c/o 
 
TREATISE 
 
 ON 
 
 PAINTING, 
 
 BY 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI: 
 
 FAITHFULLY TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL 
 ITALIAN, 
 
 AND DIGESTED UNDER PROPER HEADS, 
 
 By JOHN FRANCIS RIGAUD, Esq. 
 
 ACADEMICIAN OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY OF PAINTING AT LONDON, 
 AND ALSO OF THE ACADEMI A CLEMENTINA AT BOLOGNA, 
 AND THE ROYAL ACADEMY AT STOCKHOLM. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH TWENTY-THREE COPPER-PLATES, 
 AND OTHER FIGURES. 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR, 
 
 WITH A CRITICAL ACCOUNT OF HIS WORKS, 
 
 By JOHN WILLIAM BROWN, Esq. 
 
 LONDON: 
 J. B. NICHOLS AND SON, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET. 
 
 SOLD ALSO BY 
 
 W. PICKERING, CHANCERY LANE j J. WEAL E , HIGH IIOLBORN \ 
 AND J. WILLIAMS, CHARLES STREET, SOIIO. 
 
 1835. 
 
Ars est habitus quidam faciendi vera cum ratione. 
 
 Aristot. Ethic. Lib. 6. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface v 
 Preface to RigaucTs Translation - - viii 
 
 Life of Leonardi da Vinci, by J. W. Brown, Esq. xiii 
 Catalogue of the principal Works painted by Leonardo 
 
 da Vinci - - xc: 
 
 Memoir of J. F Rigaud, Esq. R. A. - - c 
 
 Treatise on Painting. 
 
 Drawing — Proportion - 
 
 Anatomy - - - 13 
 
 Motion and Equipoise of Figures - 27 
 
 Linear Perspective - . r >() 
 
 Invention, or Composition - - - 68 
 
 Expression and Character - - 90 
 
 Light and Shadow - - 96* 
 
 Contraste and Effect - - - 1 1 4 
 
 Reflexes - - - - 116 
 
 Colours and Colouring - 124 
 
 Colours in regard to Light and Shadow - 143 
 
 Colours in regard to Back-grounds - 152 
 Contraste, Harmony, and Reflexes in regard to 
 
 Colours - - - - 155 
 
ÌV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Perspective of Colours - 1 63 
 
 Aerial Perspective - - 1 80 
 
 Miscellaneous Observations. 
 
 Landscape, &c. - - 224 
 
 General Table of Chapters, with References 
 to the corresponding Chapters in the original 
 Italian - 227 
 
 DIRECTIONS TO THE BINDER. 
 
 Portrait of Leonardo da Vinci 
 
 to face the Title. 
 PI 1. to face Chap 37.. .P. 17 
 
 2. 48.. 22 
 
 3 54.... 25 
 
 4 ib.. . . ib. 
 
 5 62 27 
 
 6 66 29 
 
 7 ,..67.... ib. 
 
 8 74.... 31 
 
 9 78.... 33 
 
 10 80... 34 
 
 PI. 11. to face Chap. 84. . P. 36 
 
 12 ib ib. 
 
 13 85 ib. 
 
 14 89 39 
 
 15 ..90 ib. 
 
 16 92 40 
 
 17 96 42 
 
 18 145... 7 1 
 
 19 147... 72 
 
 20 153... 76 
 
 21 ib ib. 
 
 22. .. c 346... 212 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Since the former edition of this work was pub- 
 lished, the able Translator has paid the debt of 
 nature.* 
 
 Mr. Rigaud being himself a painter, and highly 
 appreciating the merits of Leonardo da Vinci, felt 
 that he should derive pleasure from exhibiting 
 his well-known Treatise on Painting to the Brit- 
 ish public with superior advantage. He, there- 
 fore, not only gave a new translation, but formed 
 a better arrangement of the materials. The merits 
 of Mr. Rigaud's Translation having been duly ap- 
 preciated by the public, and the work having been 
 long out of print, another edition, in a neater and 
 more condensed form, is now produced, which, 
 the Publishers presume, may prove a desirable 
 acquisition to students and amateurs. 
 
 The principal novelty, however, of this edition 
 is the new Life of the Author, by the late J. W. 
 Brown, Esq., which was first published, in a se- 
 parate volume, in 1828. A long residence in 
 Italy, an intimate acquaintance with its language 
 
 * See a memoir of Mr. Rigaud, p. c. 
 A 3 
 
vi 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 and literature, together with a constant oppor- 
 tunity of studying the most finished specimens 
 of Art, induced that gentleman to undertake the 
 biography of Leonardo da Vinci, who so 
 largely contributed to form a new sera in the His 
 tory of the Fine Arts. This distinguished Italian 
 i s not so well known in England as he deserves. 
 
 Among the various biographical sketches of this 
 celebrated character, that written by Giorgio Va- 
 sari is perhaps the most authentic, as he had the 
 advantage of contemporaneous information. But 
 this also is rather an account of his works than of 
 himself, containing little more than what is gene- 
 rally known, and forming only one article in Va- 
 sari's Lives of celebrated Painters. 
 
 To most of the editions which have been pub- 
 lished of Da Vincr's writings a short biographical 
 notice is prefixed, but they are chiefly copied ver- 
 batim from Vasari. 
 
 The Signor Carlo Ammoretti, librarian of the 
 Ambrosian Library at Milan, has prefixed the best 
 and most ample account of Leonardo da Vinci to 
 the edition of his "Trattato della Pittura/' pub- 
 lished at Milan in 1804; which he has entitled 
 " Memorie storiche su la Vita, gli Studj, e le 
 Opere di Leonardo da Vinci." 
 
 In addition to many sources of information, Mr. 
 Brown had the privilege of constant admittance 
 not only to the private library of his Imperial and 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 vii 
 
 Royal Highness the Grand Duke of Tuscany, but 
 also to his most rare and valuable collection of 
 Manuscripts in the Palazzo Pitti, where he was 
 permitted to copy from the original documents 
 and correspondence whatever he conceived useful 
 to his subject. 
 
 In selecting from the mass of documents rela- 
 tive to the subject of the present work, Mr. 
 Brown rejected whatever appeared unsupported by 
 sufficient proof ; and he has given such historical 
 anecdotes of that period as were necessary to the 
 subject, from their having materially influenced 
 the private fortunes of Da Vinci. 
 
 Sept. 5, 1835. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 Mr. RIGAUD'S TRANSLATION. 
 
 The excellence of the following Treatise is so well 
 known to all in any tolerable degree conversant 
 with the Art of Painting, that it would be almost 
 superfluous to say any thing respecting it, were it 
 not that it here appears under the form of a new 
 translation, of which some account may be ex- 
 pected. 
 
 Of the original Work, which is in reality a selec- 
 tion from the voluminous manuscript collections 
 of the Author, both in folio and in quarto, of all 
 such passages as related to Painting, no edition 
 appeared in print till 1651, though its Author died 
 so long before as the year 1519; and it is owing 
 to the circumstance of a manuscript copy of these 
 extracts in the original Italian, having fallen into 
 the hands of Raphael du Fresne, that in the 
 former of these years it was published at Paris in 
 a thin folio volume in that language, accompanied 
 with a set of cuts from the drawings of Nicolo 
 
translator's preface. ix 
 
 Poussin and Alberti ; the former having designed 
 the human figures, the latter the geometrical and 
 other representations. This precaution was pro- 
 bably necessary, the sketches in the Author's own 
 collections being so very slight as not to be fit for 
 publication without further assistance. Poussin's 
 drawings were mere outlines, and the shadows and 
 back-grounds behind the figures were added by 
 Errard, after the drawings had been made, and, as 
 Poussin himself says, without his knowledge. 
 
 In the same year, and size, and printed at the 
 same place, a translation of the original work into 
 French was given to the world by Monsieur de 
 Chambray (well known, under his family name of 
 Freart, as the author of an excellent Parallel of 
 ancient and modern Architecture, in French, which 
 Mr. Evelyn translated into English). The style 
 of this translation by Mons. de Chambray, being 
 thought, some years after, too antiquated, some 
 one was employed to revise and modernise it ; and 
 in If 16 a new edition of it, thus polished, came 
 out, of which it may be truly said, as is in general 
 the case on such occasions, that whatever the sup- 
 posed advantage obtained in purity and refine- 
 ment of language might be, it was more than 
 counterbalanced by the want of the more valuable 
 qualities of accuracy, and fidelity to the original, 
 from which, by these variations, it became further 
 removed. 
 
X 
 
 translator's preface. 
 
 The first translation of this Treatise into English, 
 appeared in the year 1721. It does not declare 
 by whom it was made ; but though it professes to 
 have been done from the original Italian, it is 
 evident, upon a comparison, that more use was 
 made of the revised edition of the French transla- 
 tion. Indifferent, however, as it is, it had become 
 so scarce, and had risen to a price so extravagant, 
 that, to supply the demand, it was found neces- 
 sary, in the year 1796, to reprint it as it stood, 
 with all its errors on its head, no opportunity then 
 offering of procuring a fresh translation. 
 
 This last impression, however, being also dis- 
 posed of, and a new one again called for, the 
 present Translator was induced to step forward, 
 and undertake the office of fresh translating it, on 
 finding, by comparing the former versions both in 
 French and English with the original, many pas- 
 sages which he thought might at once be more 
 concisely and more faithfully rendered. His ob- 
 ject, therefore, has been to attain these ends, and 
 as rules and precepts like the present allow but 
 little room for the decorations of style, he has 
 been more solicitous for fidelity, perspicuity, and 
 precision, than for smooth sentences, and well- 
 turned periods. 
 
 Nor was this the only advantage which it was 
 found the present opportunity would afford ; for 
 the original work consisting in fact of a number 
 
translator's preface. xi 
 
 of entries made at different times, without any 
 regard to their subjects, or attention to method, 
 might rather in that state be considered as a chaos 
 of intelligence, than a well-digested treatise. It 
 has now, therefore, for the first time, been at- 
 tempted to place each chapter under the proper 
 head or branch of the art to which it belongs 
 and by so doing, to bring together those which 
 (though related and nearly connected in substance) 
 stood, according to the original arrangement, at 
 such a distance from each other as to make it 
 troublesome to find them even by the assistance 
 of an index ; and difficult, when found, to com- 
 pare them together. 
 
