majesty. .. • 
 
 • « , •• • . • . ■ 
 
 Had such patronage been without effect, 
 
 ♦ • * 
 
 there had been^eason to believe that Nature . . 
 ^had, By sorfe insurmountable impediment, 
 obstructed ouf proficiency ; but the annual * 
 \ improvement of* the’Exhlbitions which tour * 
 
 VOL.. I. 
 
 \ 
 
 1 • 
 
 V • \ 
 
ii DEDICATION. 
 
 Majesty has been pleased to encourage 
 shews that only encouragement had been 
 wanting. 
 
 To give advice to those who are contend- 
 ing for royal liberality, has been for some 
 years the duty of my station in the Aca- 
 demy % and these Discourses hope for Your 
 Majesty’s acceptance, as wdlj-intended 
 endeavours to incite that emulation vfhich. 
 your Notice has kindled, and direct^those 
 studies which your bounty has rewarded. 
 
 May it please Your Majesty, 
 
 Your Majesty’s 
 Most dutiful servant, 
 
 and most faithful subject, . 
 
 £i77 g -3 JOSHUA R^YNdLD S, 
 
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f iii ] 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 fy f “ ' v ” \ , , . .. , . 
 
 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 ; i.J | lM . Tj ’ . : ( ■ ^r: ; 1( . ■ ( ] < *£ . 
 
 O F 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 The Author of the following admirable 
 works, having, for near half a century, been 
 well known to almost every person in this 
 country who had any pretensions to taste or 
 literature, to the present age an account of 
 him, however brief, may seem wholly un- 
 necessary; nor should the reader be detained, 
 even for a few minutes, from the pleasure 
 which awaits him, but that Posterity, while 
 they contemplate with delight and admiration 
 those productions of his pencil which place 
 him on a level with Titian and Vandyck, 
 will naturally wish to know something of the 
 man, as well as of th q painter. 
 
 a 3 
 
IV 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 JoshuaReynolds was born at Plympton 
 in Devonshire, July 16th, 1723; the son of 
 Samuel Reynolds and Theophila Potter. 
 He was on every side connected with the 
 Church, for both his father and grandfather 
 were in holy orders ; his mother was the 
 daughter of a clergyman, and his maternal 
 grandmother the daughter of the Rev. Mr. 
 Baker, an eminent mathematician in the last 
 century, of whom we have an account in the 
 Biographia Britannic a. His father’s 
 elder brother, John, was also a clergyman, a 
 fellow of Eton College, and Canon of St. 
 Peter’s Exeter. 1 
 
 Mr. Samuel Reynolds taught the grammar- 
 school of Plympton, which could have 
 
 1 This gentleman, who died in 1738, left his library, 
 and the greater part of his fortune, to Exeter College in 
 Oxford. — There ; is amezzotinto print of him, scraped by 
 M’Ardell, (from a portrait painted by his nephew, now in 
 Eton College,) which has erroneously been supposed to 
 represent the father of the painter. See Bromley’s Cata- 
 logue of Engraved British Portraits, 4to. 1792, p. 280. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. r 
 
 afforded him but a moderate subsistence ; nor 
 was he enabled by any ecclesiastical prefer- 
 ment to provide for his numerous family, 
 amounting to eleven children in all, of whom 
 Joshua was the tenth. Five, however, of 
 these children died in their infancy. — His 
 father had a notion , 5 that it might at some 
 future period of life be an advantage to a 
 child to bear an uncommon Christian name ; 
 which might recommend him to the attention 
 and kindness of some person bearing the same 
 name, who, if he should happen to have no 
 natural object of his care, might be led even 
 by so slight a circumstance to become a 
 benefactor. Hence our author derived the 
 scriptural name of Joshua, which though 
 not very uncommon, occurs less frequently 
 than many others ; of this baptismal name, 
 however, the Register of Plympton by 
 some negligence or inaccuracy has deprived 
 him . 3 
 
 2 FromI>r. Percy, Lord Bishop of Dromore. 
 
 3 In the Register of Plympton, by which it appears that 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 VI 
 
 Under the tuition of Mr. Reynolds he wag 
 for some time instructed in the classicks; 
 but at an early age his inclination for that 
 art of which he afterwards became so iilus* 
 trious a professor, began to display itself j 
 and his imperfect attempts 4 at delineation 
 were encouraged by his father, who was 
 himself fond of drawings, and had a small 
 collection of anatomical and other prints. 
 The young artist’s first essays were made in 
 copying several little things done by two of 
 his elder sisters, who had likewise a turn for 
 
 lie was baptized on the 30th of July, he is styled “ Joseph , 
 S09 of Samuel Reynolds, Clerk probably in conse- 
 quence of the entry not being made at the time of the 
 baptism. The name, I suppose, was written originally 
 on a slip of paper in an abbreviated form — “ Jos. son of 
 Samuel Reynolds,” — and was at a subsequent period 
 entered erroneously by the clergyman or clerk of the 
 parish. 
 
 4 Lady Inchiquin has one of these very early essays ; a 
 perspectiye view of a book-case, under which his father 
 has written — “ Done by Joshua out of pure idleness.” 
 It is on the back of a Latin exercise. Joshua’s idleness 
 was, his preferring the employment of his pencil to that 
 oi the pen. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. vii 
 
 the art; and he afterwards (as he himself 
 informed me) eagerly copied such prints as 
 he met with among his father’s books, par- 
 ticularly those which were given in the 
 translation of Plutarch’s Lives, published 
 by Dry den. But his principal fund of imi- 
 tation was Jacob Cats’ book of Emblems, 
 which his great grandmother by the father’s 
 side, a Dutch woman, had brought with her 
 from Holland. — When he was but eight 
 years old, he read with great avidity and 
 pleasure The Jesuit’s Perspective, a 
 book which happened to lie on the window- 
 seat of his father’s parlour; and made him- 
 self so completely master of it, that he never 
 afterwards had occasion to study any other 
 treatise on that subject . 5 He then attempted 
 to draw the School at Plympton, a building 
 elevated on stone pillars ; and he did it so 
 well, that his father said, “ Now this ex- 
 emplifies what the author of the ‘Perspective* 
 asserts in his Preface,— that, by observing 
 
 * From himself in 1786* 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 viii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 the rules laid down in his book, a man may 
 do wonders; for this is wonderful.” 6 From 
 these attempts he proceeded to draw like- 
 nesses of the friends and relations of his 
 family, with tolerable success. But what 
 most strongly confirmed him in his love of 
 the art, was Richardson’s Treatise on Paint- 
 ing; the perusal of which so delighted and 
 inflamed his mind, that Raffaelle appeared 
 to him superior to the most illustrious names 
 of ancient or modern time ; a notion which 
 he loved to indulge all the rest of his life. 
 
 His propensity for this fascinating art 
 growing daily more manifest, his father 
 thought flt to gratify his inclination; and 
 when he was not much more than seventeen 
 years of age, on St. Luke’s day, Oct. the 
 1 8th, 1740, he was placed as a pupil undej 
 his countryman Mr. Hudson, 7 who though 
 
 6 From the late James Boswell, Esq. to whom this 
 little circumstance was communicated by our author. 
 
 1 Thomas Hudson, who was the scholar and son-in-law 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. fc 
 
 but an ordinary painter, was the most distin- 
 guished artist of that time. After spending 
 a few years in London, which he employed 
 in acquiring the rudiments of his art, on a 
 disagreement with his master about a very 
 slight matter, he in 1743 removed to Devon- 
 shire, where, as he told me, he passed about 
 three years in company from whom little 
 improvement could be got : when he recol- 
 
 of Richardson the Painter, was born in 1701. “ He 
 
 enjoyed” (says Lord Orford, Anecdotes of Painting, 
 iv. 122, 8vo.) “ for many years the chief business of por- 
 trait-painting in the capital, after the favourite artists, his 
 master and Jervas, were gone off the stage; though 
 Vanloo first, and Liotard afterwards, for a few years 
 diverted the totrent of fashion from the established pro- 
 fessor. Still the country gentlemen were faithful to their 
 compatriot, and were content with his honest similitudes, 
 and with the fair tied wigs, blue velvet coats, and white 
 satin waistcoats, which he bestowed liberally on his custo- 
 mers, and which, with complacency, they beheld multi- 
 plied in Faber’s mezzothitos. The better taste introduced 
 by Sir Joshua Reynolds, put an end to Hudson’s reign, 
 who had the good sense to resign the throne soon after 
 finishing his capital work, the family-piece of Charles 
 Duke of Marlborough.” [About 1756.] He died, Jan* 
 26, 1779, aged 78. 
 
 3 
 
X 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 lected this period of his life, he always spoke 
 of it as so much time thrown away, (so far 
 as related to a knowledge of the world and 
 of mankind,) of which he ever afterwards 
 lamented the loss. However, after some 
 little dissipation, he sat down seriously to 
 ^he study and practice of his art; and he al- 
 ways considered the disagreement which 
 induced him to leave Mr. Hudson as a very 
 fortunate circumstance, since by this means 
 he was led to deviate from the tameness and 
 insipidity of his master, and to form a man- 
 ner of his own. 
 
 While in this career, the first of his per- 
 formances which brought him into any con- 
 siderable notice, was the portrait of Captain 
 Hamilton, father of the present Marquis of 
 Abercorn, which he painted so early as in 
 the year 1746. 8 When at a late period of 
 
 8 It is now in the possession of the Marquis o£ Aber- 
 corn ; and there is a portrait of the same gentleman with 
 his children around him, a small family-piece, painted 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. x i 
 
 his life he saw this portrait, he was sur- 
 prised to find it so well done; and comparing 
 it with his later works, with that modesty 
 which always accompanies genius, lamented 
 that in such a series of years he should not 
 have made a greater progress in his art. y 
 
 On Christmas-day, 1746, his father, a 
 man highly respected in his native county, 
 died ; and left our young painter to raise, as 
 he could, the fabrick of his own fortune* 
 After spending a few more years in the prac- 
 tice of painting, partly in London 9 10 and 
 partly in Devonshire, where many of his early 
 essays yet remain, he became acquainted with 
 
 by young Reynolds about the same time, in the Collec- 
 tion of Lord Eliot, at Port Eliot in Cornwall. 
 
 9 He made the same observation on viewing the pic- 
 ture of a Boy reading, which he also painted in 1746; an 
 admirable piece, which was sold by auction among other 
 of his works in 1796, to Sir Henry Englefield, Bart, for 
 thirty- five guineas. 
 
 30 At this period he lived in St. Martin’s Lane, which 
 was then a favourite residence of Artists ; nearly opposite 
 to May’s Buildings, 
 
xii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 George the third Lord Edgcumbe and Captain 
 (afterwards Lord) Keppel, by each of whom 
 he was warmly patronised ; and the latter 
 being appointed to the command of a small 
 squadron on the Mediterranean station, 
 Mr. Reynolds embraced the opportunity 
 which his kindness offered, and accompanied 
 him thither, sailing from Plymouth, May 
 1 1 th, 1749. In the course of their voyage 
 (during which he had accommodations 
 in the Captain’s own ship,) they touched 
 at Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, Algiers, 
 and Minorca; and after spending about 
 two months in Portmahon, the principal 
 town of that island, in December he sailed 
 to Leghorn, from which place he proceeded 
 to Rome. 
 
 Among our author’s loose papers, I have 
 found some detached and unconnected 
 thoughts, written occasionally as hints for 
 a Discourse on a new and singular plan, 
 which he appears, at a late period of his life, 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, xiii 
 
 to have had it in contemplation to compose 
 and deliver to the Academy, and which he 
 seems to have intended as a history of his 
 mind, so far as concerned his art, and of 
 his progress, studies, and practice ; toge- 
 ther with a view of the advantages which 
 he had enjoyed, and the disadvantages he 
 had laboured under, in the course that he 
 had run : a scheme from which, however 
 liable it might be to the ridicule of Wits 
 and Scoffers, (a circumstance of which, he 
 says, he was perfectly aware,) he con- 
 ceived the Students might derive some 
 useful documents for the regulation of their 
 own conduct and practice. It is much to 
 be regretted that he did not live to com- 
 pose such a Discourse ; for, from the hand 
 of so great and candid an Artist, it could 
 not but have been highly curious and in- 
 structive. One of these fragments relating 
 to his feelings when he first went to Italy, 
 every reader will, I am confident, be pleased 
 with its insertion. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 act? 
 
 “ It has frequently happened, (says this 
 great painter,) as I was informed by the 
 keeper of the Vatican, that many of those 
 whom he had conducted through the vari- 
 ous apartments of that edifice, when about 
 to be dismissed, have asked for the works of 
 Raffaelle, and would not believe that they 
 had already passed through the rooms where 
 they are preserved ; so little impression 
 had those performances made on them. 
 One of the first painters now in France 
 once told me, that this circumstance hap- 
 pened to himself; though he now looks on 
 Raffaelle with that veneration which he de- 
 serves from all painters and lovers of the 
 art. I remember very well my own disap- 
 pointment, when I first visited the Vati-* 
 can ; but on confessing my feelings to a 
 brother-student, of whose ingenuousness I 
 had a high opinion, he acknowledged that 
 the works of Raffaelle had the same effect 
 on him, or rather that they did not pro- 
 duce the effect which he expected. This 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xv 
 
 was a great relief to my mind ; and on 
 inquiring further of other students, I found 
 that those persons; only who from natural 
 imbecility appeared to be incapable of 
 ever relishing those divine performances, 
 made pretensions to instantaneous raptures on 
 first beholding them. — In justice to myself, 
 however, I must add, that though disap- 
 pointed and mortified at not finding myself 
 enraptured with the works of this great 
 master, I did not for a moment conceive 
 or suppose that the name of Raffaelle, and 
 those admirable paintings in particular, 
 owed their reputation to the ignorance and 
 prejudice of mankind ; on the contrary, 
 my not relishing them as I was conscious 
 I ought to have done, was one of the 
 most humiliating circumstances that ever 
 happened to me. I found myself in the 
 midst of works executed upon principles 
 with which I was unacquainted: I felt my 
 ignorance, and stood abashed. All the in- 
 digested notions of painting which I had 
 
SOME ACCOUNT Of 
 
 3£Vi 
 
 brought with me from England* whefe thfe ~ 
 art was in the lowest state it had ever 
 been in, (it could not indeed be lower,) 
 were to be totally done away, and eradi- 
 cated from my mind. It was necessary, as 
 it is expressed on a very solemn occasion, 
 that I should become as a little child.— Not- 
 withstanding my disappointment, I pro- 
 ceeded to copy some of those excellent 
 works. I viewed them again and again ; I 
 even affected to feel their merit, and to 
 admire them, more than I really did. In 
 a short time a new taste and new percep- 
 
 ttf 
 
 tions began to dawn upon me ; and I was 
 convinced that I had originally formed a 
 false opinion of the perfection of art, and 
 that this great painter was well entitled to 
 the high rank which he holds in the esti- 
 mation of the world. The truth is, that if 
 these works had really been what I ex- 
 pected, they would have contained beauties 
 superficial and alluring, but by no means 
 such as would have entitled them to the 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. # kv i! 
 
 great . reputation which they have so long 
 and so justly obtained. 
 
 “ Having since that period frequently 
 revolved this subject in my mind, I am 
 now clearly of opinion, that a relish for 
 the higher excellencies of art is an ac- 
 quired taste, which no man ever possessed 
 without long cultivation, and great labour 
 and attention. On such occasions as that 
 which I have mentioned, we are often 
 ashamed of our apparent dulness ; as if 
 it were to be expected that our minds, 
 like tinder, should instantly catch fire from 
 the divine spark of Raffaelle’s genius. I 
 flatter myself that now it would be so, 
 and that I have a just and lively percep- 
 tion of his great powers : but let it be 
 always remembered, that the excellence of 
 his style is not on the surface, but lies deep j 
 and at the first view is seen but mistily. 
 It is the florid style, which strikes at once, 
 and captivates the eye for a time, without 
 
 b 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
Xviii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 ever satisfying the judgment. Nor does 
 painting in this respect differ from other 
 arts. A just poetical taste, and the acqui- 
 sition of a nice discriminative musical ear, 
 are equally the work of time. Even the 
 eye, however perfect in itself, is often 
 unable to distinguish between the brilli- 
 ancy of two diamonds; though the experi- 
 enced jeweller will be amazed at its blind- 
 ness ; not considering that there was a time 
 when he himself could not have been able 
 to pronounce which of the two was the 
 most perfect, and that his own power of 
 discrimination was acquired by slow and 
 imperceptible degrees * 
 
 The man of true genius, instead of 
 spending all his hours, as many artists do 
 while they are at Rome, in measuring statues 
 and copying pictures, soon begins to think 
 for himself, and endeavours to do something 
 like what he sees.— I consider general copy- 
 ing (he adds) as a delusive kind of industry: 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xix 
 
 the student satisfies himself with the appear- 
 ance of doing something ; he falls into the 
 dangerous habit of imitating without selecting* 
 and of labouring without any determinate 
 object: as it requires no effort of the mind, 
 he sleeps over his work, and those powers of 
 invention and disposition which ought par- 
 ticularly to be called out and put in action, 
 lie torpid, and lose their energy for want of 
 exercise. How incapable of producing any 
 thing of their own, those are, who have 
 spent most of their time in making finished 
 copies, is an observation well known to all 
 who are conversant with ourart.” 11 We may 
 be assured, therefore, that this great painter 
 did not fall into the errour here pointed out 
 did not long continue the practice of copying 
 the great works 12 which were at this period 
 
 11 This observation occurs nearly in the same words in 
 the first Discourse. 
 
 Of the few copies which he made while he was at 
 Rome, two are now in the possession of the Earl of In- 
 chiquin, who married his niece, Miss Palmer; St. Mi- 
 
 b 2 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 xx 
 
 within his reach ; but rather employed his 
 time in examining and fixing in his mind 
 their peculiar and characteristick excellencies. 
 Instead of copying the touches of the great 
 masters, he aspired to copy their conceptions. 
 “ From contemplating the works of Titian, 
 Correggio, &c. (says he in another of his 
 fragments,) we derive this great advantage; 
 we learn that certain niceties of expression 
 are capable of being executed, which other- 
 wise we might consider as beyond the reach 
 * of art : this inspires us with some degree of 
 confidence, and we are thus incited to endea- 
 vour at other excellencies in the same 
 line.” 
 
 Some account of his particular practice and 
 habits of study, while he was in Italy, is, I 
 know, much desired by several artists of the 
 present day; but these I have no means of 
 
 ehael, tlie Archangel, slaying the Dragon, after Guido ; 
 and the School of Athens, from RafFaelle ; both masterly 
 performances. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xxi 
 
 investigating. The method which he fol- 
 lowed when he was at Venice, in order to 
 ascertain the principles on which the great 
 masters of colouring wrought, and to attain 
 the true management of light and shade, he 
 has himself particularly mentioned in a note 
 on Du Fresnoy’s Poem . 15 
 
 While he was in Italy, he occasionally in- 
 dulged himself in Caricatura, which was 
 much in vogue at that time. Of pieces of this 
 description, the only one which I have seen 
 of his hand, is a large picture , 14 containing 
 about twenty figures, being all the English 
 gentlemen of note who were then at Rome. 
 This caricatura, however, was not like the 
 more modern productions in that style, being 
 done with the consent of the gentlemen re- 
 presented. It was a kind of picturesque 
 travesty of Raffaelle's School of Athens. 
 
 13 Vol. III. p. 147. 
 
 14 In the collection of Joseph Henry, Esq. of StrafFan 
 in the county of Kildare, in Ireland. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 stxii 
 
 After an absence of near three years, he 
 began to think of returning home; and a 
 slight circumstance which heused to mention, 
 may serve to shew, that however great may 
 have been the delight which he derived from 
 residence in a country that Raffaelle and 
 Michael Angelo had embellished by their 
 genius and their works, the prospect of re- 
 visiting his native land was not unpleasing. 
 When he was at Venice, in compliment to 
 the English gentlemen then residing there, 
 the manager of the opera one night ordered 
 the band to play an English ballad-tune. 
 Happening to be the popular air which was 
 played or sung in almost every street, just 
 at the time of their leaving London, by sug- 
 gesting to them that metropolis with all its 
 connexions and endearing circumstances, it 
 immediately brought tears into our author's 
 eyes, as well as into those of his countrymen 
 who were present. 
 
 On his arrival in London in 1752, 15 he 
 very soon attracted the publick notice ; and 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xxiii 
 
 not long afterwards the whole-length portrait 
 which he painted of his friend and patron, 
 Admiral Keppel, exhibited such powers, that 
 he was not only universally acknowledged to 
 be at the head of his profession, but to be the 
 greatest painter that England had seen since 
 Vandyck. The whole interval between the 
 time of Charles the First, and the conclusion 
 of the reign of George the Second, though 
 distinguished by the performances of Lely, 
 Riley, and Kneller, seemed to be annihilated ; 
 and the only question was, whether the new 
 painter, or Vandyck, were the more excel- 
 lent. For several years before the period 
 we are now speaking of, the painters of por- 
 traits contented themselves with exhibiting 
 as correct a resemblance as they could; but 
 seem not to have thought, or had not the 
 power, of enlivening the canvas by giving a 
 
 15 On his return from Italy he hired a large house in 
 N.ewport-street, now divided into two houses. Here he 
 continued to dwell till the year 1761, when he removed 
 to Leicester-Fields. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 xxiv 
 
 kind of historick air to their pictures. Mr, 
 Reynolds very soon saw how much anima* / 
 tion might be obtained by deviating from the 
 insipid manner of his immediate predeces* 
 sors ; 16 hence in many of his portraits, par* 
 ticularly when combined in family-groups, 
 we find much of the variety and spirit of a 
 higher species of art* Instead of confining 
 himself to mere likeness, in which however 
 he was eminently happy, he dived, as it 
 were, into the mind, and habits, and man* 
 ners, of those who sat to him^ 7 and accord* 
 dingly the majority of his portraits are so 
 
 16 Dahl, Richardson, Jervas, Thornhill, Hudson, 
 Slaughter, &c. 
 
 The various portraits of Mr. Garrick, those of Dr, 
 Johnson, Dr. Robinson Archbishop of Armagh, Lord 
 Camden, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Rurke, Mr. Mason, Mr. 
 Foote, Mr. Sterne, Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Gibbon, 
 Dr. Markham Archbishop of York, Lord Mansfield, Lord 
 Thurlow, Lord Heathfield,the execrable Duke of Orleans, 
 Lord Richard Cavendish, Mr. Andrew Stewart, Mr. Pott, 
 Mr. Boswell, Mr. Windham, and Mr. Cholmondeley, 
 are eminent instances of the truth of this observation. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 XXV* 
 
 approprhted and characteristick, that the 
 many illustrious persons whom he has deli- 
 neated* will be almost as well known to 
 posterity, as if they had seen and conversed 
 with them. 
 
 Very soon after his return from Italy, his 
 acquaintance with Dr. Johnson commenced ; 
 and their intimacy continued uninterrupted 
 to the time of Johnson’s death. Happening 
 to meet with the Life of Savage in Devon- 
 shire, which, though published some years 
 before, was then new to him, he began to 
 3*ead it (as Mr. Boswell has informed us) 
 6< while he was standing with his arm lean- 
 ing against a chimney-piece. It seized his 
 attention so strongly, that not being able to 
 lay down the book till he had finished it, 
 when he attempted to move, he found his 
 arm totally benumbed. ” 18 Being then unac- 
 quainted with the author, he must naturally 
 have had a strong desire to see and converse 
 
 18 Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson, i. 144. 
 
 I 
 
XXVI 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 with that extraordinary man ; and, as the 
 same writer relates, he about this time was 
 introduced to him. <c When Johnson lived 
 in Castle-Street, Cavendish-Square, he used 
 frequently to visit two ladies who lived oppo- 
 site to him; [Mr. Reynolds ;] 19 Miss Cot- 
 terelk, daughters of Admiral Cotterell. 
 Reynolds used also to visit there, and thus 
 they met. Mr. Reynolds, as I have obser- 
 ved above, had, from the first reading of his 
 Life of Savage, conceived a very high admi- 
 ration of Johnson's powers of writing. His 
 conversation no less delighted him, and he 
 cultivated his acquaintance with the laudable 
 zeal of one who was ambitious of general 
 improvement. Sir Joshua indeed was lucky 
 enough at their very first meeting to make a 
 remark, which was so much above the com- 
 mon-place style of conversation, that John- 
 son at once perceived that Reynolds had the 
 habit of thinking for himself. The ladies 
 were regretting the death of a friend, to 
 
 *9 In Newport-street. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xxvi! 
 
 whom they owed great obligations ; upon 
 which Reynolds observed, — “ You have, 
 however, the comfort of being relieved from 
 the burthen of gratitude. ” They were 
 shocked a little at this alleviating suggestion, 
 as too selfish j but Johnson defended it in 
 his clear and forcible manner, and was much 
 pleased with the mind, the fair view of human 
 nature, which it exhibited, like some of the 
 Reflections of Rochefaucault. The conse- 
 quence was, that he went home with Rey- 
 nolds, and supped with him. 
 
 s< Sir Joshua told me a pleasant charac- 
 teristical anecdote of Johnson, about the 
 time of their first acquaintance. When they 
 were one evening together at the Miss Cot- 
 terells, 33 the then Duchess of Argyle and 
 another lady of high rank, came in. John- 
 son, thinking that the Miss Cotterells were 
 too much engrossed by them, and that he and 
 his friend were neglected, as low company 
 ©f whom they were some what ashamed. 
 
mui SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 grew angry ; and resolving to shock their 
 supposed pride, by making their great visi- 
 tors imagine they were low indeed, he ad- 
 dressed himself in a loud tone to Mr. Rey- 
 nolds, saying, ‘ How much do you think 
 you and I could get in a week, if we were 
 to work as hard as we could?' as if they had 
 been common mechanicks.” 20 
 
 How much he profited by his acquaintance 
 with this excellent and extraordinary man, 
 he intended to have particularly mentioned 
 in the Discourse which, as I have already 
 observed, he had it in contemplation to 
 Compose. “ I remember, (says he,) Mr. 
 Burke, speaking of the essays of Sir Francis 
 Bacon, said, he thought them the best of his 
 works. Dr. Johnson was of opinion, ‘ that 
 
 2p Life of Johnson, i. 217. Johnson, however, con^ 
 tinued to live in intimacy with these ladies, whom he 
 frequently mentions in his letters to Baretti. In that 
 dated Dec. 11, 1762, he says, “ Miss Cotterell is still 
 with Mrs. Porter : Miss Charlotte is married to Dean 
 Lewis, and has three children.” ibid. p. 341. The elder 
 of these ladies visited him not long before his death. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xilx 
 
 their excellence and their value consisted in 
 being the observations of a strong mind ope* 
 rating upon life j and in consequence you 
 find there what you seldom find in other 
 books/ — It is this kind of excellence which 
 gives a value to the performances of artists^ 
 also* It is the thoughts expressed in the 
 ivorks of Michael Angelo, Correggio, Raf- 
 faelle, Parmegiano, and perhaps some of 
 the old Gothick masters, and not the inven- 
 tions of Pietro da Cortona, Carlo Maratti, 
 Luca Giordano, and others that I might 
 mention, which we seek after with avidity. 
 From the former we learn to think originally. 
 May I presume to introduce myself on this 
 occasion, and even to mention as an instance 
 of the truth of what I have remarked, the 
 very Discourses which I have had the ho- 
 nour of delivering from this place. What- 
 ever merit they have, must be imputed, in ■21- 
 great measure, to the education which I may 
 be said to have had under Dr. Johnson. I 
 dp not mean to say, though it certainly would 
 
xxx SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 be to the credit of these Discourses, if I 
 could say it with truth, that he contributed 
 even a single sentiment to them ; but he qua- 
 lified my mind to think justly. No man 
 had, like him, the faculty of teaching in- 
 ferior minds the art of thinking. Perhaps 
 other men might have equal knowledge ; 
 but few were so communicative. His great 
 pleasure was to talk to those who looked up 
 to him. It was here he exhibited his won- 
 derful powers. In mixed company, and 
 frequently in company that ought to have 
 looked up to him, many, thinking they had 
 a character for learning to support, consi- 
 dered it as beneath them to enlist in the train 
 of his auditors ; and to such persons he 
 certainly did not appear to advantage, being 
 often impetuous and overbearing. The de- 
 sire of shining in conversation was in him 
 indeed a predominant passion ; and if it must 
 be attributed to vanity, let it at the same 
 time be recollected, that it produced that lo- 
 quaciousness from which his more intimate 
 % 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 X35X1 
 
 friends derived considerable advantage. The 
 observations which he made on poetry, on 
 life, and on every thing about us, I applied 
 to our art ; with what success others must 
 judge. Perhaps an artist in his studies 
 should pursue the same conduct ; and in- 
 stead of patching up a particular work on 
 the narrow plan of imitation, rather en- 
 deavour to acquire the art and power of 
 thinking. On this subject I have often 
 spoken ; but it cannot be too often repeated, 
 that the general power of composition may 
 be acquired ; and when acquired, the artist 
 may then lawfully take hints from his pre- 
 decessors. In reality indeed it appears to 
 me, that a man must begin by the study of 
 others. Thus Bacon became a great thinker, 
 by first entering into and making himself 
 master of the thoughts of other men/ 5 
 
 In consequence of his connexion with 
 Dr. Johnson, he in 1759 furnished that 
 writer with three Essays on the subject of 
 
xxxii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 painting, which appeared in the Idler, and 
 were, I believe, our author’s first literary 
 performance. 
 
 But though he derived great advantage 
 and instruction from this very distinguished 
 writer, with whom he lived in uninter- 
 rupted intimacy for thirty years, Johnson 
 was not his original preceptor in the art of 
 thinking ; as has been suggested to me by 
 our common friend, the late ever-to-be-la- 
 mented Mr. Burke ; whose death, which 
 happened a few months after the first 
 edition of these works, would at any time 
 have been a grievous loss to his country, but 
 at the present distressful and momentous 
 period is an irreparable calamity to the whole 
 civilized world .— 64 I find/’ (said this sa- 
 gacious and profound observer, whose ap- 
 probation and whose remarks are so inter- 
 woven, that I cannot avail myself of the 
 latter without the former,) “ I find but 
 one thing material which you have omitted 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xxxiij 
 
 in the life of our inestimable friend* You 
 state very properly how much he owed to 
 the writings and conversation of Johnson ; 
 and nothing shews more the greatness of Sir 
 Joshua’s parts, than his taking advantage of 
 both, and making some application of them 
 to his profession, when Johnson neither un- 
 derstood, nor desired to understand, any 
 thing of painting, and had no distinct idea 
 of its nomenclature, even in those parts 
 which had got most into use in common 
 life. But though Johnson had done much 
 to enlarge and strengthen his habit of think* 
 ing, Sir Joshua did not owe his first rudi- 
 ments of speculation to him. He has al- 
 ways told me, that he owed his first dispo- 
 sition to generalize, and to view things in 
 the abstract, to old Mr. Mudge, Preben- 
 dary of Exeter, and brother to the celebrated 
 meehanick of that name. I have myself 
 seen Mr* Mudge the clergyman, at Sir Jos- 
 hua’s house. He was a learned and vene- 
 
 yol. i. 
 
 c 
 
xxxfv SOME ACCOUNT OP 
 
 rable old man; and as I thought, very much 
 conversant in the Platonick Philosophy, and 
 very fond of that method of philosophizing* 
 He had been originally a dissenting minister j 
 a description which at that time bred very 
 considerable men, both among those who 
 adhered to it, and those who left it. He 
 had entirely cured himself of the unpleasant 
 narrowness which in the early part of his 
 life had distinguished those gentlemen, and 
 was perfectly free from the ten times more 
 dangerous enlargement which has been since 
 then their general characteristick. Sir Jos- 
 hua Reynolds had always a great love for 
 the whole of that family, and took a great 
 interest in whatever related to them. His 
 acquaintance with the Mudges ought to be 
 reckoned among the earliest of his literary 
 connexions. It was from him that I first 
 got a view of the few that have been pub- 
 lished of Mr. Mudge’s Sermons ; and on 
 conversing afterwards with Mr. Mudge, I 
 found great traces of Sir Joshua Reynolds in 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 'XXXV' 
 
 him, and, if I may say so, much of the man- 
 ner of the master.” aa 
 
 Letter from the Right Hon. Edmund Burke to the 
 Editor, dated Bath, May 4, 1797. 
 
 Our author’s early friend and instructor died 
 April 3, 1769, and his memory was honoured by the 
 following characteristick encomium, written by Dr. 
 Johnson, and inserted May 2, (under the article of 
 Deaths,) in the London Chronicle : 
 
 “ The Reverend Mr. Zachariah Mudge, Prebendary 
 of Exeter, and Vicar of St. Andrew’s in Plymouth; a 
 man equally eminent for his virtues and abilities, and at 
 once beloved as a companion, and reverenced as a pastor. 
 He had that general curiosity to which no kind of know* 
 ledge is indifferent or superfluous, and that general be* 
 nevolence by which no order of men is hated or despised. 
 
 “ His principles both of thought and action were great 
 and comprehensive. By a solicitous examination of ob- 
 jections, and judicious comparison of opposite argu- 
 ments, he attained what enquiry never gives but to in- 
 dustry and perspicuity, a firm and unshaken settlement of 
 conviction. But his firmness was without asperity; for, 
 knowing with how much difficulty truth was sometimes 
 found, he did not wonder that many missed it. 
 
 “ The general course of his life was determined by 
 his profession : he studied the sacred volumes in the orL 
 ginal languages ; with what diligence and success, his 
 Notes upon the Psalms give sufficient evidence. He 
 
 C % 
 
XXXV 1 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 To mark the gradual progress of our illus- 
 trious painter’s reputation from year to year, is 
 not the object of the present memoir ; but the 
 
 once endeavoured to add the knowledge of Arabick to 
 that of Hebrew ; but finding his thoughts too much di- 
 verted from other studies, after some time desisted from 
 his purpose. 
 
 * # His discharge of parochial duties was exemplary. 
 How his Sermons were composed, may be learned from 
 the excellent volume which he has given to the publick ; 
 but how they were delivered, can be known only to those 
 that heard them ; for as he appeared in the pulpit, words 
 will not easily describe him. His delivery, though un- 
 constrained, was not negligent, and though forcible* was 
 not turbulent ; disdaining anxious nicety of emphasis, 
 and laboured artifice of action, it captivated the hearer by 
 its natural dignity, it roused the sluggish and fixed the 
 volatile, and detained the mind upon the subject, without; 
 directing it to the speaker. 
 
 “ The grandeur and solemnity of the preacher did not 
 intrude upon his general behaviour ; at the table of his 
 friends he was a companion communicative and atten- 
 tive, of unaffected manners, of manly cheerfulness, wil- 
 ling to please, and easy to be pleased. His acquaintance 
 was universally solicited, and his presence obstructed no 
 enjoyment which religion did not forbid. Though stu- 
 dious, he was popular ; though inflexible, he was candid 
 and though metaphysical, yet orthodox.” 
 
 Mr. Mudge’s Sermons, which have been so highly and 
 justly praised, were published in one volume^in 1739* 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xxxvii 
 
 era of the establishment of that Academy which 
 gave rise to the following Discourses, 
 forming a memorable epoch in the history of 
 the Arts, may justly claim particular notice. 
 
 The Painters of Great Britain from about 
 the year 1750 , 23 with a view of promoting 
 their art by painting from living models, as- 
 sociated together in a kind of Academy in 
 St. Martin’s Lane, which they supported by 
 annual subscription. Their efforts, however, 
 were not very successful till ten years after- 
 wards ; ? ' 4 when, in imitation of foreign 
 
 The first effort towards an Institution of this kind in 
 the present century, was made in 1724, when Sir James 
 Thornhill opened an Academy for Drawing at his house 
 in Covent-garden. He had before proposed to Lord 
 Halifax to obtain the foundation of a Royal Academy, to 
 be built at the upper end of the Mews, with apartments 
 for the Professors, &c. See Walpole’s Anecdotes of 
 Painting, iv. 45. 
 
 24 Their first Exhibition was in the year 1760. “ The 
 Artists (says Dr. Johnson in a letter to Joseph Baretti, 
 dated London, June 10,, 1761,) have instituted a yearly 
 Exhibition of pictures and statues, in imitation, as I am 
 told, of foreign Academies. This year was the second 
 
xxxviii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Academies, they formed a scheme of an an- 
 nual exhibition of their works, which, it 
 was supposed, would be a probable means 
 of attracting the publick attention. In this 
 speculation they were not disappointed ; and 
 having thus secured a firmer footing, they 
 afterwards (Jan. 26, 1765,) obtained a royal 
 charter of incorporation. as Not long after 
 their incorporation, however, the Artists 
 who were not incorporated, conceiving some 
 jealousy against this body, resolved no longer 
 to submit to their regulations, and to under- 
 take an Exhibition of their ownj which was 
 continued fora few years with no great suc- 
 cess. To compose these jarring interests. 
 
 Exhibition. They please themselves much with the mul- 
 titude of spectators, and imagine that the English School 
 will rise in reputation.” Boswell’s Life of Johnson, 
 i. 328. 
 
 The principal artists from whom this scheme ori- 
 ginated, were Mr. Moser, Mr. Wilson, Mr. Penny, Mr. 
 Hayman, Mr. West, Mr. Sandby, Mr. Stubbs, and Mr. 
 (afterwards Sir William) Chambers ; whose ready access to 
 his Majesty, in consequence of his official situation, faci- 
 litated and gave efficacy to his exertions. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xxxk 
 
 and to give permanent dignity to anew esta- 
 blishment, his Majesty, in Dec. 1768, was 
 pleased to institute a Royal Academy of 
 Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, com- 
 posed of “ the ablest and most respectable 
 
 26 An Academy had been constituted under the royal 
 patronage in 1767; but the plan was more confined, and 
 the Institution was supported by an Annual Subscription. 
 The new Royal Establishment instituted in 1768, which 
 still subsists, was to be supported by the produce of an 
 annual Exhibition ; and the deficiency (if any) was to be 
 supplied out of his Majesty’s privy purse. For a few 
 years the infant institution required the aid of his Ma- 
 jesty’s bounty ; who, at various times, was pleased to ad- 
 vance for its support above ^oooL The Exhibitions, 
 however, becoming annually more profitable, in a short 
 time were more than adequate to support the establish- 
 ment ; in consequence of which the Academy have now 
 a considerable property in the Stocks, part of which they 
 have lately appropriated to create a fund for decayed 
 artists. — -From *769 to 1780 the Exhibitions produced, 
 at an average, about 1500L annually ; from 1780 to 
 *796, about 2500b The receipts in 1780, when the 
 Academy exhibited their works for the first time at 
 Somerset-Place, amounted to more than 3000! . and those 
 of 1796 exceeded the sum produced by the Exhibition 
 cf 1780 ; being the year of the greatest receipt fjrom 
 first institution of the Academy. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 xl 
 
 Artists resident in Great Britain 17 and Mr. 
 Reynolds, holding unquestionably the first 
 rank in his profession, was nominated their 
 President. Soon afterwards he received the 
 honour of knighthood. 
 
 It was no part of the prescribed duty 
 of his office to read lectures to the Aca- 
 demy ; but our author voluntarily imposed 
 this task upon himself, far the reasons 
 which he has assigned in his fifteenth Dis> 
 courses “ If prizes were to be given, it ap^ 
 peared not only proper, but almost indispen- 
 sably necessary, that something should he 
 said by the President on the delivery of those 
 prizes ; and the President for his own credit 
 
 3 ‘ The two principal objects of this Institution, as 
 stated by the Artists in a Petition to his Majesty, No- 
 vember 28, 1768, were, 1. “ the establishment of a well- 
 regulated School or Academy of Design, for the use 
 of Students in the Arts ; and 2. an Annual Exhibition 
 open to all Artists of distinguished merit, where they might 
 offer their performances to publick inspection, and acquire 
 that degree of reputation and encouragement which they 
 should be deemed to deserve.” 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, *11 
 
 would wish to say something more than mere; 
 words of compliment j which, by being 
 frequently repeated, would soon become 
 flat and uninteresting, and by being uttered 
 to many, would at last become a distinction 
 to none : I thought, therefore, if I were to 
 preface this compliment with some instruc- 
 tive observations on the art, when we 
 crowned merit in the artists whom we re- 
 warded, I might do something to animate 
 and guide them in their future attempts.” 
 Such was the laudable motive which pro- 
 duced the fifteen Discourses, pronounced 
 by our author between the ad of Jam 1769, 
 and the 10th of Dec, 1790 :* 8 a work which 
 
 28 In the first year the President delivered two Dis- 
 course, s ; in the three years following, a Discourse annual- 
 ly; afterwards, only every second year, with the excep- 
 tion of that spoken on the removal of the Royal Acade- 
 my to Somerset-Place. 
 
 Previous to the publication of the first edition of these 
 works, a wandering rumour had reached me, that the 
 Discourses delivered by our author were not written by 
 himself, but by his friend Dr. Johnson. This notion 
 appearing to me too ridiculous and absurd to be gravely 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 otlii 
 
 contains such a body of just criticism on an 
 extremely difficult subject, clothed in such 
 
 confuted, I took no notice of it ; leaving those who 
 were weak enough to give credit to such an opinion, to 
 reconcile it with the account given by our author himself 
 in a former page, in which, while he acknowledges how 
 much he had profited by the conversation and instruction 
 of that extraordinary man, who “ had qualified his mind 
 to think: justly,” he at the same time informs us, that 
 Johnson had not contributed even a single sentiment to 
 his Discourses. 
 
 A new hypothesis, however, has been lately suggested t 
 and among many other statements concerning the late 
 Mr. Burke, which I know to be erroneous, we have 
 been confidently told that tfiey were written by that 
 gentleman. 
 
 The readers of poetry are not to learn, that a similar 
 tale has been told of some of our celebrated English poets. 
 According to some, Denham did not write his admired. 
 Cooper’s Hill; and with a certain species of criticks, 
 our great moral poet tells us, 
 
 4 * ~~ — most authors steal their w r orks, or buy ; 
 
 44 Garth did not write his own Dispensary. 
 
 Such insinuations, however agreeable t© the envious and 
 malignant, who may give them a temporary currency, can 
 have but little weight with the judicious and ingenuous 
 part of mankind, and therefore in general merit only 
 silent contempt. But that Mr. Burke w r as the author of 
 all such parts of these Discourses as do not relate to fainting 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xlii* 
 
 perspicuous, elegant, and nervous language, 
 that it is no exaggerated panegyrick to assert, 
 
 and sculpture , (what these are, the discoverer of this pre- 
 tended secret has not informed us,) has lately been so 
 peremptorily asserted, and so particular an appeal has 
 been made on this occasion to their editor, that I think it 
 my duty to refute this injurious calumny, lest posterity 
 should be deceived and misled by the minuteness of un- 
 contradicted misrepresentation, delivered to the world 
 with all the confidence of truth. Fortunately I am 
 able to give a more decisive testimony on this subject, 
 than could reasonably be expected from any one man 
 concerning the writings of another. 
 
 To the question then, whether I have not found 
 among my late friend’s papers several of his Discourses 
 in the handwriting of Mr. Burke, or of some other 
 unnamed person, I answer, that I never saw any one of his 
 Discourses in the handwriting of that illustrious statesman, 
 or of any other person whatsoever, except Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds j and secondly I say, that I am as firmly persuaded that 
 the whole body of these admirable works was composed by 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, as I am certain that at this moment 
 I am employing my pen in vindication of his fame. I do 
 not mean to assert, that he did not avail himself of the 
 judgment of his critical friends, to render them as perfect 
 as he could ; or that he was above receiving from them 
 that species of literary assistance which every candid lite- 
 rary man is willing to receive, and which even that tran- 
 scendent genius, Mr. Burke, in some instances did not 
 disdaiq to accept. Of the early Discourses therefore I 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 xfiv 
 
 that it will last as long as the English tongue, 
 and contribute no less than the productions 
 
 have no doubt that some were submitted to Dr. Johnson, 
 and some to Mr. Burke, for their examination and revi- 
 sion ; and probably each of those persons suggested to 
 their author some minute verbal improvements. Four 
 of the latter Discourses, in his own handwriting, and 
 warm from the brain, the author did me the honour to 
 submit to my perusal ; and with great freedom I suggested 
 to him some verbal alterations, and some new arrange- 
 ments, in each of them, which he very readily adopted. 
 Of one I well remember he gave me the general outline 
 in conversation, as we returned together from an excur- 
 sion to the country, and before it was yet committed to 
 paper. He soon afterwards composed that Discourse 
 conformably to the plan which he had crayoned out, and 
 sent it to me for such remarks on the language of it as 
 should occur to me. When he wrote his last Discourse, 
 I was not in London ; and that Discourse, I know, was 
 submitted to the critical examination of another friend ; 
 and that friend was not Mr. Burke. Such was the mighty 
 aid that our author received from those whom he honoured 
 with his confidence and esteem ! 
 
 The reader has before him the testimony of Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds himself, as far as this calumny relates to Dr. 
 Johnson ; he has the decisive testimony of Mr. Burke, 
 both in the passage already quoted and in a further ex- 
 tract from one of his letters to the editor, which will be 
 found in a subsequent page ; and, if such high authorities 
 can admit of any additional confirmation, he has (what* 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xl*> 
 
 of his pencil to render his name immortal.*’ 
 
 ever it may be worth) the testimony of the editor also* 
 Let this plain tale, therefore, for ever seal up the lips of 
 those who have presumed most unjustly to sully and de- 
 preciate the literary reputation of a man, who is acknow- 
 ledged by the unanimous voice of his contemporaries to 
 have been a signal ornament of the age in which he lived; 
 who was not less profound in the theory, than excellent 
 in the practice, of his art ; and whose admirable works, 
 of each kind, will transmit his name with unfading lustre 
 to the latest posterity. 
 
 *9 Some years after the publication of the first seven of 
 the Discourses, the Author had the honour to receive 
 from the late Empress of Russia, a gold box with a 
 basso relievo of her Imperial Majesty in the lid, set round 
 with diamonds ; accompanied with a note within, written 
 with her own hand, containing these words : “ Pour le 
 Chevalier Reynolds , en temoignage du contentment quefaires~ 
 sentie a la lecture de ses excellens Discours sur la peintureP 
 Before he received this mark of her Imperial Majesty’s 
 favour, he had been commissioned to paint an Historical 
 Picture for her, on any subject that he thought fit. The 
 subject which he chose was, The Infant Hercules strang- 
 ling the Serpents. For this picture, which is now at St. 
 Petersburgh, his Executors received from her Imperial 
 Majesty, fifteen hundred guineas. 
 
 The first seven of the Discourses have been translated 
 into French, and I believe into Italian ; and doubtless a 
 complete translation of all our author’s works, in each of 
 those' languages, will soon appear, 
 
 I 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 xlyi 
 
 To the fame of the Academy the President 
 from its first institution contributed not a lit- 
 tle, by exhibiting every year a considerable 
 number of his admirable performances ; 30 and 
 he so highly respected Mr. Moser, to whose 
 unwearied endeavours he conceived this ex- 
 cellent Institution in a great degree owed its 
 establishment, that on his death in 1783, he 
 honoured his memory by a publick testimo- 
 nial, which probably appeared in some news- 
 paper of the day, and so well deserves a 
 more permanent repository, that I shall give it 
 a place below. 3 * 
 
 30 Between 1769 an,d 1790, inclusive, he exhibited at 
 the Royal Academy, two hundred and forty-four pic* 
 tures; at the Exhibitions previous to the institution of the 
 Academy, between 1760 and 1768, twenty-five. Total 
 269, In the whole of this period, the year 1767 was the 
 only one in which he exhibited nothing. 
 
 3 * I know not where this eulogy originally appeared ; 
 probably, however, it was published in some of the 
 daily papers. It is now printed from a copy in our author’s 
 handwriting : 
 
 “ Jan. 24, 1783, 
 
 “ Yesterday died at his apartments in Somerset-Place, 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xlvij 
 
 What were the methods by which this 
 great painter attained to such consummate 
 
 George Michael Moser, Keeper of the Royal Academy ; 
 aged seventy-eight years. He was a native of Switzerland, 
 but came to England very young, to follow the profession 
 of a Chaser in gold, in which art he has been always con- 
 sidered as holding the first rank. But his skill was not con- 
 fined to this alone ; he possessed a universal knowledge 
 in all the branches of painting and sculpture, which per- 
 fectly qualified him for the place that he held in the Aca- 
 demy, the business of which principally consists in super- 
 intending and instructing the Students, who draw or 
 model from the antique figures. 
 
 “ His private character deserves a more ample testi- 
 mony than this transient, memorial. Few have passed a 
 more inoffensive or perhap^a more happy life ; if happi- 
 ness or the enjoyment of lifd consists in having the mind 
 always occupied, always intent upon some useful art, by 
 which fame and distinction may be acquired. Mr. Mo- 
 ser’s whole attention was absorbed either in the practice, 
 or something that related to the advancement, of art. 
 He may truly be said in every sense to have been the 
 father of the present race of Artists ; for long before the 
 Royal Academy was established, he presided over the 
 little Societies which met first in Salisbury-Court, and 
 afterwards in St. Martin’s Lane, where they drew from, 
 living models. Perhaps nothing that can be said, will 
 more strongly imply his amiable disposition, than that all 
 the different Societies with which he has been connected, 
 have always turned their eyes up6n him for their Treasurer 
 and chief Mana ger ; when perhaps they would not have 
 
SOME ACCOUNT 05* 
 
 stlviil 
 
 excellence in his profession, it is now, t 
 fear* too late to inquire ; yet, as I find 
 
 contentedly submitted to any other authority. His early 
 society was composed of men whose names are well 
 known in the world ; such as Hogarth, Rysbrach, Rou- 
 biliac, Wills, Ellis, Vanderbank, &c. 
 
 “ Though he had outlived all the companions of his 
 youth, he might to the last have boasted of a succession 
 equally numerous; for all that knew him, were his 
 friends. 
 
 “ When he was appointed Keeper of the Royal Aca- 
 demy, his conduct was exemplary, and worthy to be 
 imitated by whoever shall succeed him in that office. As 
 he loved the employment of teaching, he could not fail of 
 discharging that duty with diligence. By the propriety 
 of his conduct he united the love and respect of the Stu- 
 dents : he kept order in the Academy, and made himself 
 respected, without the austerity or importance of office; 
 all noise and tumult immediately ceased on his appear- 
 ance ; at the same time there was nothing forbidding in 
 his manner, which might restrain the pupils from freely 
 applying to him for advice or assistance. 
 
 “ All this excellence had a firm foundation; he was a 
 man of sincere and ardent piety, and has left an illustrious 
 example of the exactness with which the subordinate 
 duties may be expected to be discharged by him, whose 
 first care is to please God. 
 
 “ He has left one daughter behind him, who has dis- 
 tinguished herself by the admirable manner in which she 
 paiiits and composes Pieces of Flowers, of which many 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS* xl i* 
 
 among his papers a few slight hints upon 
 this subject, in which he speaks of his merits 
 and defects with that candour which strongly 
 marked his character, though they are only 
 detached thoughts, and did not receive his 
 final revision and correction, I am unwilling 
 to suppress them : 
 
 ** Not having the advantage of an early 
 academical education, I never had the faci- 
 lity of drawing the naked figure, which an 
 artist ought to have. It appeared to me too 
 late, when I went to Italy and began to feel 
 my own deficiencies, to endeavour to acquire 
 that readiness of invention which I observed 
 others to possess. I consoled myself, how- 
 ever, by remarking that these ready inventors, 
 are extremely apt to acquiese in imperfection % 
 and that if I had not their facility, I should 
 
 samples have been seen in the Exhibitions. She has had 
 the honour of being much employed in this way by their 
 Majesties, and for her extraordinary merit has been re* 
 eeived into the Royal Academy.” 
 