 The consequence of this plan, it must be con- 
 fessed, has been, that in a few instances the same 
 precept has been found in substance repeated ; 
 but this is so far from being an objection, that it 
 evidently proves the precepts were not the hasty 
 opinions of the moment, but settled and fixed 
 principles in the mind of the Author, and that he 
 was consistent in the expression of his sentiments. 
 But if this mode of arrangement has in the pre- 
 sent case disclosed what might have escaped ob- 
 servation, it has also been productive of more 
 material advantages ; for, besides facilitating the 
 finding of any particular passage (an object in 
 itself of no small importance), it clearly shows the 
 work to be a much more complete system than 
 
xii translator's preface. 
 
 those best acquainted with it had before any idea 
 of, and that many of the references in it, appa- 
 rently to other writings of the same Author, relate 
 in fact only to the present, the chapters referred 
 to having been found in it. These are now pointed 
 out in the notes, and where any obscurity has oc- 
 curred in the text, the reader will find some assist- 
 ance at least attempted by the insertion of a note 
 to solve the difficulty. 
 
 No pains or expense have been spared in pre- 
 paring the present work for the press. The cuts 
 have been re-engraved with more attention to 
 correctness in the drawing, than those which ac- 
 companied the two editions of the former English 
 translation possessed (even though they had been 
 fresh engraven for the impression of 17^6); and 
 the diagrams are now inserted in their proper 
 places in the text, instead of being, as before, col- 
 lected all together in two plates at the end. 
 
 J. F. RlGAUD. 
 
 1802. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 Among the many distinguished individuals who 
 flourished in Italy during the early part of the six- 
 teenth century, there is none more worthy of com- 
 memoration than Leonardo da Vinci, whether we 
 consider his splendid and almost universal talents, or 
 the excellence of his character. Through a long and 
 active life his mind was zealously devoted to the re- 
 vival of the arts, to which he contributed in a greater 
 degree, perhaps, than any single individual of ancient or 
 modern times. The arts of poetry, music, and especially 
 painting, were embraced by him with an enthusiasm 
 which awakened that of others, and gave a mighty 
 impulse to the mental energies, not only of his con- 
 temporaries and countrymen, but of distant nations 
 and posterity. Every incident in the life of such a 
 man must be full of interest to the lovers of biography : 
 the more so from the very remarkable fact, that in no 
 language have those incidents been properly collected, 
 though abundant and authentic sources of information 
 exist on which such a work might be founded. To 
 supply in some degree this deficiency, is the object of 
 the following pages. 
 
 b 
 
xiv 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci was born in the year 1452, at 
 Vinci, in the Val d'Arno Inferiore, on the confines of 
 the Pistoiese territory, not far from the Lake of Fu- 
 cecchio. He was the natural son of Pietro da Vinci ; 
 and it is said that his mother was a servant in his 
 father's family • but this must remain uncertain, from 
 the length of time that has since elapsed, and the 
 numerous reports that contradict each other, not only 
 in what relates to his origin, but even to the year of 
 his birth, in which there is a difference of no less than 
 ten years. It is, however, certain, that he was entirely 
 brought up in his father's family 5 a fact attested by 
 an old and well authenticated register, found among 
 the ancient archives of Florence by Signore Dei, who 
 has written largely on the subject of Leonardo's 
 genealogy. It is a matter of some regret, that, amidst 
 all his learned and elaborate researches, that gentle- 
 man has not been able to procure any documents to 
 prove that Da Vinci was subsequently declared legi- 
 timate, which from various circumstances appears to 
 be extremely probable. If we may believe the regis- 
 ter, and there is no better authority, Leonardo was 
 seventeen years old when his father was forty ; so 
 that he must have been born when Pietro was a young 
 man, and most likely before his marriage. 
 
 His father had three wives, Giovanna daZenobi Ama- 
 dori, Francesca di Ser Giuliano Lanfredini, and Lucrezia 
 di Guglielmo Cortigiani 5 and a proof that Leonardo 
 still formed a part of his family after his third marriage, 
 is afforded by a passage in one of Belincionni's son- 
 nets, addressed to Madonna Lucrezia da Vinci, which 
 begins 
 
 41 A Fiesole con Piero e Leonardo ; " 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 XV 
 
 and relates the pleasures he enjoyed at their villa near 
 Florence. It is hardly probable that he would have 
 received such unvarying attentions, had he been con- 
 sidered merely as a natural child. Moreover, we find 
 from several documents in the " Codice Atlantico," 
 that his family were at all times proud of his relation- 
 ship, and his uncle Francesco da Vinci left him an 
 equal share of his property with his other brothers and 
 sisters. 
 
 Leonardo was gifted with one of the finest forms 
 that can be imagined, in which strength and symmetry 
 were beautifully combined ; his face was strongly ex- 
 pressive of his ardent mind, and of the frankness and 
 energy of his character. He would, it may be pre- 
 sumed, have distinguished himself in the literary world 
 while in his youth, had he not been as unsteady as he 
 was enthusiastic in his various pursuits. He made 
 such wonderful progress in arithmetic, that when a 
 child he frequently proposed questions which his mas- 
 ter himself was unable to resolve. He next attached 
 himself to music as a science, and soon arrived at such 
 perfection in playing on the lyre, which was his 
 favourite instrument, as to compose extemporaneous 
 accompaniments to his own poetical effusions. The 
 following sonnet is one of the very few which are 
 extant. 
 
 " Chi non può quel che vuol, quel che può voglia ; 
 
 Che quel che non si può folle è il volere. 
 
 Adunque saggio è l'uomo da tenere 
 
 Che da quel che non può suo voler toglia. 
 Pero che ogni diletto nostro e doglia 
 
 Sta in si e no, saper voler potere, 
 
 Adunque quel sol può che ò col dovere, 
 
 Ne trae la ragion fuor di sua soglia. 
 
 b 2 
 
xvi 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Ne sempre è da voler quel che Tuoni pòte, 
 
 Spesso par dolce quel che torna amaro, 
 
 Piansi già quel che io volsi, poiché io l'hebbi. 
 Adunque tu, lettor di queste note, 
 
 Se a te vuoi esser buono, e ad altri caro, 
 
 Vogli sempre poter quel che tu debbi.' 9 
 
 But, although an ardent admirer of the arts in general, 
 painting appeared to be his favourite pursuit, to which 
 he more particularly applied himself in all its different 
 branches ; and in which he soon attained great excel- 
 lence^ well as in the art of forming models and designs. 
 
 The praiseworthy exertions of Cimabue, Giotto, and 
 Masaccio, had already begun to revive the art of 
 painting in Italy, and particularly in Tuscany, where 
 the arts were most certain to find protection and en- 
 couragement, from the powerful patronage of Lorenzo 
 de' Medici, so justly styled ct the Magnificent/' His 
 liberality had already acquired for his native Florence 
 the honourable appellation of the '* Modern Athens 
 and his taste for literature and the fine arts consider- 
 ably influenced the state of public opinion among his 
 countrymen. 
 
 The Signore Pietro, perceiving that his son's abilities 
 and inclinations might lead to future wealth and fame, 
 determined to show the productions of his self-culti- 
 vated talents to Andrea Varocchio, one of the most 
 celebrated painters, sculptors, and architects of that 
 age.* Masser Andrea, surprised at the strong indi- 
 
 * Andrea del Varocchio, or Verrocchio, a Florentine painter, 
 architect, and jeweller, died at Venice in 1488, where he was 
 employed in forming the equestrian statue of Bartolomeo Cog- 
 lioni in bronze. He was more celebrated as an architect and 
 sculptor than as a painter. — See his life by Vasari. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xvii 
 
 cations of original talent and hope of future excellence, 
 which these early productions evinced, gladly con- 
 sented to receive the young Leonardo into his 
 "studio/' convinced that a pupil of so much merit 
 could not fail of increasing his master's celebrity; but 
 he soon found that his scholar had very little need of 
 his instructions, and that he would ere long surpass 
 him in his own works. 
 
 It happened about this time that Messer Andrea 
 was employed to paint a picture of St. John baptizing 
 our Saviour ; and anxious to stimulate his young pupil 
 to greater exertion, he desired his assistance in this 
 composition. Leonardo executed the part assigned 
 him with such extraordinary skill, that, as Vasari 
 relates, the angel painted by him greatly excelled all 
 the rest of Andrea's picture, which, he says, " was 
 the occasion of Messer Andrea's leaving off paint- 
 ing, enraged that a child should know more than 
 himself." 
 
 Having given this proof of wonderful abilities, he 
 employed himself in studying the different branches 
 of the art to which he now intended more particularly 
 to devote his attention. But the natural inconstancy 
 of his disposition frequently impelled him to desert his 
 studio, and indulge in imaginary speculations. His 
 time, however, was never unemployed ; and though 
 his occupations were always various, and sometimes 
 inconsistent, he nevertheless most assiduously culti- 
 vated whatever was calculated to adorn his mind or 
 increase his accomplishments. He must also have 
 worked very diligently at his profession, as his father 
 could not have afforded him much money for his 
 amusements ; and he is known, if we may believe his 
 
xviii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 contemporaries, to have led rather a gay life. The 
 delight of society wherever he went, and an extraor- 
 dinary favourite with the fair sex, he became too fond 
 of dress and parade ; he maintained a numerous retinue 
 of servants, a sumptuous equipage, and purchased the 
 most spirited horses that could be procured. These 
 extravagances were, however, extremely pardonable 
 in a young man flushed with success and conscious of 
 his superior acquirements, particularly as they could 
 only be supported by the produce of his own industry, 
 and must therefore have greatly tended to stimulate 
 his exertions. 
 
 Like most people who are endowed with great na- 
 tural talents, he undertook much more than he was 
 able to accomplish ; and we find him continually 
 changing his occupations : at one time diligently em- 
 ploying himself in astronomical observations, to ascer- 
 tain the motion of the heavenly bodies, at another 
 intently pursuing the study of natural history and 
 botany, yet with all his versatility of talent and incon- 
 stancy of disposition, never permitting himself to neg- 
 lect his favourite pursuit. With the utmost perse- 
 verance he sought every possible means of improving 
 himself in painting, from the time he left the studio 
 of Andrea Varocchio, and became his own master. 
 
 The numerous works on scientific subjects that 
 Leonardo has left to posterity, sufficiently prove how 
 well he must have employed his youth, though very 
 little is to be found in the writings of his contempo- 
 raries to give us any information of the occurrences of 
 his every-day life. Both Vasari and Lomazzo relate 
 that he invented various machines for lifting great 
 weights, penetrating mountains, conducting water from 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xix 
 
 one place to another, and innumerable models for 
 watches, windmills, and presses. Two of the many 
 projects which he had in contemplation, some of which 
 were almost too wild for belief, deserve to be parti- 
 cularly noticed. One of them was to lift up the Ca- 
 thedral of San Lorenzo bodily, or rather en masse, 
 by means of immense levers, and in such a manner 
 that he pretended the edifice would not receive the 
 slightest injury. The other, which was more feasible, 
 was to form the Arno into a canal as far as Pisa, and 
 which would have been extremely beneficial to the 
 commerce of Tuscany. 
 
 That Leonardo continued to reside at Florence, or 
 at least in its neighbourhood, is confirmed by the 
 story Vasari relates of the <c Rotella del Fico," which 
 was a round piece of wood cut from the largest fig-tree 
 on his father's estate. The Signore Pietro was verv 
 fond of field sports and country amusements ; and one 
 of his " contadini" who was particularly useful to 
 him on these occasions, brought him a piece of wood, 
 requesting him to have something painted on it as an 
 ornament for his cottage. Willing to gratify his 
 favourite, he desired his son to do as the man wished 5 
 and Leonardo determined to paint something that 
 should astonish his father by the great progress he 
 had made in his art. This piece of wood must have 
 been roughly made and badly put together, as our 
 young artist was obliged to have it planed off and 
 the insterstices filled up with stucco, so as to leave a 
 surface sufficiently smooth for his purpose. He then 
 considered for some time what he should represent, 
 and at length determined on painting a monster that 
 should have the effect of Medusa's head on all be- 
 
XX 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 holders. For this purpose he collected every kind of 
 reptile, vipers, adders, lizards, toads, serpents, and 
 other poisonous or obnoxious animals, and formed a 
 monster so wonderfully designed, that it appeared to 
 flash fire from its eyes, and almost to infect the air 
 with its breath. When he had succeeded to his 
 wishes in this horrible composition, he called his father 
 to try its effect upon him ; who, not expecting what 
 he was to see, started back with horror and affright, 
 and was just going to run out of the room, when Leo- 
 nardo stopped him by assuring him it was the work of 
 his own hands, exclaiming, i( that he was quite satis- 
 fied, as his picture had the effect he anticipated/* 
 The Signore Pietro was, of course, too much delighted 
 with his son's performance to think of giving it to his 
 " contadino/' for whom he procured an ordinary 
 painting, and sold Leonardo's to a merchant of Flo- 
 rence for one hundred ducats. This was a very large 
 sum to give for a picture, when the value of money at 
 the time is remembered ; but it was soon after sold to 
 the Duke of Milan for three times the original cost. . 
 
 The life of a painter, however celebrated, cannot 
 be expected to furnish the same variety of incidents 
 as that of a warrior or a statesman, though the civil 
 virtues and splendid talents of Leonardo da Vinci 
 were probably more useful to his country than the 
 warlike qualifications of his more ambitious contempo- 
 raries, which were usually accompanied by violence 
 and followed by remorse. 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci had now reached his thirty-first 
 year, and was most indefatigable in the study of what- 
 ever might tend to his improvement or increase his 
 knowledge in the art of painting, to which he almost 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xxi 
 
 exclusively devoted himself. One of his first under- 
 takings was the celebrated " Cartone,'' pasteboard or 
 rather thick paper, which he designed, by the orders 
 of the King of Portugal, for a piece of tapestry that 
 was to be worked in Flanders for that monarch. This 
 drawing represented the story of Adam and Eve when 
 first tempted to sin, and surpassed every thing which 
 had been seen of the kind. 
 
 One of his first pictures was a painting of the Ma- 
 donna, in which he introduced, among other acces- 
 sories, a vase of flowers, so inimitably executed that 
 the dew seemed glittering on the leaves. This pro- 
 duction became afterwards the property of Pope Cle- 
 ment the Seventh, who purchased it at an immense 
 price. For his friend Antonio Segni he formed a 
 design of Neptune drawn in his car by sea-horses 
 through the ocean, surrounded by Tritons, Mermaids, 
 and all the other attributes of that deity which his 
 fertile imagination could invent. It was some time 
 after presented by Segni's son, Fabio, to Messer Gio- 
 vanni Gaddi, with this epigram : — 
 
 " Pinxit Virgilius Neptunum : pinxit Homerus 
 Dum maris undisoni per vada flectit equos : 
 Mente quidem vates ilium conspexit uterque ; 
 Vincius est oculis, jureque vincit eos." 
 
 Da Vi nei always took great pleasure in delineating 
 the most grotesque figures and extraordinary faces, so 
 that, if he met a man in the street with any peculiarity 
 of ugliness or deformity of countenance, he would 
 follow him until he had a correct idea of his face, and 
 would then draw the person, on his return home, from 
 memory, as well as if he had been present. He not 
 b 5 
 
xxii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 only studied to perfect himself in giving the mere 
 beauty or deformity of the likenesses he painted, but 
 he sought to give the very air, manner, and expression 
 of the persons represented. He at all times preferred 
 studying from nature to following rules that were then 
 but imperfectly understood ; and he was in the habit 
 of inviting the contadini, and people of the lower 
 orders, to sup with him, telling them the most ridicu- 
 lous stories, that he might delineate the natural ex- 
 pressions of rude delight undisguised by the refine- 
 ments of good breeding. He would then show them 
 their own likenesses, which no one could possibly 
 behold without laughter at the ridiculous faces which 
 he had caricatured, but with so much truth that the 
 originals could not be mistaken.* He was so inde- 
 fatigable in pursuing the object of his ambition, that 
 he neglected no means of procuring fresh studies 
 for his pencil. He would sometimes put himself to 
 the pain of accompanying criminals to the place of 
 execution, and would remain with them in their last 
 moments, that he might catch the expression of their 
 countenances, and delineate the agony of their suffer- 
 ings. In short, there was no branch of his art which 
 he considered unworthy of his attention, aware that 
 perfection in any thing is only to be attained by un- 
 wearied industry and application. We find from 
 Vasari, that it was about this time that he painted a 
 picture for the Grand Duke Cosimo the First, repre- 
 senting an angel in strong light and shade, which was 
 
 * The best of these caricatures were published by Clarke, in 
 1786, from drawings by Wenceslaus Hollar, taken from the 
 Portland Museum. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xxiii 
 
 placed by that prince in the collection of the " Palazzo 
 Vecchio," from whence it had been missing for up- 
 wards of a century. Most probably it was turned out 
 of its place from the oversight or carelessness of the 
 directors, who had condemned it to be put aside with 
 a quantity of rubbish, old furniture and frames, which 
 are occasionally sold by order of the Duke's guarda- 
 roba. It was not long since bought by a " rivendi- 
 tore" for twenty-one quatrini, about three pence, and 
 resold to its present possessor, the Signore Fineschi, 
 a drawing-master of Florence, for five pauls, two shil- 
 lings and sixpence. There is no doubt of the origin- 
 ality of this painting, both from the particular style of 
 colouring Leonardo made use of, and the sort of stucco 
 with which it is covered behind, a chemical compo- 
 sition which he is well known to have used to preserve 
 his pictures from the worms when they were painted 
 on wood. It is also most accurately described in 
 Vasari's Life of Leonardo, in these words : — " Among 
 the best things in the Duke Cosimo's palace is the 
 head of an angel with one arm lifted up in the air, 
 shortened off about the elbow, and the other with the 
 hand on the bosom. It is a very extraordinary thing 
 that this great genius was in the habit of seeking for 
 the very darkest blacks, in order to effect a sort of 
 chiaro scuro, which added more brilliancy to his pic- 
 tures, and gave them more the appearance of night 
 than the clearness of day ; but this was in order to 
 increase the relief, and so improve the art of painting." 
 
 The celebrated picture of the Medusa's head, which 
 is now in the Public Gallery at Florence, was executed 
 about this time, but, as it was a work that required 
 great labour, it, like too many of his undertakings, is 
 
xxiv 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 in an unfinished state. It is a most extraordinary 
 subject, and the snakes are interwoven and grouped 
 together instead of hair with such wonderful skill, that 
 it excites almost as much disgust as admiration. 
 
 The fame of Leonardo's extraordinary abilities 
 spread through Italy, and he was invited by several 
 princes to reside at their courts, and enrich their palaces 
 with his works. The example of the great Lorenzo 
 had raised an emulation among the princes of Italy for 
 the encouragement of literary men ; and whoever was 
 distinguished by talent was sure not only of wealth 
 and preferment, but was flattered and caressed by 
 all his superiors. The unusual tranquillity Italy en- 
 joyed from the wise precautions and conciliatory 
 policy of Lorenzo de* Medici, left her turbulent rulers 
 at leisure to cultivate the arts of peace. Their habitual 
 restlessness required employment; and reduced to 
 inaction by the temporary cessation of their petty wars 
 and intrigues, their ambition consisted in drawing to 
 their respective courts the greatest men of that lumi- 
 nous period. Lorenzo may therefore be justly styled 
 not only the Maecenas of Florence, which he governed, 
 but of the age in which he lived, as his politics so ma- 
 terially influenced the revival of literature and the 
 progress of general civilization. 
 
 Anxious to secure to himself a certain provision for 
 his expensive style of living, Leonardo addressed a 
 letter to Ludovico Sforza, surnamed II Moro, offering 
 his services to that prince, who governed Milan during 
 his nephew's minority, and whom he knew to be most 
 desirous of attracting to his court all the literati of the 
 age, under the pretence of assisting him in the young 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 XXV 
 
 Duke's education.* None of the writers of that period 
 have given any reason why Leonardo preferred the 
 patronage of Ludovico to that of the house of Medici, 
 particularly as the latter were distinguished by their 
 liberal encouragement of the arts. Perhaps Lorenzo 
 might have sent him to II Moro y with whom he was 
 in strict alliance, or Leonardo might have preferred 
 Milan himself, where he would have hoped to have 
 found a more extensive field for the exercise of his 
 talents, and less competition than he must have had to 
 contend with at Florence. The uncertainty of his 
 birth perhaps influenced so high minded a man ; and 
 he probablv wished to establish his own fortunes at a 
 strange court, where he was only known as an illus- 
 trious Florentine distinguished by his sovereign for 
 the superiority of his talents and acquirements. 
 Whatever might have been Da Vinci's motive, it is 
 certain that he entered the service of the Duke of 
 Milan, and consented to receive an annual salary of 
 five hundred scudi, which was then by no means a 
 contemptible sum. He was, moreover, entitled to 
 various privileges and immunities, and permitted to 
 appropriate to his own use the produce of such of his 
 paintings as were not executed by the Duke's order. 
 