 YOL. I, d 
 
1 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 for this very reason be more likely to avoid 
 the defect which too often accompanies it ; 
 a trite and common-place mode of invention,. 
 How difficult it is for the artist who pos- 
 sesses this facility, to guard against careless- 
 ness and common-place invention, is well 
 known, and in a kindred art Metastasio is an 
 eminent instance; who always complained 
 of the great difficulty he found in attaining 
 correctness, in consequence of having been 
 in his youth an Improvvisatore . — Having 
 this defect constantly in my mind, I never 
 was contented with common-place attitudes** 
 or inventions of any kind.- - - 
 
 ** Our great artist’s excellence in this respect has been 
 highly extolled by the late Lord Orford : 
 
 “ How painting has rekindled from its embers, (says 
 that lively and ingenious writer,) the works of many 
 living artists demonstrate. The prints after the works of 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds have spread his fame to Italy, 
 where they havd not at present [1780] a single painter 
 that can pretend to rival an imagination so fertile, that the 
 ATTITUDES of his portraits areas various as those of his- 
 tory. In what age were paternal despair and the hor- 
 
 a 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. It 
 
 S€ I considered myself as playing a great 
 game, and, instead of beginning to save 
 money, I laid it out faster than I got it, in 
 purchasing the best examples of art that 
 could be procured; for I even borrowed 
 money for this purpose. The possessing 
 portraits by Titian, Vandyck, Rembrandt, 
 &c. I considered as the best kind of wealth. 
 By studying carefully the works of great 
 masters, this advantage is obtained; we 
 find that certain niceties of expression are 
 capable of being executed, which otherwise 
 we might suppose beyond the reach of art. 
 This gives us a confidence in ourselves ; and 
 we are thus incited to endeavour at not only 
 the same happiness of execution, but also at 
 
 rours of death pronounced with more expressive accents 
 than in his picture of Count Ugolino ? When was infan- 
 tine loveliness, or embryo-passions, touched with sweeter 
 truth, than in his portraits of Miss Price and the baby 
 Jupiter ?” — “ The exuberance of his inventions (the 
 same writer observes, in a note,) will be the grammar of 
 future painters of portraits . 59 Anecdotes of Painting, 
 &c. vol. iv. Advertisement. 
 
 d % 
 
in SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 other congenial excellencies. Study indeed 
 consists in learning to see nature, and may 
 be called the art of using other men’s minds. 
 By this kind of contemplation and exercise 
 we are taught to think in their way, and 
 sometimes to attain their excellence. Thus, 
 for instance, if I had never seen any of the 
 works of Correggio, I should never perhaps 
 have remarked in nature the expression 
 which I find in one of his pieces ; or if I had 
 remarked it, I might have thought it too 
 difficult or perhaps impossible to be executed. 
 
 “ My success, and continual improvement 
 in my art, (if I may be allowed that expres- 
 sion,) may be ascribed in a good measure to 
 a principle which I will boldly recommend 
 to imitation j I mean a principle of honesty ; 
 which, in this as in all other instances, is, 
 according to the vulgar proverb, certainly 
 the best policy : I always endeavoured to 
 do my best. Great or vulgar, good subjects 
 or bad, all had nature; by the exact repre- 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, 
 
 liii 
 
 sentation of which, or even by the endeavour 
 to give such a representation, the painter 
 cannot but improve in his art. - - - 
 
 “ My principal labour was employed on 
 the whole together ; 3J and I was never weary 
 of changing, and trying different modes and 
 different effects. I had always some scheme 
 
 33 This alfo, if I recollect right, is said to have been the 
 principal object of Correggio ; and, however toilsome, 
 is in various places strongly recommended by our author. 
 “ A steady attention to the general effect, (as he has ob- 
 served in his fourteenth Discourse,) takes up more time, 
 and is much more laborious to the mind, than any mode 
 of high finishing, or smoothness, without such attention.’* 
 
 Again in the eleventh Discourse : 
 
 “ There is nothing in our art which enforces such con- 
 tinued exertion and circumspection, as an attention to the 
 general effect of the whole, It requires much study and 
 much practice ; it requires the painter’s entire mind ; 
 whereas the parts may be finishing by nice touches, 
 while his mind is engaged on other matters : he may even 
 hear a play or a novel read, without much disturbance. 
 The Artist who flatters his own indolence, will continu- 
 ally find himself evading this active exertion, and applying 
 his thoughts to the ease and laziness of highly finishing 
 the parts ; producing at last what Cowley calis»*““ labo- 
 rious effects of idleness,” 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 liy- 
 
 in my mind, and a perpetual desire to ad- 
 vance. By constantly endeavouring to do 
 my best, I acquired a power of doing that 
 with spontaneous facility, which at first was 
 the effort of my whole mind; and my 
 reward was threefold ; the satisfaction results 
 ing from acting on this just principle, im- 
 provement in my art, and the pleasure derived 
 from a constant pursuit after excellence, 
 
 I was always willing to believe that 
 my uncertainty of proceeding in my works, 
 that is, my never being sure of my hand, 
 and my frequent alterations, arose from a 
 refined taste, which could not acquiesce in 
 any thing short of a high degree of excellence. 
 I had not an opportunity of being early 
 initiated in the principles of colouring ; no 
 man indeed could teach me. If I have 
 never been settled with respect to colouring, 
 let it at the same time be remembered, that 
 my unsteadiness in this respect proceeded 
 from an inordinate desire to possess every 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, U 
 
 kind of excellence that I saw in the works 
 of others ; without considering that there is 
 in colouring, as in style, excellencies which 
 are incompatible with each other : how- 
 
 ever, this pursuit, or indeed any similar 
 pursuit, prevents the artist from being tired 
 of his art.- - -We all know how often those 
 masters who sought after colouring, changed 
 their manner ; whilst others, merely from not 
 seeing various modes, acquiesced all their 
 lives in that with which they set out. On 
 the contrary, I tried every effect of colour, 
 and by leaving out every colour in its turn, 
 shewed every colour that I could do without 
 it. As I alternately left out every colour, I 
 tried every new colour j and often, as is well 
 known, failed. The former practice, I am 
 aware, may be compared by those whose 
 first object is ridicule, to that of the poet 
 mentioned in the Spectator, who in a poem 
 of twenty-four books contrived in each 
 book to leave out a letter. But I was influ- 
 enced by no such idle or foolish affect a- 
 
Ivl 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 tion. My fickleness in the mode of colouring 
 arose from an eager desire to attain the highest 
 excellence . 34 This is the only merit I can 
 assume to myself from my conduct in that 
 respect. ” 
 
 34 Our author was so anxious to discover the method 
 used by the Venetian Painters, that he destroyed some 
 valuable ancient pictures by rubbing out the various layers 
 of colour, in order to investigate and ascertain it. 
 
 Shortly before the first edition of these works was pub- 
 lished, some hopes were entertained that the process 
 employed by the great colourists of former times had been 
 preserved ; and I was furnished by an eminent artist 
 with an account of the manner in which it had been 
 discovered. Among the manuscript papers of Captain 
 Morley, who had travelled into Italy in the beginning of 
 the present century, was found one supposed to contain 
 the process of colouring used by Titian, the Bassans, and 
 other masters of the Venetian school; which appeared to 
 several of our principal artists and connoisseurs so likely 
 to be genuine, that they gave the possessor of these papers 
 a valuable consideration for the secret that they con- 
 tained, which was communicated to them under an obliga- 
 tion not to divulge it. As far however as it has hitherto 
 been tried, this process has not, I conceive, answered the 
 expectations that were previously entertained concerning it. 
 
 After the gross and unparalleled imposition practised 
 on the publick in the year 1795, by rneans of forged 
 JVlanuscripts under the name of Shakspeare, (the fabric 
 
 3 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. Ivli 
 
 Thus ingenuously and modestly has this 
 great painter spoken of himself in the few 
 
 cation of which, though detected , found a puny, but per- 
 fectly homogeneous, champion, whose mortified vanity 
 prompted him to abet and countenance that silly fiction, 
 by confident and groundless assertions, false quotations, 
 and arguments still more flimsy and absurd than the im- 
 posture itself,) after such a deception, it was not at all 
 surprising that the cautious inquirer should have been slow 
 in giving credit to any new discov ery of ancient manuscripts 
 but the cases were extremely different ; for whether 
 the process of colouring said to be discovered was the 
 genuine method of the Venetian School, or at least one 
 similar in its effects, was a matter of experiment, and 
 easily ascertained. Some experiments have accordingly 
 been made, and it seems, with no great success. How- 
 ever ancient therefore these documents may he, they 
 hitherto appear to be of little value. 
 
 It is highly probable that the great colourists of former 
 times used certain methods in mixing and laying on 
 their colours, which they did not communicate to others, 
 or at least did not set down in writing ; their scholars con- 
 tenting themselves with adopting as much of the practice 
 of their masters as inspection and close observation would 
 give them ; and that by being thus confined to oral tradi- 
 tion, the mode which they followed, has been lost. Our 
 great painter, however, had undoubtedly attained a part of 
 the ancient process used in the V enetian School ; and by 
 various methods of his own invention produced a similar, 
 though perhaps not quite so brilliant an effect of colour. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Ivin 
 
 fragments which I have found on this inte- 
 resting subject. On the last topick he 
 might with great truth have added, that he 
 not only always aspired to attain the highest 
 excellence of colouring, but that in very 
 many instances he did attain it ; there be- 
 ing no one particular in which he left his 
 contemporaries so far behind him, as the 
 richness and mellowness of his tints, when 
 his colours w r ere successful and perma- 
 nent . 35 Had he chosen to walk in the 
 
 55 The set of pictures which he painted as designs for 
 the window of New College Chapel, are eminent and 
 brilliant instances of the truth of this observation. How- 
 ever high expectation may have been raised by 
 Warton’s very elegant verses on this subject, it will be 
 fully gratified by the view of these admirable pieces. 
 They now form a beautiful decoration of that apart- 
 ment, which formerly was appropriated to the exhibit 
 tion of the various works of this great master, after 
 they were dismissed from his painting-room. 
 
 As the West Window of New College Chapel, deco- 
 rated as it now is, will long continue to add to this great 
 Painter’s reputation, his own observations on this sub- 
 ject may not be unacceptable to the numerous visitors 
 who shall hereafter be induced to view it. The original 
 scheme, it appears, was, to distribute the various figures 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, Ii x 
 
 common beaten path, he could have found 
 no difficulty in following the ordinary me- 
 thod pursued by much inferior artists ; by 
 
 In different places in the Chapel, but this plan was 
 abandoned, as it should seem on our author’s sugges- 
 tion ; and on his suggestion also the stone-work of the 
 window was altered, so as to admit one large compart- 
 ment for paintings in the centre : an alteration in effect- 
 ing which the gentleman to whom Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 addressed two letters on this occasion, who was then a 
 fellow of New College, was actively instrumental. From 
 these letters, which were obligingly communicated to 
 me by Ozias Humphry, Esq. R. A. I subjoin the fol- 
 lowing extracts, in confirmation of what has been now 
 stated. 
 
 Leicester-Fields, Dec. 27, 1777. 
 u I am extremely glad to hear the Society have deter- 
 mined to place all our works together in the West Win- 
 dow, to make one complete whole, instead of being dis- 
 tributed in different parts of the Chapel. In my con- 
 versation with Mr. Jervais about it, he thought it might 
 be possible to change the stone-work of the window, so 
 as to make a principal predominant space in the centre, 
 without which it will be difficult to produce a great effect. 
 As Mr. Jervais is now at Oxford, I need add no more ; 
 I have already expressed to him how much I wished this- 
 alteration might be practicable.”-- 
 
 In a subsequent letter (Jan. 9th, 1778,) he says,—* 
 ts Supposing this scheme to take place, [the alteration 
 above proposed,] my idea is, to paint in the great space 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 !x 
 
 deviating from it, he attained that grace 
 which sheds such a lustre on far the greater 
 part of his works . 36 
 
 in the centre, Christ in the manger, on the principle that 
 Correggio has done it, in the famous picture called the 
 Notie.; making all the light proceed from Christ. These 
 tricks of the art, as they may be called, seem to be 
 more properly adapted to glass painting, than any other 
 kind- This middle space will be filled with the Virgin, 
 Christ, Joseph, and Angels ; the two smaller spaces 
 ©n each side I shall fill with the Shepherds coming 
 to worship ; and the seven divisions below with the 
 figures of Faith, Hope, and Charity, and the Four Car- 
 dinal Virtues ; which will make a proper rustick base 
 or foundation for the support of the Christian Religion. 
 Upon the whole it appears to me, that chance has pre- 
 sented to us materials so well adapted to our purpose, 
 that if we had the whole window of our own invention 
 sod contrivance, we should not probably have succeeded 
 better.” 
 
 The original Picture of the Nativity, a copy of which 
 occupies the middle compartment of this window, is in 
 the collection of the Duke of Rutland. 
 
 16 A notion prevails concerning this great painter, 
 that in the majority of his works the colours have entirely 
 faded and perished ; but this is by no means the case : 
 far the greater part of his pictures have preserved their 
 original hue, and are in perfect preservation. Those 
 which have failed, have been mentioned again and again, 
 *nd thus have been multiplied in the imaginations of 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 1x5 
 
 Though the landscapes which he has given 
 in the back-ground of many of his portraits, 
 are eminently beautiful, he seldom exercised 
 his hand in regular landscape-painting ; his 
 only works of this description, that I know 
 of, being one in the collection of Sir Brooke 
 Boothby, Bart., another in that of Lord Pel- 
 ham at Stanmer, and the third a View from 
 Richmond-Hill, in the collection of the 
 Earl of Inchiquin. A few more may per- 
 haps be found in other collections. But in 
 the historical department he took a wider 
 range ; and by his successful exertions in that 
 higher branch of his art, he has not only 
 enriched various cabinets at home, but ex* 
 
 connoisseurs. — Nor should it be forgotten, that the pic- 
 tures of other considerable painters have not been more 
 durable than his. As many perished pictures of Gains- 
 borough, I have been informed, may be found in cabi- 
 nets, as of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Even the great colour- 
 ists of antiquity were not entirely free from this defect. 
 Several pictures of Titian and Vandyck, it is well known, 
 have wholly lost that brilliancy which, without doubt, they 
 #nce possessed. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 IxSi 
 
 tended the fame of the Englifli School to 
 foreign countries , 37 
 
 37 The most considerable of hi$ Historical and Mis- 
 cellaneous Pieces are the following ; to which, for the 
 sake of posterity, I have adjoined the prices paid for them, 
 and the purchasers 5 names, where I could discover them* 
 
 Subjects. Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 Garick, between Tragedy 
 and Comedy 
 
 Thais [Emily Pott]. . , . 
 
 Cleopatra dissolving the 
 pearl [Kitty Fisher]. . . 
 
 Venus, chiding Cupid for 
 learning arithmetick. . . 
 
 Another,— -the same subject. 
 
 A Captain of Banditti. . . 
 
 A Shepherd Boy 
 
 Count Ugolino. ...... 
 
 A boy in a Venetian dress. . 
 
 Lesbia 
 
 Wang y Tong, a Chinese. 
 
 A Gipsy telling fortunes. . 
 
 A boy with a drawing in his 
 hand. . . 
 
 300 Gs* The Earl of Hali- 
 fax. Since his 
 death sold to Mr. 
 Angerstein, for 
 250 Guineas. 
 
 100 « * Hon. Mr. Greville. 
 
 100 . . The Earl of Char- 
 lemont. 
 
 100 . • Sir B.Boothby,Bt. 
 35 . . John Crewe, Esq. 
 ,50 . . Lord Irwin. 
 
 400 . . The D. of Dorset. 
 — - . . Do. 
 
 75 • ■ Do- 
 
 70 . . Do. 
 
 350 . . Do. 
 
 50 . . Do. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, Ixiii 
 
 During the brilliant career which he ran, 3S 
 his profession did not permit him often to 
 make excursions from town. In the sum- 
 mer, however, he at different periods visited 
 
 Subjects. Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 Covent-Garden Cupid. . . . . The D. of Dorset, 
 
 Cupid, as a link-boy. .... _ . . Do. 
 
 A boy with a child on his 
 back, and cabbagemets in 
 
 his hand — — . . Do. 
 
 The calling of Samuel. . . 50 Gs. Do. 
 
 Another, — the fame fubject. 75 . . Earl of Darniey* 
 Mr. and Mrs. Garrick, sit- 
 ting on agarden-seat; Mr. 
 
 Garrick reading to her. . 150 . . The Hon. T. Eitz- 
 
 maurice. 
 
 A Girl with a mouse-trap. . £0 . . Count D’Ademar. 
 
 A Landscape . . Earl of Aylesford. 
 
 A sleeping boy. ...... 50 . . Do. 
 
 A Landscape. ....... 50 . , Sir B. Boothby, Bt* 
 
 The Marchioness Towns- 
 hend, Mrs. Gardiner, and 
 Hon. Mrs. Berisford, de- 
 corating the statue of 
 
 Hymen. ........ 450 . . Viscount Mountjoy. 
 
 Hope nursing Love. . . . — — - . . Lord Holland. 
 Another,— the same subject. — „ . In the collection of 
 
 the Earl of In*»- 
 chi quin. 
 
 Another,— the same subject. 150 , . Henry Hope, Esq, 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Ixivr 
 
 the seats of the Duke of Marlborough, Lord 
 Boringdon, Lord Eliot, Lord Ossory, Lord 
 
 Subjects. Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 A Strawberry Girl 50 Gs. Earl of Carysfort. 
 
 A Nymph [Mrs. Hartley] 
 
 and young Bacchus. . . _ . . Do, 
 
 The Snake in the Grass. 
 
 [This has been called. 
 
 Love untying the zone of 
 
 Beauty.] . . 200 . . Do. 
 
 Another A present. Henry Hope, Esq. 
 
 Another 100 Gs. Prince Potemkin. 
 
 The Continence of Scipio. £00 . . Do. 
 
 The Nativity [a design for 
 the window of New Col- 
 lege Chapel in Oxford]. 1200 . . The D. of Rutland. 
 The infant Jupiter. .... 100 . . Do. 
 
 An old man reading aballad. . . Do. 
 
 The Calling of Samuel. . . 100 . . Do. 
 
 A boy praying ,50 „ . Sent to France by 
 
 Mr. Chamier, in 
 
 >77 8 - 
 
 The Death of Dido. .... 200 . . Mr. Bryant. 
 
 The Theory of Painting. . — — - . . In the Royal Aca- 
 demy. 
 
 Another. ......... — — . . In the collection of 
 
 theE.oflnchiquin. 
 
 A Shepherd Boy. ..... — • • In the same collect 
 
 tion. 
 
 A Shepherdess with a lamb. — . . Do. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. Uv 
 
 Palmerston, Mr. Burke, and other friends p* 
 and occasionally spent a few days at his villa 
 
 Subjects. 
 
 A Girl with a kitten. . . . 
 
 A Girl with a muff. .... 
 
 Csel ia lamenting the death of 
 her sparrow. [Mrs. CoL 
 iyer.] 
 
 L ’Allegro [Mrs. Hale] ; fe- 
 veral figures in the hack ’ 
 ground. ........ 
 
 Robinetta. [the Hon. Mrs. 
 Tollemache.] ...... 
 
 Diana. [Lady Napier.] . * . 
 
 Diana, [the Duchess of 
 Manchester]. ...... 
 
 Master Wynne* as St. John. 
 
 Master Crewe, as Hen. VIII. 
 
 Master Herbert, in the cha- 
 racter of Bacchus. .... 
 
 Juno. [Lady Blake.] . . . 
 
 Hebe [Miss Meyer, a whole- 
 length figure on a half- 
 length canvass] 
 
 Melancholy [Mifs Jones]. 
 
 Young Hannibal [a boy in 
 armour], 
 
 Prices, Purchasers. 
 
 — . , In the collection of 
 
 Lord Inchiquin. 
 
 — . . Do. 
 
 . , Lord HarewoodL 
 
 — . . The Duke of Man« 
 Chester. 
 
 — i . J ohn Crewe, Esq. 
 75 Gs. Lord Portchester. 
 
 VOL, I 
 
 e 
 
Ixvi SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 on Richmond-Hill ; but he had very little 
 relish for a country life, and was always glad 
 
 Subjects. 
 
 Francis, Duke of Bedford, 
 as St. George ; with his 
 brothers, Lord John and 
 Lord William Russel. . 
 
 The Fortune-teller. [Lady 
 Charlotte and Lord H. 
 Spencer.] 
 
 Miranda [The Hon. Mrs. 
 Tollemache] and Caliban. 
 
 St. Agnes. [Mrs. Quaring- 
 ton]. . . w ...... , 
 
 TheTriumph of Truth. [Dr. 
 Beattie, with two figures 
 representing Truth and 
 Falshood]. ....... 
 
 A boy laughing. , . . . 
 
 Ariadne. . ........ 
 
 Dionysius, Areopagita. . . 
 
 The Captive. [This has been 
 called, the Banished Lord, 
 and Cartouche.] . . . . 
 
 Lady Sarah B unbury, sacri- 
 being to the Graces. . . 
 
 The infant Moses in the 
 bulrushes. . ...... 
 
 Edwin, 
 
 Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 . , The Duke of Marl- 
 borough. 
 
 5 o Gs. R. P. Knight, Efq. 
 
 — . .Dr. Beattie. 
 
 50 . . — Bromwell, Esq* 
 35 . . W. Lock, Esq. 
 
 80 . . Charles Long, Esq, 
 — — . • SirC. B unbury Bt. 
 125 . . The Duke of Leeds. 
 
 55 * • D °- 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS a kvii 
 
 to return to London, to which he was not 
 less attached than Dr. Johnson: with him. 
 
 Subjects. Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 A child with Angels. . . . . . The Duke of Leeds. 
 
 The Virgin and Child. [This 
 picture was not quite 
 
 finished]. ........ 65 Gs. Mr. J, Bannister. 
 
 The Angel contemplating 
 the Cross ; being the up- 
 per part of the Nativity. — — . . Bequeathed to the 
 
 Duke of Portland, 
 
 The four Cardinal Virtues, 
 
 Justice, Prudence, Tem- 
 perance, and Fortitude ; 
 and Faith, Hope, and 
 Charity ; Designs for the 
 Window of New College, 
 
 Oxford, painted by Mr, 
 
 Jervais. ......... — -» . • In the collection of 
 
 the Earl of Inchi- 
 quin. 
 
 A Bacchante. ....... 50 . .Sir W. Hamilton. 
 
 Another. ......... 75 . . The Earl of Lau- 
 derdale, 
 
 A holy family. ...... ,500 • , Mr. Macklin, Print 
 
 seller. After- 
 wards sold to L. 
 Gwydir for 70Q 
 guineas. 
 
 €2 
 
Ixviii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 justly considering that metropolis as the 
 head-quarters of intellectual society. In 
 
 Subjects* Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 Tuccia, the Vestal Virgin. 200 Gs. Mr. Macklin. 
 
 The Gleaners [Mrs. Mack- 
 lin, her daughter, and 
 
 Miss Pots]. ....... 300 . . Do. 
 
 St. John 150 . . — Willet, Esq. 
 
 St. Cecilia [Mrs. Sheridan, 
 and two daughters of— 
 
 Coote Purdon, Esq]. . . 1^0 . . R. B. Sheridan, 
 
 Esq. 
 
 Two Groups, in the manner 
 of Paul Veronese; one 
 containing the portraits of 
 the Duke of Leeds, Lord 
 Dundas, Constantine 
 Lord Mulgrave, Lord 
 Seaforth, the Hon. C. 
 
 Greville, Charles Crowle, 
 
 Esq. and the Right Hon. 
 
 Sir Joseph Ranks, Bart.; 
 the other, those ol Sir W. 
 
 Hamilton, Sir W. W. 
 
 Wynne, Bart. Richard 
 Thompson, Esq. Sir John 
 Taylor,- Payne Gal- 
 
 way, Esq. John Smyth, 
 
 Esq. and Spencer Stan- 
 hope, Esq. r 7 a " - , r v » 
 
 . Society of Dilettanti. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS* lxte 
 
 July 1781, in order to view the most cele- 
 brated productions of the Flemish and Dutch 
 
 Subjects. 
 
 Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 A boy with a port-folio. . . 
 
 jo Gs. Earl of Warwick. 
 
 A studious boy - 
 
 - — — . . G. Hardinge, Esq. 
 
 A powting girl • 
 
 — . . Do. . 
 
 The family of George, Duke 
 
 of Marlborough. 
 
 700 . . The Duke of Marl- 
 borough. 
 
 Circe 
 
 35 . . SirC.Bunbury,Bt> 
 
 The Children in the Wood. 
 
 jo . . Lord Palmerston. 
 
 A Girl leaning on a pedestal. 
 
 75 . .Do. 
 
 The Infant Academy . . . 
 
 — . . Do. by bequest. 
 
 Venus. .......... 
 
 — . . The Earl of Upper 
 Ossory, by bequest. 
 
 Una, from Spencer. [Miss 
 
 Beauclerk.] ....... 
 
 — . . In the collection of 
 Lord Inchiquin, 
 
 King Lear. ........ 
 
 . Do.' 
 
 Heads of Angels, a study. 
 From a daughter of Lord 
 
 William Gordon. • . . . 
 
 100 . . Lord W. Gordon. 
 
 Cardinal Beaufort. . . . . 
 
 joo . . Mr, Aid. BoydelL 
 
 Robin Goodfellow. «... 
 
 100 . . Do. 
 
 The Cauldron-Scene in 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 1000I 0 Do, 
 
 Resignation, from Gold- 
 
 smith’s Deserted Village. 
 
 — 0 . In the collection of 
 
 Lord Inchiquin, 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Ixx 
 
 Schools, in company with his friend Mr. 
 Metcalfe, he made a tour to the Netherlands 
 
 Subjects. Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 Venus, and a boy piping. . 250 Gs. J. J. Angerstein, 
 
 Esq. 
 
 Mrs. Siddons, in the charac- 
 ter of the Tragick Muse. 
 The Infant Hercules in the 
 Cradle. [A single figure, 
 painted before the large 
 
 picture.] 
 
 Hercules, strangling the 
 
 serpents. 
 
 Cupid and Psyche . . . . 
 Cymonand Iphigenia.[This 
 was the last fancy -picture 
 painted by Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds.] 
 
 700 . . N. DesenfanSj Esq. 
 
 150 . . Earl FitzwilHam. 
 
 1,500. . Empress of Ruflla, 
 2,50 . . Charles Long, Esq. 
 
 — . . In the collection of 
 
 Lord Inchiquin. 
 
 3 * In a Letter to Mr. Baretti, June 10, 1761, Dr. 
 Johnson says — “ Reynolds is without a rival, and con- 
 tinues to add thousands to thousands.” Writing a few 
 months afterwards to the same person, he says “ Mr. 
 Reynolds gets six thousand a year/’ 
 
 In 1762 he spent some weeks in his native county, 
 Devonshire, accompanied by Dr. Johnson. Of this 
 visit, during which they were entertained at the seats 0$ 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. U x* 
 
 and Holland, and the fruit of his travel was 
 a very pleasing account of their journey/® 
 containing remarks on the pictures preserved 
 in the various churches and cabinets that he 
 visited; to which he has subjoined a masterly 
 character of Rubens. His critical observa- 
 tions on the many excellent pieces that he 
 viewed at Antwerp ar>d Brussels, in the 
 Pusseldorp Gallery, and at Amsterdam, 
 
 many noblemen and gentlemen in the West of England, 
 Mr. Boswell has given a particular account in his Life of 
 Johnson, i. 344. 8vo. 
 
 4 ° Of this work Mr, Burke thus writes, in the Letter 
 already quoted: 
 
 I have read over not only that Life, [the account of 
 our author prefixed to the first edition,] but some part of 
 the Discourses with an unusual sort of pleasure; partly 
 because, being faded a little in my memory, they have a 
 sort of appearance of novelty; partly by reviving recol- 
 lections mixed with melancholy and satisfaction. The 
 Flemish Journal I had never seen before. You trace 
 in that, every where, the spirit of the Discourses, sup- 
 ported by new examples. He is always the same man ; 
 the same philosophical, the same artist-like critick, the 
 same sagacious observer, with the same minuteness, with- 
 out the smallest degree of trifling/ 3 
 
tail SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 which are now for the first time given to the 
 world, have since his death acquired an addi- 
 tional value; for by the baleful success and 
 ravages of the French plunderers, who since 
 that period have desolated Europe, many of 
 the most celebrated works of the Flemish 
 School in the Netherlands (for I will not 
 gratify our English republicans by calling it 
 Belgium) have been either destroyed or car- 
 ried away to that 4 £ OPPROBRIOUS DEN OF 
 shame / 5 which it is to be hoped no po- 
 lished Englishman will ever visit. * — Many 
 of the pictures of Rubens being to be sold in 
 1783, in consequence of certain religious 
 houses being suppressed by the Emperor, 
 he again in that year visited Antwerp and 
 Brussels, and devoted several days to con- 
 templating the productions of that great 
 painter/ 1 On his return from his first tour, 
 
 4! On viewing the pictures of Rubens a second time, 
 they appeared much less brilliant than they had done on 
 the former inspection. He could not for some time ac^ 
 count for this circumstance; but when he recollected, 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. l xx m 
 
 his own pieces (as he remarked to Mr, 
 Metcalfe) seemed to him to want force ; and 
 the portraits which he painted between that 
 period and 1789, it is observable, have still 
 more animation, energy, and brilliancy of 
 colouring, than his former works. 
 
 In the same year . (1783) the late Mr. Ma- 
 son having finished his elegant translation of 
 Du Fresnoy’s Art of Painting, our author 
 enriched that work with a very ample and 
 ingenious Commentary, which, together 
 
 that when he first saw them, he had his note -book in Ins 
 hand, for the purpose of writing down short remarks, he 
 perceived what had occasioned their now making a less 
 impression in this respect than they had done formerly. 
 By the eye passing immediately from the white paper to 
 the picture, the colours derived uncommon richness and 
 warmth. For want of this foil, they afterwards appeared 
 comparatively cold. 
 
 This little circumstance was communicated to me by 
 Sir George Beaumont, whose good taste and skill disco- 
 vered, that in the two groups mentioned in a former page, 
 ©ur author had Paul Veronese in view ; which, on the 
 yemark being made* he said was the case. 
 
 3 
 
Jxx iv 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 with the Poem to which it relates, is now 
 published with his Discourses; Mr. Ma- 
 son having obligingly permitted his transla- 
 tion to he printed in this collection of his 
 friend’s works. The Annotations, indeed, 
 without the poem, would not be intelligible, 
 “ The Discourses,” as their author has 
 observed, 4 * “ having scarce any relation to 
 the mechanical part of the art/* these Notes 
 may be considered as in some measure sup-* 
 plying that deficiency;” and we may with 
 truth add, that these two works comprise 
 the whole science and practice of painting. 
 
 On the death of Mr. Ramsay in the fol- 
 lowing year, our author (nth August, 1784,) 
 
 42 In a loose fragment. 
 
 43 A few practical instructions are given in the eighth 
 and twelfth Discourses ; and in the former towards the 
 conclusion, some of the means are pointed out, by 
 which the Venetian painters produced such great effect in 
 their pictures. Perhaps some useful hints also may be 
 discovered by the Student, dispersed in the other 
 Discourses. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNQUDS. to 
 
 was sworn principal painter in ordinary to 
 his Majesty | which office he possessed to 
 his death? and two months afterwards, on 
 St. Luke 5 § Day, he was presented with the 
 freedom of the Painters 5 Company, an ho- 
 nour which, though to him of little value, he 
 received with his usual complacency and 
 politeness. 
 
 As posterity may be curious to know 4 what 
 Were the prices paid at various periods to this 
 great painter for his works, it may not 
 perhaps be thought too minute to add, that 
 about the year 1755 his price for a three- 
 quarters, or as it is popularly called, a head, 
 was but twelve guineas ; in the beginning of 
 1758, twenty guineas; soon after 1760, 
 twenty-five guineas; in 1770, thirty-five 
 guineas; and in 1781, fifty guineas ; which 
 continued to be the price till he ceased to 
 paint. The price of a half-length during 
 this latter period was one hundred guineas; 
 and for a whole-length two hundred guineas 
 
 6 
 
Ixxvi 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 were paid. 44 From a paper which I tran- 
 scribed some years ago in the Lord Chamber- 
 lain’s Office, from an office-book which 
 formerly belonged to Philip, Earl of Pem- 
 broke and Montgomery, it appears that 
 Vandyck in 1632 received but twenty-five 
 pounds fora whole-length picture of Charles 
 the First ; for a half-length of the Queen, 
 twenty pounds; and “ for one great piece of 
 his Majestie, the Queene, and their children, 
 one hundred pounds:” which, however, 
 considering the change in the value of money 
 and the modes of life, may be estimated as 
 equal to three hundred pounds at this day. 
 
 The personal character of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds is well known to many of his survi- 
 ving friends and admirers ; but it would be 
 
 44 His pupils were Giuseppe Marchi, who accompa* 
 nied him from Italy ; Mr. Beech, Mr. Baron, Mr. Ber- 
 ridge, Mr. Parry, (son to the celebrated player on the 
 harp,) Mr. Gill, Mr. Dusine, Mr. Northcote, R. A. Mr % 
 Doughty, and Mr, Score, 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. Ixxvii 
 
 great injustice to him, and an unpardonable 
 inattention to Posterity, not to give in this 
 place a slight sketch of his manners, habits, 
 and endowments. He was in stature rather 
 under the middle size; of a florid com- 
 plexion, and a lively and pleasing aspect; 
 well made, and extremely active. 4s His ap- 
 
 M The last portrait which he painted of himself, (with 
 spectacles,) in 1788, is extremely like him* and exhibits 
 him exactly as he appeared in his latter days, in domestick 
 life. It is a three-quarters, in the collection of the Earl o£ 
 Inchiquin ; and his Grace the Duke of Leeds has a dupli- 
 cate of it. There is a portrait of him by himself in the 
 dining-room of the Society of Dilettanti , in Pall-Mall, a 
 three-quarters also ; he is dressed in a loose robe, and has 
 his own hair. Another, (in which he holds his hand to 
 his ear, to aid the sound,) painted for Mr. Thrale about 
 177^5, is in possession of Mrs. Piozzi. Another (a half- 
 length,) is in the Royal Academy, with a cap, and the 
 gown of a Doctor of the Civil Law ; which honour he 
 received from the University of Oxford, July 9, 1773 : in 
 this picture is introduced the bust of Michael Angelo, on 
 whom he pronounced so high an encomium in his last 
 Discourse. Another in the same dress, a three-quarters, 
 is at Belvoir Castle ; and a third in the same dress, is in 
 the gallery of the Great Duke at Florence. Another 
 portrait of him is preserved in the Town-Hall at Plymp- 
 £on* also painted and presented by himself ; in this pic- 
 
Ixxviii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 pearance at first sight impressed the spectator 
 with the idea of a well-born and well-bred 
 
 ture a red gown is thrown carelessly about him, and he is 
 without a cap. One nearly resembling this, and painted 
 before it, is at Taplow-Court. We have another portrait 
 of our author in the dress of a Shepherd, with Mr. Jervais 
 the Glass-Painter, in one of the pictures painted as designs 
 for the great window of New College Chapel, in Oxford': 
 and Mr. Farington, R. A. has a portrait of him, by him- 
 self, as a painter, with a canvass, easel, &c. before him. 
 Another portrait of him, by himself is in possession of 
 Robert Lovel Gwatkin, Esq. of Killiow, in Cornwall, 
 Lord Incliiquin has two portraits of our author when 
 young, one when he was about thirty years old, in his own 
 hair ; the other younger, (in the manner of Rembrandt,) 
 in his own hair also, with his great coat and hat on. 
 Another youthful portrait, done before he went to Italy, 
 is said to be in the possession of Thomas Lane, Esq. ot 
 Coffleat in Devonshire. 
 
 There is also a portrait of him, painted by C. G. 
 Stuart, an American, about the year 1784, in the posses- 
 sion of Mr. Alderman Boydell ; another by Zaflfanii, in a 
 picture representing all the artists of the Academy about 
 the year 1770, in the King’s Collection; and not long 
 before his death, when he was much indisposed, he sat to 
 Mr. Breda, a Swedish painter, whose performance ap- 
 peared a few years ago in the Exhibition. 
 
 Soon after Gainsborough settled in London, Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds thought himself bound in civility to pay him a 
 visit. That painter, however, (as our author told me,; 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. lxxk 
 
 English gentleman. With an uncommon 
 equability of temper, which, however, never 
 
 took not the least notice of him for several years ; but at 
 length called on him, and requested him to sit for his pic- 
 ture* Sir Joshua complied, and sat once to that artist ; 
 but being soon afterwards taken ill, he was obliged to go 
 to Bath for his health. On his return to London per- 
 fectly restored, he sent Gainsborough word that he Was 
 returned, to which Gainsborough, who was extremely 
 capricious, only replied, that he was glad to hear that Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds was well ; and he never afterwards 
 desired Sir Joshua to sit, nor had any other intercourse 
 with him, till Gainsborough was dying, when he sent to 
 request to see him, and thanked him for the very libera! 
 and favourable manner in which he had always spoken of 
 his works ; a circumstance which our author has thought 
 worth recording in his Fourteenth Discourse. The ca- 
 pricious conduct of Gainsborough did not prevent our 
 author from purchasing from him his well-known picture 
 of a girl tending pigs, for which one hundred guineas 
 were paid. 
 
 A marble bust of Sir Joshua Reynolds by Cirachi, an 
 Italian Sculptor, is in possession of the Earl of Inchiquin ; 
 and another bust, modelled from the life, in terra cotta 9 
 more like than the marble bust, which was done from it, 
 was sold by auction by Greenwood, in 1792. I have a 
 medallion modelled in wax by Mountstephen, which is 
 a very faithful representation of this great painter, in his 
 usual evening dress. It was done in 1790, when he was 
 in his sixty-seventh year. 
 
kxx SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 degenerated into insipidity or apathy, he 
 possessed a constant flow of spirits, which 
 
 The Engravings that have been made from his various 
 portraits are, i. By V. Green, in Mezzotint o, from the 
 picture in the Academy. 2. By J. Collyer, from the 
 same ; a small oval. 3. By James Watson, in Mezzo- 
 tinto, from the picture belonging to the Society of Dilet* 
 tciTiti . 4. By C. Townly, from the picture in the Gallery 
 
 at Florence. 5. By I. K. Sherwin, from the same pic- 
 ture. 6. By R. Earlom, from Zaffanii’s picture of the 
 Academy, y. By Pariset, from a drawing by Falconet* 
 $' By Facius, from the window in New College Chapeh 
 g. Another* when young, his hand shading his forehead ; 
 by S. W. Reynolds, from the picture in Mr. Lane’s pos- 
 session. to* By Caroline Kirkley; from Mr. Gwatkin’s 
 picture, it. That prefixed to the present edition of his 
 works ; engraved by Caroline Watson, from the por- 
 trait in the collection of Lord Inchiquin. There is, I 
 
 believe, a copy of this by T. Holloway. 12. By — , 
 
 from Mr. Breda’s picture* 
 
 The tricks which are often practised with engraved 
 copper-plates, are well known. At the time the person 
 so justly execrated, and branded with the name of The 
 Monster, made much noise, the dealers in articles of 
 this kind were very desirous of some representation of him ; 
 but not being able suddenly to procure one, they made an 
 old plate, which had been engraved for a magazine, and 
 with the aid of the name subjoined was intended to pass 
 for the portrait of our author, serve their purpose. As 
 the print had no resemblance to Sir Joshua Reynolds, and 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. Ixxxi 
 
 rendered him at all times a mbst pleasing 
 Companion j always cheerful, and ready to be 
 amused with whatever was going forward, 
 and from an ardent thirst of knowledge 
 anxious to obtain information on every sub- 
 ject that was presented to his mind. In 
 conversation, his manner was perfectly 
 natural, simple, and unassuming, Though 
 he had occasionally dipped into many books, 
 not having had time for regular and syste- 
 matick study, some topicks which had been 
 long discussed and settled, were new to him; 
 and hence merely by the vigour of his ex- 
 cellent understanding, he often suggested 
 ingenious theories, and formed just conclu- 
 sions, which had already been deduced by 
 the laborious disquisitions of others. Finding 
 how little time he could spare from his pro- 
 fession, for the purpose of acquiring general 
 knowledge from books, he very early and 
 
 had. indeed a most formidable appearance* by striking out 
 the original inscription, and substituting The Monster, 
 it did very well. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 f 
 
lxxxii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 wisely resolved to partake as much as pos- 
 sible of the society of all the ingenious and 
 learned men of his own time / 6 in conse- 
 quence of which, and of his cheerful and 
 convivial habits, his table 4 " for above thirty 
 years exhibited an assemblage of all the 
 talents of Great-Britain and Ireland; there 
 being during that period scarce a person 
 in the three kingdoms distinguished for* 
 his attainments in literature or the arts* 
 
 46 He has strongly recommended the same practice t($ 
 other artists, in his Seventh Discourse, p. 191. 
 
 47 The nodes c&naque Deum enjoyed at this table, (a$ 
 Mr. Boswell, in the Dedication prefixed to his most in- 
 structive and entertaining Life of Dr. Johnson, has justly 
 described the symposium of our author,) will be long re- 
 membered by those who had the happiness to partake of 
 them ; but the remembrance must always be accompanied 
 with regret, when it is considered that the death of their 
 amiable and illustrious host has left a chasm in society, and 
 that no such common centre of union for the accomplished 
 and the learned now exists, or is likely soon to exist,, in 
 London. I remember on one occasion to have sat down 
 at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s table with fifteen persons, eleven 
 or twelve of whom had made a distinguished figure in 
 the world. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. Ixxxiii 
 
 or for his exertions at the bar, in the se- 
 nate, or the field, who was not occasion- 
 ally found there. The pleasure and instruc- 
 tion which he derived from such company 
 induced him, in conjunction with Dr. John- 
 son, to establish what has been called the 
 Literary Club, though its members 
 have never assumed that denomination ; a 
 society which has now subsisted for more 
 than thirty years, and can boast of having 
 had enrolled among them many of the most 
 celebrated characters of the present century. 48 
 
 48 As Sir Joshua Reynolds was the first proposer and 
 founder of this Club, a short account of it may not be here 
 improper. It was founded in the year 1764 ; and the 
 original scheme was, that it should consist of only twelve 
 members, and that they should be men of such talents, 
 and so well known to each other, that any two of them, if 
 they should not happen to be joined by more, might be 
 good company to each other. 
 
 The original members were, Sir Joshua Reynold?* 
 Di% Johnson, Mr. Burke, Dr. Nugent, Mr. Langtom 
 Mr. Antony Chamier, Sir John Hawkins, the Hon, 
 Topham Beauclerk, and Dr. Goldsmith. Mr. Samuel 
 Dyer, Sir Robert Chambers, and Dr, Percy, now Lord 
 
 f 2 
 
ixxxiv 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 In the fifteen years during which I had 
 the pleasure of living with our author on 
 
 Bishop of Dromore, were soon afterwards elected. 
 They at first met once a week, on Monday evening, at 
 the Turk’s Head in Gerrard-street. In 1772, the Club 
 still consisted of only twelve members. On its enlarge- 
 ment in March 1773, two new members were added; 
 the Earl of Charlemont, and Mr. Garrick ; and not long 
 afterwards several other members were chosen. About 
 the year 1775, instead of supping together once a week, 
 they resolved to dine together once a fortnight during the 
 sitting of Parliament ; and on that footing this Society 
 (which has gradually been increased to thirty-five mem- 
 bers, and can never exceed forty) still subsists. They 
 now meet at Parsloe’s in St. James’s-street. 
 
 The total number of persons who have been members 
 of this Club, is fifty-four. Of these the following 
 twenty-four are dead : Sir J. Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, 
 Mr. Burke, Dr. Nugent, Mr. Chamier, Mr. Beauclerk, 
 Sir John Hawkins, Mr. Dyer, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. 
 Garrick, John Dunning Lord Ashburton, Dr. Adam 
 Smith, Mr. Colman, Dr. Shipley Bishop of St. Asaph, 
 Mr. Vesey, Mr. Thomas Warton, Mr. Gibbon, Dr. 
 Hinchiiffe Bishop of Peterborough, Sir William Jones, 
 Mr. Richard Burke, junior, Mr. Boswell, the Marquis 
 fef Bath, Dr. Warren, and the Rev. Dr. Farmer. 
 
 The present members are, Mr. Langton, Sir Robert 
 Chambers, Dr. Percy Bishop of Dromore, Lord Charle- 
 mont, Mr. Fox, Sir Charles Bunbury, Dr. George For- 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 Ixxxv 
 
 terms of great intimacy and friendship, he 
 appeared to me the happiest man I have 
 ever known. Indeed he acknowledged to a 
 friend in his last illness, that he had been 
 fortunate and happy beyond the common lot 
 of humanity. The dissipated, the needy, 
 and the industrious, are apt to imagine, 
 that the idle and the rich are the chosen fa- 
 vourites of heaven, and that they alone pos- 
 sess what all mankind are equally anxious to 
 attain: but, supposing always a decent com- 
 petence, the genuine source of happiness is 
 
 dyce, Mr. Steevens, Sir Joseph Banks, Sir William 
 Scott, Lord Spencer, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Windham, 
 Dr. Barnard Bishop of Limerick, Dr. Joseph Warton, 
 Dr. Marlay Bishop of Waterford, Lord Ossory, Lord 
 Lucan, Lord Eliot, Sir William Hamilton, Dr. Burney, 
 Lord Palmerston, Lord Macartney, Mr. Courtenay, the 
 Duke of Leeds, Dr. Douglas Bishop of Salisbury, Sir 
 Charles Blagden, Major Rennel, the Hon. Frederick 
 North, and the writer of this account. They are all 
 placed in the order of their constitution and election, ex- 
 cept the person laft mentioned, who had the honour to 
 be chosen a member in 1782, immediately before Sir 
 William Hamilton. 
 
Ixxxtfi SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 virtuous employment, pursued with ardour, 
 and regulated by our own choice. Sir Jos- 
 hua Reynolds was constantly employed in 
 a lucrative profession, the study and prac- 
 tice of which afforded him inexhaustible 
 entertainment, and left him not one idle or 
 languid hour ; and he enjoyed as much fame 
 as the most ambitious candidate for popular 
 approbation could desire. That he should 
 have been unconscious of the very high rank 
 that he held in the publick estimation, 
 and of the extraordinary excellence which 
 he had attained in his art, was not to be 
 expected; but he never shewed any such 
 consciousness, and was as perfectly free 
 from vanity and ostentation, as he was from 
 artifice or affectation of any kind. His ar- 
 dent love of truth, in which respect he was 
 a zealous disciple of Dr. Johnson, and his 
 strong antipathy to all false pretensions, and 
 to any thing indirect, artificial, or affected, 
 formed a striking part of his character ; and 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. kxxvii 
 
 were indeed, if I do not greatly deceive 
 and flatter myself, the congenial sentiments 
 which principally operated in attaching him 
 to the person to whose province it has fallen 
 to pay this slight tribute to his memory. 
 While engaged in his painting-room, he had 
 the pleasure of seeing and conversing with 
 all the beautiful , 49 accomplished, and illus- 
 trious characters of his time ; and when not 
 employed in his art, his hours were gene- 
 rally passed in the most pleasing and en- 
 lightened society that London could pro- 
 duce. His mind was never torpid; but al- 
 ways at work on some topick or other. He 
 had aftrong turn and relish for humour, in 
 all its various forms, and very quickly saw 
 the weak sides of things. Of the numerous 
 characters which presented themselves to 
 him in the mixed companies in which he 
 lived, he was a nice and sagacious observer, 
 as I have had frequent occasion to re- 
 
 49 He had painted, as he once observed to me, t (co- 
 generations of the beauties of England, 
 
Ixxxviu SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 mark ; 50 and I have found among his papers 
 some very ingenious, though unfinished, ob- 
 servations on the manners and habits of two 
 very eminent men of his acquaintance. He 
 delighted much in marking the dawning 
 traits of the youthful mind, and the actions 
 and bodily movements of young persons ; a 
 circumstance which probably enabled him 
 to portray children with such exquisite hap^ 
 piness and truth. It was one of his fa- 
 vourite maxims, that all the gestures of 
 children are graceful, and that the reign of 
 distortion and unnatural attitude commences 
 with the introduction of the dancing-master. 
 
 Though from the time of his returning 
 from Italy he was very deaf , 51 he contrived 
 
 50 In confirmation of this remark, I may produce the 
 testimony of Dr. Johnson, who said to Mr. Boswell, in 
 ij8o, that ^ he knew no man who had passed through 
 life with more observation than Sir Joshua Reynolds,’* 
 Life of Johnson, iii, 2 £ 2 . 
 
 5 1 His deafness was originally occasioned by a cold 
 that he caught in the Vatican, by painting for a long 
 
Ixxxk 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, 
 
 by the aid of an ear-trumpet 54 to partake of 
 the conversation of his friends with great 
 facility and address ; and such was the se- 
 renity of his temper, that what he did not 
 hear, he never troubled those with whom he 
 conversed, to repeat. To this gentle com- 
 posure of mind, Goldsmith alluded, when 
 in describing Sir Joshua Reynolds he employ- 
 ed the epithet bland> a word eminently happy, 
 and characteristick of his easy and placid 
 manners ; s3 but taking into our consideration 
 
 time near a stove, by which the damp vapours of that edi* 
 fice were attracted, and affected his head. When in com* 
 pany with only one person, he heard very well, without 
 the aid of a trumpet, 
 
 Le Sage, the celebrated author of Gilblas, (as Mr* 
 Spence mentions in his Anecdotes,) though very deaf, 
 enjoyed the conversation of his friends by the same means, 
 (the aid of a cornettc ,) and was a very pleasing companion* 
 
 5? See Retaliation, a poem by Dr. Goldsmith, in 
 which he has drawn the characters of several of his friends, 
 in the form of epitaphs to be placed on their tombs : 
 
 * * # * * * 
 
 “ Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind. 
 He has not left a wiser or better behind : 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 at once the soundness of his understanding, 
 and the mildness and suavity of his deport- 
 ment, perhaps Horace’s description of the 
 amiable friend of the younger Scipio,- — the 
 mitis sapientia Laeli , 53 may convey to posterity 
 
 45 His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; 
 
 44 His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; 
 
 “ Still born to improve us in every part, 
 
 at His pencil our faces, his manners our heart i 
 
 Si To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering,—* 
 
 44 When they judg’d without skill, he was still harcj 
 of hearing ; 
 
 - #t When they talk’d of their Raffaelles, CorreggioSg 
 and stuff, 
 
 44 He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff.’* 
 ****** 
 
 These were the last lines the author wrote. He had 
 written half a line more of this character, when he was 
 seized with the nervous fever which carried him in a few 
 days to the grave. He intended to have concluded with 
 his own character. 
 