 It is important to the history of Leonardo da Vinci 
 to fix, as nearly as possible, the period of his arrival at 
 Milan. From the most authentic sources it appears 
 that he must have taken up his residence there pre- 
 
 * It is a curious fact, that Leonardo da Vinci always wrote 
 from right to left, like the Persians, for which no one has been 
 able to account. It was most probably a love of singularity ; 
 and, although it increases the difficulty of decyphering his ma- 
 nuscripts, it also serves to place their identity beyond dispute. 
 
 r 
 
xxvi 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 vious to the year 1487 ; for we find in an old treatise 
 entitled " Della Luce e dell' Ombra," in his own 
 hand-writing, the following observation : " A dì 23 
 d* Aprile 1490, chominciai questo libro, e richominciai 
 il Cavallo." * In this memorandum he no doubt 
 alludes to the equestrian statue of Francesco Sforza 
 the First, which, if he recommenced in 1490, he must 
 have begun long before, as it must have consumed 
 much time to form the necessary moulds and designs. 
 Moreover, he is alluded to by Belincionni, a Florentine 
 poet, who resided at the court of Ludovico il Moro, 
 and celebrated most of the principal events of that 
 period, under the name of the ic Apelle Fiorentino : " 
 
 " Qui come 1' ape al miei viene ogni dotto, 
 Di virtuosi ha la sua corte piena : 
 Da Fiorenza un Apelle ha qui condotto f* &c.f 
 
 and the editor Tantio, or Tanzi, has added in the 
 margin, fearing it might not be understood, " Magistro 
 Leonardo da Vinci. " 
 
 There is also another authority not less respectable 
 than the former, in the Ricordi of Monsignore Sabba 
 da Castiglione, which dates his coming to Milan as far 
 back as 1483, from the circumstance of his having 
 been an eye-witness to the destruction of this un- 
 finished equestrian statue, when the French under 
 Charles the Eighth took possession of Milan, in 1499. 
 There is no evidence to confirm the assertion of this 
 
 * "On the 23rd of April, 1490, I began this book, and re- 
 commenced the horse." 
 
 f " Like bees to hive, here flocks each learned sage, 
 
 With all that 's great and good his court is throng'd : 
 From Florence fair hath an Apelles come," &c. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. XXVU 
 
 noble Milanese writer that his contemporary Leonardo 
 had worked at this model for sixteen years ; but there 
 is no reason to disbelieve him when he declares he saw 
 the bowmen of Gascony make use of this magnificent 
 production as a target. 
 
 Ludovico il Moro, at whose request Leonardo went 
 to the court of Milan, although only nominally Regent, 
 governed that state with absolute authority ; for his 
 nephew, Giovan Galeazzo, possessed merely the title, 
 and enjoyed the pageantry of sovereignty, without the 
 slightest power. 
 
 Ludovico Sforza, surnamed " Il Moro," not from 
 his darkness of complexion, as is erroneously stated 
 by Gibbon, but from his having taken a mulberry-tree, 
 in Italian " Moro," for his device,* was a prince of 
 great talents, and one of the first politicians of the 
 age. Although the more noble qualities of his mind 
 were obscured by ambition, he was greatly beloved 
 by all who were about his person, and admitted to his 
 intimate society. He was frank and pleasing in his 
 manners, easy of access, and liberal even to profusion 
 to those who possessed his confidence. To a very 
 handsome and prepossessing exterior he united the 
 most powerful eloquence. He successfully cultivated 
 
 * " The Signore Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan, adopted 
 a mulberry- tree, Moro, as his device, from its being considered 
 wiser than all other trees, as it buds later, and does not flower 
 until it has escaped the injuries of winter, when it immediately 
 bears fruit : thereby demonstrating itself of a nature to do no- 
 thing hastily, but rather maturely to reflect, and then promptly 
 execute. This wise prince made use of this device as emblematic 
 of a similarity of disposition." — See Giovio, Vite d'Uomini 
 Illustri. 
 
xxviii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the arts of peace, and lost no opportunity of drawing 
 to his court those who had most distinguished them- 
 selves in the arts and sciences. It was his opinion 
 that much more might be done by council than by 
 arms ; and that the pen was frequently of more weight 
 than the sword -, he was therefore averse to warlike 
 enterprises, and always preferred obtaining his object 
 by overreaching his adversaries in politics and intrigue. 
 To such a man Leonardo da Vinci must have been 
 invaluable. His various talents, to a prince who so 
 well knew how to appreciate them, were of the great- 
 est importance, and he was received at his court with 
 every possible demonstration of favour and affection. 
 It would far exceed the limits of this work to enumerate 
 all the celebrated men whom Ludovico had drawn 
 around him under the laudable pretence of his ne- 
 phew's instruction and amusement. The poet Belin- 
 cionni has enumerated them in his various composi- 
 tions ; and Leonardo is also mentioned in most ho- 
 nourable terms . 
 
 " Del Vinci e suoi pennelli e suoi colori, 
 I moderni e gli antichi hanno paura."* 
 
 The Padre Luca Paciolo, who was the friend and 
 companion of Leonardo and the great restorer of ma- 
 thematics in Italy, places our hero before all his con- 
 temporaries, and makes the following playful allusion 
 to his name : " Il Vince in scoltura, getto, e pittura, 
 con ciascuna il nome verifica." f 
 
 Vasari is greatly mistaken in supposing that Ludc- 
 
 * Vinci and his pencils and his colours, both moderns and 
 ancients have in dread „ 
 
 f " Vinci in sculpture, casts, and painting, verifies his name 
 with all." 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xxix 
 
 vico sent for Da Vinci merely to amuse him with his 
 musical talents ; * for it appears very improbable that 
 this prince, who was so well aware of Leonardo's 
 knowledge and taste for the fine arts, from having the 
 famous (t Rotella del Fico" in his possession, which 
 was painted by him when a young man, should have 
 considered him in the light of a musician. Whatever 
 reputation he might have gained for playing on the 
 lyre, it is evident that he himself considered that 
 accomplishment a mere pastime, as he never makes 
 the slightest mention of his musical abilities in the 
 celebrated letter addressed by him to the Duke of 
 Milan : and if the enlightened politics and vast ideas 
 of Ludovico il Moro are considered, it will be readily 
 conceived that Leonardo was sent for with the view of 
 giving instruction to others as well as of working him- 
 self, by instituting an academy of arts and sciences, 
 of which he was to have the chief direction. We 
 know also from the best historians of the period, that 
 this wary prince, from the moment of his brother 
 Galeazzo Maria's assassination, had formed the plan 
 of usurping his throne, and therefore was particularly 
 anxious to draw over to his party the most celebrated 
 men in Italy 5 as the protection and patronage of such 
 
 * " It is true that he was an excellent musician and a particularly 
 good performer on the lyre ; so much so, that Lommazo reputes 
 him superior to every one in that art. A note is to be seen in 
 his Codex, marked Q. R. p. 28, where a new viola is mentioned 
 of his construction ; and in another place there is a drawing by 
 him for a lyre. Vasari speaks of a lyre which belonged to him 
 in the form of a horse's head, the greatest part of which was 
 silver ; and I saw his portrait done with a guitar in his hand for 
 the frontispiece of an old parchment manuscript dedicated to 
 Cardinal Ascanio Sforza/ ' See Ammoretti. 
 
XXX 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 eminent persons could not fail to increase his reputa- 
 tion and strengthen his power. The advantage of 
 such a mode of proceeding had been already seen in 
 the popularity of the Medici at Florence, and of his 
 own ancestors the Visconti at Milan. That painting 
 was never neglected in Lombardy, is shown by the 
 Abbate Lanzi, in his " Storia Pittorica," in which he 
 observes, that " while the whole of Europe was ob- 
 scured by the grossest ignorance, Lombardy still pre- 
 served the use, and cultivated a general taste for 
 the art of painting, of which there are several monu- 
 ments still existing ; amongst others the church of 
 Galiano, about six miles to the south of Como, painted 
 in the year 1007." 
 
 When Giotto came to Milan, which undoubtedly 
 was previous to 1334, to paint the Visconti palace, 
 that art assumed a superior character, and created a 
 school which has produced many great men, whose 
 works are still preserved in some of the ancient 
 churches and in the private collections of several indi- 
 viduals. There is a lasting monument of the revival 
 of sculpture in the church of San Francesco, done in 
 the year 1316, representing the transit of the Blessed 
 Virgin, in marble, and two other monuments, the work 
 of Giovanni da Pisa, finished in 1339. The improve- 
 ment of architecture may be dated from the time 
 when Gian Galeazzo Visconti invited the first masters 
 to Milan in order to construct the cathedral ; but they 
 had not then abandoned the Gothic style. The Abbate 
 Lanzi's work just cited, will show the progress made 
 in the arts and sciences until the arrival of Leonardo ; 
 but a great deal is to be gathered from the inedited 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xxxi 
 
 Memoirs of the Painters, Sculptors, and Architects of 
 Milan, by the late Antonio Albuzzi. 
 
 Leonardo now found himself in possession of what 
 was then considered an affluent fortune, which relieved 
 his mind from the consideration of being obliged to 
 provide for his own support. He found Ludovico an 
 easy patron, and was much delighted with his situa- 
 tion. Caressed and flattered by the whole court, he 
 entered with all the energy of his character into the 
 pleasures and amusements of the gay world, and made 
 almost daily progress in the confidence and good 
 opinion of Ludovico, by flattering his wishes and 
 sharing his amusements. By turns a poet, a painter, 
 a musician, and always a most accomplished courtier, 
 he completely gained II Moro's favour, who, although 
 a crafty politician and a man of sense, was, neverthe- 
 less, open to flattery, and unable to resist the fascina- 
 tions of such versatile talents. Ludovico was a great 
 lover of pleasure, and was almost as much distin- 
 guished by the dissolute intrigues and lascivious 
 amours of his private life, as by the sagacity and 
 steadiness of his public conduct; and whilst Da Vinci 
 assisted at his councils, and adorned the city with 
 public buildings, he likewise painted his mistresses, 
 and diverted his leisure hours with music and poetry ; 
 in short, he was always ready either for his patron's 
 service or pleasure. 
 