 Si Even the clasical reader may not perhaps immediately 
 recollect in how many points these two celebrated persons 
 resemble each other. Each of them certainly had some 
 qualifications, to which the other had no pretensions ; as 
 Laelius knew nothing of painting, so our author had no 
 claim either to the character of a military commander, or 
 a distinguished orator. But the qualities which they pos- 
 sessed in common, are so numerous, as fully to justify 
 the present jtixta-position. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xci 
 
 a more perfect idea of our illustrious painter, 
 than the unfinished delineation of his poetical 
 friend, to which I allude. 
 
 The portrait of Laelius has been drawn by Mr. Melmoth, 
 with his usual fidelity. “ He seems (says that very elegant 
 writer) to have united in his character, whether considered 
 in a moral 5 a civil, or a philosophical view, all those 
 talents of the mind and qualities of the heart, that could 
 justly recommend him- to the general esteem of his own 
 times, and transmit his name with honour to posterity. 
 There was a politeness and affability in his address, a 
 sprightliness and vivacity in his conversation, together 
 with a constant equality in his temper, that wonderfully 
 recommended him to all those with whom he had any con- 
 nection ; insomuch that what was observed of Socrates, 
 was equally remarked in Laelius, that he always appeared 
 with a serene and placid countenance. 
 
 “ To the advantages of these captivating manners, were 
 added the ornaments of a most cultivated and improved 
 understanding : he was not only one of the finest gen- 
 tlemen, but of the first orators, and the most elegant 
 scholars of the age. Laelius and Scipio indeed, united as 
 they were by genius and talents, no less than by esteem 
 and affection, equally conspired in refining the taste, 
 and encouraging the literature of their countrymen. They 
 were the patrons, after having been the disciples, of 
 Panaetius and Polybius ; and both the philosopher and the 
 historian had the honour and happiness of constantly 
 sharing with them those hours that were not devoted to 
 
xcn SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 If it should be asked, — amidst so manv 
 excellent and amiable qualities, were there 
 
 tlie publck service. But the severer muses did not en- 
 tirely engross those intervals of leisure, which these illus- 
 trious friends occasionally snatched from the great business 
 of the state : Terence and Lucilius were frequently ad- 
 mitted into these parties ; where wit and wisdom jointly 
 conspired to render the conversation at once both lively 
 and instructive.” — L^elius, or an Essay on Friend- 
 ship, Sec. Remarks , p. 168. 
 
 The ingenious writer then proceeds to consider this 
 celebrated person in a political light ; but as it is not here 
 necessary to place him in this point of view, I do not trans- 
 cribe that part of his encomium. — He has not quoted the 
 authorities on which this representation is founded ; I shall 
 therefore add here such passages (principally from Cicero) 
 as I suppose he had in contemplation, which may serve 
 further to illustrate the character in question. 
 
 “ Erat in C. Laelio multa hilaritas ; in ejus familiari 
 Scipione ambitio major, vita tristior.” De Off. i. 30, 
 
 “ in rebus prosperis, et ad voluntatem nostram 
 fluentibus, superbiam, fastidium, arrogantiamque magno- 
 pere fugiamus : nam ut adversas res, sic secundas immo- 
 derate ferre, levitatis! est; praclaraque est cequabilitas in 
 omni vita , et idem semper vidtus y eademque frons ; ut de 
 Socrate , item de C. Lailio accepimus . Ibid. i. 26. 
 
 “ Hujusmodi Scipio ille fuit, quern non poenitebat 
 facere idem quod tu ; habere eruditissimum hominem et 
 pene divinum, [Panaetium] domi ; cujus oratione et 
 prasceptis, quanquam erant eadem ista quae te delectanfc, 
 % 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xciii 
 
 no failings ?— I wish to answer the inquiry 
 in the words of Mr. Burke, who on a paper 
 
 tamen asperior non est factus, sed (ut accepi a senibus) 
 lenissimus. Qjiis vero C. L.elio comior ? quis jucundior t 
 eodem ex studio isto ? quis illo gravior ? safnentior ?’* 
 Orat. pro Murena, 31. 
 
 4 ‘ Ex hoc esse hunc numero, quem patres nostri vide- 
 mnt, divinum hominem Africanum ; ex hoc C. LjELIUM, 
 L. Furium, moderatissimos homines et continent! ssimos .* 
 Fro. Arch. 7. 
 
 “ . — Viriatus Lusitanus, cui quidem etiam exercitus 
 nostri imperatoresque cesserunt; quem C. L/E'lius, is 
 qui sapiens usurpatur, praetor fregit, et comminuit, fero- 
 citatemque ejus ita repressit, ut facile helium reliquis 
 iraderet.” De Off. ii. 11. 
 
 “ Similemne putas C. LjEUI unum consulatum fuisse, 
 et eum quidem cum repulsa, (si cum sapiens et bonus vir, 
 qualis ille fuit, suffrages praeteritur, non populus a bono 
 eonsule potius quam ille a vano populo repulsam fert,) sed 
 tamen utrum malles te, si potestas esset, semel, ut L he- 
 lium, consulem, anut Cinnam, quater ?” Tuscul. v. 19. 
 
 Quando enim me in hunc locum deduxit oratio, 
 docebo, meliora me didicisse de colendis diis immortalibus 
 jure pontificio, et majorum more , capedunculis iis quas 
 Numa nobis reliquit, de quibus in ilia aureola oratiunculd 
 dicit L^elius, quam rationibus Stoicorum.” De Nat. 
 Deor. iii. 17. 
 
 — itaque quos ingenio, quos studio, quos doc- 
 trina praeditos vident, quorum vitam constantem et proba - 
 
XCIY 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 (blotted with his tears) which has been 
 transmitted to me while these sheets were 
 
 (amt ut Catonis, Lalii, Scipionis, aliorumque plurium, 
 rentur eos esse quales se ipsi velint.” Top. 20. 
 
 “ Saepe ex socero meo audivi, quum is diceret, soce- 
 rum suum Laelium semper fere cum Scipione solitum 
 rusticari, eosque incredibiliter repuerascere esse solitos, 
 quum rus ex urbe, tanquam e vinculis, evolavisseilt. 
 Non audeo dicere de talibus viris, sed tamen ita solet nar- 
 rare Sccevola, conchas eos et umbilicos ad Cajetam et ad 
 •Laurentum legere consuesse, et ad orrinem animi remis- 
 sionem ludumque descendere.” De Orat. ii. 6. 
 
 An old Scholiast on Horace goes still further, and in- 
 forms us, that these two great men sometimes indulged 
 themselves in the same kind of boyish playfulness which 
 has been recorded of the flagitious Cromwell and one of 
 his fellow-regicides : “ Scipio Africanus et LiELiUS fe- 
 runtur tain fuisse familiaries et amici Lucilio, ut quodarn 
 tempore Lselio ciixum lectos triclinii fugienti Lucilius 
 superveniens, eum obtorta mappa, quasi feriturus, 
 sequeretur.” 
 
 “ Memoria teneo, Smyrnse me ex P, Rutilio Rufo 
 audisse, quum diceret adolescentulo se accidisse, ut ex 
 Senatus-consuito P. Scipio et D. Brutus, ut opinor, con- 
 sules, de re atroci magnaque quaererent. Nam quum in 
 silva Sila facta caedes esset, notique homines interfecti ; 
 insimulareturque familia, partim etiam liberi, societatis 
 ejus, quae picarias de P« Cornelio, L. Mummio, censori- 
 bus, redemisset ; decrevisse senatum, ut de ea re cognos- 
 cerent et statuerent consules: causam pro publicanis 
 6 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xcv 
 
 passing through the press, has written— 
 «* I do not know a fault or weakness of his 
 
 accurate, ut semper solitus esset, eleganterque dixisse 
 Laelium. Quum consules, re audita, a?n[Aius de con- 
 silii sententia pronuntiavissent, paucis interpositis diebtis, 
 iterum Laelium multo diligentius meiiusque dixisse* 
 iterumque eodem modo a consulibus rem esse prolatam. 
 Turn .Laelium, quum eum socii domura reduxissent, 
 egissentque gratias, et ne defatigaretur oravissent, locu- 
 turn esse ita; se quae fee is set, honoris eorum causa, 
 studiose , accurateque fecisse ; sed se arbitrari causam illam 
 a Ser, Galba, quod is in dicendo/br^hr acriorque esset, 
 gravius et v dumentiu s posse defendi. Itaque auctoritate 
 C. JLaelii publicanos causam detulisse ad Galbam.”— * 
 After informing us that Galba pleaded this cause with 
 great spirit and vigour, and obtained a decision in favour 
 of his clients, Cicero adds — “ Ex hac Rutiliana narra- 
 tione suspicari licet, quum duse sumxnae sint in oratore 
 laudes, una subtiliter disputandi, ad docendum j altera 
 graviter agendi, ad animos audientium permovendos •; 
 multoque plus proficiat is qua inflammet judicem, quam 
 ille qui doceat; degantiam in Laelio, vim in Galba 
 fuisse^” BRUT.xxii. 
 
 From the foregoing passages, which I have collected 
 with a view to illustrate the character of Laelius, ^though 
 some of them may seem not perfectly applicable to the 
 present purpose,) a very competent notion of this celebra- 
 ted person may be formed ; and I trust that the comparison 
 of these two characters will not appear, like many of 
 Plutarch’s, forced and constrained into parallelism. 
 
XCV1 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 that he did not convert into something tha! 
 bordered on a virtue, instead of pushing it 
 to the confines of a vice ,” 54 
 
 If our author was riot much inclined to exchange the 
 animated scenes of the metropolis, for the, quiet and retire- 
 ment of the country, yet when he was there, (and indeed 
 in other situations, when not engaged in grave employ- 
 ments,) he was as playful as either Laslius or his illustri- 
 ous friend, and would as readily have gathered pebbles on 
 the sea-shore ; and though he was not an orator, if his 
 studies and pursuits had originally led him to a popular 
 profession, and he had been obliged to address a publick 
 assembly, it is clear from his manners and his writings, 
 that in in the character of his eloquence he would have 
 resembled the perspicuous and elegant Lselius, rather than 
 the severe and vehement Galba. For the rest, the con- 
 formity is greater than at the first view may be supposed. 
 As Laelius was the disciple and protector of Panaetius, and 
 the patron and companion of Lucilius, Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds was the scholar and friend of Johnson, and the 
 friend and benefactor of Goldsmith. What the illustrious 
 Scipio was to Laslius, the all-knowing and all-accom- 
 plished Burke was to Reynolds. For the pleadings and 
 aureola oratiuncula of the amiable Roman, we have the lu- 
 minous, I had almost said, the golden Discourses of our 
 author. As Laelius, admired and respected as he was, 
 was repulsed from the consulate, Sir Joshua Reynolds, in 
 consequence of an unhappy misunderstanding was forced 
 for a short time to relinquish the Presidency of the Aca- 
 
1 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, tcvii 
 
 The detail of his domestick day, however 
 minute or trifling it may appear at present, 
 
 demy.— In publick estimation, in Uniform success in 
 life, in moderation in prosperity, in the applause and 
 admiration of contemporaries, in simplicity of manners 
 and playfulness of humour, in good sense and elegant 
 attainments, in modesty and equability of temper, in un- 
 deviating integrity, in respect for received and long-esta- 
 blished opinions, in serenity, cheerfulness, and urbanity, 
 the resemblance must be allowed to be uncommonly 
 striking and exact. 
 
 54 While I was employed in drawing up an account of 
 our author’s life, I requested Mr. Burke to communicate 
 io me his thoughts on the subject ; but he was then so ill* 
 that he was able only to set down two or three hints, to be 
 afterwards enlarged on ; one of which is that given above* 
 In this paper (which was not found till the former part of 
 these sheets was worked off at the press,) he has noticed our 
 author’s disposition to generalize, and his early admiration 
 of Mr. Mudge, which makes part of the subject of his 
 subsequent letter, from which an extract has been given in 
 a former page ; but as the observation, as it appears in this 
 fragment, has somewhat of a different shape and colouring, 
 1 subjoin it, that no particle of so great a writer may be 
 lost: 
 
 “ He was a great generalize^ and was fond of redu- 
 cing every thing to one system, more perhaps than the 
 variety of principles which operate in the human mind 
 and in every human work, will properly endure. But 
 this disposition to abstractions, to generalizing and classi- 
 VOL, L g 
 
» 
 
 xcviii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 will, I am confident, at a future period not 
 be unacceptable*. He usually rose about 
 eight o'clock, breakfasted at nine, and was 
 in his painting-room before ten. Here he 
 generally employed an hour on some study, 
 or on the subordinate parts of whatever 
 portrait happened to be in hand ; and from 
 eleven the following five hours were devoted 
 to those who sat for their pictures : with 
 occasionally short intervals, during which 
 he sometimes admitted the visit of a friend. 
 Such was his love of his art, and such his 
 ardour to excel, that he often declared he had, 
 during the greater part of his life, laboured 
 
 fication, is the great glory of the human mind, that indeed 
 which most distinguishes man from other animals ; and 
 is the source of every thing that can be called science. I 
 believe, his early acquaintance with Mr. Mudge of Exeter, 
 a very learned and thinking man, and much inclined to 
 philosophize in the spirit of the Platonists, disposed him 
 to this habit. He certainly by that means liberalized in a 
 high degree the theory of his own art ; and if he had been 
 more methodically instituted in the early part of life, and 
 had possessed more leisure for study and reflection, he 
 would in mv opinion have pursued this method with great 
 success.” 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xdx 
 
 as hard with his pencil, as any mechanic^; 
 working at his trade for bread. 5 5 About two 
 days in the week, during the winter, he 
 dined abroad ; once, and sometimes oftener, 
 he had company at home by invitation j and 
 during the remainder of the week he dined 
 with his family, frequently with the addition 
 of two or three friends. It muft not be un- 
 derstood that the days of every week were 
 thus regularly distributed by a fixed plan j 
 but this was the general course. In the 
 evenings, when not engaged by the Academy, 
 or in some publick or private assembly, or 
 at the theatre, he was fond of collecting a 
 few friends at home, and joining in a party 
 at whist, which was his favourite game. 
 
 55 An observation made by Dr. Johnson on Pope, is 
 extremely applicable to our author, when employed in his 
 painting-room. “ He was one of those few whose labour 
 is their pleasure : he was never elevated into negligence, 
 nor wearied to impatince ; he never passed a fault un- 
 corrected by indifference, nor quitted it by despair. He 
 laboured his works, first to gain reputation, and afterwards 
 to keep it. ,? Lives of the Poets, iv. 163. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 In consequence of being acquainted with a 
 great variety of persons, he frequently col- 
 lected a company of seven or eight at dinner, 
 in the morning of the day on which they 
 met: as the greater part of his friends 
 
 were men well known in the world, they 
 seldom found themselves unacquainted with 
 each other ; and these extemporaneous enter- 
 tainments were often productive of greater 
 conviviality than more formal and premedi- 
 tated invitations. The marked character of 
 his table, I think, was, that though there 
 was always an abundant supply of those 
 elegancies which the season afforded, the 
 variety of the courses, the excellence of the 
 dishes , or the flavour of the burgundy , made the 
 least part of the conversation: though the ap- 
 petite was gratified by the usual delicacies, and 
 the glass imperceptibly and without solicita- 
 tion was cheerfully circulated, every thing of 
 this kind appeared secondary and subordinate ; 
 and there seemed to be a general, though 
 tacit, agreement among the guests, that mind 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS* cl 
 
 should predominate over body j that the ho- 
 nours of the turtle and the haunch should 
 give place to the feast of wit, and that for a 
 redundant flow of wine the flow of soul 
 should be substituted. Of a table thus con- 
 stituted, with such a host and such guests, 
 who would not wish to participate ? 
 
 To enumerate all the eulogies which have 
 been made on our author, would exceed the 
 limits that I have prescribed to myself in this 
 short narrative; but I ought not to omit the 
 testimony borne to his worth by Dr. John- 
 son, who declared him to be “ the most 
 invulnerable man he knew; whom, if he 
 should quarrel with him, he should find 
 the most difficulty how to abuse .” 56 John- 
 son’s well-known and rigid adherence to truth 
 on all occasions, gives this encomium great 
 additional value. 
 
 He has, however, one claim to praise, 
 
 Boswell’s Life of Dr. Johnson Dedication, 
 
c U SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 which I think it my duty particularly to 
 mention, because otherwise his merit in this 
 respect might perhaps be unknown to future 
 ages; I mean, the praise to which he is en- 
 titled for the rectitude of his judgment con- 
 cerning those pernicious doctrines, that were 
 made the basis of that Revolution which 
 took place in France not long before his 
 death. Before the publication of Mr. 
 Burke’s Reflections on that subject , 57 he 
 had been favoured with a perusal of that in- 
 comparable work, and was lavish in his en- 
 comiums upon it. He was indeed never 
 weary of expressing his admiration of the 
 profound sagacity which saw, in their em- 
 bryo state, all the evils with which this 
 country was threatened by that tremendous 
 convulsion % he well knew how eagerly all 
 the wild and erroneous principles of govern- 
 ment attempted to be established by the 
 pretended philosophers of France, would be 
 
 57 October^ 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. dii 
 
 cherished and enforced by those turbulent 
 and unruly spirits among us, whom no King 
 could govern , nor no Got* could please ; 58 and 
 long before that book was written, frequent- 
 ly avowed his contempt of those ** Adam- 
 wits , 55 who set at nought the accumulated 
 wisdom of ages, and on all occasions are 
 desirous of beginning the world anew. He 
 did not live to see the accomplishment of al- 
 most every one of the predictions of the pro- 
 phetick and philosophical work alluded to % 
 happily for himself he did not live to partici- 
 
 & How justly may we apply the immediately follow- 
 ing lines of the same great Poet, to those demagogues 
 among us, who since the era above mentioned, have not 
 only on all occasions gratuitously pleaded the cause of the 
 enemies of their country with the zeal of fee’d advocates, 
 but by every other mode incessantly endeavoured to 
 debase and assimilate this free and happy country to the 
 model of the ferocious and enslaved Republick of France ! 
 44 These Adam-wits, too fortunately free, 
 
 44 Began to dream they wanted liberty ; 
 
 41 And when no rule, no precedent was found 
 44 Of men, by laws less circumscribed and bound, 
 fi They led their wild desires to woods and caves, 
 
 66 And thought that all but savages were slaves, 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 civ 
 
 pate of the gloom which now saddens every 
 virtuous bosom, in consequence of all the 
 civilized States of Europe being shaken to 
 their foundations by those ‘ ‘ tremblers of the 
 poor world's peace f whom Divine Provi- 
 dence has been pleased to make the scourge 
 of human kind. Gloomy as our prospect is, 
 (on this account alone, 59 ) and great as is the 
 danger with which we are threatened, (I 
 mean internally , for as to external violence, 
 we are fully equal to any force which our 
 
 si > I say, on this account alone ; because in all other 
 respects England is at present in an unparalleled state of 
 wealth and prosperity, though there is a temporary dis- 
 tress occasioned by the want of the ordinary circulating 
 medium of commerce. It appears from authentick and 
 indisputable documents, that the trade of England from 
 1784 to the present time, has doubled ; and that our Ex- 
 ports in the year 1796 amounted to thirty mil- 
 lions; audit is well known that the rate of the pur- 
 chase of land, contrary to the experience of all for- 
 mer wars, continues nearly as high as it was in the time 
 of the most profound peace. These facts ought to be 
 sounded from one end of England to the other, and fur- 
 nish a complete answer to all the seditious declama- 
 tions that have been, or shall be, made on this subject, 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, cv 
 
 assailants can bring against us,) I still cherish 
 a hope that the cloud which hangs over us 
 will be dispersed, and that we have stamina 
 sufficiently strong to resist the pestilential 
 contagion suspended in our atmosphere : and 
 my confidence is founded on the good sense 
 and firmness of my countrymen ; of whom 
 far the greater part, justly valuing the bles- 
 sings which they enjoy, will not lightly 
 hazard their loss j and rather than suffer the 
 smallest part of their inestimable Constitution 
 to be changed, or any one of those detestable 
 principles to take root in this soil, which 
 our domestick and foreign enemies with 
 such mischievous industry have endeavoured 
 to propagate, will, I trust, risk every thing 
 that is most dear to man. To be fully appri- 
 sed of our danger, and to shew that we are 
 resolved firmly to meet it, may prove our 
 best security. If, however, at last we must 
 fall, let us fall beneath the ruins of that fa- 
 brick, which has been erected by the wisdom 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 cvi 
 
 and treasure of our ancestors, and which they 
 generously cemented with their blood. 
 
 For a very long period Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds enjoyed an uninterrupted state of good 
 health, to which his custom of painting, 
 standing, (a practice which, I believe, he 
 first introduced,) may be supposed in some 
 degree to have contributed j at least by this 
 means he escaped those disorders which are 
 incident to a sedentary life. He was indeed 
 in the year 1782 distressed for a short time 
 by a slight paralytick affection j which, how- 
 ever, made so little impression on him, that 
 in a few weeks he was perfectly restored, 
 and never afterwards suffered any inconveni- 
 ence from that malady. But in July 1789, 
 when he had very nearly finished the por- 
 trait of lady Beauchamp, (now Marchioness 
 of Hertford,) the last female portrait he ever 
 painted, 60 he for the first time perceived his 
 
 60 The last two portraits of gentlemen that he painted^ 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, cv ii 
 
 sight so much affected, that he found it diffi- 
 cult to proceed ; apd in a few months after- 
 wards, in spite of the aid of the most skilful 
 oculists, he was entirely deprived of the 
 sight of his left eye. After some struggles * 
 lest his remaining eye should be also affected., 
 he determined to paint no more : a resolution 
 which to him was a very serious misfortune^ 
 since he was thus deprived of an employment 
 that afforded him constant amusement, and 
 which he loved much more for its own sake 
 than on account of the great emolument 
 with which the practice of his art was atten- 
 ded. Still, however, he retained his usual 
 spirits, was amused by reading, or hearing 
 
 were those of the Right Honourable William Windham, 
 and George J. Cholmondeley, Esq. and they are gene- 
 rally thought to be as finely executed as any he ever 
 painted. In this respect he differed from Titian, whose 
 latter productions are esteemed much inferior to his for- 
 mer works. — He afterwards attempted to finish the por- 
 trait of Lord Macartney, for which that nobleman had sat 
 sometime before; but he found himself unable to pro- 
 ceed. 
 
CVJ11 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 others read to him, and partook of the society 
 erf his friends with the same pleasure as for- 
 merly; 6 * but in October 1791, having strong 
 apprehensions that a tumour accompanied 
 with an inflammation, 6 * which took place 
 over the eye that had perished, might affect 
 the other also, he became somewhat dejected. 
 Meanwhile he laboured under a much more 
 dangerous disease, which deprived him both 
 of his wonted spirits and his appetite, though 
 he was wholly unable to explain to his phy- 
 
 6r Early in September, 1791, he was in such health and 
 spirits, that in our return to town from Mr. Burke’s 
 seat near Beaconsfield, we left his carriage at the inn at 
 Hayes, and walked five miles on the road, in a warm day, 
 without his complaining of any fatigue. He had at that 
 time, though above sixty-eight years of age, the appear- 
 ance of a man not much beyond fifty, and seemed as likely 
 to live for ten or fifteen years, as any of his younger 
 friends. 
 
 62 This inflammation, after various applications having 
 been tried in vain, was found to have been occasioned 
 by extravasated blood ; and had no connection with the 
 optick nerves. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. cix 
 
 sicians the nature or seat of his disorder. 
 During this period of great affliction to all his 
 friends, his malady was by many supposed 
 to be imaginary; and it was conceived, that, 
 if he would but exert himself, he could 
 shake it off. This instance, however, may- 
 serve to shew, that the patient best knows 
 what he suffers, and that few long complain 
 of bodily ailments without an adequate 
 cause; for at length (but not till about a fort- 
 night before his death) the seat of his dis- 
 order was found to be in his liver, of which 
 the inordinate growth, as it afterwards appear- 
 ed, 65 had incommoded all the functions of 
 life; and of this disease, which he bore with 
 the greatest fortitude and patience, he died, 
 after a confinement of near three months, at 
 his house in Leicester-Fields, on Thursday 
 evening, Feb. 23, 1792, 
 
 On his body being opened, his liver, which ought to 
 have weighed about five pounds, was found to have in- 
 creased to an extraordinary size, weighing nearly eleven 
 pounds. It was also somewhat schirrous. 
 
ex SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 He seemed from the beginning of his ill- 
 ness to have had a presentiment of the fatal 
 termination with which it was finally attends 
 ed ; and therefore considered all those symp- 
 toms as delusive, on which the ardent wishes 
 of his friends led them to found a hope of his 
 recovery. He however continued to use all 
 the means of restoration proposed by his 
 physicians, and for some time to converse 
 daily with his intimate acquaintance; and 
 when he was at length obliged to confine 
 himself to his bed, awaited the hour of his 
 dissolution, (as was observed by one of his 
 friends soon after his death,) with an equani- 
 mity rarely shewn by the most celebrated 
 Christian philosophers. — On Saturday, the 
 3d of March, his remains were interred in 
 the crypt of the cathedral of St. Paul, near 
 the tomb of Sir Christopher Wren, with 
 every honour that could be shewn to genius 
 and to worth by a grateful and enlightened 
 nation; a great number of the most distin- 
 guished persons attending the funeral cere« 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. cxj 
 
 mony, and his pall being borne up by three 
 Dukes, two Marquisses, and live other 
 noblemen . 64 
 
 u The following account of the ceremonial was written 
 by a friend the day after the funeral, and published in 
 several of the News-papers. 
 
 46 On Saturday last, at half an hour after three o’clock, 
 was interred the body of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Knt. Doc- 
 tor of Laws in the Universities of Oxford and Dublin, 
 Principal Painter to his Majesty, President of the Royal 
 Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, Fel- 
 low of the Royal Society, and Fellow of the Society of 
 Antiquaries, 
 
 “ He was interred in the vast crypt of the Cathedra! 
 Church of St. Paul, next to the body ol Dr. Newton, 
 late Bishop of Bristol, himself an eminent critick in 
 Poetry and Painting, and close by the tomb of the famous 
 Sir Christopher Wren, the architect of that great edifice* 
 The body was conveyed on the preceding night to the 
 Royal Academy, according to the express orders of his 
 Majesty, by a condescension highly honourable to the 
 memory of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and gratifying to the 
 wishes of that Society of eminent Artists. It lay that 
 night, and until the beginning of the funeral procession,, 
 in state, in the Model-Room of the Academy, 
 
 84 The company who attended the funeral, assembled in 
 the Library and Council-Chamber ; the Royal Acade- 
 my in the Exhibition-Room. 
 
 <4 The compan^consisted of a great number of the most 
 
Some account of 
 
 csii 
 
 Though his friend Dr. Johnson was buried 
 in Westminster- Abbey* and it had been de~ 
 
 distinguished persons, who were emulous in their desire 
 of paying the last honours to the remains of him, whose 
 life had been distinguished by the exertions of the highest 
 talents, and the exercise of every virtue that can make a 
 man respected and beloved. Many more were prevented 
 by illness, and unexpected and unavoidable occasions, 
 which they much regretted, from attending. • 
 
 et Never was a publick solemnity conducted with more 
 order, decorum, and dignity. The procession set out at 
 half an hour after twelve o’clock. The herse arrived at 
 the great western gate of St. Paul's, about a quarter after 
 two, and was there met. by the Dignitaries of the Church, 
 and by the Gentlemen of the Choir, who chaunted the 
 proper Psalms, whilst the procession moved to the en- 
 trance of the choir, where was performed, in a superior 
 manner, the full choir- evening-service, together with 
 the famous Anthem of Dr. Boyce ; the body remaining 
 during the whole time in the centre of the choir. 
 
 “ The Chief Mourner and Gentlemen of the Academy, 
 as of the family, were placed by the Body. The Chief 
 Mourner in a chair at the head ; the two attendants at the 
 feet ; the Pall-Bearers and Executors in the seats on the 
 decanal side ; the other Noblemen and Gentlemen on the 
 cantorial side, The Bishop of London was in his proper 
 place, as were the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs. 
 
 “ After the service, the body was conveyed into the 
 crypt, and placed immediately beneath the perforated 
 brass-plate, under the centre of the dome. Dr. Jefferies, 
 l 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. cxiii 
 
 termined to erect a monument to him there, 
 so desirous was Sir Joshua Reynolds that St. 
 
 Canon Residentiary, with the other Canons, and the 
 whole Choir, came under the dome; the grave-digger 
 attending in the middle with a shovel of mould, which at 
 the proper time was thrown through the aperture of the 
 plate, on the coffin. The funeral service was chaunted, 
 and accompanied on the organ in a grand and affecting 
 manner. When the funeral service was ended, the 
 Chief Mourners and Executors went into the crypt, and 
 attended the corpse to the grave, which was dug under the 
 pavement. 
 
 The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs honoured the procession 
 by coming to Somerset-Place, where an officer’s guard of 
 thirty men was placed at the great court -gate. After the 
 procession had passed through Temple-Bar, the gates 
 w T ere shut by order of the Lord Mayor, to prevent any 
 interruption from carriages passing to or from the City. 
 
 The spectators, both in the church and in the street, 
 were innumerable. The shops were shut, the windows 
 of every house were filled, and the people in the streets, 
 who seemed to share in the general sorrow, beheld the 
 whole with respect and silence. 
 
 The Order of the Procession was as follows : 
 
 The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, and City Marshals. 
 
 The undertaker and ten conductors, on horseback. 
 
 A lid with plumes of feathers. 
 
 The hearse with six horses. 
 
 YOL, I . h 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Paul’s should be decorated by Sculpture, 
 which he thought would be highly beneficial 
 
 Ten pall-bearers, viz. 
 
 The Duke of Dorset, Lord High Steward of his 
 Majesty’s Household. 
 
 Duke of Leeds. 
 
 Duke of Portland. 
 
 Marquis Townshend. 
 
 Marquis of Abercorn. 
 
 Earl of Carlisle. ; , 
 
 Earl of Inchiquin* 
 
 Earl of Upper- Ossory. 
 
 Lord Viscount Palmerston. 
 
 Lord Eliot. 
 
 Robert Level Gwatkin, Esq. Chief Mourner. 
 
 Two Attendants of the Family. 
 
 The Rt. Hon. Edmund Burke, 
 
 Edmond Malone, Esq. 
 
 Philip Metcalfe, Esq. 
 
 The Royal Academicians, and Students. 
 
 Bennet Langton, Esq. (Professor in ancient literature.) 
 James Boswell, Esq. (Secretary for foreign cor- 
 respondence.) 
 
 The Archbishop of York. The Marquis of Buckingham. 
 Earl of Fife. Earl of Carysfort. 
 
 Lord St. Asaph. Lord Bishop of London. 
 
 Lord Fortescue. Lord Somers. 
 
 Lord Lucan. The Dean of Norwich. 
 
 Right Hon. W. Windham. Sir Abraham Hume, Bt. 
 Sir George Beaumont, Bt. Sir Thomas Dundas, Bt. 
 
 1 
 
 > Executors. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 cxv 
 
 to the Arts , 65 that he prevailed on those who 
 were associated with him in the management 
 
 Sir Charles Bunbitry, Bt. Sir William Forbes, Bt, 
 Dr. George Fordyce, Dr. Ash. 
 
 Dr. Brocldesby, Dr. Blagden. 
 
 Sir William Scott, M. P. George Rose, Esq. M. P. 
 John Rolle, Esq. M. P. William Weddell, Esq. M. P. 
 Reginald Pole Carew, Esq. M. P. Richard Clarke, Esq, 
 Mat. Montagu, Esq. M. P.— R d . P. Knight, Esq. M. P. 
 Dudley North, Esq. M. P. Charles Townley, Esq. 
 Abel Moysey, Esq. John Cleveland, Esq. M. P. 
 
 John Thomas Batt, Esq. Welbore Ellis Agar, Esq, 
 Colonel Gwyn, Captain Pole. 
 
 Dr. Laurence, William Seward, Esq. 
 
 James Martin, Esq. Drewe, Esq. 
 
 Edward Jerningham, Esq. William Vachel, Esq. 
 Richard Burke, Esq. Thomas Coutts, Esq. 
 
 John Julius Angerstein, Esq. Edward Gwatkin, Esq. 
 Charles Burney, Esq. John Hunter, Esq. 
 
 William Cruiklhank, Esq. Home, Esq. 
 
 John Philip Kemble, Esq. Joseph Hickey, Esq. 
 
 Mr. Alderman Boydell, John Devaynes, Esq. 
 
 Mr. Poggi, Mr. Breda. 
 
 “The company were conveyed in forty-two mourning 
 coaches ; and forty-nine coaches belonging to the No- 
 blemen and Gentlemen attended empty.” 
 
 To each of the gentlemen who attended on this occasion, 
 was presented a print engraved by Bartolozzi, represent- 
 ing a female clasping an urn ; accompanied by the Genius 
 of Painting, holding in one hand an extinguished torch* 
 
 h % 
 
CXV1 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 of Johnson’s monument , 66 to consent that it 
 should be placed in that cathedral; in which , 
 I know, some of them reluctantly acquiesced. 
 In consequence of the ardour which he ex- 
 pressed on this subject, it was thought proper 
 to deposite his body in the crypt of that 
 magnificent church; which indeed had 
 another claim also to the remains of this 
 great Painter, for in the same ground (though 
 the ancient building constructed upon it has 
 given place to another edifice,) was interred, 
 
 and pointing with the other to a sarcophagus, on the tablet 
 of which is written— 
 
 Succedet fama, vivusque per ora feretur. 
 
 65 He wished that St. Paul’s should be decorated by 
 Paintings as well as Sculpture, and has enlarged on this 
 subject in his “ Journey to Flanders,” page 341. A scheme 
 of this kind was proposed about the year 1774, and warmly 
 espoused by our Author ; but it was prevented from being 
 carried into execution by Dr. Terrick, then Bishop of 
 London. Since that time, monuments , under certain re= 
 gulations, have been admittted. 
 
 65 Sir William Scott, Mr. Burke, Sir Joseph Banks, 
 Mr. Windham, Mr. Metcalfe, Mr. Boswell, Mr. Malone. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 cxvii 
 
 in the middle of the last century, his great 
 predecessor, Sir Antony Vandyck. 
 
 By his last Will, which was made on the 
 5th of November preceding his death, he 
 bequeathed the greater part of his fortune to 
 his niece, Miss Palmer, now Countess of 
 Inchiquin ; ten thousand pounds in the funds 
 to her younger sister, Mrs. Gwatkin, the 
 wife of Robert Lovel Gwatkin, Esq. of 
 Killiow, in the county of Cornwall ; a con- 
 siderable legacy to his friend, the Right 
 Hon. Edmund Burke, with whom he had 
 lived in great intimacy for more than thirty 
 years ; and various memorials to other 
 friends. 67 
 
 67 To the Earl of Upper-Ossory, any picture of his 
 own painting, remaining undisposed of at his death, that 
 his lordship should choose. 
 
 To Lord Palmerston, “ the second choice. 5 * 
 
 To Sir Abraham Hume, Bart. “ the choice of his 
 Claude Lorraines .’ 5 
 
 To Sir George Beaumont, Bart, his “ Sebastian Bour- 
 don,— the Return of the Arc .’ 5 
 
 To the Duke of Portland, “ the Angel Contemplation, 
 — the upper part of the Nativity.” 
 
ckviii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 To the brief enumeration that has been 
 given of the various qualities which rendered 
 him at once so distinguished an ornament 
 and so valuable a member of society, it is 
 
 To Edmond Malone, Philip Metcalfe, James Boswell, 
 Esqrs. and Sir William Scott, [his Majesty’s Advocate 
 General,] £.200 each, to be laid out, if they should think 
 proper, in the purchase of some picture at the sale of his 
 Collection, “ to be kept for his sake.” 
 
 To the Reverend William Mason, the Miniature of 
 Milton by Cooper.” 
 
 To Richard Burke, junior, Esq. his Cromwell, by 
 Cooper. 
 
 To Mrs. Bunbury, her son’s picture ; and to Mrs. 
 Gwyn, “ her own picture with a turban.” 
 
 To his nephew, William Johnston, Esq. of Calcutta, 
 his watch, See. 
 
 To his old servant, Ralph Kirkley, (who had lived 
 with him twenty-nine years,) one thousand pounds. 
 
 Of this Will, he appointed Mr. Burke, Mr. Metcalfe, 
 and the present writer. Executors. 
 
 In March, 1795, his fine Collection of Pictures "by 
 the Ancient Masters, was sold by Auction for 10,319k 
 2s. 6d.; and in April, 1796, various historical and 
 fancy -pieces of his own painting, together with some un- 
 claimed portraits, were sold for 4505k 18s. His very 
 valuable Collection of JDrawings and Prints yet remains 
 to be disposed of. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. C xix 
 
 almost needless to add, that the death of this 
 great Painter, and most amiable man, was 
 not less a private loss, than a publick mis- 
 fortune j and that however that loss may 
 have been deplored by his numerous friends, 
 by none of them was it more deeply felt, 
 than by hirn, to whom the office of trans- 
 mitting to posterity this imperfect memorial 
 of his talents and his virtues has devolved. 
 
 Its imperfection however will, I trust, be 
 amply compensated by the following cha- 
 racteristick eulogy, in which the hand of the 
 great master, and the affectionate friend, is 
 so visible, that it is scarcely necessary to 
 inform the reader that it w r as written by Mr. 
 Burke, not many hours after the melancholy 
 event which it commemorates, had taken 
 place ; 
 
 * * & * * * 
 
 “ His illness was long, but borne with a 
 “ mild and cheerful fortitude, without the 
 
 6 
 
CSX ' SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 S4 least mixture of any thing irritable, or 
 44 querulous, agreeably to the placid and 
 44 even tenour of his whole life. He had, 
 44 from the beginning of his malady, a dis- 
 44 tinct view of his dissolution ; and he con- 
 44 templated it with that entire composure, 
 44 which nothingbut the innocence, integrity, 
 44 and usefulness of his life, and an unaffected 
 4 4 submission to the will of Providence, 
 44 could bestow. In this situation he had 
 44 every consolation from family tenderness, 
 44 which his own kindness had indeed well 
 44 deserved. 
 
 44 Sir Joshua Reynolds was, on very many 
 44 accounts, one of the most memorable men 
 44 of his time. He was the first Engl is h- 
 44 man, who added the praise of the elegant 
 44 arts to the other glories of his country/ 
 44 In taste, in grace, in facility, In happy 
 44 invention, and in the richness and harmony 
 44 of colouring, he was equal to the great 
 44 masters of the renowned ages. In For- 
 
 3 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 cxxi 
 
 49 trait he went beyond them % for he com- 
 u municated to that description of the art, 
 49 in which English artists are the most en- 
 ** gaged, a variety, a fancy, and a dignity 
 45 derived from the higher branches, which 
 99 even those who professed them in a six- 
 99 perior manner, did not always preserve* 
 9 9 when they delineated individual nature. 
 99 His Portraits remind the spectator of the 
 99 invention of history, and the amenity of 
 99 landscape* In painting portraits, he ap- 
 44 peared not to be raised upon that platform, 
 99 but to descend to it from a higher sphere. 
 99 His paintings illustrate his lessons, and 
 99 his lessons seem to be derived from his 
 69 paintings. 
 
 He possessed the theory as perfectly as 
 44 the practice of his art. To be such a 
 99 painter, he was a profound and penetrating 
 
 philosopher. 
 
 99 In full affluence of foreign and domestick 
 
exxu 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 45 fame, admired by the expert in art, and 
 81 by the learned in science, courted by the 
 great, caressed by Sovereign Powers, and 
 celebrated by distinguished poets , 68 hi$ 
 
 Goldsmith, Mason, T* War-ton, 8 cc .— The encomia 
 urns on our author in prose, are not less numerous. 
 When the Discourses were mentioned in a former page, 
 I did not recollect that they have been very highly com- 
 mended by my learned and ingenious friend. Dr. Joseph 
 Warton, one of the few yet left among us, of those who 
 began to be distinguished in the middle of the present 
 century, soon after the death of Pape, and may now 
 therefore be considered as the ultimi Romanorum . The 
 praise of so judicious a critick being too valuable, to b$ 
 omitted, I shall introduce it here : 
 
 “ One cannot forbear reflecting on the great progress 
 the Art of Painting has made in this country, since the 
 time that Jervas was thought worthy of this panegyrick : 
 [Pope’s Epistle to that Painter, in 1716:] a progress, 
 that, we trust, will daily increase, if due attention be 
 paid to the incomparable Discourses that have been 
 delivered at the Royal Academy • which Discourses con- 
 tain more solid instruction on that subject, than, I verily 
 think, can be found in any language. The precepts are 
 philosophically founded on truth and nature, and illus- 
 trated with the most proper and pertinent examples. The 
 characters are drawn with a precision and distinctness, that 
 we look for in vain in Felibien, De Piles, and even Vasari, 
 or Pliny himself. Nothing, for example, can be more just 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. CXKlH 
 
 ct native humility, modesty, and candour, 
 €e never forsook him, even on surprise or 
 provocation; nor was the least degree of 
 “ arrogance or assumption visible to the most 
 44 scrutinizing eye, in any part of his con- 
 duct or discourse, 
 
 44 His talents of every kind, powerful 
 44 from nature, and not meanly cultivated by 
 44 letters, his social virtues in all the relations 
 44 and all the habitudes of life, rendered him 
 f 4 the centre of a very great and unparalleled 
 44 variety of agreeable societies, which will 
 ** be dissipated by his death. He had too 
 ** much merit not to excite some jealousy, 
 44 too much innocence to provoke any enmity. 
 
 * 4 The loss of no man of his time can be feh 
 
 ■ ' 
 
 and elegant, as well as profound and scientifick, than the 
 comparison between Michael Angelo and RafFaelle in the 
 fifth of these Discourses. Michael Angelo is plainly the 
 hero of Sir Joshua Reynolds, for the same reason that 
 Homer by every great mind is preferred to Virgil.” 
 Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope , ii. 394. 
 
CXX1V 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT, 
 
 s& with more sincere, general, and unmixed 
 sorrow. 
 
 “HAIl/l AND FAREWELL l” 
 
 £>ueen-Anne-Street, East,, 
 
 February io> 1798, 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF THE FIRST VOLUME, 
 
 discourse i. 
 
 The advantages proceeding from the Institution of a 
 Royal Academy .-—Hints offered to the consideration 
 of the Professors and Visitors \—That an implicit 
 obedience to the rules of Art he exacted from the 
 young Students \—That a premature disposition to a 
 masterly dexterity he repressed > —That diligence hi 
 constantly recommended y and ( that it may he effec- 
 tual) directed to its proper object . . * . page i, 
 
 DISCOURSE II. 
 
 The course and order of study. — - The different stages of. 
 Art.— Much copying discountenanced.— The Artist 
 at all times and in all places should he employed in 
 laying up materials for the exercise of his art. p, 23 a 
 
 DISCOURSE III. 
 
 The great leading principles of the Grand Style.— Of 
 Beauty .—The genuine habits of nature to he distin- 
 guished from those of fashion. . . * . . . . p. 51. 
 
6onteMti 
 
 DISCOURSE IV, 
 
 General Ideas, the presiding principle which regulates 
 every part of Art Invention, Expression, Colouring, 
 
 and Drapery . Two distinct styles in History -Paint- 
 ing i the Grand , and the Ornamental The Schools 
 in which each is to he found. The composite style . 
 The style formed on local customs and habits, or a 
 partial view of Nature ... pi 7^ 
 
 DISCOURSE V. 
 
 Circumspection required in endeavouring to mite con- 
 trary Excellencies. The expression of a mixed 
 passion not to he attempted — Examples of those 
 who excelled in the Great Style ^ RafFaelle, Michael 
 Angelo. Those two extraordinary men compared 
 with each other.— The Characteristical Style. — Sal- 
 vator Rosa mentioned as an example of that style ; 
 and opposed to Carlo Maratti. — - Sketch of the cha- 
 racters of Poussin and Rubens. These two Painters 
 entirely dissimilar, hut consistent with themselves . 
 
 This consistency required in all parts of the Art. 
 
 p. 115 
 
 DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 Imitation.— Genius begins where Rules end. — Inven- 
 tion acquired by being conversant with the inven- 
 tions of others. — The true method of imitating. — Bor- 
 rowing, how far allowable. — Something to be gather- 
 ed from every School, ........... p. 1.45 
 
CONTENTS. 
 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 The reality of a standard of Taste, as well as of corporal 
 Beauty . Beside this immutable truth , there are sc~ 
 condary truths, which are 'variable ; both requiring 
 the attention of the Artist , in proportion to their 
 stability or their influence. 9 . * . * . p» 189 
 
 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 The Principles of Art, whether Poetry or Painting , 
 have their foundation in the mind % such as Novelty , 
 Variety, and Contrast ; these in their excess become 
 defects .-—Simplicity . Its excess disagreeable.— Rules 
 not to he always observed in their literal sense : suf- 
 ficient to preserve the spirit of the law*~Qbserva~ 
 lions on the Prize-Pictures , . . . , . . . p, 245 
 
DISCOURSE I 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE OPENING OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 JANUARY 2 , 1769. 
 
 VOL, X. 
 
 B 
 
TO 
 
 THE MEMBERS 
 
 O F 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 That you have ordered the publi- 
 cation of this discourse, is not only very 
 flattering to me, as it implies your approba- 
 tion of the method of study which I have 
 recommended ; but likewise, as this method 
 receives from that act such an additional 
 weight and authority, as demands from the 
 Students that deference and respect, which 
 b % 
 
[ i* 3 
 
 can be due only to the united sense of so con- 
 siderable a Body of Artists. 
 
 I am, 
 
 With the greatest esteem and respect* 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 Your most humble* 
 
 and obedient Servant, 
 
 Joshua Reynolds. 
 
DISCOURSE I. 
 
 the Advantages proceeding from the institution 
 
 OF A ROYAL ACADEMY. — HINTS OFFERED TO THE 
 CONSIDERATION OF THE PROFESSORS AND VISITORS ; 
 
 THAT AN IMPLICIT OBEDIENCE TO THE RULES OF 
 
 ART BE EXACTED FROM THE YOUNG STUDENTS;— 
 THAT A PREMATURE DISPOSITION TO A MASTERLY 
 DEXTERITY BE REPRESSED THAT DILIGENCE BE 
 CONSTANTLY RECOMMENDED, AND (THAT IT MAY 
 BE EFFECTUAL) DIRECTED TO ITS PROPER OBJECT* 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 An Academy, in which the Polite Arts 
 maybe regularly cultivated, is at last opened 
 among us by Royal Munificence. This 
 must appear an event in the highest degree 
 interesting, not only to the Artists, but to 
 the whole nation. 
 
 It is indeed difficult to give any other 
 reason, why an empire like that of Bri- 
 tain should so long have wanted an orna- 
 ment so suitable to its greatness, than that 
 slow progression of things, which naturally 
 
€ THE FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 makes elegance and refinement the last effeef 
 of opulence and power. 
 
 An Institution like this has often been re- 
 commended upon considerations merely mer- 
 cantile j but an Academy, founded upon suck 
 principles , can never effect even its own narrow 
 purposes. If it has an origin no higher, no 
 taste can ever be formed in manufactures ; 
 but if the higher Arts of Design flourish, these 
 inferior ends will be answeredof course^ 
 
 We are happy in having a Prince, who 
 has conceived the design of such an institution, 
 according to its true dignity ; and who promotes 
 the Arts, as the' head of a great, a learned, at 
 polite, and a commercial nation ; and I can now 
 congratulate you, Gentlemen, on the accom- 
 plishment of your long and ardent wishes, 
 
 The numberless and ineffectual consul- 
 tations which I have had with many in this 
 assembly, to form plans and concert schemes 
 for an Academy, afford a sufficient proof of 
 the impossibility of succeeding but by the 
 influence of Majesty* But there havev 
 6 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE, 
 
 7 
 
 perhaps, been times, when even the influence 
 of Majesty would have been ineffectual j 
 and it is pleasing to reflect, that we are thus 
 embodied, when every circumstance seems to 
 concur from which honour and prosperity can 
 probably arise* 
 
 There are, at this time, a greater number 
 of excellent artists than were ever known 
 before at one period in this nation j there is 
 a general desire among our Nobility to be dis- 
 tinguished as lovers and judges of the Arts % 
 there is a greater superfluity of wealth among 
 the people to reward the professors ; and, 
 above all, we are patronized by a Monarch, 
 who, knowing the value of science and of 
 elegance, thinks every art worthy of his notice, 
 that tends to soften and humanise the mind. 
 
 After so much has been done by His 
 Majesty, it will be wholly our fault, if 
 our progress is not in some degree correspon- 
 dent to the wisdom and generosity of the In- 
 stitution : let us shew our gratitude in our 
 diligence, that, though our merit may not 
 
8 THE FIRST DISCOURSE, 
 
 answer his expectations, yet, at least, crnf 
 industry may deserve his protection. 
 
 But whatever,. may be our proportion of 
 success, of this we may be sure, that the 
 present Institution will at least contribute to 
 advance our knowledge of the Arts, and 
 bring us nearer to that ideal excellence, which 
 it is the lot of genius always to contemplate 
 and never to attain. 
 
 The principal advantage of an Academy 
 Is, that, besides furnishing able men to direct 
 the Student, it will be a repository for the 
 great examples of the Art. These are the 
 materials on which Genius is to work, and 
 without which the strongest intellect may be 
 fruitlessly or deviously employed. By 
 studying these authentick models, that idea 
 of excellence which is the result of the accu» 
 mulated experience of past ages, may be at 
 once acquired ; and the tardy and obstructed 
 progress of our predecessors may teach us 
 a shorter and easier way. The Student 
 receives, at one glance, the principles which 
 many Artists have spent their whole lives in 
 3 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 9 
 
 ascertaining; and, satisfied with their effect, 
 is spared the painful investigation by which 
 they came to be known and fixed. Ho\y 
 many men of great natural abilities have been 
 lost to this nation, for want of these advan- 
 tages ! They never had an opportunity of 
 seeing those masterly efforts of genius, which 
 at once kindle the whole soul, and force it 
 into sudden and irresistible approbation. 
 
 Raffaelle, it is true, had not the ad- 
 vantage of studying in an Academy; but 
 all Rome, and the works of Michael Angelo 
 in particular, were to him an Academy,, 
 On the sight of the Capella Sistina, he 
 immediately from a dry, Gothick, and even 
 insipid manner, which attends to the minute 
 accidental discriminations of particular and 
 individual objects, assumed that grand style 
 of painting, which improves partial repre- 
 sentation by the general and invariable ideas 
 of nature. 
 
 Every seminary of learning may be said 
 to be surrounded with an atmosphere of ' 
 floating knowledge, where every mind may 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE; 
 
 IG 
 
 imbibe somewhat congenial to its own origin 
 nal conceptions. Knowledge, thusobtained, 
 has always something more popular and use- 
 ful than that which is forced upon the mind 
 by private precepts, or solitary meditation. 
 Besides, it is generally found, that a youth 
 more easily receives instruction from the 
 companions of his studies, whose minds are 
 nearly on a level with his own, than from 
 thos6 who are much his superiors ; and it is 
 from his equals only that he catches the fire 
 of emulation. 
 
 One advantage, I will venture to affirm, 
 we shall have in our Academy, which no 
 other nation can boast. We shall have no- 
 thing to unlearn. To this praise the present 
 race of Artists have a just claim. As far as 
 they have yet proceeded, they are right. 
 With us the exertions of genius will hence- 
 forward be directed to their proper objects. 
 It will not be as it has been in other schools, 
 where he that travelled fastest, only wan- 
 dered farthest from the right way. 
 
 Impressed, as I am, therefore, with 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE, 
 
 ii 
 
 such a favourable opinion of my associates in 
 this undertaking, it would ill become me to 
 dictate to any of them. But as these insti- 
 tutions have so often failed in other nations ; 
 and as it is natural to think with regret, how 
 much might have been done, I must take 
 leave to offer a few hints, by which those 
 errors may be rectified, and those defects 
 supplied. These the Professors and Visi- 
 tors may reject or adopt as they shall 
 think proper. 
 
 I would chiefly recommend, that an 
 implicit obedience to the Rules of Art , as 
 established by the practice of the great Mas- 
 ters, should be exacted from the young 
 Students. That those models, which have 
 passed through the approbation of ages, 
 should be considered by them as perfect and 
 infallible guides; as subjects for their imita- 
 tion, not their criticism. 
 
 1 am confident, that this is the only effica- 
 cious method of making a progress in the 
 Arts ; and that he who sets out with doubt- 
 ing, will find life finished before he becomes 
 
12 THE FIRST DISCOURSE, 
 
 master of the rudiments. For it may be laid 
 down as a maxim, that he who begins by 
 presuming on his own sense, has ended his 
 studies as soon as he has commenced them. 
 Every opportunity, therefore, should be 
 taken to discountenance that false and vulgar 
 opinion, that rules are the fetters of genius; 
 they are fetters only to men of no genius; 
 as that armour, which upon the strong is an 
 ornament and a defence, upon the weak and 
 mis-shapen becomes a load, and cripples the 
 body which it was made to protect. 
 
 How much liberty may he taken to break 
 through those rules, and, as the Poet ex- 
 presses it. 
 
 To snatch a grace beyond the reach of art, 
 
 may be a subsequent consideration, when 
 the pupils become masters themselves. It is 
 then, when their genius has received its ut- 
 most improvement, that rules may possibly 
 be dispensed with. But let us not destroy 
 the scaffold, until we have raised the 
 building. 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE, 
 
 41 
 
 The Directors ought more particularly to 
 watch over the genius of those Students, 
 who, being more advanced, are arrived at 
 that critical period of study, on the nice 
 management of which their future turn of 
 taste depends . At that age it is natural for 
 them to be more captivated with what is 
 brilliant, than with what is solid, and to 
 prefer splendid negligence to painful and 
 humiliating exactness. 
 
 A facility in compofing, — a lively, and 
 what is called a masterly, handling of 
 the chalk or pencil, are, it must be confessed, 
 captivating qualities to young minds, and 
 become of course the objects of their ambi- 
 tion. They endeavour to imitate those 
 dazzling excellencies, which they will find 
 no great labour in attaining. After much 
 time spent in these frivolous pursuits, the 
 difficulty will be to retreat ; but it will be 
 then too late ; and there is scarce an instance 
 of return to scrupulous labour, after the mind 
 has been debauched and deceived by this 
 fallacious mastery. 
 
3 4 
 
 THE FIRST DISCOURSE, 
 
 By this useless induftry they are excluded 
 from all power of advancing in real excel- 
 lence. Whilst boys, they are arrived at their 
 utmost perfection,* they have taken the sha- 
 dow for the substance ; and make the me- 
 chanical felicity the chief excellence of the 
 art, which is only an ornament, and of the 
 merit of which few but painters themselves 
 ?ire judges. 
 
 This seems to me to be one of the most 
 dangerous sources of corruption ; and I speak 
 of it from experience, not as an error which 
 may possibly happen, but which has actually 
 infected all foreign Academies. The direc- 
 tors were probably pleased with this prema- 
 ture dexterity in their pupils, and praised 
 their dispatch at the expence of their cor- 
 rectness. 
 
 But young men have not only this frivo- 
 lous ambition of being thought masters of 
 execution, inciting them on one hand, but 
 also their natural sloth tempting them on the 
 other. They are terrified at the prospect 
 before them, of the toil required to attain 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE, 
 
 *$ 
 
 exactness. The impetuosity of youth is 
 disgusted at the slow approaches of a regular 
 siege, and desires, from mere impatience of 
 labour, to take the citadel by storm. They 
 wish to find some shorter path to excellence, 
 and hope to obtain the reward of eminence 
 by other means than those, which the indis- 
 pensable rules of art have prescribed. They 
 must therefore be told again and again, that 
 Jabour is the only price of solid fame, and 
 that whatever their force of genius may be, 
 there is no easy method of becoming a good 
 Painter, 
 
 When we read the lives of the most emi- 
 nent Painters, every page informs us, that no 
 part of their time was spent in dissipation. 
 Even an increase of fame served only to aug- 
 ment their industry. To be convinced with 
 what persevering assiduity they pursued 
 their studies, we need only reflect on their 
 method of proceeding in their most celebrated 
 works. When they conceived a subject, 
 they first made a variety of sketches ; then a 
 finished drawing of the whole; after that a 
 more correct drawing of every separate part. 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 ?t& 
 
 r — heads, hands, feet, and pieces of drapery* 
 they then painted the picture, and after all 
 re-touched it from the life. The pictures, 
 thus wrought with such pains, now appear 
 like the effect of enchantment, and as if some 
 mighty Genius had struck them off at a blow* 
 
 But, whilst diligence is thus recommended 
 to the Students, the Visitors will take care 
 that their diligence be effectual; that it be 
 well directed, and employed on the proper 
 object. A Student is not always advancing 
 because he is employed; he must apply his 
 strength to that part of the art where the real 
 difficulties lie ; to that part which distin-* 
 guishes it as a liberal art; and not by 
 mistaken industry lose his time in that which 
 is merely ornamental. The Students, instead 
 of vying with each other which fhall have 
 the readieft hand, should be taught to contend 
 who shal] have the purest and most correct 
 out-line; instead of striving which shall pro- 
 duce the brightest tint, or, curiously trifling, 
 shall give the gloss of stuffs, so as to appear 
 real, let their ambition be directed to contend, 
 which shall dispose his draper y in the most 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 r 7 
 
 graceful folds, which shall give the most 
 grace and dignity to the human figure. 
 
 I must beg leave to submit one thing 
 more to the consideration of the Visitors, 
 which appears to me a matter of very great 
 consequence, and the omission of which I 
 think a principal defect in the method of 
 education pursued in all the Academies I 
 have ever visited. The error I mean is, 
 that the students never draw exactly from 
 the living models which they have before 
 them. It is not indeed their intention; nor 
 are they directed to do it. Their drawings 
 resemble the model only in the attitude. 
 They change the form according to their 
 vague and uncertain ideas of beauty, and 
 make a drawing rather of what they think 
 the figure ought to be, than of what it ap- 
 pears. I have thought this the obstacle that 
 has stopped the progress of many young men 
 of real genius ; and I very much doubt, 
 whether a habit of drawing correctly what 
 we see, will not give a proportionable power 
 of drawing correctly what we imagine. He 
 who endeavours to copy nicely the figure 
 
 VOL. I . 
 
 c 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE* 
 
 i8 
 
 before him, not only acquires a habit of 
 exactness and precision, but is continually 
 advancing in his knowledge of the human 
 figure ; and though he seems to superficial 
 observers to make a slower progress, he will 
 be found at last capable of adding (without 
 running into capricious wildness) that grace 
 and beauty, which is necessary to be given 
 to his more finished works, and which can- 
 not be got by the moderns, as it was not 
 acquired by the ancients, but by an atten- 
 tive and well compared study of the human 
 form. 
 
 What I think ought to enforce this me- 
 thod is, that it has been the practice (as 
 may be seen by their drawings) of the great 
 Masters in the Art. I will mention a draw- 
 ing of Raffaelle, T he Difpute of the Sacra- 
 merit , the print of which, by Count Cailus, 
 is in every hand. It appears, that he made 
 his sketch from one model ; and the habit 
 he had of drawing exactly from the form 
 before him appears by his making all the 
 figures with the same cap, such as his mo- 
 del then happened to wear ; so servile a 
 
 i 
 
THE FIRST DISCOURSE, 
 
 19 
 
 Copyist was this great man, even at a time 
 when he was allowed to be at his highest 
 pitch of excellence. 
 
 I have seen also Academy figures by 
 Annibale Caracci, thou oh he was often suf- 
 
 O 
 
 flciently licentious in his finished works, 
 drawn with all the peculiarities of an indivi- 
 dual model. 
 
 This scrupulous exactness is so contrary 
 to the practice of the Academies, that it is 
 not without great deference, that I beg leave 
 to recommend it to the consideration of the 
 Visitors ; and submit to them, whether the 
 neglect of this method is not one of the rea- 
 sons why Students so often disappoint expec- 
 tation, and, being more than boys at sixteen, 
 become less than men at thirty. 
 
 In short, the method I recommend can 
 only be detrimental where there are but few 
 living forms to copy ; for then Students, 
 by always drawing from one alone, will by 
 habit be taught to overlook defects, and 
 mistake deformity for beauty. But of this 
 
 c % 
 
so THE FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 there is no danger ; since the Council has 
 determined to supply the Acaderfry with a 
 variety of subjects ; and indeed those laws 
 which they have drawn up, and which the 
 Secretary will presently read for your con- 
 firmation, have in some measure precluded 
 me from saying more upon this occasion. 
 Instead, therefore, of offering my advice, 
 permit me to indulge my wishes, and ex- 
 press my hope, that this institution may 
 answer the expectation of its Royal Foun- 
 der; that the present age may vie in Arts 
 with that of Leo the Tenth; and that the 
 dignity of the dying Art (to make use of an 
 expression of Pliny) may be revived under 
 the Reign of GEORGE THE THIRD. 
 
DISCOURSE II. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OP 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 
 DECEMBER n, 1 763® 
 
DISCOURSE II. 
 
 THE COURSE AND ORDER OF STUDY. — THE DIFFERENT 
 STAGES OF ART. — MUGH COPYING DISCOUNTENANCED* 
 “ — THE ARTIST AT ALL TIMES AND IN ALL PLACES 
 SHOULD BE EMPLOYD IN LAYING UP MATERIALS FOR 
 THE EXERCISE OF HIS ART. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 I Congratulate you on the honour which 
 you have just received. I have the highest 
 opinion of your merits, and could wish to 
 show my sense of them in something which 
 posssibly may be more useful to you than 
 barren praise. I could wish to lead you into 
 such a course of study as may render your 
 future progress answerable to your past im- 
 provement j and, whilst I applaud you for 
 what has been done, remind you how much 
 yet remains to attain perfection. 
 
 I flatter myself, that from the long ex- 
 perience I have had, and the unceasing as- 
 siduity with which I have pursued those 
 
24 the second discourse. 
 
 studies, in which, like you, I have been en- 
 gaged, I shall be acquitted of vanity in offer- 
 ing some hints to your consideration. They 
 are indeed in a great degree founded upon 
 my own mistakes in the same pursuit. But 
 the history of errors, properly managed, often 
 shortens the road to truth. And although no 
 method of study that I can offer, will of 
 itself conduct to excellence, yet it may pre- 
 serve industry from being misapplied. 
 
 In speaking to you of the Theory of the 
 Art, I shall only consider it as it has a rela- 
 tion to the method of your studies. 
 
 Dividing the study of painting into three 
 distinct periods, I shall address you as having 
 passed through the first of them, which is 
 confined to the rudiments ; including a faci- 
 lity of drawing any object that presents it- 
 self, a tolerable readiness in the management 
 of colours, and an acquaintance with the most 
 simple and obvious rules of composition. 
 
 This first degree of proficiency is, in 
 painting, what grammar is in literature, a 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 25 
 
 general preparation for whatever species of 
 the art the student may afterwards choose 
 for his more particular application. The 
 power of drawing, modelling, and using 
 colours, is very properly called the Language 
 of the art ; and in this language, the honours 
 you have just received prove you to have 
 made no inconsiderable progress „ 
 
 When the Artist is once enabled to ex- 
 press himself with some degree of correctness, 
 he must then endeavour to collect subjects 
 for expression ; to amass a stock of ideas, to 
 be combined and varied as occasion may re- 
 quire. He is now in the second period of 
 study, in which his business is to learn all 
 that has been known and done before his own 
 time. Having hitherto received instructions 
 from a particular master, he is now to con- 
 sider the Art itself as his master. He must 
 extend his capacity to more sublime and 
 general instructions. Those perfections 
 which lie scattered among various masters, 
 are now united in one general idea, which 
 is henceforth to regulate his taste, and en- 
 large his imagination. With a variety of 
 
26 THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 models thus before him, he will avoid that 
 narrowness and poverty of conception which 
 attends a bigotted admiration of a single 
 master, and will cease to follow any favourite 
 where he ceases to excel. This period is, 
 however, still a time of subjection and dis- 
 cipline. Though the Student will not re- 
 sign himself blindly to any single authority, 
 when he may have the advantage of consult- 
 ing many, he must still be afraid of trusting 
 his own judgment, and of deviating into any 
 track where he cannot find the footsteps of 
 some former master. 
 
 The third and last period emancipates 
 the Student from subjection to any authority, 
 hut what he shall himself judge to be sup- 
 ported by reason. Confiding now in his 
 own judgment, he will consider and sepa- 
 rate those different principles to which diffe- 
 rent modes of beauty owe their original. In 
 the former period he sought only to know 
 and combine excellence, wherever it was to 
 be found, into one idea of perfection : in 
 this, he learns, what requires the most at- 
 tentive survey and the moft subtle disquisi- 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE, 
 
 tion, to difcriminate perfections that are in- 
 compatible with each other. 
 
 He is from this time to regard himself 
 as holding the same rank with those masters 
 whom he before obeyed as teachers ; and 
 as exercifing a sort of sovereignty over those 
 rules which have hitherto restrained him. 
 Comparing now no longer the perform- 
 ances of Art w r ith each other, but examining 
 the Art itself by the standard of nature, he 
 corrects what is erroneous, supplies what 
 is scanty, and adds by his own observation 
 what the induftry of his predeceffors may 
 have yet left wanting to perfection. Hav- 
 ing well established his judgment, and 
 stored his memory, he may now without 
 fear try the power of his imagination. The 
 mind that has been thus disciplined, may be 
 indulged in the warmest enthusiasm, and 
 venture to play on the borders of the wildest 
 extravagance. The habitual dignity which 
 long converse with the greatest minds has 
 imparted to him, will display itself in all his 
 attempts j and he will stand among his in- 
 structors, not as an imitator, but a rival. 
 
28 THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 These are the different stages of the Art. 
 But as I now address myself particularly to 
 those Students who have been this day 
 rewarded for their happy passage through 
 the first period, I can with no propriety 
 suppose they want any help in the initiatory 
 studies. My present design is to direct your 
 view to distant excellence, and to show 
 you the readiest path that leads to it. Of 
 this I shall speak with such latitude, as may 
 leave the province of the professor unin- 
 vaded ; and shall not anticipate those pre- 
 cepts, which it is his business to' give, and 
 your duty to understand. 
 
 It is indisputably evident that a great part 
 of every man’s life must be employed in 
 collecting materials for the exercise of ge- 
 nius. Invention, strictly speaking, is little 
 more than a new combination of those 
 images which have been previously gathered 
 and deposited in the memory : nothing can 
 come of nothing : he who has laid up no 
 material , can produce no combinations. 
 
 A Student unacquainted with the attempts 
 
‘THE SECOND DISCOURSE* 2 
 
 of former adventurers, is always apt to 
 over-rate his own abilities ; to mistake the 
 most trifling excursions for discoveries of 
 moment, and every coast new to him, for a 
 new-found country. If by chance he passes 
 beyond his usual limits, he congratulates 
 his own arrival at those regions which they 
 who have steered a better course have long 
 left behind them. 
 
 The productions of such minds are sel- 
 dom distinguished by an air of originality : 
 they are anticipated in their happiest efforts ; 
 and if they are found to differ in any thing 
 from their predecessors, it is only in irregu- 
 lar sallies, and trifling conceits. The more 
 extensive therefore your acquaintance is with 
 the works of those who have excelled, the 
 more extensive will be your powers of inven- 
 tion ; and what may appear still more like 
 a paradox, the more original will be your 
 conceptions. But the difficulty on this oc- 
 casion is to determine what ought to be pro- 
 posed as models of excellence, and who 
 ought to be considered as the properest 
 
 6 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE* 
 
 To a young man just arrived in Italy * 
 many of the present painters of that coun- 
 try are ready enough to obtrude their pre- 
 cepts, and to offer. their own performances as 
 examples of that perfection which they affect 
 to recommend. The Modem, however, 
 who recommends himself as a standard, may 
 justly be suspected as ignorant of the true 
 end, and unacquainted with the proper ob- 
 ject, of the art which he professes. To fol- 
 low such a guide, will not only retard the 
 Student, but mislead him. 
 
 On whom then can he rely, or who shall 
 show him the path that leads to excellence ? 
 the answer is obvious : those great masters 
 who have travelled the same road with suc- 
 cess are the most likely to conduct others. 
 The works of those who have stood the 
 test of ages, have a claim to that respect 
 and veneration to which no modern can 
 pretend. The duration and stability of their 
 fame, is sufficient to evince that it has not 
 been suspended upon the slender thread 
 of fashion and caprice, but bound to the 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE, 
 
 3 * 
 
 human heart by every tie of sympathetick 
 approbation. 
 
 There is no danger of studying too much 
 the works of those great men; but how they 
 may be studied to advantage is an enquiry 
 of great importance. 
 
 Some who have never raised their minds 
 to the consideration of the real dignity of the 
 Art, and who rate the works of an Artist in 
 proportion as they excel or are defective in 
 the mechanical parts, look on theory as 
 something that may enable them to talk but 
 not to paint better; and confining themselves 
 entirely to mechanical practice, very assidu- 
 ously toil on in the drudgery of copying ; and 
 think they make a rapid progress while they 
 faithfully exhibit the minutest part of a 
 favourite picture. This appears to me a very 
 tedious, and I think a very erroneous method 
 of proceeding. Of every large composition, 
 even of those which are most admired, a 
 great part may be truly said to be common - 
 place . This, though it takes up much time 
 in copying, conduces little to improvement. 
 
32 THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 I consider general copying as a delusive kind 
 of industry ; the Student satisfies himself 
 with the appearance of doing something ; 
 he falls into the dangerous habit of imitating 
 without selecting, and of labouring with- 
 out any determinate object ; as it requires 
 no effort of the mind, he sleeps over his 
 work ; and those powers of invention and 
 composition which ought particularly to be 
 called out, and put in action, lie torpid, and 
 lose their energy for want of exercise. 
 
 How incapable those are of producing 
 any thing of their own, who have spent 
 much of their time in making finished copies, 
 is well known to all who are conversant with 
 our art. 
 
 To suppose that the complication of pow- 
 ers, and variety of ideas necessary to that 
 mind which aspires to the first honours 
 in the art of Painting, can be obtained by 
 the frigid contemplation of a few single 
 models, is no less absurd, than it would be 
 in him who wifhes to be a Poet, to imagine 
 that by translating a tragedy he can acquire 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 33 
 
 to himself sufficient knowledge of the ap- 
 pearances of nature, the operations of the 
 passions, and the incidents of life. 
 
 The great use in copying, if it be at all 
 useful, should seem to be in learning to 
 colour ; yet even colouring will never be per- 
 fectly attained by servilely copying the model 
 before you. An eye critically nice can only 
 be formed by observing well-coloured pic- 
 tures with attention : and by close inspec- 
 tion, and minute examination, you will 
 discover, at last, the manner of handling, 
 the artifices of contrast, glazing, and other 
 expedients, by which good colourists have 
 raised the value of their tints, and by which 
 nature has been so happily imitat ed 
 
 I must inform you, however, that old 
 pictures deservedly celebrated for their co- 
 louring, are often so changed by dirt and 
 varnish, that we ought not to wonder if 
 they do not appear equal to their reputa- 
 tion in the eyes of unexperienced painters, 
 or young students. An artist whose judg- 
 ment is matured by long observation, con- 
 
 p 
 
 VOL. I „ 
 
34 THE SECOND DISCOURSE, 
 
 siders rather what the picture once was, than 
 what it is at prefent. He has by habit ac- 
 quired a power of seeing the brilliancy of 
 tints through the cloud by which it is obfcu- 
 red. An exad; imitation, therefore, of those 
 pictures, is likely to fill the student’s mind 
 with false opinions ; and to send him back 
 a colourist of his own formation, with ideas 
 equally remote from nature and from art, 
 from the genuine practice of the masters, and 
 the real appearances of things. 
 
 Following these rules, and using these 
 precautions, when you have clearly and dis- 
 tinctly learned in what good colouring con- 
 sists, you cannot do better than have re- 
 course to nature herself, who is always at 
 hand, and in comparison of whose true 
 fplendour the best coloured pictures are but 
 faint and feeble. 
 
 However, as the practice of copying is 
 not entirely to be excluded, since the mecha- 
 nical practice of painting is learned in some 
 measure by it, let those choice parts only 
 be selected which have recommended the 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE, 
 
 3 £ 
 
 Work to notice. If its excellence consists 
 in its general effect, it would be proper to 
 make slight sketches of the machinery and 
 general management of the picture. Those 
 sketches should be kept always by you for 
 the regulation of your stile. Instead of 
 copying the touches of those great masters, 
 copy only their conceptions. Instead of 
 treading in their footsteps, endeavour only 
 to keep the same road. Labour to invent on 
 their general principles and way of thinking. 
 Possess yourself with their spirit. Con- 
 sider with yourself how a Michael Angelo 
 or a Raffaelie would have treated this sub- 
 ject : and work yourself into a belief that 
 your picture is to be seen and criticised by 
 them when completed. Even an attempt of 
 this kind will rouse your powers. 
 
 But as mere enthusiasm will carry you but 
 a little way, let me recommend a practice that 
 may be equivalent to and will perhaps more 
 efficaciously contribute to your advancement* 
 than even the verbal corrections of those mas- 
 ters themselves, could they be obtained. 
 What I would propose is, that you should 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 36 
 
 enter into a kind of competition, by painting 
 a similar subject, and making a companion 
 to any picture that you consider as a model. 
 After you have finished your work, place it 
 near the model, and compare them carefully 
 together. You will then not only see, but 
 feel your own deficiencies more sensibly than 
 by precepts, or any other means of instruc- 
 tion. The true principles of painting will 
 mingle with your thoughts. Ideas thus fixed 
 by sensible objects, will be certain and defi- 
 nitive; and sinking deep into the mind, will 
 not only be more just, but more lasting than 
 those presented to you by precepts only; 
 which will always be fleeting, variable, and 
 undetermined. 
 
 This method of comparing your own efforts 
 with those of some great master, is indeed 
 a severe and mortifying task, to which none 
 will submit, but such as have great views, 
 with fortitude sufficient to forego the gratifi- 
 cations of present vanity for future honour. 
 When the Student has succeeded in some 
 measure to his own satisfaction, and has 
 felicitated himself on his success, to go volun- 
 
THE SECOND DISCOUPvSE. 
 
 37 . 
 
 tarily to a tribunal where he knows his vanity 
 must be humbled, and all self-approbation 
 must vanish, requires not only great resolu- 
 tion, but great humility. To him, however, 
 who has the ambition to be a real master, the 
 solid satisfaction which proceeds from a con- 
 sciousness of his advancement, (of which 
 seeing his own faults is the first step,) will 
 very abundantly compensate for the mortifi- 
 cation of present disappointment. There is, 
 besides, this alleviating circumstance. Every 
 discovery he makes, every acquisition of 
 knowledge he attains, seems to proceed from 
 his own sagacity; and thus he acquires a 
 confidence in himself sufficient to keep up 
 the resolution of perseverance. 
 
 We all must have experienced how lazily, 
 and consequently how ineffectually, instruc- 
 tion is received when forced upon the mind 
 by others. Few have been taught to any 
 purpose, who have not been their own teach- 
 ers. We prefer those instructions which we 
 have given ourselves, from our affection to 
 the instructor; and they are more effectual, 
 from being received into the mind at the very 
 
3 3 THE SECOND DISCOURSE, 
 
 » 
 
 time when it is most open and eager to receive 
 them. 
 
 With respect to the pictures that you are 
 to choose for your models, I could wish that 
 you would take the world’s opinion rather 
 than your own. In other words, I would 
 have you choose those of established reputa- 
 tion, rather than follow your own fancy. If 
 you should not admire them at firft, you 
 will, by endeavouring to imitate them, find 
 that the world has not been mistaken. 
 
 It is not an easy task to point out those 
 various excellencies for your imitation, which 
 lie distributed amongst the various schools. 
 An endeavour to do this may perhaps be the 
 subject of some future discourse. I will, 
 therefore, at present only recommend amodel 
 for stile in Painting, which is a branch of the 
 art more immediately necessary to the young 
 student. Style in painting is the same as in 
 writing, a power over materials, whether 
 words or colours, by which conceptions or 
 sentiments are conveyed. And in this Ludo- 
 vico Carracci (I mean in his best works) 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 39 
 
 appears to me to approach the nearest to 
 perfection. His unaffected breadth of light 
 and shadow, the simplicity of colouring, 
 which, holding its proper rank, does not 
 draw aside the least part of the attention from 
 the subject, and the solemn effect of that 
 twilight which seems diffused over his pic- 
 tures, appear to me to correspond with grave 
 and dignified subjects, better than the more 
 artificial brilliancy of sunshine which enlight- 
 ens the pictures of Titian: though Tintoret 
 thought that Titian’s colouring was the mo- 
 del of perfection, and would correspond even 
 with the sublime of Michael Angelo ; and 
 that if Angelo had coloured like Titian, or 
 Titian designed like Angelo, the world would 
 once have had a perfect painter. 
 
 It is our misfortune, however, that those 
 works of Caracci which I would recommend 
 to the Student, are not often found out of 
 Bologna. The St. Francis in the midst of his' 
 Friars , The Transfiguration, The Birth of 
 St. John the Baptist, The Calling of St. Mat- 
 thew, The St. Jerome, The Frefco P amt mgs 
 in the Zampieri palace, are all worthy the 
 
46 "THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 attention of the student. And I think those 
 who travel would do well to allot a much 
 greater portion of their time to that city, than 
 it has been hitherto the custom to bestow. 
 
 In this art, as in others, there are many 
 teachers who profess to shew the nearest 
 way to excellence ; and many expedients 
 have been invented by which the toil of study 
 might be saved. But let no man be seduced 
 to idleness by specious promises. Excellence 
 is never granted to man, but as the reward of 
 labour. It argues indeed no small strength 
 of mind to persevere in habits of industry, 
 without the pleasure of perceiving those 
 advances; which, like the hand of a clock, 
 ■whilst they make hourly approaches to their 
 point, yet proceed so slowly as to escape 
 observation. A facility of drawing, like 
 that of playing upon a musical instrument, 
 cannot be acquired but by an infinite number 
 of acts. I need not, therefore, enforce by 
 many words the necessity of continual appli- 
 cation; nor tell you that the port-crayon 
 ought to be for ever in your hands. Various 
 methods will occur to you by which this 
 
THE SECOND DISCOUSE. 
 
 41 
 
 power may be acquired. I would particu- 
 larly recommend, that after your return from 
 the Academy, (where I suppose your atten- 
 dance to be constant,) you would endeavour 
 to draw the figure by memory. I will even 
 venture to add, that by perseverance in this 
 custom, you will become able to draw the 
 human figure tolerably correct, with as little 
 effort of the mind as is required to trace 
 with a pen the letters of the alphabet. 
 
 That this facility is not unattainable, some 
 members in this Academy give a sufficient 
 proof. And be assured, that if this power is 
 not acquired whilst you are young, there will 
 be no time for it afterwards: at least the 
 attempt will be attended with as much diffi- 
 culty as those experience, who learn to read 
 or write ^fter they have arrived to the age of 
 maturity. 
 
 But while I mention the port-crayon as the 
 student’s constant companion, he must still 
 remember, that the pencil is the instrument 
 by which he must hope to obtain eminence. 
 What ? therefore, I wish to impress upon you 
 
42 THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 is, that whenever an opportunity offers, you 
 paint your studies instead of drawing them. 
 This will give you such a facility in using 
 colours , that in time they will arrange them- 
 selves under the pencil, even without the 
 attention of the hand that conducts it. If 
 one act excluded the other, this advice could 
 not with any propriety be given. But if 
 Painting comprises both drawing and colour- 
 ing, and if by a fhort struggle of resolute 
 industry, the same expedition is attainable in 
 painting as in drawing on paper, I cannot 
 see what objection can justly be made to the 
 practice; or why that should be done by 
 parts, # which may be done all together. 
 
 If we turn our eyes to the several Schools 
 of Painting, and consider their respective 
 excellencies, we shall find that those who 
 excel most in colouring, pursued this method. 
 The Venetian and Flemish schools, which 
 owe much of their fame to colouring, have 
 enriched the cabinets of the collectors of 
 drawings, wfith very few examples. Those 
 of Titian, Paid Veronese, Tintoret, and the 
 Bassans, are in general slight and undeter- 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 43 
 
 mined.' Their sketches on paper are as rude 
 as their pictures are excellent in regard to 
 harmony of colouring, Correggio and Ba- 
 roccio have left few, if any finished drawings 
 behind them. And in the Flemish school, 
 Rubens ancl Vandyck made their designs for 
 the most part either in colours, or in chiaro 
 oscuro. It is as common to find studies of 
 the Venetian and Flemish Painters on canvass, 
 as of the schools of Rome and Florence on 
 paper. Not but that many finished drawings 
 are sold under the names of those masters. 
 Those, however, are undoubtedly the produc- 
 tions either of engravers or of their scholars, 
 who copied their works. 
 
 These instructions I have ventured to offer 
 from my own experience ; but as they deviate 
 widely from received opinions, I offer them 
 with diffidence ; and when better are sug- 
 gested, shall retract them without regret. 
 
 There is one precept, however, in which I 
 shall only be opposed by the vain, the ig- 
 norant, and the idle. I am not afraid that I 
 shall repeat it too often. You mult have no 
 
 I 
 
44 THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 dependence on your own genius. If you have 
 great talents, industry will improve them 5 if 
 you have but moderate abilities, industry will 
 fupply their deficiency. Nothing is denied 
 to well-directed labour : nothing is to be ob- 
 tained without it. Not to enter into me- 
 taphysical discussions on the nature or 
 essence of genius, I will venture to assert, 
 that assiduity unabated by difficulty, and 
 a disposition eagerly directed to the object 
 of its pursuit, will produce effects similar to 
 those which some call the refult of natural 
 
 Though a man cannot at all times, and in 
 all places, paint or draw, yet the mind can 
 prepare itself by laying in proper materials, 
 at all times, and in all places. Both Livy 
 and Plutarch, in describing Philopoemen, 
 one of the ablest generals of antiquity, have 
 given us a striking picture of a mind always 
 intent on its profession, and by assiduity 
 obtaining those excellencies which some all 
 their Jives vainly expect from nature. I fhall 
 quote the passage in Livy at length, as it 
 rims parallel with the practice I would re- 
 
THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 45 
 
 commend to the Painter, Sculptor, and 
 Architect, 
 
 44 Philopoemen was a man eminent for 
 his sagacity and experience in choosing 
 ground, and in leading armies; to which he 
 formed his mind by perpetual meditation, ia 
 times of peace as well as war. When, in 
 any occasional journey, he came to a strait 
 difficult passage, if he was alone, he consi- 
 dered with himself, and if he was in com- 
 pany he asked his friends, what it would be 
 best to do if in this place they had found an 
 enemy, either in the front, or in the rear, on 
 the one side, or on the other. 4 It might 
 happen,* says he, 4 that the enemy to be op- 
 posed might come on drawn up in regular 
 lines, or in a tumultuous body, formed only 
 by the nature of the place.* He then con- 
 sidered a little what ground he should take; 
 what number of soldiers he should use, and 
 what arms he should give them ; where he 
 should lodge his carriages, his baggage, and 
 the defenceless followers of his camp; how' 
 many guards, and of what kind, he should 
 send to defend them ; and whether it would 
 
 6 
 
4$ Yhe second discourse 
 
 be better to press forward along the pass, or 
 recover by retreat his former station : he 
 Would consider likewise where his camp 
 could most conimodiously be formed ; hoW 
 much ground he should inclose within his 
 trenches : where he should have the conve- 
 nience of water, and where he might find 
 plenty of wood and forage; and when he 
 should break up his camp on the following 
 day, through what road he could most safely 
 pass, and in what form he should dispose his 
 troops. With such thoughts and disquisi- 
 tions he had from his early years so ex- 
 ercised his mind, that on these occasions 
 nothing could happen which he had not been 
 already accustomed to consider . 53 
 
 I cannot help imagining that I see a pro- 
 mising young painter, equally vigilant, 
 whether at home, or abroad, in the streets, 
 or in the fields. Every object that presents 
 itself, is to him a lesson. He regards all 
 Nature with a view to his profession; 
 and combines her beauties % or corrects her 
 defects. He examines the countenance 
 of men under the influence of passion; 
 
TBM SECOND DISCOURSE* 
 
 m 
 
 and often catches the most pleasing hints 
 from subjects of turbulence or deformity. 
 Even bad pictures themselves supply him 
 with useful documents ; and, as Lionardo 
 da Vinci has observed, he improves upon 
 the fanciful images that are sometimes seen 
 in the fire, or are accidentally sketched upon 
 a discoloured wall. 
 
 The Artist who has his mind thus filled 
 with ideas, and his hand made expert by 
 practice, works with ease and readiness ; 
 whilst he who would have you believe that 
 he is waiting for the inspirations of Genius, 
 is in reality at a loss how to begin ; and is 
 at last delivered of his monsters, with diffi- 
 culty and pain. 
 
 The well-grounded painter, on the com 
 trary, has only maturely to consider his 
 subject, and all the mechanical parts of his 
 art follow without his exertion. Conscious 
 of the difficulty of obtaining what he pos- 
 sesses, he maks no pretensions to secrets, 
 except those of closer application. Without 
 conceiving the smallest jealousy against 
 
4* THE SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 others, he is contented that all shall be as 
 great as himself, who have undergone the 
 same fatigue ; and as his pre-eminence 
 depends not upon a trick, he is free from the 
 painful suspicions of a juggler, who lives in 
 perpetual fear lest his trick should be 
 discovered u 
 
DISCOURSE III. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER 14, 1776* 
 
 E 
 
DISCOURSE III. 
 
 THE GREAT LEADING PRINCIPLES OF THE GRAND 
 
 STYLE. OF BEAUTY. THE GENUINE HABITS OF 
 
 NATURE TO BE DISTINGUISHED FROM THOSE OF 
 FASHION. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 It is not easy to speak with propriety 
 to so many students of different ages and 
 different degrees of advancement. The mind 
 requires nourishment adapted to its growth • 
 and what may have promoted our earlier 
 efforts, might retard us in our nearer ap- 
 proaches to perfection. 
 
 The first endeavours of a young Painter, 
 as I have remarked in a former discourse, 
 must be employed in the attainment of me- 
 chanical dexterity, and confined to the mere 
 imitation of the object before him. Those 
 who have advanced beyond the rudiments, 
 may, perhaps, find advantage in reflecting 
 on the advice which I have likewise given 
 
 E % 
 
5* THE THIRD DISCOURSE* 
 
 them, when I recommended the diligent 
 study of the works of our great predeces- 
 sors ; but I at the same time endeavoured 
 to guard them against an implicit submis- 
 sion to the authority of any one master 
 however excellent : or by a strict imitation 
 of his manner, precluding themselves from 
 the abundance and variety of Nature. I 
 will now add that Nature herself is not 
 to be too closely copied. There are excel- 
 lencies in the art of painting beyond what is 
 commonly called the imitation of nature ; 
 and these excellencies I wish to point out. 
 The students who, having passed through 
 the initiatory exercifes, are more advanced 
 in the art, and who, sure of their hand, 
 have leisure to exert their understanding, 
 must now be told, that a mere copier of na- 
 ture can never produce any thing great ; can 
 never raise and enlarge the conceptions, or 
 warm the heart of the spectator. 
 
 The wish of the genuine painter must be 
 more extensive : instead of endeavouring 
 to amuse mankind with the minute neatness 
 of his imitations, he must endeavour to im- 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 
 prove them by the grandeur of his ideas ; 
 instead of seeking praise, by deceiving the 
 superficial sense of the spectator, he must 
 strive for fame, by captivating the ima- 
 gination. 
 
 The principle now laid down, that the 
 perfection of this art does not consist in 
 mere imitation, is far from being new or 
 singular. It is, indeed, supported by the 
 general opinion of the enlightened part of 
 mankind. The poets, orators, and rheto- 
 ricians of antiquity, are continually enfor- 
 cing this position ; that all the arts receive 
 their perfection from an ideal beauty, supe- 
 rior to what is to be found in individual na- 
 ture. They are ever referring to the prac- 
 tice of the painters and fculptors of their 
 times, particularly Phidias, (the favourite 
 artist of antiquity,) to illustrate their asser- 
 tions. As if they could not sufficiently ex- 
 press their admiration of his genius by what 
 they knew, they have recourse to poetical 
 enthusiasm: they call it inspiration ; a gift 
 from heaven. The artist is supposed to have 
 ascended the celestial regions, to furnish his 
 mind with this perfect idea of beauty. 
 
54 
 
 THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 * 4 He,” fays Proclus*, 44 who takes for his 
 
 44 model fuch forms as nature produces, and 
 46 confines himself to an exact imitation of 
 
 45 them, will never attain to what is perfectly 
 44 beautiful. For the works of nature are full 
 44 of disproportion and fall very short of the 
 44 true standard of beauty. So that Phidias, 
 44 when he formed his Jupiter, did not copy 
 44 any object ever presented to his sight ; but 
 44 contemplated only that image which he 
 44 had conceived in his mind from Homer’s 
 44 description.” And thus Cicero, speaking 
 of the same Phidias : 44 Neither did this 
 44 artist,” says he, 44 when he carved the 
 44 image of Jupiter or Minerva, set before 
 44 him any one human figure, as a pattern, 
 44 which he was to copy ; but having a 
 44 more perfect idea of beauty fixed in his 
 44 mind, this he steadily contemplated, and 
 44 to the imitation of this all his skill and 
 44 labour were directed.” 
 
 The Moderns are not less convinced than 
 the Ancients of this superior power existing 
 in the art ; nor less sensible of its effects* 
 
 * Lib. 2. in Timaeum Piatonis, as cited by Junius de 
 Fictura Veterum. R. 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 55 
 
 Every language has adopted terms expressive 
 of this excellence. The gusto grande of the 
 Italians, the beau ideal of the French, and 
 the great style , genius , and taste among the 
 English, are but different appellations of 
 the same thing. It is this intellectual dig- 
 nity, they say, that ennobles the painter's 
 art j that lays the line between him and the 
 mere mechanick ; and produces thofe great 
 effects in an instant, which eloquence and 
 poetry, by slow and repeated efforts, are 
 scarcely able to attain. 
 
 Such is the warmth with which both the 
 Ancients and Moderns speak of this divine 
 principle of the art ; but, as I have for- 
 merly observed, enthusastick admiration fel- 
 dom promotes knowledge. Though a stu- 
 dent by such praise may have his attention 
 roused, and a desire excited, of running in 
 this great career; yet it is possible that what 
 has been said to excite, may only serve to 
 deter him. He examines his own mind, 
 and perceives there nothing of that divine 
 inspiration, with which, he is told, so many 
 others have been favoured. He never tra- 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE, 
 
 5 * 
 
 veiled to heaven to gather new ideas ; and 
 he finds himself possessed of no other qua- 
 lifications than what mere common obser- 
 vation and a plain understanding can confer. 
 Thus he becomes gloomy amidst the splen- 
 dour of figurative declamation, and thinks 
 it hopeless, to pursue an object which he 
 supposes out of the reach of human industry. 
 
 But on this, as upon many other occa- 
 sions, we ought to distinguish how much is 
 to be given to enthusiasm, and how much 
 to reason. We ought to allow for, and we 
 ought to commend, that strength of vivid 
 expression, which is neceffary to convey, in 
 its full force, the highest sense of the most 
 complete effect of art ; taking care at 
 the fame time, not to lose in terms of 
 vague admiration, that solidity and truth of 
 principle, upon which alone we can reason, 
 and may be enabled to practise. 
 
 It is not easy to define in what this great 
 style consists ; nor to describe, by words, 
 the proper means of acquiring it, if the 
 mind of the student should be at all capable 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 57 
 
 of such an acquisition. Could we teach 
 taste or genius by rules, they would be no 
 longer taste and genius. But though there 
 neither are, nor can be, any precise invaria- 
 ble rules for the exercise, or the acquisition, 
 of these great qualities, yet we may truly 
 say, that they always operate in proportion 
 to our attention in observing the works of 
 nature, to our skill in selecting, and to our 
 care in digesting, methodizing, and compa- 
 ring our observations. There are many 
 beauties in our art, that seem, at first, to 
 lie without the reach of precept, and yet 
 may easily be reduced to practical principles. 
 Experience is all in all ; but it is not every one 
 who profits by experience ; and most people 
 err, not so much from want of capacity to 
 find their object, as from not knowing 
 what object to pursue. This great ideal 
 perfection and beauty are not to be sought in 
 the heavens, but upon the earth. They are 
 about us, and upon every side of us. But 
 the power of discovering what is deformed in 
 nature, or in other words, what is particular 
 and uncommon, can be acquired only by expe- 
 rience; and the whole beauty and grandeur 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE* 
 
 5 S 
 
 of the art consists, in my opinion, in being 
 able to get above all singular forms, local cus- 
 toms, particularities, and details of every kind. 
 
 All the objects which are exhibited to our 
 view by nature, upon close examination will 
 be found to have their blemishes and defects. 
 The most beautiful forms have something 
 about them like weakness, minuteness, or 
 imperfection. But it is not every eye that 
 perceives thefe blemishes. It must be an 
 eye long used to the contemplation and com- 
 parison of these forms ; and which by a long 
 habit of observing what any set of objects 
 of the same kind have in common, has ac- 
 quired the power of discerning what each 
 wants in particular. This long laborious 
 comparison should be the first study of the 
 painter, who aims at the greatest style. By 
 this means, he acquires a just idea of beau- 
 tiful forms ; he corrects nature by herself, 
 her imperfect state by her more perfect. 
 His eye being enabled to distinguish the ac- 
 cidental deficiencies, excrescences, and defor- 
 mities of things, from their general figures, 
 he makes out an abstract idea of their forms 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 59 
 
 more perfect than any one original ; and 
 what may seem a paradox, he learns to de- 
 sign naturally by drawing his figures unlike 
 to any one object. This idea of the per- 
 fect state of nature, which the Artist calls 
 the Ideal Beauty, is the great leading prin- 
 ciple by which works of genius are con- 
 ducted. By this Phidias acquired his fame. 
 He wrought upon a sober principle what 
 has so much excited the enthusiasm of the 
 world ; and by this method you, who have 
 courage to tread the same path, may acquire- 
 equal reputation. 
 
 This is the idea which has acquired, and 
 which seems to have a right to the epi- 
 thet of divine ; as it may be said to pre- 
 side, like a supreme judge, over all the 
 productions of nature ; appearing to be pos- 
 sessed of the will and intention of the Cre- 
 ator, as faras they regard the external form of 
 living beings. When a man once posseses 
 this idea in its perfection, there is no danger, 
 but that he will be sufficiently warmed by 
 it himself, and be able to warm and ravish 
 every one else. 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 60 
 
 Thus it is from a reiterated experience, 
 and a close comparison of the objects in 
 nature, that an artist becomes possessed of 
 the idea of that central form, if I may so 
 exprefs it, from which every deviation is 
 deformity. But the investigation of this 
 form, I grant, is painful, and I know but 
 of one method of shortening the road j 
 this is, by a careful study of the works 
 of the ancient sculptors ; who, being inde- 
 fatigable in the school of nature, have left 
 models of that perfect form behind them, 
 which an artist would prefer as supremely 
 beautiful, who had spent his whole life in 
 that single contemplation. But if industry 
 carried them thus far, may not you also 
 hope for the same reward from the same la- 
 bour ? we have the same school opened to 
 us, that was opened to them; for nature 
 denies her instructions to none, who desire 
 to become her pupils. 
 
 This laborious investigation, I am aware, 
 must appear superfluous to those who think 
 every thing is to be done by felicity, and 
 the powers of native genius. Even the 
 
 i 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 6f 
 
 great Bacon treats with ridicule the idea of 
 confining proportion to rules, or of produ- 
 cing beauty by selection. “ A man cannot 
 * 6 tell, (fays he,) whether Apelles or Albert 
 €t Durer were the more trifler : whereof the 
 <£ one would make a personage by geo me- 
 “ trical proportions ; the other, by taking 
 <€ the best parts out of divers faces, to make 
 lt one excellent. ..... The painter, (he 
 ** adds,) must do it by a kind of felicity/ 
 “ . . . and not by rule *. 35 
 
 It is not safe to question any opinion of 
 so great a writer, and so profound a 
 thinker, as undoubtedly Bacon was. But 
 he studies brevity to excess ; and there- 
 fore his meaning is sometimes doubtful. 
 If he means that beauty has nothing to do 
 with rule, he is mistaken. There is a 
 rule, obtained out of general nature, to 
 contradict which is to fall into deformity. 
 Whenever any thing is done beyond this 
 rule, it is in virtue of some other rule which 
 
 * Essays, p. 2,52, edit. 1625. 
 
6z THE THIRD DISCOURSE, 
 
 is followed along with it, but which does not 
 contradict it. Every thing which is wrought 
 with certainty, is wrought upon some prin- 
 ciple. If it is not, it cannot be repeated* 
 If by felicity is meant any thing of chance 
 or hazard, or something bom with a man, 
 and not earned, I cannot agree with this 
 great philosopher. Every object which 
 pleases must give us pleasure upon some 
 certain principles : but as the objects of 
 
 pleasure are almost infinite, so their princi- 
 ples vary without end, and every man finds 
 them out, not by felicity or successful ha- 
 zard, but by care and sagacity. 
 
 To the principle I have laid down, 
 that the idea of beauty in each species of 
 beings is an invariable one, it may be ob- 
 jected, that in every particular species there 
 are various central forms, which are separate 
 and distinct from each other, and yet are un- 
 deniably beautiful ; that in the human figure, 
 for instance, the beauty of Hercules is one, 
 of the Gladiator another, of the Apollo an- 
 other ; which makes so many different ideas 
 of beauty. 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE* 63 
 
 It is true, indeed, that thefe figures 
 are each perfect in their kind, though of 
 different characters and proportions j but 
 still none of them is the representation of an 
 individual, but of a class. And as there is one 
 general form, which, as I have faid, be- 
 longs to the human kind at large, so in each 
 of these classes there is one common idea 
 and central form, which is the abstract of 
 the various individual forms belonging to 
 that class. Thus, though the forms of child- 
 hood and age differ exceedingly, there is a 
 common form in childhood, and a common 
 form in age, which is the more perfect, as 
 it is more remote from all peculiarities. 
 But I must add further, that though the 
 mo ft perfect forms of each of the general 
 divisions of the human figure are ideal, and 
 superior to any individual form of that class ; 
 yet the higheft perfection of the human fi- 
 gure is not to be found in any one of them. 
 It is not in the Hercules, nor in the Gladia- 
 tor, nor in the Apollo ; but in that form 
 which is taken from them all, and which par- 
 takes equally of the activity of the Gladiator, 
 of the delicacy of the Apollo, and of the 
 
fm TH1R t> DISCOURSE, 
 
 £4 
 
 muscular strength of the Hercules. For 
 perfect beauty in any species must combine 
 all the characters which are beautiful in that 
 species. It cannot consist in any one to the 
 exclusion of the rest t no one, therefore, 
 must be predominant, that no one may be 
 deficient. 
 
 The knowledge of these different charac- 
 ters, and the power of separating and distin- 
 guishing them, is undoubtedly necessary to 
 the painter, who is to vary his compositions 
 with figures of various forms and propor- 
 tions, though he is never to lose sight 
 of the general idea of perfection in each 
 kind* 
 
 There is, likewise, a kind of symmetry, 
 or proportion, which may properly be said to 
 belong to deformity. A figure lean or cor- 
 pulent, tall or short, though deviating from 
 beauty , may still have a certain union of the 
 various parts, which may contribute to make 
 them on the whole not unpleasing. 
 
 When the Artist has by diligent attention 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 65 
 
 acquired a clear and distinct idea of beauty 
 and symmetry; when he has reduced the 
 variety of nature to the abstract idea ; his 
 next task will be to become acquainted with 
 the genuine habits of nature, as distinguished 
 from those of fashion. For in the same 
 manner, and on the same principles, as he 
 has acquired the knowledge of the real forms 
 of nature, distinct from accidental deformity, 
 he must endeavour to separate simple chaste 
 nature, from those adventitious, those affec- 
 ted and forced airs or actions, with w T hich 
 she is loaded by modern education. 
 
 Perhaps I cannot better explain what I 
 mean, than by reminding you of what was 
 taught us by the Professor of Anatomy, in 
 respect to the natural position and movement 
 of the feet. He observed, that the fashion 
 of turning them outwards was contrary to 
 the intent of nature, as might be seen from 
 the structure of the bones, and from the 
 weakness that proceeded from that manner 
 of standing. To this we may add the erect 
 position of the head, the projection of the 
 chest, the walking with straight knees, and 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 THE THIRD DISCOURSE, 
 
 many such actions, which we know to be 
 merely the result of fashion, and what nature 
 never warranted, as we are sure that we 
 have been taught them when children, 
 
 I have mentioned but a few of those 
 instances, in which vanity or caprice have 
 contrived to distort and disfigure the human 
 form: your own recollection will add to 
 
 these a thousand more of ill-understood 
 methods, which have been practised to dis- 
 guise nature, among our dancing-masters, 
 hair-dressers, and tailors, in their various 
 schools of deformity*. 
 
 However the mechanick and ornamental 
 arts may sacrifice to fashion, she must be 
 entirely excluded from the Art of Painting; 
 the painter must never mistake this capri- 
 cious changeling for the genuine offspring of 
 
 “ * Those,” says Quintilian, “ who are taken with 
 “ the outward shew of things, think that there is more 
 “ beauty in persons, who are trimmed, curled, and 
 “ painted, than uncorrupt . nature, can give ; as if beauty 
 “ were merely the effect of the corruption of man- 
 14 ners.” R. 
 
 2 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 67 
 
 nature ; he must divest himself of all pre- 
 judices in favour of his age or country ; he 
 must disregard all local and temporary orna- 
 ments, and look only on those general habits 
 which are every where and always the same, 
 he addresses his works to the people of every 
 country and every age, he calls upon pos- 
 terity to be his spectators, and says with 
 Zeuxis, in ceternitatem pingo . 
 
 The neglect pf separating modern fashions 
 from the habits of nature, leads to that ridicu- 
 lous style which has been practised by some 
 painters, who have given to Grecian Heroes 
 the airs and graces practised in the court of 
 of Lewis the Fourteenth ; an absurdity 
 almost as great as it would have been to 
 have dressed them after the fashion of that 
 court. 
 