 The first public work in which Leonardo was em- 
 ployed after his arrival at Milan, was the celebrated 
 equestrian statue of Francesco Sforza the First, which, 
 if we may believe the authority before cited of Mon- 
 signore Sabba da Castiglione, he began in 1483. Ac- 
 cording to the poet Taccone, it would have been 
 
xxxii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sooner commenced had any one been found capable of 
 undertaking it :— 
 
 " E se più presto non s' è principiato, 
 La voglia del Signore fu sempre pronta : 
 Non s'era un Leonardo ancor trovato, 
 Che di presente tanto ben l'impronta,' ' &c* 
 
 From the high opinion entertained of his taste, Leo- 
 nardo was made director of all the public fetes and 
 entertainments either given by the sovereign, or to 
 him by the lords of his court 5 of which Belincionni 
 has preserved the recollection in the poems written by 
 him on these occasions ; and if Tantio, who collected 
 and published them, has observed a proper chronolo- 
 gical order, we may date the two representations in 
 praise of Patience and Labour, given by the Sanse- 
 verini family in honour of the nuptials of Isabella and 
 Beatrice, to the first year of his residence at Milan. 
 To this period we may also refer Leonardo's celebrated 
 portraits of Ludovico's two favourites, Cecilia Gal- 
 lerani and Lucrezia Crevelli, so frequently celebrated 
 by the poets of that age. 
 
 Belincionni's sonnet on the picture of the former 
 does more honour to the painter than the poet : 
 
 " Di che t' adiri, a chi invidia hai Natura ! 
 
 Al Vinci che ha ritratto una tua stella. 
 
 Cecilia sì, bellissima, oggi è quella 
 
 Che a' suoi begli occhi, il sol par ombra oscura. 
 L' onor é tuo, sebben con sua pittura 
 
 La fa che par che ascolti, e non favella. 
 
 * " And if this work was not sooner begun, 
 The sovereign's will was always ready, 
 But a Leonardo had not then been found, 
 Who at this time so well undertakes it." 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. XXXÌii 
 
 Pensa quanto sarà piìi viva e bella, 
 
 Più a te fia gloria nell' età futura. 
 Ringraziar dunque Lodovico, or puoi, 
 
 E V ingegno e la man di Leonardo 
 
 Che a' posteri di lei voglion far parte. 
 Che lei vedrà così, benché sia tardo, 
 
 Vederla viva dirà : basti à noi 
 
 Comprender or quella, eh' è natura ed arte." 
 
 This portrait was at Milan at the end of the last cen- 
 tury, in the Marchese Bonesana's collection, and 
 there is a fine old copy in the Public Gallery. The 
 Gallerani married Count Ludovico Pergamino ; she 
 was a lady of very great talents, and a poetess. Da 
 Vinci painted one of his best pictures for her, repre- 
 senting the Virgin and Child in the act of blessing one 
 of those roses, vulgarly called " Rose della Madonna;" 
 and this picture was in the possession of a wine-mer- 
 chant at Milan when the French occupied that city 
 during the late war. It is framed in the fashion of 
 those times, with a scroll bearing this inscription ; 
 
 " Per Cecilia qual te orna, lauda, e adora 
 E'l tuo unico figlio, o beata Vergine exora! M 
 
 The portrait of Lucrezia Crevelli, which was not less 
 celebrated and admired than that of her fair con- 
 temporary, is now in the Louvre at Paris. 
 
 The greatest proof of the esteem and consideration 
 in which II Moro must have held Leonardo, not only 
 as a painter, sculptor, and mechanic, but also as a 
 man well versed in all the arts and sciences, is his 
 having chosen him to be the founder and director of 
 the academy he caused to be established. The Padre 
 Luca Paciolo informs us, that that prince had long 
 been desirous of forming a union of learned men and 
 
xxxiv 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 skilful artists, who might reciprocally communicate 
 their knowledge, and forward the progress of literature 
 and the arts. That such an academy existed at Milan, 
 the first that was ever known in that city, and to 
 which Leonardo gave his name, is proved by the tes- 
 timony of Vasari, and by several manuscripts still 
 existing in the Ambrosian Library, and also by six 
 engravings representing several ingenious devices, in 
 the centre of which is inscribed " Academia Leonardi 
 Vinci:' 
 
 It is most probable, that for the use of this academy, 
 and for the purpose of argument with his colleagues 
 and instruction to his pupils, Leonardo wrote all those 
 tracts which are to be found, not only in his " Trattato 
 della Pittura," but in several manuscript volumes 
 which are now preserved in the Public Gallery at 
 Milan. This would easily explain his reasons for 
 undertaking so many and such various arguments ; 
 and would also account for the number of unconnected 
 ideas, unfinished sketches, memoranda, and materials 
 for the composition of future works, as well as several 
 complete and highly finished discourses. Among the 
 latter, his " Trattato della Pittura," is generally consi- 
 dered as one of his best and most useful compositions ; 
 so much so that the Count Algarotti has not hesitated 
 to declare, that even in the present day he should not 
 desire any better elementary work on the art of paint- 
 ing ; an opinion entertained by many other distin- 
 guished writers. 
 
 Although it is now almost impossible to fix the 
 exact epoch of the foundation of the Vincean aca- 
 demy, it must have been about the year 1485 or 1486, 
 as, previous to that time, we know that Leonardo was 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 engaged in forming the model of the equestrian statue 
 of Francesco Sforza, and afterwards in painting the 
 two portraits of Ludovico's mistresses which have 
 been mentioned. 
 
 In 1489 we find Da Vinci occupied by his patron's 
 orders in preparing a grand fète which was to be given 
 in celebration of the young Duke Giovan Galeazzo's 
 marriage with Isabella of Arragon. For this enter- 
 tainment he invented a moving representation of the 
 planets, which, as they approached the royal party in 
 their evolutions, opened of themselves, and discovered 
 a person dressed to represent the deity attributed to 
 each planet, who recited verses composed by Belin- 
 c ion ni in honour of the occasion.* We also learn 
 from an old manuscript, in which there is a memoran- 
 dum in his hand-writing, that he invented and directed 
 a sort of joust, or tournament, given by Messer Gale- 
 azzo da Sanseverino to the Duke and his court ; which 
 he incidentally mentions from the circumstance of his 
 servant Jachomo having committed a theft on the 
 occasion. 
 
 In 14.92, Il Moro having formed a plan to turn the 
 waters of the Ticino, in order to fertilize the country 
 to the right of that river, had recourse to Leonardo's 
 knowledge of hydraulics to carry his intentions into 
 execution. We know from his notes, that about that 
 time he visited Sesto Calende, Varai pombio, and 
 
 * The reader will find an account of these fótes in the Ricordi 
 of Monsignore da Castiglione ; and Belincionni's verses are in- 
 cluded in his works, collected and published by Tantio, at Milan, 
 in 1495, which are now extremely scarce. 
 
xxxvi 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Vegevano, where " ai 20 di Marzo del 1492," he 
 observes that <É nella vernata le vigne si sotterano.*' 
 
 In this manner Ludovico continued to avail himself 
 of Da Vinci's various talents, and kept him constantly 
 employed, not only as a painter, but also in superin- 
 tending the magnificent entertainments given either 
 by himself or his nobles, in directing the public works, 
 and in ornamenting his palaces.* 
 
 It is generally supposed that Leonardo first in- 
 troduced the art of engraving on wood and copper, 
 and that the designs of several old plates, representing 
 the most celebrated literary men at Ludovico's court, 
 were of his composition. It is also said that these 
 were the first examples of an author's portrait being 
 prefixed to his works, unless we credit Pliny's account 
 that the Romans were accustomed to make use of 
 engravings on wood. His beautiful picture of the 
 Virgin and Child with St, John and St. Michael, now 
 in possession of Count San Vitale, of Parma, is dated 
 in that year 5 and, what is almost without example 
 
 * To give some idea of the manner in which the Hall of the 
 Castle of Milan was painted, and of the prices in those days, the 
 following note is transcribed, viz. 
 
 " The narrow border round the top of the room, 30 lire. The 
 moulding underneath, each square separately, 7 do. ; and the 
 expense of blue, gold, bistre, indigo, and gum, 3 do. Three 
 days' labour. — Pictures under the pannels, 12 lire each. Each 
 of the arches, 7 lire. The cornice under the windows, 6 soldi 
 the brace. For 24 stories from the Roman History, 10 lire. 
 An ounce of blue, 10 soldi. Gold, 15 soldi. Black, 2i§ do. Five 
 days' labour in the composition," &c. &c. 
 
 N. B. The Italian lira is about Sid. English, and the soldo is 
 as nearly as possible a French sous; 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xxxvii 
 
 in his works, is inscribed, iC Leonardo Vinci fece, 
 1492." 
 
 About the end of the autumn in 1494, Charles the 
 Eighth invaded Italy, and repaired to Pavia, where 11 
 Moro had prepared the most magnificent fetes and 
 entertainments for his reception, and the arrangement 
 of the whole was entrusted to the elegant taste of Leo- 
 nardo da Vinci. 
 
 During his residence at Pavia, Leonardo, who never 
 permitted any opportunity to escape him by which he 
 could acquire information, determined to employ his 
 time in studying the anatomy of the human frame 
 under the instructions of Marc' Antonio della Torre, 
 a learned Genoese, and one of the most celebrated 
 professors of that university. These two great men 
 were equally pleased with each other ; the professor 
 deriving much benefit from the correct drawings 
 Leonardo executed to illustrate their studies, and the 
 latter being greatly improved by the thorough know- 
 ledge of the human frame which he thus acquired. 
 
 It was always Da Vinci's opinion that a perfect 
 acquaintance with anatomy was essentially necessary 
 to a painter, and that without it he could not hope to 
 attain any excellence in his art, — a doctrine which he 
 has enforced in a manuscript now existing in the Am- 
 brosian Library at Milan. " It is necessary that a 
 painter should be a good anatomist, that in his atti- 
 tudes and gestures he may be able to design the naked 
 parts of the human frame, according to the just rules 
 of the anatomy of the nerves, bones, and muscles ; 
 and that in his different positions he may know what 
 particular nerve or muscle is the cause of such a par- 
 ticular movement, in order that he fnay make that 
 
 c 
 
xxxviii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 only marked and apparent, and not all the rest, as 
 many artists are in the habit of doing ; who, that they 
 may appear great designers, make the naked limbs 
 stiff and without grace, so that they have more the 
 appearance of a bag of nuts than the human superficies, 
 or rather more like a bundle of radishes than naked 
 muscles.' ' 
 
 In this manner Leonardo and his learned instructor 
 pursued their studies together, deriving equal advan- 
 tage from the exertion of their respective talents. Da 
 Vinci used to draw the naked parts of the human frame 
 in red chalk ; while his friend described them with 
 such admirable skill, that Vasari declares he was the 
 first who brought the science of anatomy into general 
 repute, by rendering it plain to all. Some of these 
 drawings are preserved in the Royal Library in Lon- 
 don, as the celebrated Dr. Hunter, in his course of 
 Anatomical Lectures published in 1784, mentions 
 having seen them, and greatly admires the precision 
 with which they are executed, particularly in the most 
 minute parts of the muscles. 
 