 To avoid this error, however, and to 
 retain the true simplicity of nature, is a task 
 more difficult than at first sight it may 
 appear. The prejudices in favour of the 
 fashions and customs that we have been used 
 to, and which are justly called a second 
 
68 THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 nature, make it too often difficult to distin- 
 guish that which is natural from that which 
 is the result of education; they frequently 
 even give a predilection in favour of the arti- 
 ficial mode; and almost every one is apt to 
 be guided by those local prejudices, who has 
 not chastised his mind, and regulated the 
 instability of his affections by the eternal 
 invariable idea of nature. 
 
 Here then, as before, we must have 
 recourse to the Ancients as instructors. It is 
 from a careful study of their works that you 
 will be enabled to attain to the real simplicity 
 of nature ; they will suggest many observa- 
 tions, which would probably escape you, if 
 your study were confined to nature alone. 
 And, indeed, I cannot help suspecting, that 
 in this instance the ancients had an easier task 
 than the moderns. They had, probably, 
 little or nothing to unlearn, as their manners 
 were nearly approaching to this desirable 
 simplicity ; while the modern artist, before 
 he can see the truth of things, is obliged to 
 remove a veil, with which the fashion of 
 the times has thought proper to cover her. 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE* 
 
 69 
 
 Having gone thus far in our investigation 
 of the great style in painting; if we now 
 should suppose that the artist has formed the 
 true idea of beauty, which enables him to 
 give his works a correct and perfect design; 
 if we should suppose also, that he has ac- 
 quired a knowledge of the unadulterated 
 habits of nature, which gives him simpli- 
 city; the rest of his task is, perhaps, less 
 than is generally imagined. Beauty and 
 simplicity have so great a share in the com- 
 position of a great style, that he who has 
 acquired them has little else to learn. It 
 must not, indeed, be forgotten, that there 
 is a nobleness of conception, which goes 
 beyond any thing in the mere exhibition even 
 of perfect form; there is an art of animating 
 and dignifying the figures with intellectual 
 grandeur, of impressing the appearance of 
 philosophick wisdom, or heroick virtue. 
 This can only be acquired by him that 
 enlarges the sphere of his understanding by a 
 variety of knowledge, and warms his ima- 
 gination with the best productions of antient 
 and modern poetry. 
 
70 THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 A hand thus exercised, and a mind thus 
 instructed, will bring the art to an higher 
 degree of excellence than, perhaps, it has 
 hitherto attained in this country. Such a 
 student will disdain the humbler walks of 
 painting, which, however profitable, can 
 never assure him a permanent reputation. 
 He will leave the meaner artist servilely 
 to suppose that those are the best pictures, 
 which are most likely to deceive the spec- 
 tator. He will permit the lower painter, 
 like the" florist or collector of shells, to 
 exhibit the minute discriminations, which 
 distinguish one object of the same species 
 from another ; while he, like the philoso- 
 pher, will consider nature in the abstract, 
 and represent in every one of his figures the 
 character of its species. 
 
 If deceiving the eye were the only business 
 of the art, there is no doubt, indeed, but the 
 minute painter would be more apt to fucceed : 
 but it is not the eye, it is the mind, which 
 the painter of genius desires to address; nor 
 nor will he waste a moment upon those 
 smaller objects, which only serve to catch 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 7 * 
 
 the sense, to divide the attention, and to 
 counteract his great design of speaking to the 
 
 heart. 
 
 This is the ambition which I wish to ex- 
 cite in your minds ; and the object I have 
 had in my view, throughout this discourse, 
 is that one great idea, which gives to painting 
 its true dignity, which entitles it to the name 
 of a Liberal Art, and ranks it as a sister of 
 poetry. 
 
 It may possibly have happened to many 
 young students, whose application was suf- 
 ficient to overcome all difficulties, and whose 
 minds were capable of embracing the most 
 extensive views, that they have, by a wrong 
 direction originally given, spent their lives 
 in the meaner walks of painting, without ever 
 knowing there was a nobler to pursue. 
 Albert Durer, as Vasari has justly remarked, 
 would, probably, have been one of the first 
 painters of his age, (and he lived in an era of 
 great artists,) had he been initiated into those 
 great principles of the art, which were so 
 well understood and practised by his contem- 
 
7 * 
 
 THE THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 poraries in Italy. Butunluckily having never 
 seen or heard of any other manner, he, with- 
 out doubt, considered his own as perfect. 
 
 As for the various departments of painting, 
 which do not presume to make such high 
 pretensions, they are many. None of them 
 are without their merit, though none enter 
 into competition with this universal presiding 
 idea of the art. The painters who have 
 applied themselves more particularly to low 
 and vulgar characters, and who express with 
 precision the various shades of passion, as 
 they are exhibited by vulgar minds, (such 
 as we see in the works of Hogarth,) deserve 
 great praise; but as their genius has been 
 employed on low and confined subjects, the 
 praise which we give must be as limited as its 
 object. The merry-making, or quarrelling 
 of the Boors of Teniers ; the same sort of 
 productions of Brouwer, or Ostade, are ex- 
 cellent in their kind ; and the excellence and 
 its praise will be in proportion, as, in those 
 limited subjects, and peculiar forms, they in- 
 troduce more or less of the expression of those 
 passions, as they appear in general and more* 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE, 
 
 n 
 
 enlarged nature. This principle may be ap- 
 plied to the Battle-pieces of Bourgognone, 
 the French Gallantries of Watteau, and even 
 beyond the exhibition of animal life, to the 
 Landscapes of Glaude Lorraine, and the 
 Sea-Views of Vandervelde. All these paint- 
 ers have, in general, the same right, in dif- 
 ferent degrees, to the name of a painter, 
 which a satirist, an epigrammatist, a son- 
 neteer, a writer of pastorals, or descriptive 
 poetry, has to that of a poet. 
 
 In the same rank, and perhaps of not so 
 great merit, is the cold painter of portraits. 
 But his correct and just imitation of his ob- 
 ject has its merit. Even the painter of still 
 life, whose highest ambition is to give a 
 minute representation of every part of those 
 low objects which he sets before him, de- 
 serves praise in proportion to his attainment j 
 because no part of this excellent art, so much 
 the ornament of polished life, is destitute of 
 value and use. These, however, are by no 
 means the views to which the mind of the 
 student ought to b ^primarily directed . Having 
 begun by aiming at better things, if from 
 
74 
 
 THE THIRD DISCOURSE* 
 
 particular inclination, or from the taste of 
 the time and place he lives in, or from ne- 
 cessity, or from failure in the highest at- 
 tempts, he is obliged to descend lower, he 
 will bring into the lower sphere of art a gran- 
 deur of composition and character, that will 
 raise and ennoble his works far above their 
 natural rank. 
 
 A man is not weak, though he may not be 
 able to wield the club of Hercules ; nor does 
 a man always practise that which he esteems 
 the best; but does that which he can best do. 
 In moderate attempts, there are many walks 
 open to the artist. But as the idea of beauty 
 is of necessity but one, so there can be but 
 one great mode of painting; the leading 
 principle of which I have endeavoured to 
 explain. 
 
 I should be sorry, if what is here recom<* 
 mended, should be at all understood to coun- 
 tenance a careless or indetermined manner of 
 painting. For though the painter is to over- 
 look the accidental discriminations of nature, 
 he is to exhibit distinctly , and with precision. 
 
THE THIRD DISCOURSE, 
 
 75 
 
 the general forms of things. A firm and 
 determined outline is one of the charad:eris- 
 tics of the great style in painting; and let me 
 add, that he who possesses the knowledge of 
 the exact form which every part of nature 
 ought to have, will be fond of expressing 
 that knowledge with correctness and precision 
 in all his works. 
 
 To conclude; I have endeavoured to re- 
 duce the idea of beauty to general principles: 
 and I had the pleasure to observe that the 
 Professor of Painting proceeded in the same 
 method, when he shewed you that the arti- 
 fice of contrast was founded but on one prin- 
 ciple. I am convinced that this is the only 
 means of advancing science ; of clearing the 
 mind from a confused heap of contradictory 
 observations, that do but perplex and puzzle 
 the student, when he compares them, or mis- 
 guide him if he gives himself up to their 
 authority : bringing them under one general 
 head, can alone give rest and satisfaction to 
 an inquisitive mind. 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 
 DECEMBER io, 1771 
 
v ' 
 
DISCOURSE IV 
 
 GENERAL IDEAS, THE PRESIDING PRINCIPLE WHICH 
 REGULATES EVERY PART OE ART ; INVENTION, EX- 
 PRESSION, COLOURING, AND DRAPERY. — TWO DIS- 
 TINCT STYLES IN HISTORY-PAINTING; THE GRAND, 
 AND THE ORNAMENTAL.— THE SCHOOLS IN WHICH 
 
 EACH IS TO BE FOUND. THE COMPOSITE STYLE. — « 
 
 THE STYLE FORMED ON LOCAL CUSTOMS AND HABITS, 
 OR A PARTIAL VIEW OF NATURE. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 The value and rank of every art is in 
 proportion to the mental labour employed 
 in it, or the mental pleasure produced by it. 
 As this principle is observed or neglected, our 
 profession becomes either a liberal art, or a 
 mechanical trade. In the hands of one man 
 it makes the highest pretensions, as it is ad- 
 dressed to the noblest faculties : in those of 
 another it is reduced to a mere matter of orna- 
 ment j and the painter has but the humble 
 province of furnishing our apartments with 
 
So THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 This exertion of mind, which is the only 
 circumstance that truly ennobles our Art, 
 makes the great distinction between the Ro- 
 man and Venetian schools. I have formerly 
 observed that perfect form is produced by 
 leaving out particularities, and retaining only 
 general ideas : I shall now endeavour to shew 
 that this principle, which I have proved to 
 be metaphysically just, extends itself to every 
 part of the Art ; that it gives what is called the 
 grandjlyle , to Invention, to composition, to Ex- 
 pression, and even to Colouring and Drapery. 
 
 Invention in Painting does not imply the 
 invention of thes ubject ; for that is commonly 
 supplied by the Poet or Historian. With re- 
 spect to the choice, no subject can be proper 
 that is not generally interesting. It ought to be 
 either some eminent instance of heroick action, 
 or heroick suffering. There must be some- 
 thing either in the action, or in the object, in 
 which men are universally concerned, and 
 which powerfully strikes upon the publick 
 sympathy. 
 
 Strictly fpeaking, indeed, no subject can 
 
 i 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE* Sr 
 
 be of universal, hardly can it be of general, 
 concern ; but there are events and charac- 
 ters so popularly known in those countries 
 where our Art is in request, that they may 
 be considered as sufficiently general for all 
 our purposes. Such are the great events of 
 Greek and Roman fable and history, which 
 early education, and the usual course of 
 reading, have made familiar and interesting 
 to all Europe, without being degraded by 
 the vulgarism of ordinary life in any country* 
 Such too are the capital subjects of scrip- 
 ture history, which, beside their general no- 
 toriety, become venerable by their connec- 
 tion with our religion. 
 
 As it is required that the subject selected 
 should be a general one, it is no less neces- 
 sary that it should be kept unembarrassed 
 with whatever may any way serve to divide 
 the attention of the spectator. Whenever a 
 story is related, every man forms a picture 
 in his mind of the action and expression 
 of the persons employed. The power of 
 representing this mental picture on canvass 
 is what we call invention in a Painter. And 
 
 VOL. X* G 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Si 
 
 as in the conception of this ideal picture, 
 the mind does not enter into the minute pe- 
 culiarities of the dress, furniture, or scene of 
 action ; so when the Painter comes to represent 
 it, he contrives those little necessary concomi- 
 tant circumstances in such a manner, that they 
 shall strike the spectator no more than they 
 did himself in his first conception of the story. 
 
 I am very ready to allow, that some cir- 
 cumstances of minuteness and particularity 
 frequently tend to give an air of truth to a 
 piece, and to interest the spectator in an ex- 
 traordinary manner. Such circumstances 
 therefore cannot wholly be rejected : but if 
 there be any thing in the Art which requires 
 peculiar nicety of discernment, it is the dis- 
 position of these minute circumstantial parts ; 
 which, according to the judgement em- 
 ployed in the choice, become so useful to 
 truth, or so injurious to grandeur. 
 
 However, the usual and most dangerous 
 error is on the side of minuteness ; and there- 
 fore I think caution most necessary where 
 most have failed. The general idea consti- 
 
THE FOURTH MSCOURSE. 83 
 
 tuteS real excellence. All smaller things, 
 however perfect in their way, are to be sa- 
 crificed without mercy to the greater* The 
 Painter will not enquire what things may 
 be admitted without much Censure : he will 
 not think it enough to shew that they may 
 be there ; he will shew that they must b@ 
 there; that their absence would render his 
 picture maimed and defective. 
 
 Thus, though to the principal group a se- 
 cond or third be added, and a second and 
 third mass of light, care must be yet taken 
 that these subordinate actions and lights, 
 neither each in particular, nor all together, 
 come into any degree of competition with 
 the principal ; they should merely make a 
 part of that whole which would be imper- 
 fect without them. To every kind of paint- 
 ing this rule may be applied. Even in por- 
 traits, the grace, and, we may add, the 
 likeness, consists more in taking the general 
 air, than in observing the exact similitude of 
 every feature. 
 
 Thus figures must have a ground 
 
 G 2 
 
U THE FOURTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 whereon to stand ; they must be cloathed ; 
 there must be a back-ground ; there must 
 be light and shadow : but none of these 
 ought to appear to have taken up any part 
 of the artist’s attention. They should be 
 so managed as not even to catch that of 
 the spectator. We know well enough, when 
 we analyze a piece, the difficulty and the 
 subtilty with which an artist adjusts the 
 back-ground, drapery, and masses of light ; 
 we know that a considerable part of the 
 grace and effect of his picture depends upon 
 them i but this art is so much concealed, 
 even to a judicious eye, that no remains of 
 any of these subordinate parts occur to the 
 memory when the picture is not present. 
 
 The great end of the art is to strike the 
 imagination. The Painter therefore is to 
 make no ostentation of the means by which 
 this is done ; the spectator is only to feel the 
 result in his bosom. An inferior artist is 
 unwilling that any part of his industry 
 should be lost upon the spectator. He takes 
 as much pains to discover, as the greater ar- 
 tist does to conceal, the marks of his subor- 
 
 3 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 dinate assiduity. In works of the lower 
 kind, every thing appears studied, and en- 
 cumbered ; it is all boastful art, and open af- 
 fectation. The ignorant often part from such 
 pictures with wonder in their mouths, and 
 indifference in their hearts. 
 
 But it is not enough in Invention that the 
 Artist should restrain and keep under all the 
 inferior parts of his subject; he must some- 
 times deviate from vulgar and strict historical 
 truth, in pursuing the grandeur of his design* 
 
 How much the great style exacts from its 
 professors to conceive and represent their 
 subjects in a poetical manner, not confined 
 to mere matter of fact, may be seen in the 
 Cartoons of Raffaelle. In all the pictures in 
 which the painter has represented the apostles, 
 he has drawn them with great nobleness ; he 
 has given them as much dignity as the human 
 figure is capable of receiving ; yet we are ex- 
 pressly told in scripture they had no such re- 
 spectable appearance ; and of St. Paul in 
 particular, we are told by himself, that his 
 bodily presence was mean, Alexander is said 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE- 
 
 $K 
 
 to have been of a low stature : a Painter ought 
 not so to represent him. Agesilaus was low, 
 lame, and of a mean appearance: none of 
 these defects ought to appear in a piece of 
 which he is the hero. In conformity to 
 custom, I call this part of the art History 
 Painting ; it ought to be called Poetical, as in 
 reality it is* 
 
 All this is not falsifying any fact; it is 
 taking an allowed poetical licence. A painter 
 of portraits retains the individual likeness ; a 
 painter of history shews the man by shewing 
 his actions. A painter must compensate the 
 natural deficiencies of his art. He has but 
 one sentence to utter, but one moment to ex- 
 hibit. He cannot, like the poet or historian, 
 expatiate, and impress the mind with great 
 veneration for the character of the hero or 
 saint he represents, though he lets us know 
 at the same time, that the saint was deformed, 
 or the hero lame. The Painter has no other 
 means of giving an idea of the dignity of the 
 mind, but by that external appearance which 
 grandeur of thought does generally, though 
 not always, impress on the countenance ; and 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 87 
 
 by that correspondence of figure to senti- 
 ment and situation, which all men wish, but 
 cannot command. The Painter, who may 
 in this one particular attain with ease what 
 others desire in vain, ought to give all that 
 he possibly can, since there are so many cir- 
 cumstances of true greatness that he cannot 
 give at all. He cannot make his hero talk 
 like a great man ; he must make him look 
 like one. For which reason, he ought to be 
 well studied in the analysis of those circum- 
 stances, which constitute dignity of appear- 
 ance in real life. 
 
 As in Invention, so likewise in Expression, 
 care mu ft be taken not to run into particu- 
 larities. Those expressions alone should be 
 given to the figures which their respective 
 situations generally produce. Nor is this 
 enough ; each person should also have that 
 expression which men of his rank gene- 
 rally exhibit. The joy, or the grief of a 
 character of dignity, is not to be expressed in 
 the same manner as a similar passion in a 
 vulgar face. Upon this principle, Bernini, 
 perhaps, may be subject to censure. This 
 
 i 
 
88 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 sculptor, in many respects admirable, has 
 given a very mean expression to his statue 
 of David, who is represented as just going 
 to throw the stone from the sling ; and in 
 order to give it the expression of energy, he 
 has made him biting his under-lip. This 
 expression is far from being general, and still 
 farther from being dignified. He might 
 have seenJt in an instance or two ; and he 
 mistook accident for generality. 
 
 With respect to Colouring, though it may 
 appear at first a part of painting merely me- 
 chanical, yet it still has its rules, and those 
 grounded upon that presiding principle which 
 regulates both the great and the little in the 
 study of a painter. By this, the first effect 
 of the picture is produced ; and as this is 
 performed, the spectator as he walks the gaL 
 lery, will stop, or pass along. To give a 
 general air of grandeur at first view, all tri- 
 fling or artful play of little lights, or an at- 
 tention to a variety of tints is to be avoided % 
 a quietness and simplicity must reign over 
 the whole work ; to which a breadth of uni- 
 form, and simple colour, will very much con- 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. g 9 
 
 tribute. Grandeur of effect is produced by 
 two different ways, which seem entirely op- 
 posed to each other. One is, by reducing 
 the colours to little more than chiara oscuro, 
 which was often the practice of the Bo- 
 lognian schools ; and the other, by making 
 the colours very distinct and forcible, such as 
 we see in those of Rome and Florence ; but 
 still, the presiding principle of both those 
 manners is simplicity. Certainly, nothing 
 can be more simple than monotony ; and the 
 distinct blue, red, and yellow colours which 
 are seen in the draperies of the Roman and 
 Florentine schools, though they have not that 
 kind of harmony which is produced by a va- 
 riety of broken and transparent colours, have 
 that effect of grandeur which was intended. 
 Perhaps these distinct colours strike the mind 
 more forcibly, from there not being any great 
 union between them ; as martial musick, 
 which is intended to rouse the nobler pas- 
 sions, has its effect from the sudden and 
 strongly marked transitions from one note to 
 another, which that style of musick requires; 
 whilst in that which is intended to move 
 the softer passions, the notes imperceptibly 
 tnelt into one another. 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 9 * 
 
 In the same manner as the historical Painter 
 never enters into the detail of colours, so nei- 
 ther does he debase his conceptions with mi- 
 nute attention to the discriminations of Dra- 
 pery. It is the inferior style that marks the 
 variety of stuffs. With him, the cloathing 
 is neither woollen, nor linen, nor silk, sattin, 
 or velvet : it is drapery ; it is nothing more. 
 The art of disposing the foldings of the dra- 
 pery makes a very considerable part of the 
 painter’s study. To make it merely natural, 
 is a mechanical operation, to which neither 
 genius or taste are required j whereas, it re- 
 quires the nicest judgement to dispose the 
 drapery, so that the folds shall have an easy 
 communication, and gracefully follow each 
 other, with such natural negligence as to look 
 like the effect of chance, and at the same 
 time shew the figure under it to the utmost 
 advantage. 
 
 Carlo Maratti was of opinion, that the dis- 
 position of drapery was a more difficult art 
 than even that of drawing the human figure ; 
 that a Student might be more easily taught 
 the latter than the former ; as the rules of 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 91 
 
 drapery, he said, could not be so well ascer- 
 tained as those for delineating a correct form. 
 This, perhaps, is a proof how willingly we 
 favour our own peculiar excellence. Carlo 
 Maratti is said to have valued himself parti- 
 cularly upon his skill in this part of his art ; 
 yet in him, the disposition appears so osten- 
 tatiously artificial, that he is inferior to Raf- 
 faelle, even in that which gave him his best 
 claim to reputation. 
 
 Such is the great principle by which we 
 must be directed in the nobler branches of 
 our art. Upon this principle, the Roman, 
 the Florentine, the Bolognese schools, have 
 formed their practice ; and by this they have 
 deservedly obtained the highest praise. These 
 are the three great schools of the world in 
 the epick style. The best of the French 
 school, Poussin, Le Sueur, and Le Brim, 
 have formed themselves upon these models, 
 and consequently may be said, though French- 
 men, to be a colony from the Roman school. 
 Next to these, but in a very different style of 
 excellence, we may rank the Venetian, toge- 
 ther with the Flemish and the Dutch schools j 
 
92 
 
 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 all professing to depart from the great pur- 
 poses of painting, and catching at applause 
 by inferior qualities, 
 
 I am not ignorant that some will censure 
 me for placing the Venetians in this inferior 
 class, and many of the warmest admirers of 
 painting will think them unjustly degraded; 
 but I wish not to be misunderstood. Though 
 I can by no means allow them to hold any 
 rank with the nobler schools of painting, 
 they accomplished perfectly the thing they 
 attempted. But as mere elegance is their 
 principal object, as they seem more willing 
 to dazzle than to effect, it can be no injury 
 to them to suppose that their practice is use- 
 ful only to its proper end. But what may 
 heighten the elegant may degrade the sublime. 
 There is a simplicity, and I may add, severity 5 
 in the great manner, which is, I am afraid, 
 almost incompatible with this comparatively 
 sensual style. 
 
 Tintoret, Paul Veronese, and others of 
 the Venetian school, seem to have painted 
 with no other purpose than to be admired for 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 93 
 
 their skill and expertness in the mechanism 
 of painting, and to make a parade of that art, 
 which, as I before observed, the higher style 
 requires its followers to conceal. 
 
 In a conference of the French Academy, 
 at which were present Le Brun, Sebastian 
 Bourdon, and all the eminent Artists of that 
 age, one of the academicians desired to have 
 their opinion on the conduct of Paul Vero- 
 nese, who, though a Painter of great consi- 
 deration, had, contrary to the strict rules of 
 art, in his picture of Perseus and Andromeda, 
 represented the principal figure in shade. 
 To this question no satisfactory answer was 
 then given. But I will venture to say, that if 
 they had considered the class of the Artist, and 
 ranked him as an ornamental Painter, there 
 would have been no difficulty in answering 
 
 —It was unreasonable to expect what was 
 “ never intended. His intention was solely 
 i6 to produce an effect of light and shadow; 
 c< every thing was to be sacrificed to that 
 
 44 intent, and the capricious composition of 
 
 45 that picture suited very well with the 
 44 style which he professed/' 
 
94 
 
 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 Young minds are indeed too apt to be cap- 
 tivated by this splendour of style ; and that 
 of the Venetians is particularly pleasing; for 
 by them, all those parts of the Art that gave 
 pleasure to the eye or sense, have been culti- 
 vated with care, and carried to the degree 
 nearest to perfection. The powers exerted 
 in the mechanical part of the Art have been 
 called the language of Painters ; but we may 
 say, that it is but poor eloquence which only 
 shews that the orator can talk. Words 
 should be employed as the means, not as the 
 end: language is the instrument, conviction 
 is the work* 
 
 y 
 
 The language of Painting must indeed be 
 allowed these masters ; but even in that, they 
 have shewn more copiousness than choice, 
 and more luxuriancy than judgement. If we 
 consider the uninteresting subjects of their 
 invention, or at least the uninteresting 
 manner in which they are treated; if we at- 
 tend to their capricious composition, their 
 violent and affected contrasts, whether of 
 figures or of light and shadow, the richness 
 of their drapery, and at the same time, the 
 
TOE FOURTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 mean effect which the discrimination of 
 stuffs gives to their pictures; if to these we 
 add their total inattention to expression; and 
 then reflect on the conceptions and the learn- 
 ing of Michael Angelo, or the simplicity of 
 Raffaelle, we can no longer dwell on the 
 comparison. Even in colouring, if we com- 
 pare the quietness and chastity of the Bolog- 
 nese pencil to the bustle and tumult that fills 
 every part of a Venetian picture, without the 
 least attempt to interest the passions, their 
 boasted art will appear a mere struggle with- 
 out effect; a tale told by an idiot full of sound 
 and fury , signifying nothing. 
 
 Such as suppose that the great style might 
 happily be blended with the ornamental, 
 that the simple, grave and majestick dignity 
 of Raffaelle could unite with the glow and 
 bustle of a Paolo, or Tintoret, are totally 
 mistaken. The principles by which each is 
 attained are so contrary to each other, that 
 they seem,, in my opinion, incompatible, and 
 as impossible to exist together, as that in the 
 mind the most sublime ideas and the lowest 
 sensuality should at the same time be united. 
 
96 
 
 TOE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 The subjects of the Venetian Painters are 
 mostly such as give them an opportunity of 
 introducing a great number of figures ; such 
 as feasts, marriages, and processions, publick 
 martyrdoms, or miracles. I can easily con* 
 ceive that Paul Veronese, if he were asked, 
 would say, that no subject was proper for an 
 historical picture, but such as admitted at 
 least forty figures; for in a less number, he 
 would assert, there could be no opportunity 
 of the Painter’s shewing his art in compo- 
 sition, his dexterity of managing and dispo- 
 sing the masses of light and groups of figures, 
 and of introducing a variety of Eastern dresses 
 and characters in their rich stuffs. 
 
 But the thing is very different with a pupil 
 of the greater schools. Annibale Carracci 
 thought twelve figures sufficient for any 
 Story : he conceived that more would contri- 
 bute to no end but to fill space ; that they 
 would be but cold spectators of the general 
 action, or, to use his own expression, that 
 they would be figures to be let . Besides, it is 
 impossible for a picture composed of so 
 many parts to have that effect so indispensa- 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 97 
 
 bly necessary to grandeur, that of one com- 
 plete whole. However contradictory it may 
 be in geometry, it is true in taste, that many 
 little things will not make a great one. 
 The Sublime impresses the mind at once 
 with one great idea ; it is a single blow : the 
 Elegant indeed may be produced by repeti- 
 tion ; by an accumulation of many minute 
 circumstances. 
 
 However great the difference is between 
 the composition of the Venetian, and the 
 rest of the Italian schools, there is full as 
 great a disparity in the effect of their pic- 
 tures as produced by colours. And though 
 in this respect the Venetians must be al- 
 lowed extraordinary skill, yet even that 
 skill, as they have employed it, will but 
 ill correspond with the great style. Their 
 colouring is not only too brilliant, but, I will 
 venture to say, too harmonious, to produce 
 that solidity, steadiness, and simplicity of 
 effect, which heroick subjects require, and 
 which simple or grave colours only can 
 give to a work. That they are to be cau- 
 tioufly studied by those who are ambitious 
 
 VOL. I, H 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 P 
 
 of treading the great walk of history, is 
 confirmed, if it wants confirmation, by the 
 greatest of all authorities, Michael Angelo. 
 This wonderful man, after having seen a 
 picture by Titian, told Vasari who accom^* 
 panied him *, “ that he liked much his 
 “colouring and manner but then he 
 added, “that it was a pity the Venetian 
 “ painters did not learn to draw correctly in 
 “ their early youth, and adopt a better man- 
 “ ner of study.” 
 
 By this it appears, that the principal at- 
 tention of the Venetian painters, in the opi- 
 nion of Michael Angelo, seemed to be en- 
 grossed by the study of colours, to the neg- 
 lect of the ideal beauty of form, or propriety 
 of expression. But if general censure was 
 given to that school from the sight of a pic- 
 ture of Titian, how much more heavily 
 and /more justly, would the censure fall on 
 
 ■« * Dicendc, che molto gli piaceva il colorito suo, e 
 ia maniera; ma che era un peccato, che a Venezia , non 
 s’imparasse da principio a difegnare bene, e che non ha- 
 vessano que’ pittori miglior modo nello studio. Vaf. tom. 
 iij. p. 226. Vita di Tiziano. 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 99 
 
 Paolo Veronese, and more especially on 
 Tintoret ? And here I cannot avoid citing 
 Vasari’s opinion of the style and manner of 
 Tintoret. “ Of all the extraordinary geni- 
 “ uses says he, “ that have practised the 
 “ art of painting, for wild, capricious, ex- 
 “ travagant and fantastical inventions, for 
 “ furious impetuosity and boldness in the 
 “ execution of his work, there is none like 
 “Tintoret; his strange whimsies are even 
 “ beyond extravagance, and his works seem 
 “to be produced rather by chance, than in 
 “ consequence of any previous design, 
 “ as if he wanted to convince the world that 
 “ the art was a trifle, and of the most easy 
 “ attainment.” 
 
 For my own part, when I speak of the 
 
 * Nelle cose della pittura, stravagante, capriccioso, 
 presto, e resol'uto, et il piu terribile cervello, che liabbia 
 havuto mai la pittura, come si puo vedere in tutte le sue 
 opere ; e ne’ componimenti delle storie, fantastiche, e 
 latte da, lui diversamente, e fuori dell’ uso degli altri 
 pittori : anzi ha superato la stravaganza, con le nuove, 
 e capricciose inventioni, e strani ghiribizzi del suo 
 intelleto, che ha lavorato a caso, e senza disegno, quasi 
 monstrando che quest’ arte e una baiae 
 
 H % 
 
IOQ 
 
 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 Venetian painters, I wish to be understood 
 to mean Paolo Veronese and Tintoret, to 
 the exclusion of Titian ; for though his 
 style is not so pure as that of many other of 
 the Italian schools, yet there is a sort of se- 
 natorial dignity about him, which, however 
 aukward in his imitators, seems to be- 
 come him exceedingly. His portraits 
 alone, from the nobleness and simplicity of 
 character which he always gave them, will 
 entitle him to the greatest respect, as he un- 
 doubtedly stands in the first rank in this 
 branch of the art. 
 
 It is not with Titian, but with the sedu- 
 cing qualities of the two former, that I 
 could wish to caution you against being too 
 much captivated. These are the persons 
 who may be said to have exhausted all the 
 powers of florid eloquence, to debauch the 
 young and unexperienced ; and have, with- 
 out doubt, been the cause of turning off the 
 attention of the connoisseur and of the 
 patron of art, as well as that of the painter, 
 from those higher excellencies of which the 
 art is capable, and which ought to be re-* 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 IOI 
 
 quired in every considerable production. By 
 them, and their imitators, a style merely 
 ornamental has been disseminated through- 
 out all Europe. Rubens carried it to Flan- 
 ders ; Voet to France ; and Lucca Giordano, 
 to Spain and Naples. 
 
 The Venetian is indeed the Most splendid 
 of the schools of elegance; and it is not 
 without reason, that the best performances 
 in this lower school are valued higher than 
 the second rate performances of those above 
 them : for every picture has value when it 
 has a decided character, and is excellent in 
 its kind. But the student must take care 
 not to be so much dazzled with this splen- 
 dour, as to be tempted to imitate what 
 must ultimately lead from perfection. Pous- 
 sin, whose eye was always steadily fixed on 
 the Sublime, has been often heard to say, 
 “ That a particular attention to colouring 
 44 was an obstacle to the Student, in his pro- 
 44 gress to the great end and design of the 
 “ art ; and that he who attaches himself 
 44 to this principal end, will acquire by 
 
*02 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 “ practice a reasonable good method of 
 5t colouring. 
 
 Though it be allowed that elaborate har- 
 mony of colouring, a brilliancy of tints, a 
 soft and gradual transition from one to an- 
 other, present to the eye, what an harmo- 
 nious concert of musick does to the ear, it 
 must be remembered, that painting is not 
 merely a gratification of the sight. Such 
 excellence, though properly cultivated, 
 where nothing higher than elegance is in- 
 tended, is weak and unworthy of regard, 
 when the work aspires to grandeur and 
 sublimity. 
 
 Tho same reasons that have been urged to 
 shew that a mixture of the Venetian style 
 cannot improve the great style, will hold 
 good in regard to the Flemish and Dutch 
 schools. Indeed the Flemish school, of 
 
 * Que cette application singuliere n’etoit qu’un obsta- 
 cle pour empecher de parvenir au veritable but de la 
 peinture, & celui qui s’attache au principal, acquiert 
 par la pratique une assez belle maniere de peindre. 
 Conference de l’Acad. Franc. 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE* 1,03 
 
 which Rubens is the head, was formed 
 upon that of the Venetian ; like them, he' 
 took his figures too much from the people^ 
 before him. But it must be allowed in 
 favour of the Venetians, that he was more 
 gross-<han they, and carried all their mis- 
 taken methods to a far greater excess. In the 
 Venetian school itself, where they all err 
 from the same cause, there is a difference in 
 the effect. The difference between Paolo 
 and Bassano seems to be only, that one in- 
 troduced Venetian gentlemen into his pic- 
 tures, and the other the boors of the district 
 of Bassano, and called them patriarchs and 
 prophets. 
 
 The painters of the Dutch school have 
 still more locality. With them, a history- 
 piece is properly a portrait of themselves-; 
 whether they describe the inside or outside 
 of their houses, we have their own peo- 
 ple engaged in their own peculiar occupa- 
 tions j working, or drinking, playing, or 
 fighting. The circumstances that enter into 
 a picture of this kind, are so far from giving 
 a general view of human life, that they ex- 
 
204 THE fourth discourse. 
 
 hibit all the minute particularities of a na- 
 tion differing in several respects from the 
 rest of mankind. Yet, let them have their 
 share of more humble praise. The painters 
 of this school are excellent in their own 
 way ; they are only ridiculous when they 
 attempt general history on their own narrow 
 principles, and debase great events by the 
 meanness of their characters. 
 
 Some inferior dexterity, some extraordi- 
 nary mechanical power is apparently that 
 from which they seek distinction. Thus, we 
 see, that school alone has the custom of repre- 
 senting candle-light not as it really appears 
 to us by night, but red, as it would illu- 
 minate objects to a spectator by day. Such 
 tricks, however pardonable in the little 
 style, where petty effects are the sole end, 
 are inexcusable in the greater, where the at- 
 tention should never be drawn aside by tri- 
 fles, but should be entirely occupied by the 
 subject itself. 
 
 The same local principles which charac- 
 terize the Dutch school extend even to their 
 
THE FOUPvTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 105 
 
 landscape painters ; and Rubens himself, 
 who has painted many landscapes, has 
 sometimes transgressed in this particular. 
 Their pieces in this way are, I think, always 
 a representation of 'an individual spot, and 
 each in its kind a very faithful but a very 
 confined portrait. Claude Lorrain, on the 
 contrary, was convinced, that taking nature 
 as he found it seldom produced beauty. His 
 pictures are a composition of the various 
 draughts which he had previously made 
 from various beautiful scenes and prospects. 
 However, Rubens in some measure has 
 made amends for the deficiency with which 
 he is charged j he has contrived to raise 
 and animate his otherwise uninteresting 
 views, by introducing a rainbow, storm, or 
 some particular accidental effect of light,. 
 That the practice of Claude Lorrain, in re- 
 spect to his choice, is to be adopted by 
 Landscape painters, in opposition to that 
 of the Flemish and Dutch schools, there 
 can be no doubt, as its truth is founded up- 
 on the same principle as that by which 
 the Historical Painter acquires perfect form. 
 But whether landscape painting has a right 
 
10 6 THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 to aspire so far as to reject what the 
 painters call Accidents of Nature, is not 
 easy to determine. It is certain Claude 
 Terrain seldom, if ever, availed himself of 
 those accidents ; either he thought that such 
 peculiarities were contrary to that style of 
 general nature which he professed, or that 
 it would catch the attention too strongly, 
 and destroy that quietness and repose 
 which he thought necessary to that kind 
 of painting. 
 
 A Portrait-painter likewise, when he at- 
 tempts history, unless he is upon his guard, 
 is likely to enter too much into the detail;. 
 He too frequently makes his historical heads 
 look like portraits ; and this was once the 
 custom amongst those old painters, who re- 
 vived the art before general ideas were prac- 
 tised or understood. An History -painter 
 paints man in general; a Portrait-painter, a 
 particular man, and consequently a defective 
 model. 
 
 Thus an habitual practice in the lower ex- 
 ercises of the art will prevent many from at ; - 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE, loy 
 
 taining the greater. But such of us who 
 move in these humbler walks of the profes- 
 sion, are not ignorant that, as the natural dig- 
 nity of the subject is less, the more all the 
 little ornamental helps are necessary to its 
 embellishment. It would be ridiculous for 
 a painter of domestick scenes, of portraits, 
 landscapes, animals, or still life, to say that 
 he despised those qualities which has made 
 the subordinate schools so famous. The art 
 of colouring, and the skilful management 
 of light and shadow, are essential requisites 
 in his confined labours. If we descend still 
 lower, what is the painter of fruit and flowers 
 without the utmost art in colouring, and what 
 the painters call handling ; that is, a lightness 
 of pencil that implies great practice, and 
 gives the appearance of being done with ease? 
 Some here, I believe, must remember a flow- 
 er-painter whose boast it was, that he scorned 
 to paint for the million : no, he professed to 
 paint in the true Italian taste ; and despising 
 the crowd, called strenuously upon the few 
 to admire him. His idea of the Italian taste 
 was to paint as black and dirty as he could, 
 and to leave all clearness and brilliancy of 
 
log THE FOURTH DISCOURSE; 
 
 colouring to those who were fonder of money 
 than immortality. The consequence was 
 such as might be expected. For these petty 
 excellencies are here essential beauties ; and 
 without this merit the artist’s work will be 
 more short-lived than the objects of his imi- 
 tation. 
 
 From what has been advanced, we must 
 now be convinced that there are two distinct 
 styles in history-painting : the grand, and the 
 splendid or ornamental. 
 
 The great style stands alone, and does not 
 require, perhaps does not so well admit, any 
 addition from inferior beauties. The orna- 
 mental style also possesses its own peculiar 
 merit. However, though the union of the 
 two may make a sort of composite style, yet 
 that style is likely to be more imperfect than 
 either of those which go to its composition. 
 Both kinds have merit, and may be excellent 
 though in different ranks, if uniformity be 
 preserved, and the general and particular ideas 
 of nature be not mixed. Even the meanest 
 of them is difficult enough to attain ; and the 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 •i 09 
 
 first place being already occupied by the great 
 artists in each department, some of those who 
 followed thought there was less room for 
 them, and feeling the impulse of ambition 
 and the desire of novelty, and being at the 
 same time perhaps willing to take the shortest 
 way, endeavoured to make for themselves a 
 place between both. This they have effected 
 by forming an union of the different orders. 
 But as the grave and jnajestick style would 
 suffer by an union with the florid and gay, 
 so also has the Venetian ornament in some 
 respect been injured by attempting an alliance 
 with simplicity. 
 
 It may be asserted, that the great style is 
 always more or less contaminated by any 
 meaner mixture. But it happens in a few 
 instances, that the lower may be improved 
 by borrowing from the grand. Thus if a 
 a portrait-painter is desirous to raise and im- 
 prove his subject, he has no other means than 
 by approaching it to a general idea. He 
 leaves out all the minute breaks and peculi- 
 arities in the face, and changes the dress from 
 a temporary fashion to one mofe permanent, 
 
*10 the fourth discourse. 
 
 which has annexed to it no ideas of meam 
 ness from its being familiar tons. But if an 
 exact resemblance of an individual be consi- 
 dered as the sole object to be aimed at, the 
 portrait-painter will be apt to lose more than 
 he gains by the acquired dignity taken from 
 general nature. It is very difficult to ennoble 
 the character of a countenance but at the ex- 
 pense of the likeness, which is what is 
 most generally required by such as sit to the 
 painter. 
 
 Of those who have practised the compo- 
 site style, and have succeeded in this perilous 
 attempt, perhaps the foremost is Correggio. 
 His style is founded upon modern grace and 
 elegance, to which is superadded something 
 of the simplicity of the grand style. A 
 breadth of light and colour, the general ideas 
 of the drapery, an uninterrupted flow of out- 
 line, all conspire to this effect, Next to 
 him (perhaps equal to him) Parmegiano has 
 dignified the genteelness of modern effemi- 
 nacy, by uniting it with the simplicity of the 
 ancients and the grandeur and severity of 
 Michael Angelo. It must be^ confessed, 
 
 3 
 
THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. in 
 
 however, that these two extraordinary men, 
 by endeavouring to give the utmost degree of 
 grace, have sometimes perhaps exceeded its 
 boundaries, and have fallen into the most 
 hateful of all hateful qualities, affectation. 
 Indeed, it is the peculiar characteristick of men 
 of genius to be afraid of coldness and insipi- 
 dity, from which they think they never can 
 be too far removed. It particularly happens 
 to these great masters of grace and elegance. 
 They often boldly drive on to the very verge 
 of ridicule ; the spectator is alarmed, but at 
 the same time admires their vigour and in- 
 trepidity ; 
 
 Strange graces still, and stranger flights they had. 
 
 Yet ne’er so sure our passion to create, 
 
 As when they touch’d the brink of all we hate. 
 
 The errors of genius, however, are par- 
 donable, and none even of the more exalted 
 painters are wholly free from them ; but they 
 have taught us, by the rectitude of their ge- 
 neral practice, to correct their own affected or 
 accidental deviation. The very first have 
 not been always upon their guard, and per- 
 
i it THE FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 haps there is not a fault, but what may take- 
 shelter under the most venerable authorities ; 
 yet that style only is perfect, in which the 
 noblest principles are uniformly pursued ; and 
 those masters only are entitled to the first rank 
 in our estimation, who have enlarged the 
 boundaries of their art, and have raised it to 
 its highest dignity, by exhibiting the general 
 ideas of nature. 
 
 On the whole, it seems to me that there is 
 but one presiding principle, which regulates, 
 and gives stability to every art. The works, 
 whether of poets, painters, moralists, or his- 
 torians, which are built upon general nature, 
 live for ever ; while those which depend for 
 their existence on particular customs and ha- 
 bits, a partial view of nature, or the fluctua- 
 tion of fashion, can only be coeval with that 
 which first raised them from obscurity. Pre- 
 sent time and future may be considered as 
 rivals, and he who solicits the one must ex- 
 pect to be discountenanced by the other. 
 
DISCOURSE V 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OE 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER io* 1772, 
 
 VOL. I » 
 
 I 
 

 ~::v zo 
 
 ■ 
 
 '1 W 
 
 
 
 
DISCOURSE V 
 
 CIRCUMSPECTION REQUIRED IN ENDEAVOURING TO 
 UNITE CONTRARY EXCELLENCIES.- — THE EXPRESSION 
 OF A MIXED PASSION NOT TO BE ATTEMPTED. — EX- 
 AMPLES OF THOSE WHO EXCELLED IN THE GREAT 
 
 STYLE ; RAFFAELLE, MICHAEL ANGELO. THOSE TWO 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY MEN COMPARED WITH EACH OTHER. 
 TFIE CHARACTERISTICAL STYLE. — - SALVATOR ROSA 
 MENTIONED AS AN EXAMPLE OF THAT STYLE; AND 
 OPPOSED TO CARLO MARATTI.— SKETCH OF THE CHA- 
 RACTERS OF POUSSIN AND RUBENS. THESE TWO 
 PAINTERS ENTIRELY DISSIMILAR, BUT CONSISTENT 
 WITH THEMSELVES. THIS CONSISTENCY REQUIRED 
 IN ALL PARTS OF THE ART. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 Ipurpose to carry on in this discourse 
 the subject which I began in my last. It 
 was my wish upon that occasion to incite you 
 to pursue the higher excellencies of the art. 
 But I fear that in this particular I have been 
 misunderstood. Some are ready to imagine, 
 when any of their favourite acquirements in 
 the art are properly classed, that they are ut- 
 
 i 2 
 
U6 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 terly disgraced. This is a very great mis- 
 take : nothing has its proper lustre hut in its 
 proper place. That which is most worthy 
 of esteem in its allotted sphere, becomes an 
 object, not of respect, but of derision, when 
 it is forced into a higher, to which it is not 
 suited ; and there it becomes doubly a source 
 of disorder, by occupying a situation which is 
 not natural to it, and by putting down from 
 the first place what is in reality of too much 
 magnitude to become with grace and propor- 
 tion that subordinate station, to which some- 
 thing of less value would be much better 
 suited. 
 
 \ 
 
 My advice in a word is this : keep your 
 principal attention fixed upon the higher ex- 
 cellencies. If you compass them, and com- 
 pass nothing more, you are still in the first 
 class. We may regret the innumerable beau- 
 ties which you may want ; you may be very 
 imperfect; but still, you are an imperfect 
 artist of the highest order. 
 
 If, when you have got thus far, you can 
 add any, or all, of the subordinate qualifin 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 n 7 
 
 cations, it is my wish and advice that you 
 should not neglect them. But this is as 
 much a matter of circumspection and caution 
 at least, as of eagerness and pursuit. 
 
 The mind is apt to be distracted by a mul- 
 tiplicity of objects j and that scale of perfec- 
 tion, which I wish always to be preserved, is 
 in the greatest danger of being totally dis- 
 ordered, and even inverted. 
 
 Some exellencies bear to be united, and are 
 improved by union ; others are of a discor- 
 dant nature ; and the attempt to join them, 
 only produces a harsh jarring of incongruent 
 principles. The attempt to unite contrary 
 excellencies (of form, for instance) in a single 
 figure, can never escape degenerating into the 
 monstrous, but by sinking into the insipid ; 
 by taking away its marked character, and 
 weakening its expression. 
 
 This remark is true to a certain degree 
 with regard to the passions. If you mean to 
 preserve the most perfect beauty in its most 
 perfect state , you cannot express the passions, 
 all of which produce distortion and defor- 
 
1 18 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 mity, more or less, in the most beautiful 
 faces. 
 
 Guido, from want of choice in adapting 
 his subject to his ideas and his powers, or from 
 attempting to preserve beauty where it could 
 not be preserved, has in this respect suc- 
 ceeded very ill. His figures are often engaged 
 in subjects that required great expression : 
 yet his Judith and Holofernes, the daughter 
 of Herodias with the Baptist’s head, the An- 
 dromeda, and some even of the Mothers of 
 the Innocents, have little more expression 
 than his Venus attired by the Graces. 
 
 Obvious as these remarks appear, there are 
 many writers on our art, who, not being of 
 the profession, and consequently not know- 
 ing what can or cannot be done, have been 
 very liberal of absurd praises in their descrip- 
 tions of favourite works. They always find 
 in them what they are resolved to find. They 
 praise excellencies that can hardly exist to- 
 gether j and above all things are fond of de- 
 scribing with great exactness the expression 
 of a mixed passion, which more particularly 
 appears tome out of the reach of our art. 
 
TOE FIFTH DISCOURSE, u 9 
 
 Such are many disquisitions which I have 
 read on some of the Cartoons and other pic- 
 tures of Raffaelle, where the Criticks have 
 described their own imaginations ; or indeed 
 where the excellent master himself may have 
 attempted this expression of passions above 
 the powers of the art ; and has, therefore, by 
 an indistinct and imperfect marking, left room 
 for every imagination, with equal probabi- 
 lity, to find a passion of his own. What 
 has been, and what can be done in the art, is 
 sufficiently difficult ; we need not be morti- 
 fied or discouraged at not being able to exe- 
 cute the conceptions of a romantick imagina- 
 tion. Art has its boundaries, though ima- 
 gination has none. We can easily, like the 
 ancients, suppose a Jupiter to be possessed of 
 all those powers and perfections which the 
 subordinate Deities were endowed with sepa- 
 rately. .. Yet, when they employed their art 
 to -represent him, they confined his charac- 
 ter to majesty alone. Pliny, therefore, though 
 we are under great obligations to him for the 
 information he has given us in relation to the 
 works of the antient artists, is very frequently 
 wrong when he speaks of them, which he 
 
210 
 
 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 does very often in the style of many of our 
 modern connoisseurs. He observes, that in 
 a statue of Paris, by Euphranor, you might 
 discover at the same time three different cha- 
 racters ; the dignity of a Judge of the God- 
 desses, the Lover of Helen, and the Con- 
 queror of Achilles. A statue in which you 
 endeavour to unite stately dignity, youthful 
 elegance, and stern valour, must surely pos- 
 sess none of these to any eminent degree. 
 
 From hence it appears, that there is much 
 difficulty as well as danger, in an endeavour 
 to concentrate in a single subject those various 
 powers, which, rising from different points, 
 naturally move in different directions. 
 
 The summit of excellence seems to be an 
 assemblage of contrary qualities, but mixed, 
 in such proportions, that no one part is found 
 to counteract the other. How hard this is 
 to be attained in every art, those only know, 
 who have made the greatest progress in their 
 respective professions. 
 
 To conclude what I have to say on this 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 121 
 
 part of the subject, which I think of great 
 importance, I wish you to understand, that I 
 do not discourage the younger Students from 
 the noble attempt of uniting all the excellen- 
 cies of art ; but suggest to them, that, beside 
 the difficulties which attend every arduous 
 attempt, there is a peculiar difficulty in the 
 choice of the excellencies which ought to be 
 united. I wish you to attend to this, that 
 you may try yourselves, whenever you are 
 capable of that trial, what you can, and what 
 you cannot do ; and that, instead of dissi- 
 pating your natural faculties over the im- 
 mense field of possible excellence, you may 
 choose some particular walk in which you 
 may exercise all your powers ; in order that 
 each of you may become the first in his way. 
 If any man shall be master of such a trans- 
 Cendant, commanding, and ductile genius, as 
 to enable him to rise to the highest, and to 
 stoop to the lowest, flights of art, and to 
 sweep over all of them unobstructed and se- 
 cure, he is fitter to give example than to re- 
 ceive instruction. 
 
 Having said thus much on the uni^n of 
 
I 22 
 
 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 excellencies, I will next say something of 
 the subordination in which various excel- 
 lencies ought to be kept. 
 
 I am of opinion, that the ornamental style, 
 which in my discourse of last year I cau- 
 tioned you against, considering it as principal, 
 may not be wholly unworthy the attention 
 even of those who aim at the grand style, 
 when it is properly placed and properly re- 
 duced. 
 
 But this study will be used with far better 
 effect, if its principles are employed in soft- 
 ening the harshness and mitigating the rigour 
 of the great style, than if it attempt to stand 
 forward with any pretensions of its own to 
 positive and original excellence. It was thus 
 Lodovico Carracci, whose example I for- 
 merly recommended to you, employed it. He 
 was acquainted with the works both of Cor- 
 reggio and the Venetian painters, and knew 
 the principles by which they produced those 
 pleasing effects which at the first glance pre- 
 possess us so much in their favour; but he 
 took only as much from each as would em- 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 123 
 
 hellish, but not over-power, that manly 
 strength and energy of style, which is his 
 peculiar character. 
 