 From Pavia Charles, still accompanied by Ludovico 
 and his court, repaired to Piacenza, and there soon 
 after received intelligence of Giovan-Galeazzo's death. 
 This occasioned II Moro's immediate return to Milan ; 
 when the Ducal Council, privately suborned, decreed 
 that the crown should be confirmed to him in prefer- 
 ence to Giovan-Galeazzo's infant children, as they 
 considered it necessary to the general good to place 
 the government in the hands of a powerful prince, 
 who could defend the state and provide for its security 
 amidst the broils and misfortunes which threatened the 
 tranquillity of Italy. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xxxix 
 
 In the mean time Leonardo had returned to Milan 
 from Pavia, where he left his friend Marc' Antonio 
 della Torre, and recommenced his exertions for his 
 patron Ludovico, who, now firmly established as Duke 
 of Milan by the voice of the people, the connivance of 
 the French King, and the Emperor's grant, had greater 
 leisure for the cultivation of the fine arts. He was a 
 prince of quiet habits, mild in his manners, and parti- 
 cularly averse to bloodshed — so much so, that we may 
 doubt his having been at all concerned in his nephew's 
 death. In order to gain the favour of the people, he 
 amused them with continual entertainments, and col- 
 lected around him the greatest men from all parts of 
 Italy, who by their talents and accomplishments might 
 contribute to the embellishment of his city, or the 
 refinements of his court. The poet, the historian, and 
 the painter, equally shared his patronage, and were 
 equally zealous in their demonstrations of gratitude. 
 The court of Milan became what that of Florence 
 had ceased to be j the latter being desolated by in- 
 ternal broils, the arts of peace fled to a more congenial 
 soil, and Ludovico was now the great patron of the 
 fine arts, and the restorer of literature in Italy. 
 
 Shortly after his return to Milan, Leonardo was 
 called upon to celebrate the Duke's virtues, and de- 
 signed a picture of which we find a description in his 
 own writing: " Il Moro representing Fortune, with 
 flowing hair and his hands extended, and Messer 
 Gualtiere in the act of doing homage to him in the 
 foreground • Poverty in frightful guise is pursuing a 
 youth whom II Moro is sheltering under his robe, while 
 with his golden rod he menaces the monster, and warns 
 him not to approach." 
 
 c 2 
 
THE LIFE OF 
 
 From several memoranda and remarks which are to 
 be found among his manuscripts, such as, u A dì 24 
 Marzo 1494, venne Galeazzo a stare meco, con il 
 patto di dare 5 lire il mese, pagando ogni 14 dì del 
 mese. Datemi da suo padre fiorini due di Reno ; " 
 and a little lower down, " A dì 14 di Luglio ebbe da 
 Galeazzo fiorini 2 di Reno," — it is evident he was in 
 the habit of receiving scholars who paid him for the 
 benefit they derived from his instructions, and the 
 information they gained by frequenting his studio. 
 
 In the year 1495 there is no mention of any parti- 
 cular work having been undertaken by Leonardo. It 
 is most probable that he was occupied in perfecting 
 the Vincian Academy ; as it is supposed he wrote his 
 famous Treatise addressed to the Duke about this 
 time, in which he examines the respective merits of 
 the two arts, painting and sculpture. It is much to 
 be lamented that this book is no longer extant, as it 
 would have been highly interesting to know the opi- 
 nion of one so capable of forming a proper judgment 
 from his extensive knowledge of the fine arts. Leo- 
 nardo's treatise was composed for the use of the Aca- 
 demy, and is even now held in general estimation. In 
 the collection of his works lately published at Paris, 
 there are several tracts comparing the different merits 
 of the sister arts, both considered relatively and indi- 
 vidually, which prove that this treatise really existed; 
 and it is moreover frequently alluded to in the " Trat- 
 tato della Pittura," written by Lomazzo, who was his 
 friend and scholar. 
 
 Leonardo's pencil was not, however, unemployed 
 during this year, as the Duke ordered him to paint 
 his own and the Duchess's portraits on each side of a 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI* 
 
 xli 
 
 large picture representing Mount Calvary, which 
 Montorfani had painted on the wall of the refectory in 
 the Convento delle Grazie. This task he very unwil- 
 lingly undertook, if we may believe Padre Gattico, a 
 Dominican friar, who has left an account of this con- 
 vent in manuscript, in which he says : " Quelle pitture 
 si sono infradiciate per essere dipinte all' olio, perchè 
 T olio non si conserva in pitture fatte sopra mure e 
 pietra." * About the end of this year, a curious work 
 was printed at Milan on music, by Franchino Gaforio, 
 which was preceded by an engraving, supposed to have 
 been done by Leonardo, or by one of his scholars under 
 his direction and with his assistance. 
 
 In the year 1496, Da Vinci derived much pleasure 
 from the arrival of his friend and countryman the 
 Padre Luca Paciolo, who has been before mentioned 
 in these pages. As they had studied together, and 
 were equally well versed in mechanics, mathematics, 
 and architecture, they were mutually delighted with 
 each other's society, and Leonardo had sufficient in- 
 fluence with the Duke to persuade him to receive his 
 friend into his service. Engaged in the same pursuits, 
 they lived in the same house, shared the same studies 
 and amusements, and assisted each other in their 
 separate undertakings. Paciolo prevailed on his friend 
 to draw all the geometrical figures for his Treatise on 
 Architecture, as he well knew there was no one cap- 
 able of executing them with the same precision 3 and 
 he acknowledges this assistance in the following well- 
 merited eulogium : " As in the disposition of the 
 
 * 1 ' These pictures have mouldered away in consequence of 
 their being painted in oil, because oil does not keep in paintings 
 made upon walls and stone.' ' 
 
xlii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 regular bodies, you will observe those which are done 
 by that most worthy painter, architect, musician, and 
 universally endowed Leonardo da Vinci, a Florentine, 
 at the city of Milan, when we were both in the pay of 
 the most excellent Duke Ludovico Maria Sforza, in 
 the year of our salvation 1496." 
 
 A little further on he mentions the drawings which 
 Leonardo made for his work on the " Divina propor- 
 zione," which he dedicated in manuscript to the Duke 
 Ludovico. They were sixty in number, and were 
 published in 1509, with a new dedication to Pietro 
 Soderini, Gonfaloniere of Florence, to whom he writes : 
 iC Libellum .... Ludovico Sportiae nuncupavi tanto 
 ardore, quoque sua Vincii nostri Lionardi manibus 
 scalpta," &c. 
 
 To this period also belongs the drawings, or rather 
 illustrations, of the celebrated " Codice Triulziano," 
 which was written by the Duke's eldest son, Maximi- 
 lian, when a child studying the Latin language. This 
 manuscript forms a small quarto volume written on 
 parchment, which, besides being ornamented with 
 numerous highly finished devices and heraldic embla- 
 zonments, is enriched with several pictures relating to 
 the youth and occupations of the young prince, who 
 then possessed the title of Count of Pavia. Among 
 these there are two which are generally considered 
 the production of Leonardo's pencil : one representing 
 the Count in the act of doing homage to his cousin 
 the Emperor Maximilian ; and the other, of the same 
 prince amusing himself catching birds, while his tutor, 
 Count Secco di Borella, is advising him to leave off 
 his diversions and attend to his studies. This manu- 
 script is held in the greatest estimation, and is still 
 preserved at Milan, 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xliii 
 
 About the end of this year Ludovico il Moro went 
 to Pavia, attended by all his court, to meet the Em- 
 peror Maximilian, whom he had invited into Italy. 
 Triumphal arches were prepared everywhere on his 
 road, and most magnificent fetes awaited his arrival 
 wherever he stopped ; as Ludovico disguised his true 
 reason for this conference under the pretence of merely 
 doing homage to his feudal lord. Leonardo, who 
 accompanied his patron on this occasion, had no 
 doubt a principal share in arranging these festivities. 
 That he was not forgotten by the Duke is proved by 
 his having ordered him to paint a picture of the Nati- 
 vity, which he presented to the Emperor in honour of 
 the occasion, and which is now in the Imperial cabinet 
 at Vienna. 
 
 Leonardo's residence at the court of Milan, although 
 extremely agreeable to himself, was highly detrimental 
 to his fame as a painter; as he was so constantly 
 occupied in different works for the good of the state 
 and the amusement of the court, that he could not 
 devote so much of his time to painting as his admirers 
 wish. A number of those pictures which are really 
 his own, are left in an unfinished state, from the ex- 
 treme nicety of his taste. His imagination went so far 
 beyond what it is in the power of man to execute, 
 that he was seldom or ever contented with his own 
 works, and he would frequently lay aside a picture 
 altogether, if it did not equal his ideas of the subject. 
 At other times he would hastily abandon an under - 
 taking, if his design did not embrace all that his ima- 
 gination had preconceived. Hence there remain so 
 few pictures by this inimitable artist ; but these few 
 are so very highly finished, that no one since has been 
 
THE LIFE OF 
 
 supposed to have surpassed him. Many of the pictures 
 which are shown in Italy as Leonardo's paintings, are 
 falsely considered so, particularly in Milan, where they 
 are generally the work of some of his scholars, with 
 the advantage of receiving the last touches from 
 himself. 
 
 There could have been no part of Da Vinci's life 
 more pleasant to himself than the time he spent at 
 Milan previous to the misfortunes of the house of 
 Sforza. In the full enjoyment of his princely patron's 
 confidence and favour, he lived in the most splendid 
 manner, beloved and respected by every body. Free 
 from all care for present wants, and too little accus- 
 tomed to consider the future, he passed his time in 
 the gratification of his favourite pursuits, and devoted 
 his leisure to the entertainment of his friends, Ex- 
 pensive in his habits, he kept a most liberal table ; his 
 house was always open to whoever was distinguished 
 for talents or accomplishments 5 and he drew around 
 him the best society in Milan during that brilliant 
 period. He sought for merit wherever it was to be 
 found, for the rust of envy never corroded his noble 
 heart, and the poorest artist was always welcome to a 
 seat at his board and a share of his purse. 
 