 Since I have already expatiated so largely 
 in my former discourse, and in my present, 
 upon the styles and characters of Painting, it 
 will not be at all unsuitable to my subject if 
 I mention to you some particulars relative to 
 the leading principles, and capital works of 
 those who excelled in the great style ; that I 
 may bring you from abstraction nearer to 
 practice, and by exemplifying the positions 
 which I have laid down, enable you to under- 
 stand more clearly what I would enforce. 
 
 The principal works of modern art are in 
 F ref co, a mode of painting which excludes 
 attention to minute elegancies : . yet these 
 works in Fresco, are the productions on which 
 the fame of the greatest masters depends : 
 such are the pictures of Michael Angelo and 
 Raffaelle in the Vatican j to which we may 
 add the Cartoons j which, though not strictly 
 to be called Fresco, yet may be put under 
 
J24 the fifth discourse. 
 
 that denomination ; and such are the works 
 of Giulio Romano at Mantua. If these per- 
 formances were destroyed, with them would 
 be lost the best part of the reputation of those 
 illustrious painters ; for these are justly con- 
 sidered as the greatest efforts of our art which 
 the world can boast. To these, therefore, 
 we should principally direct our attention for 
 higher excellencies. As for the lower arts, 
 as they have been once discovered, they may 
 be easily attained by those possessed of the 
 former. 
 
 Raffaelle, who stands in general foremost 
 of the first painters, owes his reputation, as I 
 have observed, to his excellence in the higher 
 parts of the art : his works in Frefco, there- 
 fore, ought to be the first object of our study 
 and attention. His easel-works stand in a 
 lower degree of estimation : for though he con- 
 tinually, to the day of his death, embellished 
 his performances more and more with the ad- 
 dition of those lower ornaments, which entirely 
 make the merit of some painters, yet he never 
 arrived at such perfection as to make him an 
 
125 
 
 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 object of imitation. He never was able to 
 conquer perfectly that dryness, or even lit- 
 tleness of manner, which he inherited from 
 his master. He never acquired that nicety 
 of taste in colours, that breadth of light and 
 shadow, that art and management of uniting 
 light to light, and shadow to shadow, so as to 
 make the object rise out of the ground with 
 that plenitude of effect so much admired in 
 the works of Correggio. When he painted 
 in oil, his hand seemed to be so cramped and 
 confined, that he not only lost that facility 
 and spirit, but { think even that correctness, 
 of form, which is so perfect and admirable 
 in his Fresco-works. I do not recollect any 
 pictures of his of this kind, except perhaps 
 the Transfiguration, in which there are not 
 some parts that appear to be even feebly 
 drawn. That this is not a necessary attend- 
 ant on Oil-painting, we have abundant in- 
 stances in more modern painters. Lodovico 
 Caracci, for instance, preserved in his works 
 in oil the same spirit, vigour, and correctness 
 which he had in Fresco. I have no desire 
 to degrade Raffaelle from the high rank which 
 he deservedly holds : but by comparing him 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 116 
 
 with himself, he does not appear to me to be 
 the same man in Oil as in Fresco. 
 
 From those who have ambition to tread in 
 this great walk of the art, Michael Angelo 
 claims the next attention. Fie did not pos- 
 sess so many excellencies as Raffaeile, but 
 those which he had were of the highest kind. 
 He considered the art as consisting of little 
 more than what may be attained by sculp- 
 ture ; correctness of form, and energy of 
 character. We ought not to expect more 
 than an artist intends in his work. He 
 never attempted those lesser elegancies and 
 graces in the art. Vasari says, he never 
 painted but one picture in oil, and resolved 
 never to paint another, saying, it was an em- 
 ployment only fit for women and children. 
 
 If any man had a right to look down upon 
 the lower accomplishments as beneath his 
 attention, it was certainly Michael Angelo; 
 nor can it be thought strange, that such a 
 mind should have slighted or have been with- 
 held from paying due attention to all those 
 graces and embellishments of art, which have 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 127 
 
 diffused such lustre over the works of other 
 painters. 
 
 It must be acknowledged, however, that 
 together with these, which we wish he had 
 more attended to, he has rejected all the false, 
 though specious ornaments, which disgrace 
 the works even of the most esteemed artists ; 
 and I will venture to say, that when those 
 higher excellencies are more known and cul- 
 tivated by the artists and the patrons of arts, 
 his fame and credit will increase with our 
 increasing knowledge. His name will then 
 be held in the same veneration as it was in 
 the enlightened age of Leo The Tenth : and 
 it is remarkable that the reputation of this 
 trtily great man has been continually declin- 
 ing a r s the art itself has declined. For I must 
 remark to you, that it has long been much 
 on the decline, and that our only hope of its 
 revival will consist in your being thoroughly 
 sensible of its depravation and decay. It is 
 to Michael Angelo, that we owe even the 
 existence of Raffaelle : it is to him Raffaelle 
 Dwes the grandeur of his style. He was 
 taught by him to elevate his thoughts, and 
 
i?8 THE FIFTH discourse, 
 
 to conceive his subjects with dignity. His 
 genius, however formed to blaze and to 
 shine, might like fire in combustible matter, 
 ior ever have lain dormant, if it had not 
 caught a spark by its contact with Michael 
 Angelo : and though it never burst out with 
 bis extraordinary heat and vehemence, yet it 
 must be acknowledged to be a more pure, 
 regular, and chaste flame. Though our 
 judgement must upon the whole decide in 
 favour of Raffaelle, yet fle never takes such 
 a firm hold and entire possession of the 
 mind as to make us desire nothing else, and 
 to feel nothing wanting. The effect of the 
 capital works of Michael Angelo perfectly 
 corresponds to what Bouchardon said he felt 
 from reading Homer ; his whole frame 
 appeared to himself to be enlarged, and all 
 nature which surrounded him, diminished to 
 atoms. 
 
 If we put these great artists in a light of 
 comparison with each other, Raffaelle had 
 more Taste and Fancy, Michael Angelo 
 more Genius and imagination. The one 
 excelled in beauty, the other in energy, 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 129 
 
 Michael Angelo has more of the Poetical 
 Inspiration ; his ideas are vast and sub- 
 lime ; his people are a superior order of 
 beings ; there is nothing about them, no- 
 thing in the air of their actions or their 
 attitudes, or the style and cast of their limbs 
 or features, that reminds us of their be- 
 longing to our own species. Raffaelle's 
 imagination is not so elevated ; his figures 
 are not so much disjoined from our own. 
 diminutive race of beings, though his ideas 
 are chaste, noble, and of great conformity 
 to their subjects. Michael Angelo's works 
 have a strong, peculiar, and marked cha- 
 racter : they seem to proceed from his own 
 mind entirely, and that mind so rich and 
 abundant, that he never needed, or seemed 
 to disdain, to look abroad for foreign help. 
 Raffaelle's materials are generally borrowed, 
 though the noble structure is his own. The 
 excellency of this extraordinary man lay in 
 the propriety, beauty, and majesty of his 
 characters, the judicious contrivance of his 
 Composition, his correctness of Drawing, 
 purity of Taste, and skilful accommoda- 
 tion of other men's conceptions to his own 
 VOL. 1. 
 
 K 
 
tj 6 tHe Fifth discourse. 
 
 purpose. Nobody excelled him in that 
 judgement, with which he united to hi$ 
 own observations on Nature, the Energy of 
 Michael Angelo, and the Beauty and Sim- 
 plicity of the Antique. To the question 
 therefore, which ought to hold the first 
 rank, Raffaelle or Michael Angelo, it must 
 be Answered, that if it is to be given to him 
 who possessed a greater combination of the 
 higher qualities of the art than any other 
 man, there is no doubt but Raffaelle is the 
 first. But if, as Longinus thinks, the sub- 
 lime, being the highest excellence that hu- 
 man composition can attain to, abundantly 
 compensates the absence of every other 
 beauty, and atones for all other deficien- 
 cies, then Michael Angelo demands the 
 preference. 
 
 These two extraordinary men carried 
 some of the higher excellencies of the art 
 to a greater degree of perfection than pro- 
 bably they ever arrived at before. They 
 certainly have not been excelled, nor equal- 
 led since. Many of their successors were 
 induced to leave this great road as a beaten 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 131 
 
 path, endeavouring to surprise and please 
 by something uncommon or new. When, 
 this desire of novelty has proceeded from 
 mere idleness or caprice, it is not worth the 
 trouble of criticism ; but when it has been 
 the result of a busy mind of a peculiar com- 
 plexion, it is always striking and interesting., 
 never insipid. 
 
 Such is the great style, as it appears in 
 those who possessed it at its height : in this, 
 search after novelty, in conception or in 
 treating the subject, has no place. 
 
 But there is another style, which, though 
 inferior to the former, has still great merit, 
 because it shews that those who cultivated 
 it were men of lively and vigorous imagi- 
 nation. This, which may be called the 
 original or characteristical style, being less 
 referred to any true archetype existing either 
 in general or particular nature, must be 
 supported by the painter’s consistency in 
 the principles which he has assumed, and 
 in the union and harmony of his whole de- 
 sign. The excellency of every style, but of 
 
 K 2 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 J 3 Z 
 
 the subordinate styles more especially, will 
 very much depend on preserving that union 
 and harmony between all the component 
 parts, that they may appear to hang well 
 together, as if the whole proceeded from one 
 mind. It is in the works of art, as in 
 the characters of men. The faults or de- 
 fects of some men seem to become them, 
 when they appear to be the natural growth, 
 and of a piece with the rest of their cha- 
 racter. A faithful picture of a mind, 
 though it be not of the most elevated kind, 
 though it be irregular, wild, and incorrect, 
 yet if it be marked with that spirit and 
 firmness which characterises works of genius, 
 will claim attention, and be more striking 
 than a combination of excellencies that do 
 not seem to unite well together ; or we may 
 say, than a work that possesses even all ex- 
 cellencies, but those in a moderate degree. 
 
 One of the strongest-marked characters of 
 this kind, which must be allowed to be 
 subordinate to the great style, is that of 
 Salvator Rosa. He gives us a peculiar cast 
 of nature, which, though void of all grace, 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 *33 
 
 elegance, and simplicity, though It has 
 nothing of that elevation and dignity which 
 belongs to the grand style, yet, has that 
 sort of dignity which belongs to savage 
 and uncultivated nature : but what is most to 
 be admired in him, is, the perfect corre- 
 spondence which he observed between the 
 subjects which he chose and his manner of 
 treating them. Every thing Is of a piece s 
 his Rocks, Trees, Sky, even to his hand- 
 ling, have the same rude and wild charac- 
 ter which animates his figures. 
 
 With him we may contrast the character 
 of Carlo Maratti, who, in my opinion, had 
 no great vigour of mind or strength of ori- 
 ginal genius. He rarely seizes the ima- 
 gination by exhibiting the higher excellen- 
 cies, nor does he captivate us by that ori- 
 ginality which attends the painter who 
 thinks for himself. He knew and practised 
 all the rules of art, and from a composi- 
 tion of Raffaelle, Caracci, and Guido, made 
 up a style, of which the only fault was, 
 that it had no manifest defects and no stri- 
 king beauties j and that the principles of 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 *34 
 
 his composition are never blended together, 
 so as to form one uniform body, originalinits 
 kind, or excellent in any view, 
 
 I will mention two other painters, who, 
 though entirely dissimilar, yet by being each 
 consistent with himself and possessing a 
 manner entirely his own, have both gained 
 reputation, though for very opposite accom- 
 plishments. The painters I mean, are Ru- 
 bens and Poussin. Rubens I mention in this 
 place, as I think him a remarkable instance 
 of the same mind being seen in all the vari- 
 ous parts of the art. The whole is so much 
 of a piece, that one can scarce be brought 
 to believe but that if any one of the qua- 
 lities he possessed had been more correct 
 and perfect, his works would not have been 
 so complete as they now appear. If we 
 should allow him a greater purity and cor- 
 rectness of Drawing, his want of Simplicity 
 in Composition, Colouring, and Drapery* 
 would appear more gross. 
 
 In his Composition his art is too apparent. 
 His figures have expression, and act with 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 ns 
 
 energy, but without simplicity or dignity. 
 His Colouring, in which he is eminently 
 skilled, is notwithstanding too much of 
 what we call tinted. Throughout the whole 
 of his works, there is a proportionable want 
 of that nicety of distinction and elegance of 
 mind, which is required in the higher 
 walks of painting ; and to this want it may 
 be in some degree ascribed, that those 
 qualities which make the excellency of this 
 subordinate style, appear in him with their 
 greatest lustre. Indeed the facility with 
 which he invented, the richness of his com- 
 position, the luxuriant harmony and brilli- 
 ancy of his colouring, so dazzle the eye, that 
 whilst his works continue before 11s, we can- 
 not help thinking that all his deficiencies are 
 fully supplied t. 
 
 Opposed to this florid, careless, loose, and 
 inaccurate style, that of the simple, careful, 
 pure, and correct style of Poussin seems to 
 
 f A more detailed character of Rubens may be found 
 in the “ Journey to Flanders and Holland / 9 near the 
 (conclusion, M/ 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 336 
 
 be a complete contrast. Yet however oppo- 
 site their characters, in one thing they agreed ; 
 both of them always preserving a perfect cor- 
 respondence between all the parts of their 
 respective manners : insomuch that it may be 
 doubted whether any alteration of what is 
 considered as defective in either, would not 
 destroy the effect of the whole. 
 
 Poussin lived and conversed with the 
 ancient statues so long, that he may be said 
 to have been better acquainted with them, 
 than with the people who were about him. 
 I have often thought that he carried his vene- 
 ration for them so far as to wish to give his 
 works the air of Ancient Paintings. It is cer- 
 tain he copied some of the Antique Paintings, 
 particularly the Marriage in the Aldobrandini- 
 Palace at Rome, which I believe to be the 
 best relique of those remote ages that has yet 
 been found. 
 
 No works of any modem has so much of 
 the air of Antique Painting as those of Pous- 
 sin. His best performances have a remarka- 
 ble dryness of manner, which though by no 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 *37 
 
 means to be recommended for imitation, yet 
 seems perfectly correspondent to that ancient 
 simplicity which distinguishes his style* 
 Like Polidoro he studied the ancients so 
 much, that he acquired a habit of thinking in 
 their way, and seemed to know perfectly the 
 actions and gestures they would use on every 
 occasion. 
 
 Poussin in the latterpartof his life changed 
 from his dry manner to one much softer and 
 richer, where there is a greater union be- 
 tween the figures and the ground ; as in the 
 Seven Sacraments in the Duke of Orleans’s 
 collection ; but neither these, nor any of his 
 other pictures in this manner, are at all com- 
 parable to many in his dry manner which we 
 have in England, 
 
 The favourite subjects of Poussin were 
 Ancient Fables ; and no painter was ever 
 better qualified to paint such subjects, not 
 only from his being eminently skilled in the 
 knowledge of the ceremonies, customs and 
 habits of the Ancients, but from his being so 
 well acquainted with the different characters 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 * 3 * 
 
 which those who invented them gave to their 
 allegorical figures. Though Rubens has 
 shewn great fancy in his Satyrs, Silenuses, 
 and Fauns, yet they are not that distinct se- 
 parate class of beings, which is carefully 
 exhibited by the Ancients, and by Poussin. 
 Certainly when such subjects of antiquity 
 are represented, nothing in the picture ought 
 to remind us of modern times. The mind is 
 thrown back into antiquity, and nothing 
 ought to he introduced that may tend to 
 awaken it from the illusion, 
 
 Poussin seemed to think that the style and 
 the language in which such stories are told, is 
 not the worse for preserving some relish of 
 the old way of painting, which seemed to 
 give a general uniformity to the whole, so 
 that the mind was thrown back into antiquity 
 pot only by the subject, but the execution. 
 
 If Poussin in imitation of the Ancients 
 represents Apollo driving his chariot out of 
 the sea by way of representing the Sun rising s 
 if he personifies Lakes and Rivers, it is no- 
 wise offensive in him j but seems perfectly of 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 *35 
 
 a piece with the general air of the picture,. 
 On the contrary, if the Figures which people 
 his pictures had a modern air or countenance* 
 if they appeared like our countrymen, if the 
 draperies were like cloth or silk of our ma- 
 nufacture, if the landskip had the appearance 
 qf a modem view, how ridiculous would 
 Apollo appear instead of the Sun ; an old 
 Man, or a Nymph with an urn* to represent 
 a River or a Lake? 
 
 I cannot avoid mentioning here a circum- 
 stance in portrait-painting, which may help 
 to confirm what has been said. When a 
 portrait is painted in the Historical Style, as 
 it is neither an exact minute representation of 
 an individual, nor completely ideal, every 
 circumstance ought to correspond to this 
 mixture. The simplicity of the antique air 
 and attitude, however much to be admired, 
 is ridiculous when joined to a figure in a 
 modern dress. It is not to my purpose to 
 enter into the question at present, whether 
 this mixed style ought to be adopted or not ; 
 yet if it is chosen, kis necessary it should be 
 complete and all of apiece: the difference of 
 
J40 
 
 THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 stuffs, for instance, which make the cloath- 
 ing, should be distinguished in the same de- 
 gree as the head deviates from a general idea. 
 Without this union, which I have so often 
 recommended, a work can have no marked 
 and determined character, which is the pecu- 
 liar and constant evidence of genius. But 
 when this is accomplished to a high degree, 
 it becomes in some sort a rival to that style 
 which we have fixed as the highest. 
 
 Thus I have given a sketch of the cha- 
 racters of Rubens and Salvator Rosa, as they 
 appear to me to have the greatest uniformity 
 of mind throughout their whole work. But 
 we may add to these, all those Artists who 
 are at the head of a class, and have had a 
 school of imitators from Michael Angelo 
 down to Watteau. Upon the whole it appears, 
 that setting aside the Ornamental Style, there 
 are two different modes, either of which a 
 Student may adopt without degrading the 
 dignity of his art. The object of the first is, 
 to combine the higher excellencies and 
 embellish them to the greatest advantage; 
 of the other, to carry one of these excellencies 
 
 6 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 to the highest degree. But those who possess 
 neither must be classed with them, who, as 
 Shakspeare says, are men of nomark or likelihood* 
 
 1 inculcate as frequently as I can your form- 
 ing yourselves upon great principles and great 
 models. Your time will be much mis-spent in 
 every other pursuit. Small excellencies should 
 be viewed, not studied; they ought to be 
 viewed, because nothing ought to escape a 
 Painter’s observation ; but for no other reason. 
 
 There is another caution which I wish to 
 give you. Be as select in those whom you 
 endeavour to please, as in those whom you 
 endeavour to imitate. Without the love of 
 fame you can never do any thing excellent 1 
 but by an excessive and undistinguishing 
 thirst after it, you will come to have vulgar 
 views ; you will degrade your style ; and 
 your taste will be entirely corrupted. It is 
 certain that the lowest style will be the most 
 popular, as it falls within the compass of ig- 
 norance itself ; and the Vulgar will always be 
 pleased with what is natural, in the confined 
 and misunderstood sense of the word* 
 
THE FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 H I 2 
 
 One would wish that such depravation of 
 taste should be counteracted with that manly 
 pride which actuated Euripides when he said 
 to the Athenians who criticised his works, 
 “ I do not compose my works in order to be 
 <c corrected by you, but to instruct you. 3> 
 It is true, to have a right to speak thus, a 
 man must be an Euripides. However, thus 
 much may be allowed, that when an Artist 
 is sure that he is upon firm ground, supported 
 by the authority and practice of his predeces- 
 sors of the greatest reputation, he may then 
 assume the boldness and intrepidity of genius ; 
 at any rate he must not be tempted out of the 
 right path by any allurement of popularity, 
 which always accompanies the lower styles 
 of painting. 
 
 I mention this, because our Exhibitions, 
 while they produce such admirable effects by 
 nourishing emulation, and calling out genius, 
 have also a mischievous tendency, by se-i 
 
 ducing the Painter to an ambition of pleasing 
 indiscriminately the mixed multitude of peo- 
 ple who resort to them. 
 
DISCOURSE VI 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OP 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 
 DECEMBER io t 1774® 
 
 
DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 SMlTAtlON.— GENIUS BEGINS WHERE RULES END.— 
 INVENTION -ACQUIRED BY BEING CONVERSANT 
 WITH THE INVENTIONS OF OTHERS .—-THE TRUE 
 METHOD OF IMITATING. — -BORROWING, HOW FAR 
 ALLOWABLE^ — -SOMETHING TO BE GATHERED FROM 
 EVERY SCHOOL. 
 
 GENTLEMEN* 
 
 W hen I have taken the liberty of address- 
 ing you on the course and order of your studies* 
 I never proposed to enter into a minute detail 
 of the art. This I have always left to the 
 several Professors, who pursue the end of 
 our institution with the highest honour to 
 themselves, and with the greatest advantage 
 to the Students. 
 
 My purpose in the discourses I have held 
 in the Acadenry has been to lay down certain 
 general positions, which seem to me proper 
 for the formation of a sound taste: principles 
 
 necessary to guard the pupils against those 
 VOL* I* h 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 146 
 
 errors, into which the sanguine temper com^ 
 mon to their time of life has a tendency to 
 lead them; and which have rendered abor- 
 tive the hopes of so many successions of 
 promising young men in all parts of Europe. 
 I wished also, to intercept and suppress those 
 prejudices which particularly prevail when 
 the mechanism of painting is come to its 
 perfection; and which, when they do pre- 
 vail, are certain utterly to destroy the higher 
 and more valuable parts of this literate and 
 liberal profession. 
 
 These two have been my principal pur- 
 poses; they are still as much my concern as 
 ever; and if I repeat my own notions on the 
 subject, you who know how fast mistake and 
 prejudice, when neglected, gain ground upon 
 truth and reason, will easily excuse me. I 
 only attempt to set the same thing in the 
 greatest variety of lights. 
 
 The subject of this discourse will be Imi- 
 tation, as far as a painter is concerned in 
 it. By imitation, I do not mean imitation 
 in its largest sense, but simply the following 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 14? 
 
 ‘of other masters, and the advantage to be 
 drawn from the study of their works. 
 
 Those who have undertaken to write on 
 our art, and have represented it as a kind of 
 inspiration , as a gift bestowed upon peculiar 
 favourites at their birth, seem to insure a 
 much more favourable disposition from their 
 readers, and have a much more captivating 
 and liberal air, than he who attempts to ex-* 
 amine, coldly, whether there are any means 
 by which this art may be acquired ; how the 
 mind may be strengthened and expanded, and 
 what guides will shew the way to eminence. 
 
 It is very natural for those who are unac- 
 quainted with the cause of any thing extra- 
 ordinary, to be astonished at the effect , and 
 to consider it as a kind of rriagick. They, 
 who have never observed the gradation by 
 which art is acquired ; who see only what 
 is the full result of long labour and applica- 
 tion of an infinite number and infinite variety 
 of acts, are apt to conclude from their entire 
 inability to do the same at once, that it is not 
 only inaccessible to themselves, but can be 
 
 l % 
 
*48 THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 done by those only, who have some gift of 
 the nature of inspiration bestowed upon them. 
 
 The travellers into the East tell us, that 
 when the ignorant inhabitants of those coun- 
 tries are asked concerning the ruins of stately 
 edifices yet remaining amongst them, the 
 melancholy monuments of their former gran- 
 deur and long-lost science, they always an- 
 swer, that they were built by magicians. 
 The untaught mind finds a vast gulph be- 
 tween its own powers, and those works of 
 complicated art, which it is utterly unable to 
 fathom ; and it supposes that such a void 
 can be passed only by supernatural powers. 
 
 And, as for artists themselves, it is by no 
 means their interest to undeceive such judges, 
 however conscious they may be of the very 
 natural means by which their extraordinary 
 powers were acquired ; though our art, be- 
 ing intrinsically imitative, rejects this idea of 
 inspiration, more perhaps than any other. 
 
 It is to avoid this plain confession of truth, 
 as it should seem, that this imitation of mas- 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 *49 
 
 fers, indeed almost all imitation, which im- 
 plies a more regular and progressive method 
 of attaining the ends of painting, has ever 
 been particularly inveighed against with 
 great keenness, both by ancient and modern 
 writers. 
 
 To derive all from native power, to owe 
 nothing to another, is the praise which men, 
 who do not much think on what they are 
 saying, bestow sometimes upon others, and 
 sometimes on themselves ; and their ima- 
 ginary dignity is naturally heightened by a 
 supercilious censure of the low, the barren, 
 the groveling, the servile imitator. It would 
 be no wonder if a student, frightened by 
 these terrifick and disgraceful epithets, with 
 which the poor imitators are so often loaded, 
 should let fall his pencil in mere despair ; 
 (conscious as he must be, how much he has 
 been indebted to the labours of others, how 
 little, how very little of his art was bom 
 with him ;) and, consider it as hopeless, to 
 set about acquiring by the imitation of any 
 human master, what he is taught to suppose 
 is matter of inspiration from heaven. 
 
t|© THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Some allowance must be made for what is 
 said in the gaiety of rhetorick. We cannot 
 suppose that any one can really mean to ex^ 
 elude all imitation of others. A position so 
 wild would scarce deserve a serious answer ; 
 for it is apparent, if we were forbid to make 
 use of the advantages which our predecessors 
 afford us, the art would be always to begin, 
 and consequently remain always in its infant 
 state ; and it is a common observation, that 
 no art was ever invented and carried to per- 
 fection at the same time. 
 
 But to bring us entirely to reason and 
 sobriety, let it be observed, that a painter 
 must not only be of necessity an imitator of 
 the works of nature, which alone is sufficient 
 to dispel this phantom of inspiration, but he 
 must be as necessarily an imitator of the 
 works of other painters : this appears more 
 humiliating, but is equally true ; and no man 
 can be an artist, whatever he may suppose, 
 upon any other terms. 
 
 However, those who appear more mode-* 
 ftite and reasonable, allow, that our study is 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 *S* 
 
 to begin by imitation ; but maintain that 
 we should no longer use the thoughts of 
 our predecessors, when we are become able 
 to think for ourselves. They hold that imi- 
 tation is as hurtful to the more advanced 
 student, as it was advantageous to the be- 
 ginner. 
 
 For my own part, I confess, I am not 
 only very much disposed to maintain the ab- 
 solute necessity of imitation in the first stages 
 of the art ; but am of opinion, that the study 
 of other masters, which I here call imitation, 
 may be extended throughout our whole lives, 
 without any danger of the inconviencies with 
 which it is charged, of enfeebling the mind, 
 or preventing us from giving that original air 
 which every work undoubtedly ought always 
 to have. 
 
 I am on the contrary persuaded, that by 
 imitation only, variety, and even originality 
 of invention, is produced. I will go further j 
 even genius, at least what generally is so 
 called, is the child of imitation. But as this 
 appears to be contrary to the general opinion, 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 I must explain my position before I eiiN 
 force it. 
 
 Genius is supposed to be a power of produc- 
 ing excellencies, which are out of the reach of 
 the rules of art ; a power which no precepts 
 can teach, and which no industry can acquire. 
 
 This opinion of the impossibility of ac- 
 quiring those beauties, which stamp the 
 the work with the character of genius, sup- 
 poses that it is something more fixed than in 
 reality it is ; and that we always, do, and 
 ever did agree in opinion, with respect to 
 what should be considered as the characte- 
 ristick of genius. But the truth is, that the 
 degree of excellence which proclaims Genius 
 is different, in different times and different 
 places; and what shews it to be so is, that 
 mankind have often changed their opinion 
 upon this matter. 
 
 When the Arts were in their infancy, the 
 power of merely drawing the likeness of any 
 object, was considered as one of its greatest 
 efforts. The common people, ignorant of 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 the principles of art, talk the same language 
 even to this day. But when it was found 
 that every man could be taught to do this, 
 and a great deal more, merely by the observ- 
 ance of certain precepts ; the name of Genius 
 then shifted its application, and was given 
 only to him who added the peculiar charac- 
 ter of the object he represented ; to him who 
 had invention, expression, grace, or dignity $ 
 in short, those qualities, or excellencies, the 
 power of producing which, could not then be 
 taught by any known and promulgated rules. 
 
 We are very sure that the beauty of form, 
 the expression of the passions, the art of 
 composition, even the power of giving a ge- 
 neral air of grandeur to a work, is at present 
 very much under the dominion of rules. 
 These excellencies were, heretofore, consi- 
 dered merely as the effects of^ genius ; and 
 justly, if genius is not taken for inspiration, 
 but as the effect of close observation and ex- 
 perience. 
 
 He who first made any of these observa- 
 tions, and digested them, so as to form an 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 i $ 4 - 
 
 Invariable principle for himself to work by, 
 had that merit, but probably no one went 
 very far at once ; and generally, the first who 
 gave the hint, did not know how to pursue 
 it steadily, and methodically ; at least not in 
 the beginning. He himself worked on it, 
 and improved it ; others worked more, and 
 improved further; until the secret was dis- 
 covered, and the practice made as general, as 
 refined practice can be made. How many 
 more principles may be fixed and ascertained, 
 we cannot tell ; but as criticism is likely to 
 go hand in hand with the art which is its 
 subject, we may venture to say, that as that 
 art shall advance, its powers will be still 
 more and more fixed by rules. 
 
 But by whatever strides criticism may gain 
 ground, we need be under no apprehension, 
 that invention will ever be annihilated, or 
 subdued ; or intellectual energy be brought 
 entirely within the restraint of written law. 
 Genius will still have room enough to ex- 
 patiate, and keep always at the same distance 
 from narrow comprehension and mechanical 
 performance. 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 *55 
 
 What we now call Genius, begins, not 
 where rules, abstractedly taken, end j but 
 where known vulgar and trite rules have no 
 longer any place. It must of necessity be, 
 that even works of Genius, like every other 
 effect, as they must have their cause, must 
 likewise have their rules ; it cannot be by 
 chance, that excellencies are produced with 
 any constancy or any certainty, for this is not 
 the nature of chance ; but the rules by which 
 men of extraordinary parts, and such as are 
 called men of Genius, work, are either such 
 as they discover by their own peculiar obser- 
 vations, or of such a nice texture as not easily 
 to admit being expressed in words ; espe- 
 cially as artists are not very frequently skil- 
 ful in that mode of communicating ideas. 
 Unsubstantial, however, as these rules may 
 seem, and difficult as it may be to convey 
 them in writing, they are still seen and felt 
 in the mind of the artist ; and he works from 
 them with as much certainty, as if they were 
 embodied, as I may say, upon paper. It is 
 true, these refined principles cannot be always 
 made palpable, like the more gross rules of 
 grt^ yet it does not follow, but that the mind 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 156 
 
 may be put in such a train, that it shall per- 
 ceive, by a kind of scientifick sense, that pro- 
 priety, which words, particularly words of 
 unpractised writers, such as we are, can but 
 very feebly suggest. 
 
 Invention is one of the great marks of ge- 
 nius ; but if we consult experience, we shall 
 find, that it is by being conversant with the 
 inventions of others, that we learn to invent ; 
 as by reading the thoughts of others we learn 
 to think. 
 
 Whoever has so far formed his taste, as to 
 be able to relish and feel the beauties of the 
 great masters, has gone a great way in his 
 study ; for, merely from a consciousness of 
 this relish of the right, the mind swells with 
 an inward pride, and is almost as powerfully 
 affected, as if it had itself produced what it 
 admires. Our hearts, frequently w r armed in 
 this manner by the contact of those whom 
 we wish to resemble, will undoubtedly catch 
 something of their way of thinking ; and we 
 shall receive in our own bosoms some radia- 
 tion at least of their fire and splendour. That 
 
 7 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 m 
 
 disposition, which is so strong in children, 
 still continues with us, of catching involun- 
 tarily the general air and manner of those 
 with whom we are most conversant ; with 
 this difference only, that a young mind is na- 
 turally pliable and imitative ; but in a mor& 
 advanced state it grows rigid, and must be 
 warmed and softened, before it will receive a 
 deep impression. 
 
 From these considerations, which a little 
 of your ov/n reflection will carry a great way 
 further, it appears, of what great consequence 
 it is, that our minds should be habituated to 
 the contemplation of excellence ; and that, 
 far from being contented to make such ha- 
 bits the discipline of our youth only, we 
 should, to the last moment of our lives, con- 
 tinue a settled intercourse with all the true 
 examples of grandeur. Their inventions are 
 not only the food of our infancy, but the sub- 
 stance which supplies the fullest maturity of 
 our vigour. 
 
 The mind is but a barren soil ; a soil which 
 is soon exhausted, and will produce no crop. 
 
i 5 S THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 or only one, unless it be continually fertilize! 
 and enriched with foreign matter. 
 
 When we have had continually before us 
 the great works of Art to impregnate our 
 minds with kindred ideas, we are then, and 
 not till then, fit to produce something of the 
 same species. We behold all about us with 
 the eyes of those penetrating observers whose 
 works we contemplate ; and our minds, ac- 
 customed to think the thoughts of the no- 
 blest and brightest intellects, are prepared for 
 the discovery and selection of all that is great 
 and noble in nature. The greatest natural 
 genius cannot subsist on its own stock : he 
 who resolves never to ransack any mind but 
 his own, will be soon reduced, from mere 
 barrenness, to the poorest of all imitations ; 
 he will be obliged to imitate himself, and to 
 repeat what he has before often repeated. 
 When we know the subject designed by such 
 men, it will ne’ T er be difficult to guess what 
 kind of work is to be produced. 
 
 It is vain for painters or poets to endea- 
 vour to invent without materials on which 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE,, 
 
 159 
 
 the mind may work, and from which inven- 
 tion must originate. Nothing can come of 
 nothing. 
 
 Homer is supposed to be possessed of all 
 the learning of his time : and we are certain 
 that Michael Angelo, and KafFaelle, were 
 equally possessed of all the knowledge in 
 the art which had been discovered in the 
 works of their predecessors. 
 
 A mind enriched by an assemblage of all 
 the treasures of ancient and modern art, will 
 be more elevated and fruitful in resources, in 
 proportion to the number of ideas which 
 have been carefully collected and thoroughly 
 digested. There can be no doubt but that he 
 who has the most materials has the greatest 
 means of invention ; and if he has not the 
 power of using them, it must proceed from 
 a feebleness of intellect ; or from the con- 
 fused manner in which those collections have 
 been laid up in his mind. 
 
 The addition of other men’s judgement is 
 so far from weakening- our own, as is the 
 
i6o THE SIXTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 opinion of many, that it will fashion and 
 consolidate those ideas of excellence which 
 lay in embryo, feeble, ill-shaped, and con- 
 fused, but which are finished and put in or- 
 der by the authority and practice of those, 
 whose works may be said to have been con- 
 secrated by having stood the test of ages. 
 
 The mind, or genius, has been compared 
 to a spark of fire, which is smothered by a 
 heap of fuel, and prevented from blazing 
 into a flame : This simile, which is made 
 use of by the younger Pliny, may be easily 
 mistaken for argument or proof. But there 
 is no danger of the mind’s being over-bur- 
 thened with knowledge, or the genius extin- 
 guished by any addition of images ; on the 
 contrary, these acquisitions may as well, 
 perhaps better, be compared, if comparisons 
 signified any thing in reasoning, to the sup- 
 ply of living embers, which will contribute 
 to strengthen the spark, that without the as- 
 sociation of more fuel would have died away. 
 The truth is, he whose feebleness is such, as 
 to make other men’s thoughts an incumbrance 
 to him, can have no very great strength of 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 161 
 
 mind or genius of his own to be destroyed ; 
 so that not much harm will be done at 
 worst. 
 
 We may oppose to Pliny the greater au- 
 thority of Cicero, who is continually enforc- 
 ing the necessity of this method of study. 
 In his dialogue on Oratory, he makes Crassus 
 say, that one of the first and most important 
 precepts is, to choose a proper model for our 
 imitation. Hoc sit primum in prceceptis meis , 
 ut demonstremus quem imitemur . 
 
 When I speak of the habitual imitation 
 and continued study of masters, it is not to 
 be understood, that I advise any endeavour 
 to copy the exact peculiar colour and com- 
 plexion of another man’s mind ; the success 
 of such an attempt must always be like his, 
 who imitates exactly the air, manner, and 
 gestures, of him whom he admires. His 
 model may be excellent, but the copy will 
 be ridiculous ; this ridicule does not arise 
 from his having imitated, but from his not 
 having chosen the right mode of imita- 
 tion. 
 
 VOL. L 'M 
 
16 % THE SIXTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 It is a necessary and warrantable pride to 
 disdain to walk servilely behind any indivi- 
 dual, however elevated his rank. The true 
 and liberal ground of imitation is an open 
 field ; where, though he who precedes has 
 had the advantage of starting before you, you 
 may always propose to overtake him : it is 
 enough however to pursue his course ; you 
 need not tread in his footsteps ; and you 
 certainly have a right to outstrip him if you 
 can. 
 
 Nor whilst I recommend studying the art 
 from artists, can I be supposed to mean, that 
 nature is to be neglected : I take this study 
 in aid, and not in exclusion, of the other* 
 Nature is, and must be the fountain which 
 alone is inexhaustible ; and from which all 
 excellencies must originally flow. 
 
 The great use of studying our predecessors 
 is, to open the mind, to shorten our labour, 
 and to give us the result of the selection 
 made by those great minds of what is grand 
 or beautiful in nature : her rich stores are all 
 spread out before us ; but it is an art, and no 
 
THE SIXfH DISCOURSE# 1 6 $ 
 
 easy art, to know how or what to choose, 
 and how to attain and secure the object of 
 our choice. Thus the highest beauty of 
 form must be taken from nature ; but it is 
 an art of long deduction, and great experi- 
 ence, to know how to find it. We must 
 not content ourselves with merely admiring 
 and relishing ; we must enter into the prin- 
 ciples on which the work is wrought : 
 these do not swim on the superficies, and 
 consequently are not open to superficial ob- 
 servers# 
 
 Art in its perfection is not ostentatious; it 
 lies hid, and works its effect, itself unseen. 
 It is the proper study and labour of an artist 
 to uncover and find out the latent cause of 
 conspicuous beauties, and from thence form 
 principles of his own conduct i such an ex- 
 amination is a continual exertion of the mind ; 
 as great, perhaps, as that of the artist whose 
 works he is thus studying. 
 
 The sagacious imitator does not content 
 himself with merely remarking what dis- 
 tinguishes the different manner or genius of 
 
 m 3 
 
l<$4 THE StKTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 each master ; he enters into the contrivance 
 in the composition how the masses of lights 
 are disposed, the means by which the effect 
 is produced, how artfully some parts are lost 
 in the ground, others boldly relieved, and 
 how all these are mutually altered and inter- 
 changed according to the reason and scheme 
 of the work. He admires not the harmony 
 of colouring alone, but examines by what 
 artifice one colour is a foil to its neighbour. 
 He looks close into the tints, examines of 
 what colours they are composed, till he has 
 formed clear and distinct ideas, and has learnt 
 to see in what harmony and good colouring 
 consists. What is learned in this manner 
 from the works of others becomes really our 
 own, sinks deep, and is never forgotten ; nay, 
 it is by seizing on this clue that we proceed 
 forward, and, get further and further in en- 
 larging the principles and improving the 
 practice of our art. 
 
 There can be no doubt, but the art is better 
 learnt from the works themselves, than from 
 the precepts which are formed upon those 
 works j but if it is difficult to choose proper 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 models for imitation, it requires no less cir- 
 cumspection to separate and distinguish what 
 in those models we ought to imitate. 
 
 I cannot avoid mentioning here, though it 
 is not my intention at present to enter into th§ 
 art and method of study, an error which 
 students are too apt to fall into. He that is 
 forming himself, must look with great caution 
 and wariness on those peculiarities, or pro^ 
 minent parts, which at first force themselves 
 upon view ; and are the marks, or what is 
 commonly called the manner, by which that 
 individual artist is distinguished. 
 
 Peculiar marks, I hold to be, generally, if 
 not always, defects j however difficult it may 
 be wholly to escape them. 
 
 Peculiarities in the works of art, are like 
 those in the human figure ? it is by them that 
 we are cognizable and distinguished one 
 from another, but they are always so many 
 blemishes ; which, however, both in real life 
 and in painting, cease to appear deformities, 
 to those who have them continually before 
 
 6 
 
j66 THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 their eyes. In the works of art, even th@ 
 most enlightened mind, when warmed by 
 beauties of the highest kind, will by degrees 
 find a repugnance within him to acknowledge 
 any defects ; nay, his enthusiasm will carry 
 himsofar, as to transform themintobeauties, 
 and objects of imitation. 
 
 It must be acknowledged, that a peculi- 
 arity of style, either from its novelty, or by 
 seeming to proceed from a peculiar turn of 
 of mind, often escapes blame; on the contrary, 
 it is sometimes striking and pleasing : but 
 this it is a vain labour to endeavour to imi- 
 tate; because novelty and peculiarity being 
 its only merit, when it ceases to be new, it 
 ceases to have value. 
 
 A manner therefore being a defect, and 
 every painter, however excellent, having a 
 manner, it seems to follow, that all kinds of 
 faults, as well as beauties, may be learned 
 under the sanction of the greatest authorities. 
 Even the great name of Michael Angelo may 
 be used, to keep in countenance a deficiency 
 OX rather neglect of colouring, and every 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 167 
 
 other ornamental part of the art. If the 
 young student is dry and hard, Poussin is 
 the same. If his work has a careless and 
 unfinished air, he has most of the Venetian 
 school to support him. If he makes no se- 
 lection of objects, but takes individual nature 
 just as he finds it, he is like Rembrandt. 
 If he is incorrect in the proportions of his 
 figures, Correggio was likewise incorrect. 
 If his colours are not blended and united, 
 Rubens was equally crude. In short, there 
 is no defect that may not be excused, if 
 it is a sufficient excuse that it can be im- 
 puted to considerable artists ; but it must 
 be remembered, that it was not by these 
 defects they acquired their reputation ; they 
 have a right to our pardon, but not to our 
 admiration. 
 
 However, to imitate peculiarities or mis- 
 take defects for beauties, that man will be 
 most liable, who confines his imitation to one 
 favourite master ; and even though he chooses 
 the best, and is capable of distinguishing the 
 real excellencies of his model, it is not by 
 such narrow practice, that a genius or 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 mastery in the art is acquired. A man is as 
 little likely to form a true idea of the per-* 
 fection of the art, by studying a single artist, 
 as he would be to produce a perfectly beau- 
 tiful figure, by an exact imitation of any in- 
 dividual living model. And as the painter, 
 by bringing together in one piece, those 
 beauties which are dispersed among a great 
 variety of individuals, produces a figure 
 more beautiful than can be found in nature, 
 so that artist who can unite in himself the 
 excellencies of the various great painters, 
 will approach nearer to perfection than any 
 one of his masters. He, who confines him- 
 self to the imitation of an individual, as he 
 never proposes to surpass, so he is not likely 
 to equal, the object of his imitation. He 
 professes only to follow; and he that follows 
 must necessarily be behind. 
 
 We should imitate the conduct of the great 
 artists in the course of their studies, as well 
 as the works which they produced, when 
 they were perfectly formed. Raffaelle began 
 by imitating implicitly the manner of Pietro 
 Perugino, under whom he studied; hence 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 5 r 69 
 
 his first works are scarce to be distinguished 
 from his master's ; but soon forming higher 
 and more extensive views, he imitated the 
 grand outline of Michael Angelo ; he learned 
 the manner of using colours from the works 
 of Leonardo da Vinci, and Fratre Bartolomeos 
 to all this he added the contemplation of all 
 the remains of antiquity that were within his 
 reach ; and employed others to draw for him 
 what was in Greece and distant places. And 
 It is from his having taken so many models, 
 that he became himself a model for all suc- 
 ceeding painters ; always imitating, and 
 always origi nah 
 
 If your ambition, therefore, be to equal 
 Raffaelle, you must do as RaffaeJle did; take 
 many models, and not even him for your 
 guide alone, to the exclusion of others*. 
 And yet the number is infinite of those who 
 seem, if one may judge by their style, to 
 have seen no other works but those of their 
 
 * Seel non qui maxime imitandus, etiam solus imitan- 
 dus est e Quintilian, 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 * 7 * 
 
 \ 
 
 master, or of some favourite, whose manner- 
 is their first wish, and their last, 
 
 I will mention a few that occur to me of 
 this narrow, confined, illiberal, unscienti* 
 fick, and servile kind of imitators. Guido 
 was thus meanly copied by Elizabetta, Sirani, 
 and Simone Cantarini; Poussin, by Verdier, 
 and C heron; Parmeggiano, by Jeronimo 
 Mazzuoli. Paolo Veronese, and Iacomo 
 Bassan, had for their imitators their brothers 
 and sons. Pietro da Cortona was followed 
 byCiroFerri, and Romanelli ; Rubens, by 
 Jacques Jordaens, and Diepenbeke ; Guei> 
 cino, by his own family, the Gennari. Carlo 
 Maratti was imitated by Giuseppe Chiari, 
 and Pietro cla Pietri ; and Rembrandt, by 
 Bramer, Eeckhout, and Flink. All these, to 
 whom may be added a much longer list of 
 painters, whose works among the ignorant 
 pass for those of their masters, are justly to 
 be censured for barrenness and servility. 
 
 To oppose to this list a few that have 
 adopted a more liberal style of imitation;— 
 Pellegrino Tibaldi, Rosso, and Primaticcio, 
 
 3 
 
THE SI^TH DISCOURSE, jp 
 
 did not coldly imitate, But caught something 
 of the fire that animates the works of Michael 
 Angelo. The Caraccis formed their style 
 from Pellegrino Tibaldi, Correggio, and the 
 Venetian School. Domenichino, Guido, 
 Larifranco, Albano, Guercino, Cavidone, 
 Schidone, Tiarini, though it is sufficiently 
 apparent that they came from the school of 
 the Caraccis, have yet the appearance of men 
 who extended their views beyond the model 
 that lay before them, and have shewn that 
 they had opinions of their own, and thought 
 for themselves, after they had made them- 
 selves masters of the general principles of 
 their schools. 
 
 Le Suer’s first manner resembles very much 
 that of his master Voiiet: but as he soon ex- 
 celled him, so he differed from him in every 
 part of the art. Carlo Maratti succeeded 
 better than those I have first named, and I 
 think owes his superiority to the extension of 
 his views ; beside his master Andrea Sacchi, 
 he imitated Raffaelle, Guido, and the Ca- 
 Jraccis. It is true, there is nothing very cap- 
 tivating in Carlo Maratti % but this proceeded 
 
*7* THE SJXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 from a want which cannot be completely 
 supplied ; that is, want of strength of parts. 
 In this certainly men are not equal ; and a 
 man can bring home waxes only in proportion 
 to the capital with which he goes to market. 
 Carlo, by diligence, made the most of what 
 he had j but there was undoubtedly a heavi- 
 ness about him, which extended itself, uni- 
 formly, to his invention, expression, his 
 drawing, colouring, and the general effect. of 
 his pictures. The truth is, he never equalled 
 any of his patterns in any one thing, and he 
 added little of his own. 
 
 But we must not rest contented even ir> 
 this general study of the moderns ; we must 
 trace back the art to its fountain-head ; to 
 that source from whence they drew their 
 principal excellencies, the monuments of 
 pure antiquity. All the inventions and 
 thoughts of the Antients, whether conveyed 
 to us in statues, bas-reliefs, intaglios, cameos, 
 or coins, are to be sought after and carefully 
 studied : the genius that hovers over these 
 venerable relicks, may be called the father 
 of modern art. 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE, 173 
 
 From the remains of the works of the 
 antients the modern arts were revived, and it 
 is by their means that they must be restored a 
 second time. However it may mortify our 
 vanity, we must be forced to allow them our 
 masters ; and we may venture to prophecy, 
 that when they shall cease to be studied, arts 
 will no longer flourish, and we shall again 
 relapse into barbarism. 
 
 The fire of the artist's own genius ope- 
 rating upon these materials which have been, 
 thus diligently collected, will enable him to 
 make new combinations, perhaps, superior 
 to what had ever before been in the possession 
 of the art : as in the mixture of the variety 
 of metals, which are said to have been 
 melted and run together at the burningof Co- 
 rinth, a ne w and till then unknown metal was 
 produced, equal in value to any of those that 
 had contributed to its composition. And 
 though a curious refiner fhould come with his 
 crucibles, analyse and separate its various 
 component parts, yet Corinthian brass would 
 still hold its rank amongst the most beautiful 
 and valuable of metals. 
 
*74 the: sixth discourse 
 
 We have hitherto considered the advantages 
 of imitation as it tends to fblm the taste, and 
 as a practice by which a spark of that genius 
 may be caught, which illumines those noble 
 works that ought always to be present to our 
 thoughts. 
 
 We come now to speak of another kind of 
 imitation; the borrowing a particular thought, 
 an action, attitude, or figure, and trans- 
 planting it into your own work : this will 
 either come under the charge of plagiarism, 
 or be warrantable, and deserve commenda- 
 tion, according to the address with which it 
 is performed. There is some difference 
 likewise, whether it is upon the antients or 
 moderns that these depredations are made. 
 It is generally allowed, that no man need be 
 ashamed of copying the antients : their 
 
 works am considered as a magazine of com- 
 mon property, always open to the pubiick, 
 whence every man has a right to take what 
 materials he pleases; and if he has the art of 
 using them, they are supposed to become to 
 all intents and purposes his own property. 
 The collection of the thoughts of the antients, 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 m 
 
 which Raffaelle made with so much trouble* 
 is a proof of his opinion on this subject. 
 Such collections may be made with much 
 more ease, by means of an art scarce known 
 in his time ; I mean that of engraving ; by 
 which, at an easy rate, every man may now 
 avail himself of the inventions of antiquity. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that the works of 
 the moderns are more the property of their 
 authors. He, who borrows an idea from an 
 antient, or even from a modem artist not his 
 contemporary, and so accommodates it to his 
 own work, that it makes a part of it, with 
 np seam or joining appearing, can hardly be 
 charged with plagiarism : poets practise this 
 kind of borrowing, without reserve. But 
 an artist should not be contented with this 
 only; he should enter into a competition 
 with his original, and endeavour to improve 
 what he is appropriating to his own work. 
 Such imitation is so far from having any 
 thing in it of the servility of plagiarism, 
 that it is a perpetual exercise of the mind, a 
 continual invention. Borrowing or stealing 
 with such art and caution, will have a right 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 17 6 
 
 to the same lenity as was used by the Lace- 
 demonians ; who did not punish theft, but 
 the want of artifice to conceal it. 
 
 In order to encourage you to imitation, 
 to the utmost extent, let me add, that very 
 finished artists in the inferior branches of 
 the art, will contribute to furnish the mind 
 and give hints, of which a skilful painter, 
 who is sensible of what he wants, and is 
 in no danger of being infected by the con- 
 tact of vicious models, will know how to 
 avail himself. He will pick up from dung- 
 hills what by a nice chymistry, passing 
 through his own mind, shall be converted 
 into pure gold ; and under the rudeness of 
 Gothick essays, he will find original, ratio- 
 nal and even sublime inventions. 
 
 The works of Albert Durer, Lucas Van 
 Leyden, the numerous inventions of To- 
 bias Stimmer, and Jost Ammon, afford a 
 rich mass of genuine materials, which 
 wrought up and polished to elegance, will 
 add copiousness to what, perhaps, without 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 177 
 
 such aid, could have aspired only to just- 
 ness and propriety. 
 
 In the luxuriant style of Paul Veronese, 
 in the capricious compositions of Tintoret, 
 he will find something, that will assist his 
 invention, and give points, from which his 
 own imagination shall jise and take flight, 
 when the subject which he treats will with 
 propriety admit of splendid effects. 
 
 In every school, whether Venetian, French, 
 or Dutch, he will find, either ingenious 
 compositions, extraordinary effects, some 
 peculiar expressions, or some mechanical ex- 
 cellence, well worthy of his attention, and, 
 in some measure, of his imitation. Even 
 in the lower class of the French painters 
 great beauties are often found, united with 
 great defects. Though Coypel wanted a 
 simplicity of taste, and mistook a presump- 
 tuous and assuming air for what is grand 
 and majestic; yet he frequently has good 
 sense and judgement in his manner of 
 telling his stories, great skill in his compo- 
 sitions, and is not without a considerable 
 
 VOL. 1. N 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE 
 
 sfi 
 
 power of expressing the passions. The? 
 modem affectation of grace in his works* 
 as well as in those of Bosch and Watteau, 
 may be said to be separated, by a very thin 
 partition, from the more simple and pure 
 grace of Correggio and Parmegiano. 
 
 Among the Dutch painters, the correct* 
 firm, and determined pencil, which was em- 
 ployed by Bamboecio and Jean Miel, on 
 vulgar and mean subjects, might, without 
 any change, be employed on the highest $ 
 to which, indeed* it seems more properly 
 to belong. The greatest style, if that style 
 is confined to small figures, such as Pous- 
 sin generally painted, would receive an ad- 
 ditional grace by the elegance and precision 
 of pencil so admirable in the works of 
 Teniers ; and though the school to which 
 lie belonged more particularly excelled in 
 the mechanism of painting $ yet it produ- 
 ced many, who have shewn great abilities 
 in expressing what must be ranked above 
 mechanical excellencies. In the works of 
 Frank Hals, the portrait-painter may observe 
 the composition of a face, the features well 
 
 6 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE, 279 
 
 put together, as the painters express it ; 
 from whence proceeds that strong-marked 
 character of individual nature, which is so 
 remarkable in his portraits, and is not found 
 in an equal degree in any other painter. 
 If he had joined to this most difficult part 
 of the art, a patience in finishing what he 
 had so Correctly planned, he might justly 
 have claimed the place which Vandyck, all 
 things considered, so justly holds as the first 
 of portrait-painters. 
 
 Others of the same school have shewn 
 great power in expressing the character and 
 passions of those vulgar people, which were 
 the subjects of their study and attention. 
 Among those Jan Steen seems to be one 
 of the most diligent and accurate observers 
 of what passed in those scenes which he 
 frequented, and which were to him an 
 academy, I can easily imagine, that if 
 this extraordinary man had had the good 
 fortune to have been bom in Italy, instead 
 ©f Holland, had he lived in Rome instead 
 of Leyden, and been blessed with Michael 
 Angelo and Raffaelle for his masters, in- 
 
 n 2 , 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 s8o 
 
 stead of Brouwer and Van Goyen ; the same 
 sagacity and penetration which distinguished 
 so accurately the different characters and 
 expression in his vulgar figures, would, 
 when exerted in the selection and imitation 
 of what was great and elevated in nature, 
 have been equally successful ; and he now 
 would have ranged with the great pillars and 
 supporters of our Art, 
 
 Men who although thus bound down by 
 the almost invincible powers of early ha- 
 bits, have still exerted extraordinary abilities 
 within their narrow and confined circle ; 
 and have, from the natural vigour of their 
 mind, given a very interesting expression 
 and great force and energy to their works ; 
 though they cannot be recommended to be 
 exactly imitated, may yet invite an artist to 
 endeavour to transfer, by a kind of parody, 
 their excellencies to his own performances. 
 Whoever has acquired the power of making 
 this use of the Flemish, Venetian, and 
 French schools, is a real genius, and has 
 sources of knowledge open to him which 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. igi 
 
 were wanting to the great artists who lived 
 io the great age of painting. 
 
 To find excellencies, however dispersed ; 
 to discover beauties, however concealed by 
 the multitude of defects with which they 
 are surrounded, can be the work only of 
 him, who having a mind always alive to his 
 art, has extended his views to all ages and 
 to all schools ; and has acquired from that 
 comprehensive mass which he has thus 
 gathered to himself, a well-digested and per- 
 fect idea of his art, to which every thing is 
 referred. Like a sovereign judge and arbi- 
 ter of art, he is possessed of that presiding 
 power which separates and attracts every 
 excellence from every school j selects both 
 from what is great, and what is little ; brings 
 home knowledge from the East and from 
 the West j making the universe tributary 
 towards furnishing his mind and enriching 
 his works with originality, and variety of 
 inventions. 
 
 Thus I have ventured to give my opinion 
 of what appears to me the true and only 
 
1 82 THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 method by which an artist makes himself 
 master of his profession ; which I hold 
 ought to be one continued course of imitation, 
 that is not to cease but with his life. 
 
 Those, who either from their own en- 
 gagements and hurry of business, or from 
 indolence, or from conceit and vanity, have 
 neglected looking out of themselves, as far 
 as my experience and observation reaches, 
 have from that time, not only ceased to ad- 
 vance, and improve in their performances, 
 but have gone backward. They may be 
 compared to men who have lived upon their 
 principal, till they are reduced to beggary, 
 and left without resources. 
 
 I can recommend nothing better there- 
 fore, than that you endeavour to infuse into 
 your works what you learn from the con- 
 templation of the works" of others. To 
 recommend this has the appearance of 
 needless and superfluous advice ; but it has 
 fallen within my own knowledge, that 
 artists, though they were not wanting in a 
 sincere love for their art, though they had 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. i% $ 
 
 great pleasure in seeing good pictures, and 
 were well skilled to distinguish what was 
 excellent or defective in them, yet have gone 
 on in their own manner, without any endea- 
 vour to give a little of those beauties, which 
 they admired in others, to their own works. 
 It is difficult to conceive how the present 
 Italian painters, who live in the midst of the 
 treasures of art, should be contented with their 
 own style. They proceed in their common- 
 place inventions, and never think it worth 
 while to visit the works of those great artists 
 with which they are surrounded. 
 
 I remember, several years ago, to have 
 conversed at Rome with an artist of great 
 fame throughout Europe j he was not with- 
 out a considerable degree of abilities, but 
 those abilities were by no means equal to 
 his own opinion of them. From the re- 
 putation he had acquired, he too fondly 
 concluded that he stood in the same rank P 
 when compared with his predecessors, as 
 he held with regard to his miserable con- 
 temporary rivals. In conversation about 
 some particulars of the works of RaffaelJe, 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 184 
 
 he seemed to have, or to affect to have, a 
 very obscure memory of them. He told me 
 that he had not set his foot in the Vatican 
 for fifteen years together; that he had been 
 in treaty to copy a capital picture of Raf- 
 faelle, but that the business had gone off ; 
 however, if the agreement had held, his 
 copy would have greatly exceeded the ori*- 
 ginal. The merit of this artist, however 
 great we may suppose it, I am sure would 
 have been far greater, and his presump- 
 tion would have been far less, if he had 
 visited the Vatican, as in reason he ought 
 to have done, at least once every month of 
 his life. 
 
 I address myself, Gentlemen, to you 
 who have made some progress in the art, 
 and are to be, for the future} under the 
 guidance of your own judgement and discre^ 
 tion. 1 consider you as arrived to that 
 period, when you have a right to think 
 for yourselves, [and to presume that every 
 man is fallible ; to study the masters 
 with a suspicion, that great men are not 
 always exempt from great faults ; to cri« 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 1*5 
 
 ticise, compare, and rank their works in 
 your own estimation, as they approach to, 
 or recede from, that standard of perfection 
 which you have formed in your own minds, 
 but which those masters themselves, it 
 must be remembered, have taught you to 
 make ; and which you will cease to make 
 with correctness, when you cease to study 
 them. It is their excellencies which have 
 taught you their defects. 
 
 I would wish you to forget where you 
 are, and who it is that speaks to you, I 
 only direct you to higher models and bet- 
 ter advisers. We can teach you here but 
 very little j you are henceforth to be your 
 own teachers. Do this justice, however, 
 to the English Academy ; to bear in mind, 
 that in this place you contracted no narrow 
 habits, no false ideas, nothing that could 
 lead you to the imitation of any living mas- 
 ter, who may be the fashionable darling of 
 the day. As you have not been taught to 
 flatter us, do not learn to flatter yourselves. 
 We have endeavoured to lead you to the ad- 
 miration of nothing but what is truly ad mi- 
 
THE SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 rS<5 
 
 rable. If you choose inferior patterns* 
 or if you make your own former works your 
 patterns for your latter , it is your own fault* 
 
 The purport of this discourse, and, in- 
 deed, of most of my other discourses, is, 
 to caution you against that false opinion, 
 but too prevalent among artists, of the ima- 
 ginary powers of native genius, and its 
 sufficiency in great works. This opinion, 
 according to the temper of mind it meets 
 with, almost always produces, either a vain 
 confidence, or a sluggish despair, both 
 equally fatal to all proficiency. 
 
 Study therefore the great works of the 
 great masters, for ever. Study as nearly as 
 you can, in the order, in the manner, and 
 on the principles, on which they studied. 
 Study nature attentively, but always with 
 those masters in your company ; consider 
 them as models which you are to imitate, 
 and at the same time as rivals with whona 
 you are to contend, 
 
DISCOURSE VII 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER io> 1776a 
 
 4 
 
DISCOURSE VII 
 
 THE REALITY OF A STANDARD OF TASTE, AS WELL AS 
 OF CORPORAL BEAUTY. BESIDE THIS IMMUTABLE 
 TRUTH, THERE ARE SECONDARY TRUTHS, WHICH ARE 
 VARIABLE; BOTH REQUIRING THE ATTENTION OF 
 THE ARTIST, IN PROPORTION TO THEIR STABILITY 
 OR THEIR INFLUENCE. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 1 t has been my uniform endeavour, since I 
 first addressed you from this place, to im- 
 press you strongly with one ruling idea. I 
 wished you to be persuaded, that success in 
 your art depends almost entirely on your own 
 industry ; but the industry which I princi- 
 pally recommended, is not the industry of 
 the hands , but of the mind. 
 
 As our art is not a divine 'gift, so neither 
 is it a mechanical trade . Its foundations are 
 laid in solid science: and practice, though 
 essential to perfection, can ever attain that to 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 i go 
 
 which it aims, unless it works under the 
 direction of principle. 
 
 Some writers upon art carry this point too 
 far, and suppose that such a body of univer- 
 sal and profound learning is requisite, that 
 the very enumeration of its kinds is enough to 
 frighten a beginner. Vitruvius, after going 
 through the many accomplishments of na- 
 ture, and the many acquirements of learning, 
 necessary to an architect, proceeds with great 
 gravity to assert, that he ought to be well 
 skilled in the civil law; that he may not be 
 cheated in the title of the ground he builds 
 on. But without such exaggeration, we may 
 go so far as to assert, that a painter stands in 
 need of more knowledge than is to be picked 
 off his pallet, or collected by looking on his 
 model, whether it be in life or in picture. 
 He can never be a great artist, who is grossly 
 illiterate. 
 
 Every man whose business is description, 
 ought to be tolerably conversant with the 
 poets, in some language or other; that he 
 may imbibe a poetical spirit, and enlarge his 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 191 
 
 Stock of ideas. He ought to acquire an habit 
 of comparing and digesting his notions. 
 He ought not to be wholly unacquainted 
 with that part of philosophy which gives an 
 insight into human nature, and relates to the 
 manners, characters, passions, and affections. 
 He ought to know something concerning the 
 mind, as well as a great deal concerning the 
 body of man. For this purpose, it is not 
 necessary that he should go into such a com- 
 pass of reading, as must, by distracting his 
 attention, disqualify him for the practical 
 part of his profession, and make him sink 
 the performer in the eritick. Reading, if it 
 can be made the favourite recreation of his 
 leisure hours, will improve and enlarge his 
 mind, without retarding his actual industry. 
 What such partial and desultory reading can- 
 not afford, maybe supplied by the conversa- 
 tion of learned and ingenious men, which is 
 the best of all substitutes for those who have 
 not the means or opportunities of deep study. 
 There are many such men in this age; and 
 they will be pleased with communicating 
 their ideas to artists, when they see them 
 curious and docile, if they are treated with 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 igz 
 
 that respect and deference which is so justly 
 their due. Into such society, young artists, 
 if they make it the point of their ambition* 
 will by degrees be admitted. There, with- 
 out formal teaching, they will insensibly 
 come to feel and reason like those they live 
 with, and find a rational and systematick 
 taste imperceptibly formed in their minds, 
 which they will know how to reduce to a 
 standard, by applying general truth to their 
 own purposes, better perhaps than those to 
 whom they owed the original sentiment. , 
 
 Of these studies, and this conversation, the 
 desired and legitimate offspring is a power of 
 distinguishing right from wrong ; which 
 power applied to works of art, is denomi- 
 nated Taste. Let me then, without fur- 
 ther introduction, enter upon an examination, 
 whether taste be so far beyond our reach, as 
 to be unattainable by care; or be so very 
 vagije and capricious, that no care ought to 
 be employed about it. 
 
 It has been the fate of arts to be enveloped 
 in mysterious and incomprehensible language. 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 191 
 
 as if it was thought necessary that even the 
 terms should correspond to the idea enter- 
 tained of the instability and uncertainty of 
 the rules which they expressed. 
 
 To speak of genius and taste, as in any 
 way connected with reason or common 
 sense, would be, in the opinion of some 
 towering talkers, to speak like a man who 
 possessed neither j who had never felt that 
 enthusiasm, or, to use their own inflated 
 language, was never warmed by that Pro- 
 methean fire, which animates the canvas and 
 vivifies the marble. 
 
 If, in order to be intelligible, I appear to 
 degrade art by bringing her down from her 
 visionary situation in the clouds, it is only to 
 give her a more solid mansion upon the earth. 
 It is necessary that at some time or other we 
 should see things as they really are, and not 
 impose on ourselves by that false magnitude 
 with which objects appear when viewed 
 indistinctly as through a mist. 
 
 We will allow a poet to express his mean* 
 VOL. i. © 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 m 
 
 ing, when his meaning is not well known to 
 himself, with a certain degree of obscurity, 
 as it is one source of the sublime. But 
 when, in plain prose, we gravely talk of 
 courting the muse in shady bowers ; waiting 
 the call and inspiration of Genius, finding 
 out where he inhabits, and where he is to be 
 invoked with the greatest success ; of attend- 
 ing to times and seasons when the imagina- 
 tion shoots with the greatest vigour, whether 
 at the summer soltice or the vernal equinox ; 
 sagaciously observing how much the wild 
 freedom and liberty of imagination is cramped 
 by attention to established rules ; and how 
 this same imagination begins to grow dim in 
 advanced age, smothered and deadened by 
 too much judgement ; when w T e talk such 
 language, or entertain such sentiments as 
 these, we generally rest contented with mere 
 words, or at best entertain notions not only 
 groundless, but pernicious. 
 
 If all this means, what it is very possible 
 was originally intended only to be meant, 
 that in order to cultivate an art, a man se- 
 cludes himself from the commerce of the 
 
 6 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 world, and retires into the country at parti- 
 cular seasons ; or that at one time of the 
 year his body is in better health, and conse- 
 quently his mind fitter for the business of 
 hard thinking than at another time ; or that 
 the mind may be fatigued and grow confused 
 by long and unremitted application j this 1 
 can understand. I can likewise believe, that 
 a man eminent when young for possessing 
 poetical imagination, may, from having 
 taken another road, so neglect its cultivation, 
 as to shew less of its powers in his latter life* 
 But I am persuaded, that scarce a poet is to 
 be found, from Homer down to Dry don , 
 who preserved a sound mind in a sound 
 body, and continued practising his profession 
 to the very last, whose latter works are not 
 as replete with the fire of imagination, as 
 those which were produced in his more 
 youthful days. 
 
 To understand literally these metaphors or 
 ideas expressed in poetical language, seems 
 to be equally absurd as to conclude, that be- 
 cause painters sometimes represent poets wri- 
 ting from the dictates of a little winged boy 
 
i 9 S THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 or genius, that this same genius did really 
 inform him in a whisper what he was to 
 write ; and that he is himself but a mere 
 machine, unconscious of the operations of his 
 own mind. 
 
 Opinions generally received and floating in 
 the world, whether true or false, we natu- 
 rally adopt and make our own ; they may be 
 considered as a kind of inheritance to which 
 we succeed and are tenants for life, and 
 which we leave to our posterity very nearly 
 in the condition in which we received it ; it 
 not being much in anyone man's power either 
 to impair or improve it. The greatest part of 
 these opinions, like current coin in its circu- 
 lation, we are used to take without weighing 
 or examining ; but by this inevitable inat- 
 tention many adulterated pieces are received, 
 which, when we seriously estimate our wealth , 
 w r e must throw away. So the collector of 
 popular opinions, when he embodies his 
 knowledge, and forms a system, must sepa- 
 parate those which are true from those which 
 are only plausible. But it becomes more 
 peculiarly a duty to the professors of art not 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 197 
 
 to let any opinions relating to that art pass 
 unexaminech The caution and circumspec- 
 tion required in such examination we shall 
 presently have an opportunity of explaining. 
 
 Genius and taste, in their common accep- 
 tation, appear to be very nearly related ; the 
 difference lies only in this, that genius has 
 superadded to it a habit or power of execu- 
 tion : or we may say, that taste, when this 
 power is added, changes its name, and is 
 called genius. They both, in the popular 
 opinion, pretend to an entire exemption from 
 the restraint of rules. It is supposed that 
 their powers are intuitive j that under the 
 name of genius great works are produced, 
 and under the name of taste an exact judge- 
 ment is given, without our knowing why, 
 and without our being under the least obliga- 
 tion to reason, precept, or experience. 
 
 One can scarce state these opinions with- 
 out exposing their absurdity ; yet they are 
 constantly in the mouths of men, and parti- 
 cularly of artists. They who have thought 
 seriously on this subject, do not carry the 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 point so far ; yet I am persuaded, that even 
 among those few who may be called think- 
 ers, the prevalent opinion allows less than it 
 ought to the powers of reason ; and considers 
 the principles of taste, which give all their 
 authority to the rules of art, as more fluctu- 
 ating, and as having less solid foundations, 
 than we shall find, upon examination, they 
 really have. 
 
 The common saying, that tastes are not 
 to be disputed , owes its influence, and its ge- 
 neral reception, to the same error which leads 
 us to imagine this faculty of too high an ori- 
 ginal to submit to the authority of an earthly 
 tribunal. It likewise corresponds with the 
 notions of those who consider it as a mere 
 phantom of the imagination, so devoid of 
 substance as to elude all criticism. 
 
 We often appear to differ in sentiments 
 from each other, merely from the inaccuracy 
 of terms, as we are not, obliged to speak al- 
 ways with critical exactness. Something of 
 this too may arise from want of words in the 
 language in which we speak, to express the 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 199 
 
 more nice discriminations which a deep in- 
 vestigation discovers. A great deal however 
 of this difference vanishes, when each opi- 
 nion is tolerably explained and understood 
 by constancy and precision in the use of 
 terms. 
 
 We apply the term Taste to that act of the 
 mind by which we like or dislike, whatever 
 be the subject. Our judgement upon an airy 
 nothing, a fancy which has no foundation, 
 is called by the same name which we give 
 to our determination concerning those truths 
 which refer to the most general and most un- 
 alterable principles of human nature ; to the 
 works which are only to be produced by the 
 greatest efforts of the human understanding. 
 However inconvenient this may be, we are 
 obliged to take words as we find them ; all 
 we can do is to distinguish the things to 
 which they are applied. 
 
 We may let pass those things which are at 
 once subjects of taste and sense, and which 
 having as much certainty as the senses them- 
 selves* give no occasion to enquiry or dis- 
 
*66 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 pute. The natural appetite or taste of the 
 human mind is for truth ; whether that 
 truth results from the real agreement or equa- 
 lity of original ideas among themselves ; 
 from the agreement of the representation of 
 any object with the thing represented ; or 
 from the correspondence of the several parts 
 of any arrangement with each other. It is 
 the very same taste which relishes a demon- 
 stration in geometry, that is pleased with the 
 resemblance of a picture to an original, and 
 touched with the harmony of musick. 
 
 All these have unalterable and fixed foun- 
 dations in nature, and are therefore equally 
 Investigated by reason, and known by study; 
 some with more, some with less clearness, 
 but all exactly in the same way. A picture 
 that is unlike, is false. Disproportionate or- 
 donnance of parts is not right ; because it 
 cannot be true, until it ceases to be a contra- 
 diction to assert, that the parts have no rela- 
 tion to the whole. Colouring is true, when 
 it is naturally adapted to the eye, from bright- 
 ness, from softness, from harmony, from re- 
 semblance ; because these agree with their 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 201 
 
 object, Nature, and therefore are true; as 
 true as mathematical demonstration ; but 
 known to be true only to those who study 
 these things* 
 
 But beside real, there is also apparent 
 truth, or opinion, or prejudice. With re- 
 gard to real truth, when it is known, the 
 taste which conforms to it, is, and must be, 
 uniform. With regard to the second sort of 
 truth, which may be called truth upon suf- 
 ferance, or truth by courtesy, it is not fixed, 
 but variable. However, whilst these opi- 
 nions and prejudices, on which it is founded, 
 continue, they operate as truth ; and the art, 
 whose office it is to please the mind, as well 
 as instruct it, must direct itself according to 
 opinion, or it will not attain its end. 
 
 In proportion as these prejudices are known 
 to be generally diffused, or long received, 
 the taste which conforms to them approaches 
 nearer to certainty, and to a sort of resem- 
 blance to real science, even where opinions 
 are found to be no better than prejudices. 
 And since they deserve, on account of their 
 
2Ql THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 duration and extent, to be considered as 
 really true, they become capable of no small 
 degree of stability and determination, by their 
 permanent and uniform nature. 
 
 As these prejudices become more narrow, 
 more local, more transitory, this secondary 
 taste becomes more and more fantastical; 
 recedes from real science ; is less to be ap- 
 proved by reason, and less followed in prac- 
 tice; though in no case perhaps to be wholly 
 neglected, where it does not stand, as it 
 sometimes does, in direct defiance of the 
 most respectable opinions received amongst 
 mankind. 
 
 Having laid down these positions, I shall 
 proceed with less method, because less will 
 serve to explain and apply them. 
 
 We will take it for granted, that reason is 
 something invariable and fixed in the nature 
 of things; and without endeavouring to go 
 back to an account of first principles, which 
 for ever will elude our search, we will con- 
 clude, that whatever goes under the name of 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 203 
 
 taste, which we can fairly bring under the 
 dominion of reason, must be considered as 
 equally exempt from change. If therefore, 
 in the course of this enquiry, we can shew 
 that there are rules for the conduct of the 
 artist which are fixed and invariable, it fol- 
 lows of course, that the art of the connoisseur, 
 or, in other words, taste has likewise invari- 
 able principles. 
 
 Of the judgement which w^e make on the 
 works of art, and the preference that we give 
 to one class of art over another, if a reason 
 be demanded, the question is perhaps evaded 
 by answering, I judge from my taste; but it 
 does not follow that a better answer cannot 
 be given, though, for common gazers, this 
 may be sufficient. Everyman is not obliged 
 to investigate the causes of his approbation or 
 dislike. 
 
 The arts would lie open forever to caprice 
 and casualty, if those who are to judge of 
 their excellencies had no settled principles by 
 which they are to regulate their decisions, 
 and the merit or defect of performances were 
 
204 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 to be determined by unguided fancy. And 
 indeed we may venture to assert, that what- 
 ever speculative knowledge is necessary to 
 the artist, is equally and indispensably ne- 
 cessary to the connoisseur. 
 
 The first idea that occurs in the considera- 
 tion of wha t is fixed in art, or in taste, is 
 that presiding principle of which I have so 
 frequently spoken in former discourses, — * 
 the general idea of nature. The beginning, 
 the middle, and the end of every thing that 
 i§ valuable in taste, is comprised in the 
 knowledge of what is truly nature ; for what- 
 ever notions are not conformable to those of 
 nature, or universal opinion, must be consi- 
 dered as more or less capricious. 
 
 My potion of nature comprehends not only 
 the forms which nature produces, but also 
 the nature and internal fabrick and organiza- 
 tion, as I may call it, of the human mind 
 and imagination. The terms beauty, or na- 
 ture, which are general ideas, are but dif- 
 ferent modes of expressing the same thing, 
 whether we apply these terms tp statues* 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 305 - 
 
 poetry, or picture. Deformity is not nature, 
 but an accidental deviation from her accus- 
 tomed practice. This general idea therefore 
 ought to be called Nature; and nothing else, 
 correctly speaking, has a right to that name. 
 But we are so far from speaking, in common 
 conversation, with any such accuracy, that, 
 on the contrary, when we criticise Rembrandt 
 and other Dutch painters, who introduced 
 into their historical pictures exact represen- 
 tations of individual objects with all their 
 imperfections, we say, — -though it is not in 
 a good taste, yet it is nature. 
 
 This misapplication of terms must be very 
 often perplexing to the young student. Is 
 notart, he may say, an imitation of nature? 
 Must he not therefore who imitates her with 
 the greatest fidelity, be the best artist? By 
 this mode of reasoning Rembrandt has a 
 higher place than Raffaelle. But a very 
 little reflection will serve to shew us, 
 that these particularities cannot be na- 
 ture: for how can that be the nature of 
 man, in which no two individuals are the 
 same? 
 
*o S THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 It plainly appears, that as a work is con- 
 ducted under the influence of general ideas, 
 or partial, it is principally to be considered as 
 the effect of a good or a bad taste. 
 
 As beauty therefore does not consist in 
 taking what lies immediately before you, so 
 neither, in our pursuit of taste, are those 
 opinions which we first received and adop- 
 ted, the best choice, or the most natural to 
 the mind and imagination. In the infancy 
 of our knowledge we seize with greediness 
 the good that is within our reach; it is by 
 after-consideration, and in consequence of 
 discipline, that we refuse the present for a 
 greater good at a distance. The nobility or 
 elevation of all arts, like the excellency of 
 virtue itself, consists in adopting this en- 
 larged and comprehensive idea; and all 
 criticism built upon the more confined view 
 of what is natural, may properly be called 
 shallow criticism, rather than false: its defect 
 is, that the truth is not sufficiently extensive. 
 
 It has sometimes happened, that some of 
 the greatest men in our art have been betrayed 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 ZQf 
 
 into errors by this confined mode of reasoning. 
 Poussin, who, upon the whole, may be pro- 
 duced as an artist strictly attentive to the 
 most enlarged and extensive ideas of nature, 
 from not having settled principles on this 
 point, has in one instance at least, 1 think, 
 deserted truth for prejudice. He is said to 
 have vindicated the conduct of Julio Romano 
 for his inattention to the masses of light and 
 shade, or grouping the figures in the bat- 
 tle of Constantine, as if designedly 
 neglected, the better to correspond with the 
 hurry and confusion of a battle. Poussip/s 
 own conduct in many of his pictures, makes 
 us more easily give credit to this report. 
 Thatitwas too much his own practice, the 
 Sacrifice to Silenus, and the Tri- 
 umph of Bacchus and Ariadne^, may 
 be produced as instances j but this principle 
 is still more apparent, and may be said to be 
 even more ostentatiously displayed in his 
 Perseus and Medusa's keadJt 
 
 # In the Cabinet of the Earl of Ashbiirnhamu 
 
 t In the Cabinet of Sir Peter Burreh 
 
208 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 This is undoubtedly a subject of great bustle 
 and tumult, and that the first effect of the 
 picture may correspond to the subject, every 
 principle of composition is violated; there is 
 no principal figure, no principal light, no 
 groups; every thing is dispersed, and in such 
 a state of confusion, that the eye finds no 
 repose any where. In consequence of the 
 forbidding appearance, I remember turning 
 from it with disgust, and should not have 
 looked a second time, if I had not been cal- 
 led back to a closer inspection. I then 
 indeed found, what we may expect always 
 to find in the works of Poussin, correct 
 drawing, forcible expression, and just cha- 
 racter; in short all the excellencies which so 
 much distinguish the works of this learned 
 painter 
 
 This conduct of Poussin I hold to be en- 
 tirely improper to imitate. A picture should 
 please at first sight, and appear to invite the 
 spectator’s attention : if on the contrary the 
 general effect offends the eye, a second view 
 is not always sought, whatever more sub- 
 stantial and intrinsick merit it may possessc 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* zq $ 
 
 Perhaps no apology ought to be received 
 for offences committed againft the vehicle 
 (whether it be the organ of seeing, or of 
 hearing,) by which our pleasures are con- 
 veyed to the mind. We must take care that 
 the eye be not perplexed and distracted by 
 a confusion of equal parts, or equal lights, or 
 offended by an unharmonious mixture of 
 colours, as we should guard against offending 
 the ear by unharmonious sounds. We may 
 venture to be more confident of the truth of this 
 observation, since we find that Shakspeare, on 
 a parallel occasion, has made Hamlet recom- 
 mend to the players a precept of the same 
 kind, — never to offend the ear by harsh sounds : 
 In the very torrent , tempest , and whirlwind of 
 your passion , says he, you must acquire and 
 beget a temperance that may give it smoothness . 
 And yet, at the same time, he very justly ob- 
 serves, The end of playing , both at the first* 
 and now, was and is, to hold, as y twere , the 
 mirrour up to nature . No one can deny, that 
 violent passions will naturally emit harsh and 
 disagreeable tones : yet this great poet and 
 critick thought that this imitation of nature 
 would cost too much, if purchased at the ex- 
 
 YOL. I. 
 
 P 
 
2 !« 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 pence of disagreeable sensations, or, as he 
 expresses it, of fplitting the ear. The poet 
 and actor, as well as the painter of genius who 
 is well acquainted with all the variety and 
 sources of pleasure in the mind and imagi- 
 nation, has little regard or attention to com- 
 mon nature, or creeping after common sense. 
 By overleaping those narrow bounds, he more 
 effectually seises the whole mind, and more 
 powerfully accomplishes his purpose. This 
 success is ignorantly imagined to proceed from 
 inattention to all rules, and a defiance of reason 
 and judgement ; whereas it is in truth acting ac- 
 cording to the beft rules and the justestreason. 
 
 He who thinks nature, in the narrow sense 
 of the word, is alone to be followed, will 
 produce but a scanty entertainment for the 
 imagination: every thing is to be done with 
 which it is natural for the mind to be pleased, 
 whether it proceeds from simplicity or variety, 
 uniformity or irregularity; whether the scenes 
 are familiar or exotick ; rude and wild, or en- 
 riched and cultivated ; for it is natural for the 
 mind to be pleased with all these in their turn. 
 In short, whatever pleases has in it what is 
 
TOE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, *n 
 
 analogous to the mind, and is therefore, in the 
 highest and beft sense of the word, naturah 
 It is the sense of nature or truth, which 
 ought more particularly to be cultivated by 
 the professors of art ; and it may be observed, 
 that many wise and learned men, who have 
 accustomed their minds to admit nothing for 
 truth but what can be proved by mathematical 
 demonstration, have seldom any relish for 
 those arts which address themselves to the 
 fancy, the rectitude and truth of which is 
 known by another kind of proof : and we 
 may add, that the acquisition of this know- 
 ledge requires as much circumspection and 
 sagacity, as is necessary to attain those truths 
 which are more capable of demonstration. 
 Reason must ultimately determine our choice 
 on every occasion ; but this reason may still 
 be exerted ineffectually by applying to taste 
 principles which, though right as far as they 
 go, yet do not reach the object. No man, 
 for instance, can deny, that it seems at first 
 view very reasonable, that a statue which is 
 to carry down to posterity the resemblance of 
 an individual, should be dressed in the fashion 
 of the times, in the dress which he himself 
 
 P 2 
 
tiz THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 wore : this would certainly be true, if the 
 dress were part of the man : but after a 
 time, the dress is only an amusement for an 
 antiquarian ; and if it obstructs the general 
 design of the piece, it is to be disregarded by 
 the artist. Common sense must here give 
 way to a higher sense. In the naked form, 
 and in the disposition of the drapery, the dif- 
 ference between one artist and another is 
 principally seen. But if he is compelled to 
 exhibit the modem dress, the naked form is 
 entirely hid, and the drapery is already dis- 
 posed by the skill of the tailor. Were a Phi- 
 dias to obey such absurd commands, he would 
 please no more than an ordinary sculptor ; 
 since, in the inferior parts of every art, the 
 learned and the ignorant are nearly upon a 
 level. 
 
 These were probably among the reasons 
 that induced the sculptor of that wonderful 
 figure of Laocoon to exhibit him naked, not- 
 withstanding he was surprised in the act of 
 sacrificing to Apollo, and consequently ought 
 to have been shewn in his sacerdotal habits, 
 if those greater reasons had not preponderated. 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 213 
 
 Art is not yet in so high estimation with us, 
 as to obtain so great a sacrifice as the antients 
 made, especially the Grecians ; who suffered 
 themselves to be represented naked, whether 
 they were generals, lawgivers, or kings* 
 
 Under this head of balancing and choosing 
 the greater reason, or of two evils taking the 
 least, we may consider the conduct of Rubens 
 in the Luxembourg gallery, where he has 
 mixed allegorical figures with the represen- 
 tations of real personages, which must be 
 acknowledged to be a fault ; yet, if the artist 
 considered himself as engaged to furnish this 
 gallery with a rich, various, and splendid 
 ornament, this could not be done, at least in 
 an equal degree, without peopling the air and 
 water with these allegorical figures : he 
 
 therefore accomplished all that he purposed. 
 In this case all lesser considerations, which 
 tend to obstruct the great end of the work, 
 must yield and give way. 
 
 The variety which portraits and modem 
 dresses, mixed with allegorical figures, pro- 
 duce, is not to be slightly given up upon a 
 
'214 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE- 
 
 punctilio of reason, when that reason deprives 
 the art in a manner of its very existence. It 
 must always be remembered that the business 
 of a great painter, is to produce a great 
 picture ; he must therefore take especial care 
 not to be cajoled by specious arguments out 
 of his materials. 
 
 :‘ v 7 
 
 What has been so often said to the dis- 
 advantage of allegorical poetry, — that it is 
 tedious, and uninteresting,— cannot with the 
 same propriety be applied to painting, where 
 the interest is of a different kind. If allego- 
 rical painting produces a greater variety of 
 ideal beauty, a richer, a more various and 
 delightful composition, and gives to the 
 artist a greater opportunity of exhibiting his 
 skill, all the interest he wishes for is accom- 
 plished ; such a picture not only attracts, but 
 fixes the attention * 
 
 If it be objected that Rubens judged ill at 
 first in thinking it necessary to make his 
 work so very ornamental, this puts the 
 question upon new ground. It was his 
 peculiar style; he could paint in no other ; 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 215 
 
 and he was selected for that work, probably, 
 because it was his style. Nobody will 
 dispute but some of the best of the Roman 
 or Bolognian schools would have produced a 
 more learned and more noble work. 
 
 This leads us to another important province 
 of taste, that of weighing the value ot the 
 different classes of the art, and of estimating 
 them accordingly. 
 
 All arts have means within them of apply- 
 ing themselves with success both to the 
 intellectual and sensitive part of our natures. 
 It cannot be disputed, supposing both these 
 means put in practice with equal abilities, 
 to which we ought to give the preference % 
 to him who represents the heroick arts and 
 more dignified passions of man, or to him 
 who, by the help of meretricious ornaments, 
 however elegant and graceful, captivates the 
 sensuality, as it may be called, of our taste. 
 Thus the Roman and Bolognian schools are 
 reasonably preferred to the Venetian, Flemish, 
 or Dutch schools, as they address themselves 
 to our best and noblest faculties. 
 
2i6 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 Well-turned periods in eloquence, or har* 
 mony of numbers in poetry, which are in 
 those arts what colouring is in painting, how- 
 ever highly we may esteem them, can never 
 be considered as of equal importance with 
 the art of unfolding truths that are useful to 
 mankind, and which make us better or wiser. 
 Nor can those works which remind us of the 
 poverty and meanness of our nature, be con- 
 sidered as of equal rank with what excites 
 ideas of grandeur, or raises and dignifies 
 humanity ; or, in the words of a late poet, 
 which makes the beholder learn to venerate 
 himself as man . * 
 
 It is reason and good sense therefore, which 
 ranks and estimates every art, and every part 
 of that art, according to its importance, from 
 the painter of animated, down to inanimated 
 nature. We will not allow a man, who 
 fhall prefer the inferior style, to say it is his 
 taste ; taste here has nothing, or at least ought 
 to have nothing, to do with the question. 
 He wants not taste, but sense, and soundness 
 of judgement. 
 
 * Dr, Goldsmith, 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 *17 
 
 Indeed perfection in an inferior style may 
 be reasonably preferred to mediocrity in the 
 highest walks of art, A landscape of Claude 
 Lorrain may be preferred to a history by 
 Luca Giordano ; but hence appears the 
 necessity of the connoisseur’s knowing in 
 what consists the excellency of each class, 
 in order to judge how near it approaches to 
 perfection. 
 
 Even in works of the same kind, as in 
 history-painting, which is composed of va- 
 rious parts, excellence of an inferior species* 
 carried to a very high degree., will make a 
 work very valuable, and in some measure 
 compensate for the absence of the higher 
 kinds of merit. It is the duty of the con- 
 noisseur to know and esteem, as much as it 
 may deserve, every part of painting: he will 
 not then think even Bassano unworthy of his 
 notice; who, though totally devoid of ex- 
 pression, sense, grace, or elegance, may be 
 esteemed on account of his admirable taste 
 of colours, which, in his best works, are 
 little inferior to those of Titian. 
 
til THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Since I have mentioned Bassano, we must 
 do him likewise the justice to acknowledge, 
 that though he did not aspire to the dignity 
 of expressing the characters and passions of 
 men, yet, with resped: to facility and truth 
 in his manner of touching animals of all 
 Jcinds, and giving them what painters call 
 their character , few have ever excelled him. 
 
 To Bassano we may add Paul Veronese 
 and Tintoret, for their entire inattention to 
 what is justly thought the most essential 
 part of our art, the expressionof the passions. 
 Notwithstanding these glaring deficiencies, 
 we justly esteem their works ; but it must 
 be remembered, that they do not please from 
 those defects, but from their great excellen- 
 cies of another kind, and in spite- of such 
 transgressions. These excellencies too, as 
 far as they go, are founded in the truth of 
 general nature : they tell the truth , though 
 not the whole truth . 
 
 By these considerations, which can never 
 be too frequently impressed, maybe obviated 
 two errors, which I observed to have been d 
 
the seventh discourse* 
 
 219 
 
 formerly at least, the most prevalent, and to 
 be most injurious to artists ; that of thinking 
 taste and genius to have nothing to do with 
 reason, and that of taking particular living 
 objects for nature, 
 
 I shall now say something on that part of 
 taste , which, as I have hinted to you before, 
 does not belong so much to the external form 
 of things, but is addressed to the mind, and 
 depends on its original frame, or, to use the 
 expression, the organization of the soul ; I 
 mean the imagination and the passions. The 
 principles of these are as invariable as the 
 former, and are to be known and reasoned 
 upon in the same manner, by an appeal to 
 common sense deciding upon the common 
 feelings of mankind. This sense, and these 
 feelings, appear to me of equal authority, 
 and equally conclusive. Now this appeal 
 implies a general uniformity and agreement 
 in the minds of men. It would be else an 
 idle and vain endeavour to establish rules of 
 art; it would be pursuing a phantom, to 
 attempt to move affections with which we 
 were entirely unacquainted. We have no 
 
 x 
 
no THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 reason to suspect there is a greater difference 
 between our minds than between our forms % 
 of which, though there are no two alike, 
 yet there is a general similitude that goes 
 through the whole race of mankind ; and 
 those who have cultivated their taste, can 
 distinguish what is beautiful or deformed, 
 or, in other words, what agrees with or 
 deviates from the general idea of nature, in 
 one case, as well as in the other. 
 
 The internal fabrick of our minds, as well 
 as the external form of our bodies, being 
 nearly uniform; it seems then to follow of 
 course, that as the imagination is incapable 
 of producing any thing originally of itself, 
 and can only vary and combine those ideas 
 with which it is furnished by means of the 
 senses, there will be necessarily an agree- 
 ment in the imaginations, as in the senses 
 of men. There being this agreement, it 
 follows, that in all cases, in our lightest 
 amusements, as well as in our most serious 
 actions and engagements of life, we must 
 regulate our affections of every kind by that 
 of others. The well-disciplined mind ac- 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, *31 
 
 knowledges this authority, and submits its 
 own opinion to the publick voice. It is from 
 knowing what are the general feelings and 
 passions of mankind, that we acquire a true 
 idea of what imagination is j though it 
 appears as if we had nothing to do but to 
 consult our own particular sensations, and 
 these were sufficient to ensure us from all 
 error and mistake, 
 
 A knowledge of the disposition and cha- 
 racter of the human mind can be acquired 
 only by experiences a great deal will be 
 learned, I admit, by a habit of examining 
 what passes in our bosoms, what are our 
 own motives of action, and of what kind of 
 sentiments we are conscious on any occasion. 
 We may suppose an uniformity, and con- 
 clude that the same effect will be produced 
 by the same cause in the minds of others. 
 This examination will contribute to suggest 
 to us matters of enquiry ; but we can never 
 be sure that our own sensations are true and 
 right, till they are confirmed by more exten- 
 sive observation. One man opposing another 
 determines nothing] but a general union of 
 6 
 
322 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 minds, like a general combination of the 
 forces of all mankind, makes a strength that 
 is irresistible. In fact, as he who does not 
 know himself, does not know others, so it 
 may be said with equal truth, that he who 
 does not know others, knows himself but 
 very imperfectly. 
 
 A man who thinks he is guarding himself 
 against prejudices by resisting the authority 
 of others, leaves open every avenue to sin- 
 gularity, vanity, self-conceit, obstinacy, and 
 many other vices, all tending to warp the 
 judgement, and prevent the natural operation 
 of his faculties. This submission to others 
 is a deference which we owe, and indeed are 
 forced involuntarily to pay. In fact, we 
 never are satisfied with our opinions, what- 
 ever we may pretend, till they are ratified and 
 confirmed by the suffrages of the rest of man- 
 kind. We dispute and wrangle for ever ; we 
 endeavour to get men to come to us, when 
 we do not go to them. 
 
 He therefore who is acquainted with the 
 works which have pleased different ages and 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 22 j 
 
 different countries, and has formed his opinion 
 on them, has more materials, and more means 
 of knowing what is analogous to the mind of 
 man, than he who is conversant only with 
 the works of his own age or country. What 
 has pleased, and continues to please, is 
 likely to please again : hence are derived the 
 rules of art, and on this immoveable foun- 
 dation they must ever stand. 
 
 This search and study of the history of 
 the mind ought not to be confined to one 
 art only. It is by the analogy that one art bears 
 to another, that many things are ascertained^ 
 which either were but faintly seen, or, per- 
 haps, w r ould not have been discovered at all, 
 if the inventor had not received the first hints 
 from the practices of a sister art on a similar 
 occasion.* The frequent allusions which 
 every man who treats of any art is obliged 
 to make to others, in order to illustrate and 
 confirm his principles, sufficiently shew their 
 near connection and inseparable relation* 
 
 * Nulla ars, non alterius artis, aut mater, aut propin- 
 qua est * TertuljL. as cited by Junius. 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 All arts having the same general end* 
 which is to please ; and addressing them- 
 selves to the same faculties through the me- 
 dium of the senses ; it follows that their 
 rules and principles must have as great affi- 
 nity, as the different materials and the diffe- 
 rent organs or vehicles by which they pass 
 to the mind, will permit them to retain.* 
 
 We may therefore conclude, that the real 
 substance, as it maybe called, of what goes 
 under the name of taste, is fixed and esta- 
 blished in the nature of things ; that there 
 are certain and regular causes by which the 
 imagination and passions of men are affected ; 
 and that the knowledge of these causes is 
 acquired by a laborious and diligent inves- 
 tigation of nature, and by the same slow 
 progress as wisdom or knowledge of every 
 kind, however instantaneous its operations 
 may appear when thus acquired. 
 
 It has been often observed, that the good 
 
 * Omnes artes qua? ad humanitatem pertinent, habent 
 quoddam commune vindulum, et quasi cognatione inter 
 se continentur, Cicero. 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 ■22$ 
 
 and virtuous man alone can acquire this true 
 or just relish even of works of art. This 
 opinion will not appear entirely without 
 foundation, when we consider that the same 
 habit of mind which is acquired by our 
 search after truth in the more serious duties 
 of life, is only transferred to the pursuit of 
 lighter amusements. The same disposition, 
 the same desire to find something steady, 
 substantial, and durable, on which the mind 
 can lean as it were, and rest with safety, 
 actuates us in both cases. The subject only 
 is changed. We pursue the same method in 
 our search after the idea of beauty and perfec« 
 lion in each; of virtue, by looking forwards 
 beyond ourselves to society, and to the whole % 
 of arts, by extending our views in the same 
 manner to all ages and all times. 
 
 Every art, like our own, has in its com- 
 position fluctuating as well as fixed prim 
 eiples. It is an attentive enquiry into their 
 difference that will enable 11s to determine 
 how far we are influenced by custom and 
 habit, and what is fixed in the nature of 
 things. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 ft 
 
*26 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 To distinguish how much has solid foun- 
 dation, we may have recourse to the same 
 proof by which some hold that wit ought to 
 be tried ; whether it preserves itself when 
 translated. That wit is false, .which can 
 subsist only in one language; and that pic- 
 ture which pleases only one age or one nation, 
 owes its reception to some local or accidental 
 association of ideas. 
 
 We may apply this to every custom and 
 habit of life. Thus the general principles of 
 urbanity, politeness, or civility, have been 
 the same in all nations; but the mode in 
 which they are dressed, is continually vary- 
 ing. The general idea of shewing respect is 
 by making yourself less ; but the manner, 
 whether by bowing the body, kneeling, 
 prostration, pulling off the upper part of our 
 dress, or taking away the lower*, is a matter 
 of custom. 
 
 Thus, in regard to ornaments,-— it would 
 be unjust to conclude that because they were 
 
 * Put off thy shoes from off thy feet ; for the place 
 whereon thou standest is holy ground. Exodus, iii. 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. * 227 
 
 at first arbitrarily contrived, they are there- 
 fore undeserving of our attention ; on the 
 contrary, he who neglects the cultivation of 
 those ornaments, acts contrary to nature and 
 reason. As life would be imperfect without 
 its highest ornaments, the Arts, so these arts 
 themselves would be imperfect without their 
 ornaments. Though we by no means ought 
 to rank these with positive and substantial 
 beauties, yet it must be allowed, that a know- 
 ledge of both is essentially requisite towards 
 forming a complete, whole and perfect taste. 
 It is in reality from the ornaments, that arts 
 receive their peculiar character and com- 
 plexion; we may add, that in them we find 
 the characteristical mark of a national taste % 
 as by throwing up a feather in the air, we 
 know which way the wind blows, better 
 than by a more heavy matter* 
 
 The striking distinction between the works 
 of the Roman, Bolognian, and Venetian 
 schools, consists more in that general effect 
 which is produced by colours, than in the 
 more profound excellencies of the art; at 
 least it is from thence that each is distin- 
 
228 * THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 guished and known at first sight. Thus it is 
 the ornaments, rather than the proportions 
 of architecture, which at the first glance 
 distinguifh the different orders from each 
 other; the Dorick is known by its triglyphs, 
 the lonickby its volutes, and the Corinthian 
 by its acanthus. 
 
 What distinguishes oratory from a cold 
 narration, is a more liberal, though chaste, 
 use of those ornaments which go under the 
 name of figurative and metaphorical expres- 
 sions; and poetry distinguishes itself from 
 oratory, by words and expressions still more 
 ardent and glowing. What separates and 
 distinguishes poetry, is more particularly the 
 ornament of verfe : it is this which gives it 
 its character, and is an essential without 
 which it cannot exist. Custom has appro- 
 priated different metre to different kinds of 
 composition, in which the world is not per- 
 fectly agreed. In England the dispute is not 
 yet settled, which is to be preferred, rhyme or 
 blank verse. But however we disagree about 
 what these metrical ornaments shall be, that 
 
 \ 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 229 
 
 gome metre is essentially necessary, is uni- 
 versally acknowledged , 
 
 In poetry or eloquence, to determine how 
 far figurative or metaphorical language may 
 proceed, and when it begins to be affectation 
 or beside the truth, must be determined by 
 taste ; though this taste, we must never for- 
 get, is regulated and formed by the presiding 
 feelings of mankind,— by those works which 
 have approved themselves to all times and all 
 persons. Thus, though eloquence has un- 
 doubtedly an essential and intrinsic excellence, 
 and immoveable principles common to all 
 languages, founded in the nature of our pas- 
 sions and affections j yet it has its ornaments 
 and modes of address, which are merely 
 arbitrary. What is approved in the eastern 
 nations as grand and majestic, would be con- 
 sidered by the Greeks and Romans as turgid 
 and inflated j and they, in return, would be 
 thought by the Orientals tc express themselves 
 in a cold and insipid manner. 
 
 We may add likewise to the credit of orna- 
 ments, that it is by their means that Art 
 
430 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 itself accomplishes its purpose. Fresnoy 
 calls colouring, which is one of the chief 
 ornaments of painting, lena sororis , that 
 which procures lovers and admirers to the 
 more valuable excellencies of the art. 
 
 It appears to be the same right turn of mind, 
 which enables a man to acquire the truth , or 
 the just idea of what is right, in the orna- 
 ments, as in the more stable principles of art. 
 It has still the same centre of perfection, 
 though it is the centre of a smaller circle<> 
 
 To illustrate this by the fashion of dress, 
 in which there is allowed to be a good or bad 
 taste. The component parts of dress are 
 continually changing from great to little, 
 from short to long; but the general form still 
 remains : it is still the same general dress, 
 
 which is comparatively fixed, though on a 
 very slender foundation; but it is on this 
 which fashion must rest. He who invents 
 with the most success, or dresses in the 
 best taste, would probably, from the same 
 sagacity employed to greater purposes, have 
 discovered equal skill, or have formed the 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 *11 
 
 same correct tatse, in the highest labours 
 of art. 
 
 I have mentioned t#ste in dress, which is 
 certainly one of the lowest subjects to which 
 this word is applied ; yet, as I have before 
 observed, there is a right even here, how- 
 ever narrow its foundation respecting the 
 fashion of any particular nation. But we 
 have still more slender means of determining, 
 to which of the different customs of different 
 ages or countries we ought to give the pre- 
 ference, lince they seem to be all equally 
 removed from nature. If an European, 
 when he has cut off his beard, and put false 
 hair on his head, or bound up his own natural 
 hair in regular hard knots, as unlike nature 
 as he can possibly make it ; and after having 
 rendered them immoveable by the help of the 
 fat of hogs, has covered the whole with flour, 
 laid on by a machine with the utmost regula- 
 rity; if, when thus attired he issues forth, 
 and meets a Cherokee Indian, who has 
 bestowed as much time at his toilet, and laid 
 on with equal care and attention his yellow 
 and red oker on particular parts of his fore- 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 head or cheeks, as he judges most becoming; 
 whoever of these two despises the other for 
 this attention to the fashion of his country, 
 which ever first feels* himself provoked to 
 laugh, is the barbarian. 
 