 His principal object in life was the encouragement 
 of literature and the arts, in all their various branches ; 
 and, enthusiastically desirous of promoting what he 
 most loved, he assisted the poor, encouraged the weak, 
 and brought forward the unknown. It is only to be 
 regretted that his means did not equal his inclinations; 
 for his profuse liberality rendered him but ill qualified 
 to give assistance to others ; and unfortunately his 
 friend and patron Ludovico il Moro had exactly the 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xlv 
 
 same propensities. He also undertook more than 
 he was capable of finishing j his ideas were too much 
 enlarged for his situation, which impoverished his 
 ♦ treasury, diminished his revenues, and became the 
 principal cause of his ultimate ruin. A proper atten- 
 tion to his expenditure is as necessary to a prince as 
 to an individual, without which, even with the very 
 best intentions, neither can be certain of remaining 
 honest. The one must oppress his subjects, the other 
 must defraud his equals; and both must risk the loss 
 of that claim to assistance in the hour of need which 
 both may occasionally require. Upon no one was this 
 truth more severely impressed than on Ludovico il 
 Moro, who, although he had exhausted his finances in 
 beautifying his city and encouraging the arts, was 
 neglected by his subjects when they found he had ex- 
 hausted his resources ; and they left him to pay the 
 forfeit of his imprudence and ambition with the loss of 
 his dominions and his life. 
 
 On his return to Milan from Pavia, the Duke was 
 desirous of enriching his capital with some great work 
 that should be considered worthy of Da Vinci's talents, 
 and serve to perpetuate the fame of the artist and the 
 liberality of the prince. With this idea Ludovico de- 
 sired Leonardo to paint his celebrated picture of u The 
 Last Supper," on the walls of the refectory in the 
 Dominican Convent of the " Madonna delle Grazie." 
 
 It was almost impossible to have selected a subjec 
 more adapted to Leonardo's taste and genius, and he 
 had certainly never before undertaken so interesting a 
 work. He proposed to represent the moment when 
 our Saviour exclaims " Amen dico vobis quia unus 
 vestrùm me traditurus est." This gave him an oppor- 
 
xlvi 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tunity of exercising his peculiar talent^ of representing 
 the different passions that agitate the human frame, 
 and of giving to each individual of his picture the 
 merit and interest of a separate composition, without 
 disturbing the harmony of the whole. 
 
 It is not exactly known when he commenced this 
 picture, but from various circumstances it appears that 
 it must have been about the year 1497, as Bottari tells 
 us there is a rude engraving bearing that date, and 
 supposed to be Leonardo's own work. The Padre 
 Luca Paciolo mentions, in one of his manuscripts, that 
 in 1498 Leonardo had already considerably advanced 
 in drawing the outlines of this composition -, and who- 
 ever observes it now, at least as much as is spared to 
 us from the ravages of time and the attacks of ignor- 
 ance, will easily perceive that three or even four years 
 are very little to have employed on such an under- 
 taking ; the more so when we consider Leonardo's 
 extreme difficulty in being satisfied with his own pro- 
 ductions. It is also to be remembered, that he was 
 obliged to form a cartoon of the same size as his 
 picture. 
 
 The general disposition of this admirable work is 
 considered extremely simple, and therefore the more 
 appropriate to the subject. Our Saviour is repre- 
 sented seated in the middle, which is the place of 
 honour : his attitude is tranquil and majestic , a kind 
 of noble serenity appears to pervade his countenance 
 and action, which impresses respect. The Apostles, 
 on the contrary, are in extreme agitation, and their 
 attitudes and countenances are expressive of various 
 emotions. Fear, love, anxiety, and a desire to pene- 
 trate the fulJ extent of our Saviour's meaning, are 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xlvii 
 
 easily distinguishable in their looks and gestures. But 
 when Leonardo wished to pourtray the character of 
 the divinity on the figure and countenance of our 
 Lord, his hand was too weak to represent the concep- 
 tions of his mind, and whatever he executed was still 
 very far from satisfying the sublimity and delicacy of 
 his ideas. At length, despairing of success, he un- 
 burthened his mind to his friend Bernardo Zenale,* 
 who, not believing that he could surpass what he had 
 already done, advised him to leave the head of Christ 
 unfinished. Leonardo, after much consideration, re- 
 solved to follow his friend's counsel : in imitation of 
 Timanthes, of whom it is related, that in his picture 
 of the Sacrifice of Iphigenia, having employed every 
 possible expression of grief in the attendants, he con- 
 ceived he could not do more justice to the father's 
 feelings, who was to behold the sacrifice of his own 
 child, than by covering his face with his mantle, and 
 leaving the effect to the beholder's imagination.f 
 
 Nothing can be more impressive than the idea of the 
 impossibility of representing our Saviour's countenance 
 by human means ; and this very imperfection becomes 
 a greater beauty in a country where one is too much 
 accustomed to see the Deity represented, or rather 
 misrepresented, in all sorts of extraordinary and fan- 
 tastic forms, in the old frescoes and mosaics. J 
 
 * This painter and architect was a native of Treviso, and was 
 working at the same time as Leonardo in the Convent of the 
 u Madonna delle Grazie." Lomazzo mentions him as the author 
 of a treatise on Perspective, of which he had a thorough know- 
 ledge. See Lomazzo Idea del Tempio della Pittura, book 5, chap. 
 21. 
 
 f Plin. lib. 35, cap. 10. 
 
 % As an example of the paintings alluded to, it is sufficient tò 
 
 • 
 
xlviii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Having settled this difficulty, he found himself 
 speedily embarrassed by another, which was to find a 
 countenance sufficiently wicked to convey an idea of 
 the man who was about to betray his divine master. 
 This feeling, to one who was always in the habit of 
 long reflection before he attempted any thing of con- 
 sequence, greatly delayed his work, and gave rise to 
 the story Vasari tells of the Prior of the Dominicans, 
 who became impatient whenever he saw Leonardo in 
 contemplation instead of continuing his picture ; he 
 being one of those who imagine that a painter must 
 be neglecting his work whenever his hands are not 
 actually employed on it. He therefore complained of 
 Leonardo's indolence to the Duke, who, in order to 
 satisfy him, inquired about the picture, and found that 
 the artist never passed a day without working at it at 
 least for two hours. Still, however, its progress did 
 not keep pace with the Prior's impatience, who con- 
 tinued to persecute the Duke with his complaints until 
 he prevailed on him to send for Da Vinci, and remon- 
 strate with him on his delay. But Ludovico did this 
 with so much kindness and affability that Leonardo 
 was quite charmed with the prince's condescension, 
 and willingly explained to him, that a man of genius 
 is, in fact, never less occupied than when he appears 
 to be entirely so, particularly in painting, where so 
 much depends on a just and proper conception of the 
 subject. He concluded by telling the Duke, " There 
 remain, Sir, only two heads unfinished in the whole 
 
 mention an old picture on wood of the Annunciation, in which 
 the Almighty is represented as an old man looking in at the 
 window, while the angel is delivering the divine message to the 
 Yirgin. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI* 
 
 picture. That of Christ I have long despaired of ever 
 being able to complete, as I am quite convinced of the 
 utter impossibility of finding a model on earth capable 
 of representing the union of divinity with humanity, 
 and much less can I hope to supply the deficiency 
 from my own imagination. Nothing therefore is want- 
 ing but to express the character of Judas, and I have 
 for some time sought without success, among your 
 prisons and the very refuse of the people, for a coun- 
 tenance such as I require ; but if your Excellency is 
 so impatient that the picture should be finished, I can 
 take the likeness of the Dominican Prior, who richly 
 deserves it for the impertinence of his interference." 
 The Duke could not avoid laughing heartily at this 
 sally, and being fully convinced how much labour and 
 judgment Leonardo bestowed on each individual, was 
 only impressed with a still greater respect for his 
 talents. It may also be easily supposed that the fear 
 of being handed down to posterity as Judas, effectually 
 silenced the Prior's importunities.* Da Vinci, how- 
 ever, was a man of too much honour to have had any 
 idea of putting his threat in execution, as has been 
 erroneously asserted 5 besides which, the Prior of the 
 Dominicans is described by the writers of that period 
 as having too noble an appearance for such a purpose. 
 Some little time after, Leonardo found a face such as 
 he required, so that by adding something from his 
 imagination, he finished the head of Judas, completed 
 his picture, and excelled all his former productions. 
 In this wonderful composition, which was then con- 
 
 * This story is to be found in Bottari's " Lettere Pittoriche," 
 and its truth is confirmed by Vasari and several of Leonardo da 
 Vinci's contemporaries. 
 
1 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sidered almost a miracle of human perfection, Leo- 
 nardo derived the greatest assistance from his previous 
 studies. These he found a perfect treasure of intel- 
 ligence to him ; and, whenever he was at a loss for any 
 particular trait of countenance, he had recourse to 
 his tablets, and there found ample reason to applaud 
 his former industry ; for, as has before been ob- 
 served, he never lost an opportunity of drawing every 
 remarkable countenance that he could meet with. 
 This he considered to be of such utility, that he always 
 carried a small sketch-book in his girdle, in which he 
 drew whatever made the most impression on his ima- 
 gination 5 and he advised all artists to do the same. 
 It was his opinion that nature was the best teacher ; 
 and for that reason he obliged his scholars to delineate 
 the most extraordinary as well as the most beautiful 
 features they could meet with, which he considered 
 the best means of taking good likenesses. Had he 
 entertained any doubt of the usefulness of this system, 
 the assistance he derived from it in his great work of 
 " The Last Supper," where he had so many different 
 feelings and passions to pourtray, would have been 
 sufficient to confirm his opinion. 
 