 All these fashions are very innocent ; 
 neither worth disquisition, nor any endea- 
 vour to alter them; as the change would, 
 in all probability, be equally distant from 
 nature. The only circumstance against which 
 indignation may reasonably be moved, is, 
 where the operation is painful or destructive 
 of health; such as some of the practices at 
 Otaheite, and the straight lacing of the Eng- 
 lish ladies; of the last of which practices, 
 how destructive it must be to health and 
 long life, the professor of anatomy took an 
 opportunity of proving a few days since in 
 this Academy. 
 
 It is in dress, as in things of greater conse- 
 quence. Fashions originate from those only 
 who have the high and powerful advantages 
 of rank, birth, and fortune. Many of the 
 ornaments of art, those at least for which no 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 233 
 
 reason can be given, are transmitted to us, 
 are adopted, and acquire their consequence 
 from the company in which we have been 
 used to. see them. As Greece and Rome 
 are the fountains from whence have flowed 
 all kinds of excellence, to that veneration 
 which they have a right to claim for the 
 pleasure and knowledge which they have 
 afforded us, we voluntarily add our appro- 
 bation of every ornament and every custom 
 that belonged to them, even to the fashion 
 of their dress. For it may be observed 
 that, not satisfied with them in their own 
 place, we make no difficulty of dreffing 
 statues of modern heroes or senators in the 
 fashion of the Roman armour or peaceful 
 robe; we go so far as hardly to bear a statue 
 in any other drapery. 
 
 The figures of the great men of those 
 nations have come down to us in sculpture. 
 In sculpture remain almost all the excellent 
 specimens of ancient art. We have so far 
 associated personal dignity to the persons 
 thus represented, and the truth of art to their 
 manner of representation, that it is not in 
 
234 
 
 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 our power any longer to separate them. This 
 is not so in painting; because having no ex- 
 cellent ancient portraits, that connexion was 
 never formed. Indeed we could no more 
 venture to paint a general officer in a Roman 
 military habit, than we could make a statue 
 in the present uniform. But since we have 
 no ancient portraits, — -to shew how ready we 
 are to adopt those kind of prejudices, we 
 make the best authority among the moderns 
 serve the same purpose. The great variety 
 of excellent portraits with which Vandyck 
 has enriched this nation, we are not content 
 to admire for their real excellence, but ex- 
 tend our approbation even to the dress which 
 happened to be the fashion of that age. We 
 all very well remember how common it was 
 a few years ago for portraits to be drawn in 
 this fantastick dress ; and this custom is not 
 yet entirely laid aside. By this means it 
 must be acknowledged very ordinary pictures 
 acquired something of the air and effect of the 
 works of Vandyck, and appeared therefore 
 at first sight to be better pictures than they 
 really were ; they appeared so, however, to 
 those only who had the means of making this 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 235 
 
 association ,* and when made, it was irresis- 
 tible. But this association is nature, and re- 
 fers to that secondary truth that comes from 
 conformity to general prejudice and opinion ; 
 it is therefore not merely fantastical. Besides 
 the prejudice which we have in favour of 
 ancient dresses, there may be likewise^ other 
 reasons for the effect which they produce ; 
 among which we may justly rank the simpli- 
 city of them, consisting of little more than 
 one single piece of drapery, without those 
 whimsical capricious forms by which all 
 other dresses are embarrassed. 
 
 Thus, though it is from the prejudice we 
 have in favour of the ancients, who have 
 taught us architecture, that we have adopted 
 likewise their ornaments; and though we are 
 satisfied that neither nature nor reason are the 
 foundation of those beauties which we 
 imagine we see in that art, yet if any one, 
 persuaded of this truth, should therefore 
 invent new orders of equal beauty, which we 
 will suppose to be possible, they would not 
 please ; nor ought he to complain, since the 
 old has that great advantage of having custom 
 
*5^ the seventh discourse. 
 
 and prejudice on its side. In this case we 
 leave what has every prejudice in its favour* 
 to take that which will have no advantage 
 over what we have left, but novelty : which 
 soon destroys itself, and at any rate is but a 
 weak antagonist against custom. 
 
 Ancient ornaments, having the right of 
 possession, ought not to be removed, un« 
 less to make room for that which not only 
 has higher pretensions, but such pretensions 
 as will balance the evil and confusion which 
 innovation always brings with it. 
 
 To this we may add* that even the dura- 
 bility of the materials will often contribute 
 to give a superiority to one object over an- 
 other. Ornaments in buildings, with which 
 taste is principally concerned, are composed 
 of materials which last longer than those of 
 which dress is composed j the former there- , 
 fore make higher pretensions to our favour 
 and prejudice. 
 
 Some attention is surely due to what we 
 can no more get rid of, than we can go out 
 
 3 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 of ourselves. We are creatures of preju- 
 dice i we neither can nor ought to eradicate 
 it i we must only regulate it by reason 5 
 which kind of regulation is indeed little 
 more than obliging the lesser, the local and 
 temporary prejudices, to give way to those 
 which are more durable and lasting. 
 
 Fie therefore, who in his practice of 
 portrait-painting wishes to dignify his sub- 
 ject, which we will suppose to be a lady, 
 will not paint her in the modem dress, the 
 familiarity of which alone is sufficient to 
 destroy all dignity. He takes care that his 
 work shall correspond to those ideas and 
 that imagination which he knows will regu- 
 late the judgement of others ; and therefore 
 dresses his figure something with the gene- 
 ral air of the antique for the sake of dignity, 
 and preserves something of the modern for 
 the sake of likeness. By this conduct his 
 works correspond with those prejudices 
 which we have in favour of what we conti- 
 nually see j and the relish of the antique sim- 
 plicity corresponds with what we may call 
 the more learned and scientific prejudice < 
 
tjS THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 There was a statue made not long since of 
 Voltaire, which the sculptor, not having 
 that respect for the prejudices of mankind 
 which he ought to have had, made en- 
 tirely naked, and as meagre and emaciated 
 as the original is said to be. The conse- 
 quence was what might have been expect* 
 ed ; it remained in the sculptor’s shop, 
 though it was intended as a publick ornament 
 and a publick honour to Voltaire, for it 
 was procured at the expence of his contem- 
 porary wits and admirers. 
 
 Whoever would reform a nation, suppo- 
 sing a bad taste to prevail in it, will not 
 accomplish his purpose by going directly 
 against the stream of their prejudices* 
 Men’s minds must be prepared to receive 
 what is new to them. Reformation is a work of 
 time. A national taste, however wrong it may 
 be, cannot be totally changed at once; we 
 must yield a little to the prepossession which 
 has taken hold on the mind, and we may 
 then bring people to adopt what would 
 offend them, if endeavoured to be intro- 
 duced by violence* When Battista Franco 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 259 
 
 was employed, in conjunction with Titian* 
 Paul Veronese and Tintoret, to adorn the 
 library of St. Mark, his work, Vasari 
 says, gave less satisfaction than any of the 
 others : the dry manner of the Roman 
 school was very ill calculated to please eyes 
 that had been accustomed to the luxu- 
 riancy, splendour, and richness of Venetian 
 colouring. Had the Romans been the judges 
 of this work, probably the determination 
 would have been just contrary; for in the 
 more noble parts of the art, Battista Franco 
 was perhaps not inferior to any of his 
 rivals. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 It has been the main scope and 
 principal end of this discourse to demon- 
 strata the reality of a standard in taste, as 
 well as in corporeal beauty ; that a false or 
 depraved taste is a thing as well known, as 
 easily discovered, as any thing that is de- 
 formed, mis-shapen, or wrong, in our form 
 or outward make ; and that this knowledge 
 is derived from the uniformity of sentiments 
 among mankind, from whence proceeds the 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 2-40) 
 
 knowledge of what are the general habits of 
 nature ; the result of which is an idea of 
 perfect beauty. 
 
 If what has been advanced be true,— that 
 beside this beauty or truth, which is formed 
 on the uniform, eternal, and immutable 
 laws of nature, and which of necessity 
 can be but one ; that beside this one immu- 
 table verity there are likewise what we have 
 called apparent or secondary truths, pro- 
 ceeding from local and temporary prejudices, 
 fancies, fashions or accidental connexion 
 of ideas ; if it appears that these last have 
 still their foundation, however slender, in 
 the original fabrick of our minds ; it follows 
 that all these truths or beauties deserve and 
 require the attention of the artist, in pro- 
 portion to their stability or duration, or as 
 their influence is more' or less extensive. 
 And let me add, that as they ought not to 
 pass their just bounds, so neither do they, 
 in a well-regulated taste, at all prevent or 
 weaken the influence of those general prin- 
 ciples, which alone can give to art its true 
 and permanent dignity* 
 
THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 245 
 
 To form this just taste is undoubtedly in 
 your own power, but it is to reason and phi- 
 losophy that you must have recourse ; from 
 them you must borrow the balance, by which 
 is to be weighed and estimated the value of 
 every pretension that intrudes itself on your 
 notice. 
 
 The general objection which is made to 
 the introduction of Philosophy into the 
 regions of taste, is, that it checks and re- 
 strains the flights of the imagination, and 
 gives that timidity, which an over-careful- 
 ness not to err or act contrary to reason is 
 likely to produce. It is not so. Fear is 
 neither reason nor philosophy. The true 
 spirit of philosophy, by giving knowledge, 
 -gives a manly confidence, and substitutes 
 rational firmness in the place of vain pre- 
 sumption. A man of real taste is always 
 a man of judgement in other respects ; and 
 those inventions which either disdain or 
 shrink from reason, are generally, I fear, 
 more like the dreams of a distempered brain, 
 than the exalted enthusiasm of a sound and 
 true genius. In the midst of the highest 
 
 vol. r. R flights 
 
242 THE SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 flights of fancy or imagination, reason 
 ought to preside from first to last, though 
 I admit her more powerful operation is 
 upon reflection. 
 
 Let me add* that some of the greatest 
 names of antiquity, and those who have 
 most distinguished themselves in works of 
 genius and imagination, were equally emi- 
 nent for their critical skill. Plato, Aristo- 
 tle, Cicero, and Horace ; and among the 
 moderns, Soileau, Corneille, Pope, and Dry- 
 den, are at least instances of genius not 
 being destroyed by attention or subjection 
 to rules and science. I should hope therefore, 
 that the natural consequence of what has 
 been said, would be, to excite in you a 
 desire of knowing the principles and con- 
 duct of the great masters of our art, and 
 respect and veneration for them when known. 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS QT 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER io> 177S® 
 
 R % 
 

DISCOURSE VIIL 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF ART 9 WHETHER POETRY OR 
 PAINTING, HAVE THEIR FOUNDATION IN THE 
 MIND; SUCH AS NOVELTY, VARIETY AND CON- 
 TRAST ; THESE IN THEIR EXCESS BECOME DEFECTSo 
 —SIMPLICITY. ITS EXCESS DISAGREEABLE.— RULES 
 NOT TO BE ALWAYS OBSERVED IN THEIR LITERAL 
 SENSE : SUFFICIENT TO PRESERVE THE SPIRIT OF 
 THE LAW,— OBSERVATIONS ON THE PRIZE PIC* 
 TURES, 
 
 GENTLEMEN* 
 
 1 have recommended in former discour- 
 ses,^ that Artists should learn their profes- 
 sion by endeavouring to form an idea of 
 perfection from the different excellencies 
 which lie dispersed in the various schools 
 of painting. Some difficulty will still 
 occur, to know what is beauty, and where 
 it may be found : one would wish not to be 
 obliged to take it entirely on the credit of 
 
 * Discourse II. and Vl s 
 
2 4-6 
 
 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 fame; though to this, I acknowledge, the 
 younger Students must unavoidably submit. 
 Any suspicion in them of the chance of 
 their being deceived, will have more ten- 
 dency to obsruct their advancement, than 
 even an enthusiastick confidence in the 
 perfection of their models. But to the more 
 advanced in the art, who wish to stand 
 on more stable and firmer ground, and to 
 establish principles on a stronger foundatioii 
 than authority, however venerable or pow- 
 erful, it may be safely told, that there is still 
 a higher tribunal, to which those great 
 masters themselves must submit, and to 
 which indeed every excellence in art must 
 be ultimately referred. He who is ambitious 
 to enlarge the boundaries of his art, must 
 extend his views, beyond the precepts 
 which are found in books or may be drawn 
 from the practice of his predecessors, to a 
 knowledge of those precepts in the mind, 
 those operations of intellectual nature, —to 
 which every thing that aspires to please, 
 must be proportioned and accommodated. 
 
 Poetry having a more extensive power 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 247 
 
 than our art, exerts its influence over almost 
 all the passions ; among those may be rec- 
 koned one of our most prevalent disposi- 
 tions, anxiety for the future. Poetry ope- 
 rates by raising our curiosity, engaging the 
 mind by degrees to take an interest in the 
 event, keeping that event suspended, and 
 surprising at last with an unexpected car- 
 tas trop he* 
 
 The Painter’s art is more confined, and 
 has nothing that corresponds with, or per- 
 haps is equivalent to, this power and ad- 
 vantage of leading the mind on, till atten- 
 tion is totally engaged. What is done by 
 Painting, must be done at one blow ; curio- 
 sity has received at once all the satisfaction it 
 can ever have. There are, however, other in- 
 tellectual qualities and dispositions which the 
 Painter can satisfy and affect as powerfully 
 as the poet : among those we may reckon 
 our love of novelty, variety and contrast ; 
 these qualities, on examination, will be 
 found to refer to a certain activity and rest- 
 lessness, which has a pleasure and delight 
 in being exercised and put in motion : Art 
 
2 4 8 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 therefore only administers to those wants and 
 desires of the mind. 
 
 It requires no long disquisition to shew* 
 that the dispositions which I have stated 
 actually subsist in the human mind. Variety 
 reanimates the attention, which is apt to 
 languish under a continual sameness. Novelty 
 makes a more forcible impression on the 
 mind, than can be made by the representa- 
 tion of what we have often seen before ; and 
 contrasts rouse the power of comparison by 
 opposition. All this is obvious; but, on the 
 other hand, it must be remembered, that the 
 mind, though an active principle, has like- 
 wise a disposition to indolence ; and though 
 it loves exercise, loves it only to a certain 
 degree, beyond which it is very unwilling to 
 be led, or driven; the pursuit therefore of 
 novelty and variety may be carried to excess. 
 When variety entirely destroys the pleasure 
 proceeding from uniformity and repetition., 
 and when novelty counteracts and shuts out 
 the pleasure arising from old habits and cus~ 
 toms, they oppose too much the indolence of 
 our disposition : the mind therefore can beat' 
 
 7 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 24 $ 
 
 with pleasure but a small portion of novelty 
 at a time* The main part of the work must 
 be in the mode to which we have been used. 
 An affection to old habits and customs I take 
 to be the predominant disposition of the mind,, 
 and novelty comes as an exception: where all 
 is novelty, the attention, the exercise of the 
 mind is too violent. Contrast, in the same 
 manner, when it exceeds certain limits, is as 
 disagreeable as a violent and perpetual oppo- 
 sition ; it gives to the senses, in their pro- 
 gress, a more sudden change than they can 
 bear with pleasure* 
 
 It is then apparent, that those qualities,, 
 however they contribute to the perfection of 
 Ait, when kept within certain bounds, if 
 they are carried to excess, become defects, 
 and require correction : a work consequently 
 will not proceed better and better as it is 
 more varied ; variety can never be the ground- 
 work and principle of the performance— it 
 must be only employed to recreate and relieve. 
 
 To apply these general observations which 
 belong equally to all arts, to ours m particw* 
 
4JT0 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 lar. In a composition, when the objects 
 are scattered and divided into many equal 
 parts, the eye is perplexed and fatigued, 
 from not knowing where to rest, where to 
 find the principal action, or which is the 
 principal figure; for where all are making 
 equal pretensions to notice, all are in equal 
 danger of neglect* 
 
 The expression which is used very often 
 on these occasions is, the piece wants repose ; 
 a word which perfectly expresses a relief of 
 the mind fropi that state of hurry and anxiety 
 which it suffers, when looking at a work of 
 this character* 
 
 On the other hand, absolute unity, that 
 is, a large work, consisting of one group or 
 mass of light only, would be as defective as 
 an heroick poem without episode, or any 
 collateral incidents to recreate the mind with 
 that variety which it always requires. 
 
 An instance occurs to me of two painters, 
 (Rembrandt and Poussin,) of characters 
 totally opposite to each other in every respect, 
 
 3 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE *51 
 
 but in nothing more than in their mode of 
 composition, and management of light and 
 shadow. Rembrandt’s manner is absolute 
 unity; he often has but one group, and ex- 
 hibits little more than one spot of light in the 
 midst of a large quantity of shadow: if he 
 has a second mass, that second bears no pro- 
 portion to the principal. Poussin, on the 
 contrary, has scarce any principal mass of 
 light at all, and his figures are often too 
 much dispersed, without sufficient attention 
 to place them in groups. 
 
 The conduct of these two painters is en- 
 tirely the reverse of what might be expected 
 from their general style and character ; the 
 works of Poussin being as much distinguished 
 for simplicity, as those of Rembrandt for 
 combination. Even this conduct of Poussin 
 might proceed from too great an affection to 
 simplicity of another kind ; too great a desire 
 to avoid that ostentation of art, with regard 
 to light and shadow, on which Rembrandt so 
 much wished to draw the attention: however, 
 each of them ran into contrary extremes, 
 and it is difficult to determine which is the 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 most reprehensible, both being equally distant 
 from the demands of nature, and the pur- 
 poses of art. 
 
 The same just moderation must be observed 
 in regard to ornaments ; nothing will contri- 
 bute more to destroy repose than profusion, 
 of whatever kind, whether it consists in the 
 multiplicity of objects, or the variety and 
 brightness of colours. On the other hand, 
 a work without ornament, instead of simpli- 
 city, to which it makes pretensions, has 
 rather the appearance of poverty. The 
 degree to which ornaments are admissible, 
 must be regulated by the professed style of 
 the work; but we may be sure of this truth, — * 
 that the most ornamental style requires repose, 
 to set off even its ornaments to advantage. I 
 cannot avoid mentioning here an instance of 
 repose in that faithful and accurate painter of 
 nature, Shakspeare ; the short dialogue be- 
 tween Duncan and Banquo, whilst they are 
 approaching the gates of Macbeth's castle. 
 Their conversation very naturally turns upon 
 the beauty of its situation, and the pleasant- 
 ness of the airs and Banquo observing the 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE* 
 
 martlets' nests in every recess of the cornice* 
 remarks, that where those birds most breed 
 and haunt, the air is delicate. The subject 
 of this quiet and easy conversation gives that 
 repose so necessary to the mind, after the 
 tumultuous bustle of the preceding scenes* 
 and perfectly contrasts the scene of hor- 
 rour that immediately succeeds. It seems 
 as if Shakspeare asked himself, What is a 
 Prince likely to say to his attendants on such 
 an occasion? The modem writers seem, on 
 the contrary, to be always searching for new 
 thoughts, such as never could occur to men 
 in the situation represented. This is also 
 frequently the practice of Homer j who, from 
 the midst of battles and horrours, relieves 
 and refreshes the mind of the reader, by in- 
 troducing some quiet rural image, or picture 
 of familiar domestick life. The writers of 
 every age and country, where taste has begun 
 to decline, paint and adorn every object they 
 touch ; are always on the stretoh ; never 
 deviate or sink a moment from the pompous 
 and the brilliant, Lucan, Statius, and 
 Claudian, (as a learned critick has observed,) 
 are examples of t\iis bad taste and want of 
 
2?4 THE eighth discourse. 
 
 judgement ; they never soften their tones, or 
 condescend to be natural : all is exaggeraion 
 and perpetual splendour, without affording 
 repose of any kind. 
 
 As we are speaking of excesses, it will 
 not be remote from our purpose to say a few 
 words upon simplicity ; which, in one of the 
 senses in which it is used, is considered as 
 the general corrector of excess. We shall 
 at present forbear to consider it as implying 
 that exact conduct which proceeds from an 
 intimate knowledge of simple unadulterated 
 nature, as it is then only another word for 
 perfection, w T hich neither stops short of, nor 
 oversteps, reality and truth. 
 
 In our enquiry after simplicity, as in many 
 other enquiries of this nature, we can best 
 explain what is right, by shewing what is 
 wrong ; and, indeed, in this case it seems 
 to be absolutely necessary: simplicity, being 
 only a negative virtue, cannot be described 
 or defined. We must therefore explain its 
 fiature, and shew the advantage and beauty 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE* x$f 
 
 which is derived from it, by shewing the 
 deformity which proceeds from its neglect, 
 
 Though instances of this neglect might 
 be expected to be found in practice, we should 
 not expect to find in the works of criticks, 
 precepts that bid defiance to simplicity and 
 every thing that relates to it f De Piles 
 recommends to us portrait-painters, to add 
 Grace and Dignity to the characters of those, 
 whose pictures we draw : so far he is un- 
 doubtedly right j but, unluckily, he descends 
 to particulars, and gives his own idea of Grace 
 and Dignity. If, says he, you draw persons 
 of high character and dignity , they ought to 
 be drawn in fuch an attitude , that the Portrait 
 must seem to speak to us of themselves , and, as 
 it were, to fay to us, £ stop , take notice of me, 
 I am that invincible King , furrounded by 
 Majesty d I am that valiant commander , who 
 struck t err our every where d I am that great 
 minifer, who knew all the fprings of politicks d 
 1 am that magistrate of consummate wisdom and 
 probity d y He goes on in this manner, with 
 all the characters he can think on. We may 
 contrast the tumour of this presumptuous 
 
%$$ THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE- 
 
 loftiness with the natural unaffected air of 
 the portraits of Titian, where dignity, seem* 
 ing to be natural and inherent, draws spon* 
 taneous reverence, and instead of being thus 
 vainly assumed, h.is the appearance of an 
 unalienable adjunct t whereas such pompous 
 and laboured insolence of grandeur is so far 
 from creating respect, that it betrays vulgarity 
 and meanness, and new-acquired conse- 
 tjuence. 
 
 The painters, many of them at least, have 
 not been backward in adopting the notions 
 contained in these precepts. The portraits of 
 Rigaud are perfect examples of an implicit 
 observance of these rules of De Piles ; so 
 that though he was a painter of great merit 
 in many respects, yet, that merit is entirely 
 overpowered by a total absence of simplicity 
 in every sense. 
 
 Not to multiply instances, which might be 
 produced for this purpose, from the works 
 of History-painters, I shall mention only 
 one,— a picture which I have seen, of the 
 Supreme being by CoypelL 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE; 
 
 This subject the Roman Catholick painters 
 have taken the liberty to represent, however 
 indecent the attempt, and however obvious 
 the impossibility of any approach to an 
 adequate representation: but here the air and 
 character, which the Painter has given, and 
 he has doubtless given the highest he could 
 conceive, are so degraded by an attempt at 
 such dignity as De Piles has recommended, 
 that we are enraged at the folly and presump- 
 tion of the artist, and consider it as little less 
 than profanation. 
 
 As we have passed to a neighbouring nation 
 for instances of want of this quality, we must 
 acknowledge, at the same time, that they 
 have produced great examples of simplicity, 
 in Poussin and Le Sueur, But as we are 
 speaking of the most refined and subtle notion 
 of perfection, may we not enquire, whether 
 a curious eye cannot discern some faults, even 
 in those great men? I can fancy, that even 
 Poussin, by abhorring that affectation and 
 that want of simplicity, which he observed 
 in his countrymen, has, in certain particu- 
 lars, fallen into the contrary extreme, so far 
 
 VOL. VII, S 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 25S 
 
 as to approach to a kind of affectation;—* 
 to what, in writing, would be called pe- 
 dantry. 
 
 When Simplicity, instead of being a cor- 
 rector, seems to set up for herself ; that is, 
 when an artist seems to value himself solely 
 upon this quality; such an ostentatious dis- 
 play of simplicity becomes then as disagree- 
 able and nauseous as any other kind of affec- 
 tation. Fie is, however, in this case, likely 
 enough to sit down contented with his own 
 work ; for though he finds the world look at 
 it with indifference or dislike, as being des- 
 titute of every quality that can recreate pr giv« 
 pleasure to the mind, yet he consoles him- 
 self, that it has simplicity, a beauty of too 
 pure and chaste a nature to be relished by 
 vulgar minds. 
 
 It is in art as in morals ; no character would 
 inspire us with an enthusiastiek admiration of 
 his virtue, if that virtue consisted only in an 
 absence of vice ; something more is required ; 
 a man must do more than merely his duty, to 
 be a hero. 
 
THE EIGHTH^ DISCOURSE* 259 
 
 Those works of the ancients, which are 
 in the highest esteem, have something beside 
 mere simplicity to recommend them. The 
 Apollo, the Venus, the Laocoon, the Gla- 
 diator, have a certain Composition of Action, 
 have contrasts sufficient to give grace and 
 energy in a high degree ; but it must be con- 
 fessed of the many thousand antique statues 
 which we have, that their general character- 
 istick is bordering at least on inanimate insi- 
 pidity* 
 
 Simplicity, when so very inartificial as to 
 seem to evade the difficulties of art, is a very 
 suspicious virtue, 
 
 I do not, however, wish to degrade sim- 
 plicity from the high estimation in which it 
 has been ever justly held. It is our barrier 
 against that great enemy to truth and nature, 
 Affectation, which is ever clinging to the 
 pencil, and ready to drop in and poison every 
 thing it touches. 
 
 Our love and affection to simplicity pro- 
 ceeds in a great measure from our aversion 
 
- z£o THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 to every kind of affectation. There is like- 
 wise another reason why so much stress is 
 laid upon this virtue ; the propensity which 
 artists have to fall into the contrary ex- 
 treme: we therefore set a guard on that side 
 which is most assailable. When a young 
 artist is first told, that his composition and 
 his attitudes must be contrasted, that he must 
 turn the head contrary to the position of the 
 body, in order to. produce grace and ani- 
 mation ; that his outline must be undula- 
 ting, and swelling, to give grandeur ; and 
 that the eye must be gratified with a variety 
 of colours ; — when he is told this, with 
 certain animating words, of Spirit, Dignity, 
 Energy, Grace, greatness of Style, and bril- 
 liancy of Tints, he becomes suddenly vain of 
 his newly acquired knowledge, and never 
 '.thinks he can carry those rules too far. It 
 is then that the aid of simplicity ought to be 
 .called in, to correct the exuberance of youth- 
 \ful ardour. ... 
 
 The same may be said in regard to Co- 
 louring, which in its pre-eminence is par- 
 ..ticplarl.y applied .to flesh. An artist iq his 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 261 
 
 first essay of imitating nature, would make 
 the whole mass of one colour, as the oldest 
 painters did; till he is taught to observe not 
 only the variety of tints, which are in the 
 object itself, but the differences produced 
 by the gradual decline of light to shadow : 
 he then immediately puts his instruction 
 in practice, and introduces a variety of 
 distinct colours. He must then be again 
 corrected and told, that though there is this 
 variety, yet the effect of the whole upon the 
 eye must have the union and simplicity of 
 the colouring of nature. 
 
 And here we may observe, that the 
 progress of an individual Student bears a 
 great resemblance to the progress and ad- 
 vancement of the Art itself. Want of sim- 
 plicity would probably be not one of the de- 
 fects of an artist who had studied nature only, 
 as it was not of the old masters, who lived 
 in the time preceding the great Art of 
 Painting; on the contrary, their works are too 
 simple and too inartificial. 
 
 The Art in its infancy, like the first 
 
z6z THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 work of a Student, was dry, hard, and 
 simple. But this kind of barbarous sim- 
 plicity, would be better named Penury, 
 as it proceeds from mere want ; from 
 want of knowledge, want of resources, 
 want of abilities to be otherwise : their 
 simplicity was the offspring, not of choice, 
 but necessity. 
 
 > 
 
 In the second stage they were sensible of 
 this poverty ; and those who were the most 
 sensible of the wan t, were the best judges 
 of the measure of the supply. There w r ere 
 painters who emerged from poverty with- 
 out falling into luxury. Their success 
 induced others, who probably never would 
 of themselves have had strength of mind to 
 discover the original defect, to endeavour 
 at the remedy by an abuse ; and they ran 
 into the contrary extreme. But however 
 they may have strayed, we cannot recom- 
 mend to them to return to that simplicity 
 which they have justly quitted; but to deal 
 out their abundance with a more sparing 
 hand, with that dignity which makes no 
 parade, either of its riches, or of its art. 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 26 $ 
 
 It is not easy to give a rule which may serve 
 to fix this just and correct medium j because 
 when we may have fixed, or nearly fixed, 
 the middle point, taken as a general prin- 
 ciple, circumstances may oblige us to depart 
 from it, either on the side of Simplicity, 
 or on that of Variety and Decoration. 
 
 I thought it necessary in a former dis- 
 course, speaking of the difference of the 
 sublime and ornamental style of painting, — • 
 in order to excite your attention to the more 
 manly, noble, and dignified manner, to 
 leave perhaps an impression too contemp- 
 tuous of those ornamental parts of our Art, 
 for which many have valued themselves, 
 and many works are much valued and es- 
 teemed. 
 
 I said then, what I thought it was right 
 at that time to say j I supposed the disposi- 
 tion of young men more inclinable to splen- 
 did negligence, than perseverance in labo- 
 rious application to acquire correctness ; and 
 therefore did as we do in making what is 
 crooked straight, by bending it the contrary 
 
264 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 way, in order that it may remain straight 
 at las*t. 
 
 For this purpose then, and to correct 
 excess or neglect of any kind, we may here 
 add, that it is not enough that a work be 
 learned ; it must be pleasing : the painter 
 must add grace to strength, if he desires 
 to secure the first impression in his favour. 
 Our taste has a kind of sensuality about it, 
 as well as a love of the sublime ; both these 
 qualities of the mind are to have their pro- 
 per consequence, as far as they do not 
 counteract each other ; for that is the grand 
 error which much care ought to be taken 
 to avoid* 
 
 There are some rules, whose absolute 
 authority, like that of our nurses, continues 
 no longer than while we are in a state of 
 childhood. One of the first rules, for 
 instance, that I believe every master would 
 give to a young pupil, respecting his conduct 
 and management of light and shadow, would 
 be what Lionardo da Vinci has actually 
 given s that you must oppose a light ground 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE* * 6 $ 
 
 to the shadowed side of your figure, and a 
 dark ground to the light side. If Lionardo 
 had lived to see the superior splendour and 
 effect which has been since produced by 
 the exactly contrary conduct,— -by joining 
 light to light, and shadow to shadow, — -* 
 though without doubt he would have admired 
 it, yet, as it ought not, so probably it would 
 not be the first rule with which he would 
 have begun his instructions. 
 
 Again ; in the artificial management of 
 the figures, it is directed that they shall 
 contrast each other according to the rules 
 generally given j that if one figure opposes 
 his front to the spectator, the next figure is 
 to have his back turned, and that the limbs 
 of each individual figure be contrasted ; that 
 is, if the right leg be put forward, the right 
 arm is to be drawn back. 
 
 It is very proper that those rules should 
 be given in the Academy ; it is proper the 
 young students should be informed that some 
 research is to be made, and that they should 
 be habituated to consider every excellence as 
 
s66 
 
 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 reduceable to principles. Besides; it is the 
 natural progress of instruction to teach first 
 what is obvious and perceptible to the 
 senses, and from thence proceed gradually 
 to notions large, liberal, and complete, such 
 as comprise the more refined and higher 
 excellencies in Art. But when students are 
 more advanced, they will find that the greats 
 est beauties of character and expression are 
 produced without contrast ; nay more, that 
 this contrast would ruin and destroy that 
 natural energy of men engaged in real action, 
 unsolicitous of grace. St. Paul preaching at 
 Athens in one of the Cartoons, far from any 
 affected academical contrast of limbs, stands 
 equally on both legs, and both hands are 
 in the same attitude .* add contrast, and the 
 whole energy and unaffected grace of the 
 figure is destroyed. Ely mas the sorcerer 
 stretches both hands forward in the same 
 direction, which gives perfectly the expres- 
 sion intended. Indeed you never will find 
 in the works of Raffaelle any of those 
 school-boy affected contrasts. Whatever con* 
 trast there is, appears without any seem* 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE., 2S7 
 
 Ing agency of art, by the natural chance of 
 things. 
 
 What has been said of the evil of excesses 
 of all kinds, whether of simplicity, variety, 
 or contrast, naturally suggests to the painter 
 the necessity of a general enquiry into the 
 true meaning and cause of rules, and how 
 they operate on those faculties to which they 
 are addressed : by knowing their general pur- 
 pose and meaning, he will often find that he 
 need not confine himself to the literal sense, it 
 will be sufficient if he preserve the spirit, of 
 the law. 
 
 Critical remarks are not always understood 
 without examples : it may not be improper 
 therefore to give instances where the rule 
 itself, though generally received, is false, or 
 where a narrow conception of it may lead the 
 artist into great errors. 
 
 It is given as a rule by Fresnoy, That the 
 principle figure of a subject must appear in the 
 midst of the picture , under the principal light , 
 to distinguish it from the rest . A painter who 
 
m THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 should think himself obliged strictly to follow 
 this rule, would encumber himself with 
 needless difficulties; he would be confined 
 to great uniformity of composition, and be 
 deprived of many beauties which are incom- 
 patible with its observance. The meaning 
 of this rule extends, or ought to extend, no 
 further than this ; — That the principal figure 
 should be immediately distinguished at the 
 first glance of the eye ; but there is no neces- 
 sity that the principal light should fall on the 
 principal figure, or that the principal figure 
 should be in the middle of the picture. It 
 Is sufficient that it be distinguished by its 
 place, or by the attention of other figures 
 pointing it out to the spectator. So far is 
 this rule from being indispensable, that it is 
 very seldom practised, other considerations 
 of greater consequence often standing in the 
 way. Examples in opposition to this rule, 
 are found in the Cartoons, in Christ’s Charge 
 to Peter, the Preaching of St. Paul, and 
 Elymas the Sorcerer, who is undoubtedly 
 the principal object in that picture. In none 
 of those compositions is the principal figure 
 in the midst of the picture. In the very 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. z6<j 
 
 admirable composition of the Tent of Darius, 
 by Le Brun, Alexander is not in the middle 
 of the picture, nor does the principal light 
 fall on him; but the attention of all the other 
 
 figures immediately distinguishes him, and 
 distinguishes him more properly; the great- 
 est light falls' on the daughter of Darius, who 
 is in the middle of the picture, where it is 
 more necessary the principal light should be 
 placed. 
 
 It is very extraordinary that Felibien, who 
 has given a very minute description of this 
 picture, but indeed such a description as may 
 be rather called panegyrick than criticism, 
 thinking it necessary (according to the precept 
 of Fresnoy) that Alexander should possess the 
 principal light, has accordingly given it to 
 him ; he might with equal truth have said 
 that he was placed in the middle of the picture, 
 as he seemed resolved to give this piece every 
 kind of excellence which he conceived to be 
 necessary to perfection. His generosity is 
 here unluckily misapplied, as it would have 
 destroyed in a great measure the beauty of 
 the composition. 
 
TOE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 £70 
 
 Another instance occurs to me, where 
 equal liberty may be taken in regard to the 
 management of light. Though the general 
 practice is, to make a large mass about the 
 middle of the picture surrounded by shadow, 
 the reverse may be practised, and the spirit 
 of the rule may still be preserved. Examples 
 of this principle reversed may be found very 
 frequently in the works of the Venetian 
 School. In the great composition of Paul 
 Veronese, the Marriage at Cana, the 
 figures are for the most part in half shadow ; 
 the great light is in the sky ; and indeed the 
 general effect of this picture which is so 
 striking, is no more than what w r e often see 
 in landscapes, in small pictures of fairs and 
 country feasts; but those principles of light 
 and shadow, being transferred to a large 
 scale, to a space containing near a hundred 
 figures as large as life, and conducted to all 
 appearance with as much facility, and with 
 an attention as steadily fixed upon the whole 
 together , as if it were a small picture imme- 
 diately under the eye, the work justly excites 
 our admiration ; the difficulty being encreased 
 as the extent is enlarged. 
 
 1 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 * 7 * 
 
 The various modes of composition are 
 infinite : sometimes it shall consist of one 
 large group in the middle of the picture, and 
 the smaller groups on each side j or a plain 
 space in the middle, and the groups of figures 
 ranged round this vacuity. 
 
 Whether this principal broad light be in 
 the middle space of ground, as in the 
 School of Athens ; or in the sky, as in 
 the Marriage at Cana, in the An- 
 dromeda, and in most of the pictures of 
 Paul Veronese; or whether the light been 
 the groups i whatever mode of composition 
 is adopted, every variety and licence is 
 allowable : this only is indisputably neces« 
 sary, that to prevent the eye from being 
 distracted and confused by a multiplicity of 
 objects of equal magnitude, those objects, 
 whether they consist of lights, shadows, or 
 figures, must be disposed in large masses and 
 groups properly varied and contrasted ; that 
 to a certain quantity of action a proportioned 
 space of plain ground is required ; that light 
 is to be supported by sufficient shadow j 
 and, we may add, that a certain quantity of 
 
rjt T HE- EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 cold colours is necessary to give value and 
 lustre to the warm colours : what those 
 
 proportions are cannot be so well learnt 
 by precept as by observation on pictures* 
 and in this knowledge bad pictures will 
 instruct as well as good. Our enquiry 
 why pictures havO a bad effect, may be 
 as advantageous as the enquiry why they 
 have a good effect; each will corroborate 
 the principles that are suggested by the 
 other. 
 
 Though it is not my business to enter into 
 the detail of our Art, yet I must take this 
 opportunity of mentioning one of the means 
 of producing that great effect which we ob- 
 serve in the works of the Venetian painters, 
 as I think it is not generally known or 
 observed. It ought, in my opinion, to be 
 indispensably observed, that the masses of 
 light in a picture be always of a warm mellow 
 colour, yellow, red, or a yellowish- white; 
 and that the blue, the grey, or the green 
 colours be kept almost entirely out of these 
 masses, and be used only to support and set 
 off these warm colours; and for this purpose* 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 273 
 
 a small proportion of cold colours will be 
 sufficient. 
 
 Let this conduct be reserved ; let the light 
 be cold, and the surrounding colours warm, 
 as we often see in the works of the Roman 
 and Florentine painters, and it will be out of 
 the power of art, even in the hands of Rubens 
 or Titian, to make a picture splendid and 
 harmonious. 
 
 Le Brim and Carlo Maratti were two 
 painters of great merit, and particularly what 
 may be called Academical Merit, but were 
 both deficient in this management of colours : 
 the want of observing this rule is one of the 
 causes of that heaviness of effect which is 
 so observable in their works. The principal 
 light in the Picture of Le Brun, which I 
 just now mentioned, falls on Statira, who is 
 dressed very injudiciously in a pale blue 
 drapery : it is true, he has heightened this 
 blue with gold, but thac is not enough ; the 
 whole picture has a heavy air, and by no 
 means answers the expectation raised by the 
 Print. Poussin often made a spot of blue 
 
 VQL. I, T 
 
374 
 
 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE,' 
 
 drapery, when the general hue of the picture 
 was inclinable to brown or yellow; which 
 shews sufficiently, that harmony of colouring 
 was not a part of the art that had much 
 engaged the attention of that great painter. 
 
 The conduct of Titian in the picture of 
 Bacchus and Ariadne, has been much 
 celebrated, and justly, for the harmony of 
 colouring. To Ariadne is given (say the 
 criticks) a red scarf, to relieve the figure from 
 the sea, which is behind her. It is not for 
 that reason, alone, but for another of much 
 greater consequence ; for the sake of the 
 general harmony and effect of the picture. 
 The figure of Ariadne is separated from the 
 great group, and is dressed in blue, which 
 added to the colour of the sea, makes that 
 quantity of cold colour which Titian thought 
 necessary for the support and brilliancy of 
 the great group; which group is composed, 
 with very little exception, entirely of mellow 
 colours . But as the picture in this case would 
 be divided into two distinct parts, one half 
 cold, and the other warm, it was necessary 
 to carry some of the mellow colours of the 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 27$ 
 
 great group into the cold part of the picture* 
 and a part of the cold into the great group ; 
 accordingly Titian gave Ariadne a red scarf* 
 and to one of the Bacchante a little blue 
 drapery. 
 
 The light of the picture, as I observed* 
 ought to be of a warm colour ; for though 
 white may be used for the principal light, as 
 was the practice of many of the Dutch and 
 Flemish painters, yet it is better to suppose 
 that white illumined by the yellow rays of 
 the setting sun, as was the manner of Titian. 
 The superiority of which manner is never 
 more striking, than when in a collection of 
 pictures we chance to see a portrait of TitiaiTs 
 hanging by the side of a Flemish picture, 
 (even though that should be of the hand of 
 Vandyck,) which, however admirable in 
 other respects, becomes cold and grey in the 
 comparison. 
 
 The illuminated parts of objects are in 
 nature of a warmer tint than those that are 
 in the shade : what 1 have recommended 
 therefore is no more, than that the same 
 
 T % 
 
*j6 THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 conduct be observed in the whole, which is 
 acknowledged to be necessary in every indi- 
 vidual part. It is presenting to the eye the 
 same effect as that which it has been 
 accustomed to feel, which in this case, as in 
 every other, will always produce beauty ; 
 no principle therefore in our art can be 
 more certain, or is derived from a higher 
 source. 
 
 What I just now mentioned of the sup- 
 posed reason why Ariadne has part of her 
 drapery red, gives me occasion here to 
 observe, that this favourite quality of giving 
 objects relief, and which De Piles and all 
 the Criticks have considered as a requisite 
 of the utmost importance, was not one of 
 those objects which much engaged the atten- 
 tion of Titian : painters of an inferior rank 
 have far exceeded him in producing this 
 effect. This was a great object of attention, 
 when art was in its infant state; as it is at 
 present with the vulgar and ignorant, who 
 feel the highest satisfaction in seeing a figure, 
 which, as they say, looks as if they could 
 walk round it. But however low I may rate 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE* 277 
 
 this pleasure of deception, I should not op- 
 pose it, did it not oppose itself to a quality 
 of a much higher kind, by counteracting 
 entirely that fulness of manner which is so 
 difficult to express in words, but which is 
 found in perfection in the best works of 
 Correggio, and we may add, of Rembrandt. 
 This effect is produced by melting and losing 
 the shadows in a ground still darker than 
 those shadows ; whereas that relief is pro- 
 duced by opposing and separating the ground 
 from the figure either by light, or shadow, 
 or colour. This conduct of in-laying, as it 
 may be called, figures on their ground, in 
 order to produce relief, was the practice of 
 the old Painters, such as Andrea Mantegna, 
 Pietro Perugino, and Albert Durer ; and to 
 these we may add, the first manner of 
 Lionardo da Vinci, Giorgione, and even, 
 Correggio ; but these three were among the 
 first who began to correct themselves in dry- 
 ness of style, by no longer considering relief 
 as a principal object. As those two qualities 
 relief, and fulness of effect, can hardly exist 
 together, it is not very difficult to determine 
 to which we ought to give the preference. 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 An Artist is obliged for ever to hold a balance 
 in his hand, by which he must determine the 
 value of different qualities ; that, when some 
 fault must be committed, he may choose the 
 least. Those painters who have best under- 
 stood the art of producing a good effect, have 
 adopted one principle that seems perfectly con- 
 formable to reason ; that a part may be sacri- 
 ficed for the good of the whole. Thus, 
 whether the masses consist of light or shadow, 
 it is necessary that they should be compact 
 and of a pleasing shape: to this end, some 
 parts may be made darker and some lighter,, 
 and reflexions stronger than nature would 
 warrant. Paul Veronese took great liberties 
 ©f this kind. It is said, that being once 
 asked, why certain figures were painted in 
 shade, as no cause was seen in the picture 
 itself; he turned off the enquiry by answer- 
 ing, ‘ 6 una nuevola che passa” a cloud is 
 passing which has overshadowed them. 
 
 But I cannot give a better instance of this 
 practice than a picture which I have of 
 Rubens : it is a representation of a Moon** 
 light. Rubens has not only diffused more 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE* 279 
 
 light over the picture than is in nature, but 
 has bestowed on it those warm glowing 
 colours by which his works are so much 
 distinguished. It is so unlike what any other 
 painters have given us of Moon-light, that it 
 might be easily mistaken, if he had not like- 
 wise added stars, fora fainter setting sun.- — - 
 Rubens thought the eye ought to be satisfied 
 in this case, above all other considerations : 
 lie might indeed have made it more natural, 
 but it would have been at the expence of 
 What he thought of much greater conse- 
 quence,— the harmony proceeding from the 
 contrast and variety of colours. 
 
 This same picture will furnish us with 
 another instance, where we must depart from 
 nature for a greater advantage. The Moon 
 in this picture does not preserve so great a 
 superiority in regard to its lightness over the 
 object which it illumines, as it does in nature ; 
 this is likewise an intended deviation, and 
 for the same reason. If Rubens had pre- 
 served the same scale of gradation of light 
 between the Moon and the objects, which is 
 found in nature, the picture must have con- 
 
ago THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 sisted of one small spot of light only, and at 
 a little distance from the picture nothing but 
 this spot would have been seen. It may be 
 said indeed, that this being the case, it is a 
 subject that ought not to be painted: but 
 then, for the same reason, neither armour, 
 nor any thing shining, ought ever to be 
 painted ; for though pure white is used in 
 order to represent the greatest light of shining 
 objects, it will not in the picture preserve the 
 same superiority over flesh, as it has in nature, 
 without keeping that flesh-colour of a very low 
 tint. Rembrandt, who thought it of more con- 
 sequence to paint light, than the objects that 
 are seen by it, has done this in a picture of 
 Achilles which I have. The head is kept 
 down to a very low tint, in order to preserve 
 this due gradation and distinction between 
 the armour and the face; the consequence of 
 which is, that upon the whole the picture is 
 too black. Surely too much is sacrificed here 
 to this narrow conception of nature : allowing 
 the contrary conduct a fault, yet it must be 
 acknowledged a less fault, than making a 
 picture so dark that it cannot be seen without 
 a peculiar light, and then with difficulty. 
 
 6 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 281 
 
 The merit or demerit of the different conduct 
 of Rubens and Rembrandt in those instances 
 which I have given, is not to be determined 
 by the narrow principles of nature, separated 
 from its effect on the human mind. Reason 
 and common sense tell us, that before, and 
 above all other considerations, it is necessary 
 that the work should be seen, not only with- 
 out difficulty or inconvenience, but with 
 pleasure and satisfaction ; and every obstacle 
 which stands in the way of this pleasure and 
 convenience must be removed. 
 
 The tendency of this Discourse, with the 
 instances which have been given, is not so 
 much to place the Artist above rules, as to 
 teach him their reason j to prevent him from 
 entertaining a narrow confined conception of 
 Art ; to clear his mind from a perplexed 
 variety of rules and their exceptions, by 
 directing his attention to an intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the passions and affections of the 
 mind, from which all rules arise, and to 
 which they are all referable. Art effects its 
 purpose by their means ; an accurate know- 
 ledge therefore of those passions and disposi- 
 
28* THE eighth discourse, 
 
 subject is improper to be more fully repre- 
 sented, either for the sake of decency, or to 
 avoid what would be disagreeable to be seen ; 
 and this is not to raise or increase the passions, 
 which is the reason that is given for this 
 practice, but on the contrary to diminish 
 their effect. 
 
 / ‘ 
 
 It is true, sketches, or such drawings as 
 painters generally make for their works, give 
 this pleasure of imagination to a high degree. 
 From a slight undetermined drawing, where 
 the ideas of the composition and character are, 
 as I may say, only just touched upon, the 
 imagination supplies more than the painter 
 himself, probably, could produce ; and we 
 accordingly often find that the finished work 
 disappoints the expectation that was raised 
 from the sketch ; and this power of the ima- 
 gination is one of the causes of the great 
 pleasure w r e have in viewing a collection of 
 drawings by great painters. These general 
 ideas, which are expressed in sketches, 
 correspond very well to the art often used in 
 Poetry. A great part of the beauty of the 
 celebrated description of Eve in Milton's 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 285 
 
 Paradise Lost, consists in using only- 
 general indistinct expressions, every reader 
 making out the detail according to his 
 own particular imagination,— his own idea 
 of beauty, grace, expression, dignity, or love- 
 liness : but a painter, when he represents 
 Eve on a canvas, is obliged to give a deter- 
 mined form, and his own idea of beauty 
 distinctly expressed. 
 
 We cannot on this occasion, nor indeed 
 on any other, recommend an undeterminate 
 manner, or vague ideas of any kind, in a 
 complete and finished picture. This notion, 
 therefore, of leaving any thing to the imagi- 
 nation, opposes a very fixed and indispensable 
 rule in our art, —that every thing shall be 
 carefully and distinctly expressed, as if the 
 painter knew, with correctness and precision, 
 the exact form and character of whatever is 
 introduced into the picture. This is what 
 with us is called Science, and Learning ; 
 which must not be sacrificed and given up 
 for an uncertain and doubtful beauty, which, 
 not naturally belonging to our Art, will pro- 
 bably be sought for without success. 
 
THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 
 
 Mr. Falconet has observed, in a note ont 
 this passage in his translation of Pliny, that 
 the circumstance of covering the face of 
 Agamemnon was probably not in conse* 
 quence of any fine imagination of the 
 painter, — which he considers as a discovery 
 of the criticks,— but merely copied from 
 the description of the sacrifice, as it is found 
 in Euripides. 
 
 The words from which the picture is 
 supposed to be taken, are these: Agamemnan 
 saw Iphigenia advance towards the fatal 
 altar; he groaned , he turned aside his head \ 
 he feed tears , and covered his face with his 
 robe.. 
 
 Falconet does not at all acquiesce in the 
 praise that is bestowed on Timanthes j not 
 only because it is not his invention, but 
 because he thinks meanly of this trick of 
 concealing, except in instances of blood, 
 where the objects would be too horrible to 
 be seen ; but, says he, “in an afflicted 
 Father, in a King, in Agamemnon, you, who. 
 are a painter, conceal from me the most in- 
 
"THE EIGHTH DISCOURSE, 2$f 
 
 teresting circumstance, and then put me off 
 with sophistry and a veil. You are (he adds) 
 a feeble Painter, without resources : you do 
 not know even those of your Art: I care not 
 what veil it is, whether closed hands, arms 
 raised, or any other action that conceals from 
 me the countenance of the Hero. You think; 
 of veiling Agamemnon ; you have unveiled 
 your own ignorance. A Painter who repre- 
 sents Agamemnon veiled, is as ridiculous as 
 a Poet would be, who in a pathetick situation, 
 in order to satisfy my expectations, and rid 
 himself of the business, should say, that the 
 sentiments of his hero are so far above what- 
 ever can be said on the occasion, that he shall 
 say nothing . 0 
 
 To what Falconet has said, we may add 3 
 that supposing this method of leaving the 
 expression of grief to the imagination, 
 to be, as it was thought to be, the invention 
 of the painter, and that it deserves all the 
 praise that has been given it, still it is a 
 trick that will serve but once ; whoever 
 does it a second time, will not only want 
 novelty, but be justly suspected of using 
 
287 THE eighth discourse. 
 
 artifice to evade difficulties. If difficulties 
 overcome make a great part of the merit 
 of Art, difficulties evaded can deserve but 
 little commendation. 
 
 THE END OF THE FIRST VOLUME, 
 
• £ ( 
 
 
 
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