 This inimitable picture has been so frequently de- 
 scribed, and so universally eulogised, that there is 
 little which is new to be said upon the subject, and 
 any description of that painting would be superfluous 
 after the beautiful engraving made from it by the 
 Chevalier Raphael Morghen. It therefore only re- 
 mains to join in the general regret excited by its too 
 speedy decay, which has deprived the world of what 
 formed the glory of Da Vinci, and the wonder of the 
 age in which he lived. As far back as the middle of 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lì 
 
 sixteenth century, Armenini speaks of this picture as 
 half destroyed : if we may believe Da Vinci's friend and 
 scholar Lomazzo, who frequently mentions it in his 
 Treatise, the colours soon disappeared, so that the 
 outlines only remained to indicate the excellence of 
 the drawing. In the early part of the seventeenth 
 century, both Cardinal Borromeo and Padre Gattico, 
 who resided some time in the Dominican Convent at 
 Milan, agree in saying of this picture, " che del Ce- 
 nacolo vedeansi solo le reliquie 3" and that from its 
 continually mouldering away, copies had been taken 
 of it in all sizes by most of the celebrated artists of 
 that time, and which are now dispersed throughout 
 Italy.* In 1624, Bartolomeo Sanese, who saw both 
 the original and the famous copy in the Chartreuse 
 Convent of Pavia, by Marco Oggioni, declared that 
 more praise was due to the Chartreuse than the Do- 
 minicans ; as, while Leonardo's own work was so 
 
 * The following is the most authentic list of the ancient copies 
 still extant : — 
 
 1. In the Franciscan Convent at Milan, by Lomazzo, in 1561. 
 
 2. In St. Barnabas, a small copy by Marco Oggioni. 
 
 3. At St. Peter's, a copy by Santagostino. 
 
 4. In the Grand Monastery, by Lomazzo. 
 
 5. In the Public Library, done by order of Cardinal Borromeo. 
 
 6. In the Monastery of the Jesuits, two miles from Milan, by 
 Oggioni. 
 
 7. In the Grand Chartreuse at Pavia, by the same. 
 
 8. At St. Benedetto, at Mantua, by Monsignori. 
 
 9. At Lugano, by Bernardino Luino. 
 
 10. In Spain, at the Escurial, by Luino. 
 
 11. In France, at St. Germain's, painted by Luino, by order of 
 Francis the First. 
 
 12. At Ecoens, painter unknown. 
 
Ili 
 
 THE LIFE OP 
 
 much destroyed by age and damp as to be scarcely 
 discernible, the copy would be the means of handing 
 it down to the admiration of posterity. The picture 
 became gradually so much worse, that Scannelli, who 
 saw it in 1642, observes, that " There are but few 
 vestiges remaining of the figures ; and the naked parts, 
 such as heads, hands, and feet, are almost entirely 
 annihilated." This is the only excuse the Dominicans 
 could possibly have for cutting off the feet of our 
 Saviour and several of the Apostles near him, in order 
 to enlarge their entrance into the refectory. Nothing 
 but the extreme decay of the picture itself could 
 palliate so senseless an act ; and it is most probable 
 that it remained in this neglected state until 1726, 
 when the painter, Bellotti, succeeded in cleaning and 
 restoring it so well that it appeared to revive, and 
 almost to regain its former beauty. Many writers 
 assert that Bellotti simply repainted it on Da Vinci's 
 outlines 5 but this is denied by his contemporaries, 
 and Padre Pino assures us that he " made the picture 
 revive by some secret of his own, retouching with the 
 point of his brush only those places where the colour 
 was quite peeled off." 
 
 Notwithstanding Bellotti's labours to preserve this 
 painting, it soon began to lose its newly acquired 
 beauty, and to peel off and moulder away in such a 
 manner that the Abbate Luigi Lanzi, in his celebrated 
 work of the « Storia Pittorica dell' Italia," observes, 
 that there were only three heads in the whole picture 
 that could be considered as Leonardo's painting. 
 However, it remained tolerably discernible until the 
 Dominicans themselves were driven out of their Con- 
 vent when the French army invaded Italy under Na- 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 liii 
 
 poleon. The Convent was then used as a cavalry 
 depót, and the refectory turned into a stable ; so that 
 the brutality of the soldiery soon completed what the 
 ignorance of the priesthood and the ravages of time 
 had commenced. With a spirit of destruction scarcely 
 to be accounted for, the troops of republican France 
 had no hesitation in firing at our Saviour and all the 
 Apostles, leaving more proofs of their skill as marks- 
 men than of their feelings as Christians or civilized 
 beings. 
 
 It is now so much destroyed that it is even a matter 
 of dispute whether it was originally painted in oil, 
 fresco, or tempera. That it was done in oil is most 
 probable, from it always having been said so in the 
 earliest engravings, and spoken of as such in contem- 
 poraneous writings, and also from its speedy decay, 
 there being rarely an instance of the durability of oil 
 painting upon walls. Many authors pretend that the 
 colours faded so soon from Da Vinci's having made 
 use of some particular varnish or chemical preparation, 
 as he was always considered too fond of experiments. 
 Had Leonardo been merely a painter, he would have 
 been contented with the usual methods of painting; 
 but his lofty genius and love of new inventions tended 
 on this, as on many other occasions, to eclipse his 
 fame ; for, had it been otherwise, this great work 
 might have been spared to the present age. Much of 
 the destruction which this picture has suffered must 
 doubtless be attributed to bad restoration ; and con- 
 siderable allowances should be made for the envy 
 of his contemporaries. 
 
 We may endeavour to trace the progress of its 
 decay, as the only consolation which remains to us for 
 
liv 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 such a loss ; and when we consider the time in which 
 it was executed, it must be allowed to have been one 
 of the greatest works of art ever undertaken. Ra- 
 phael's " School of Athens," is considered by some as 
 a work of greater merit ; but it should be recollected 
 that a number of years had elapsed between the paint 
 ing of these two pictures, and that great progress had 
 been made in the arts during that period. Besides, it 
 is scarcely just to Leonardo da Vinci that Raphael 
 should claim superiority from having profited by the 
 improvements which his predecessor had introduced. 
 It is a curious coincidence that the two invasions of 
 Italy by the French should have been equally detri- 
 mental to Da Vinci's two great works, although so 
 many centuries intervened between them ; as Monsig- 
 nore Sabba da Castiglione, a noble Milanese, tells us 
 in his " Ricordi/' that " he saw the bowmen of Gas- 
 cony make use of Da Vinci's model for the colossal 
 statue of Francesco Sforza as a target/ and many 
 noble Milanese of the present day could tell us in 
 their " ricordi," that they saw the troops of republican 
 France make a somewhat similar use of his magnificent 
 picture of " The Last Supper." 
 
 In 1497, Ludovico's wife, Beatrice of Este, died 
 after a short illness, and the Duke honoured her me- 
 mory, according to Corio, with a ff stupendissime 
 ossequie." From several notes in his tablets we find 
 that these were directed by Leonardo, which affords 
 an additional proof of his patron's confidence. 
 
 It was about this time that he became acquainted 
 with Andrea Salaj'no, whom he received into his stu- 
 dio, and soon admitted to his intimate friendship. He 
 had the greatest regard for this young man, and took 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lv 
 
 great pleasure in teaching him every thing relating to 
 painting ; in which he acquired such proficiency, that 
 some of his works in Milan have been falsely attri- 
 buted to Leonardo. The probability is, that some of 
 them were corrected by him, or had the advantage of 
 receiving his finishing touches. Salaj'no was so grate- 
 fully attached to his master, that he never quitted him 
 from that period, and was the constant companion and 
 sharer of his fortunes. 
 
 Da Vinci's principal occupation during this year was 
 the navigation of the Adda, between Brizzio and 
 Frezzo. This was a most difficult undertaking, from 
 the rapidity of the stream, and the numerous shoals 
 which impeded its progress, and obliged him to ex- 
 cavate a new canal, and form strong supports to pre- 
 vent the banks from falling in. From different cir- 
 cumstances we may believe that he formed plans to 
 overcome all these difficulties, though it does not 
 appear that they were carried into effect at that period, 
 as the political troubles which embarrassed his patron 
 obliged him to put a sudden termination to many of 
 the works of art which he had previously undertaken. 
 
 It is not known that Leonardo painted any thing of 
 consequence subsequent to his grand work of <f The 
 Last Supper," before the misfortunes of the house of 
 Sforza obliged him to return to his own country, ex- 
 cept another portrait of the beautiful Cecilia Galler- 
 ani, on wood, which is at present in the possession of 
 the Palavicini family at San Calocero. 
 
 The greatest mortification to Leonardo was his 
 being obliged to abandon all idea of finishing the 
 equestrian statue of Francesco Sforza, which was to 
 have been cast in bronze, and had already occupied 
 
Ivi 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 him so many years. His mould was prepared, and 
 nothing was wanting but the metal, which the Duke 
 was no longer able to furnish, as, according to Da 
 Vinci's own calculation, it would have taken 200,000 
 pounds weight of bronze. In vain did Leonardo solicit 
 his friends to use their utmost influence with the 
 Duke ; in vain did the poets of the court endeavour 
 to flatter him into acquiescence with Da Vinci's 
 wishes ; Ludovico no longer had it in his power to 
 expend money on the fine arts, but was obliged to 
 employ the little that remained in his own defence. 
 
 Da Vinci's situation must now have been extremely 
 unpleasant, as it appears from a fragment of one of his 
 own letters, that the Duke owed him more than two 
 years' salary. He must have been in great pecuniary 
 embarrassment before his pride would have permitted 
 him to have written " that he was no longer able to 
 continue his works at his own expense, as he had not 
 the means either of paying his workmen or purchasing 
 his materials." It must have been a most bitter dis- 
 appointment to him to have found his time so thrown 
 away, as he could no longer entertain any hope of 
 making his cast of this statue, on which he had be- 
 stowed so much labour, and from which he had ex- 
 pected to have derived so much fame. His enemies 
 assert that his design was too grand and speculative 
 to have been ever carried into effect ; but great allow- 
 ances should be made for the envy excited by his 
 talents and success at the court of Milan. 
 
 It appears, however, from several memoranda in his 
 own hand-writing, that Leonardo himself not only 
 considered it possible, but had made his calculations 
 with the greatest nicety, and would have, no doubt, 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 Ivii 
 
 succeeded in his undertaking, had not the political 
 events of the times put it entirely out of his power. 
 
 In the following year, 1495, the Duke gave Leo- 
 nardo a proof of his friendship and generosity, by 
 making him a present of a small estate near the Porta 
 Vercellina, with full power to bequeath it to whom he 
 pleased, or to dispose of it in any way he thought 
 proper.* Whether this land was given as a compensa- 
 tion for the arrears that were justly his due, or as a gift 
 for services received by the state, is immaterial • most 
 probably the Duke wished to avert as much as possible 
 the want and misery to which he feared Da Vinci 
 would be exposed in the event of his own ruin, as he 
 had been exclusively employed for the benefit of the 
 house of Sforza and the government of Milan. It is 
 a proof, however, of II Moro's goodness of heart, that 
 he could remember the wants of his friends when pur- 
 sued on all sides by his enemies. Shortly after he 
 was forced to fly from the city. 
 
 The flight of his patron, and the subsequent change 
 in the government of Milan, must have caused the 
 greatest regret to Da Vinci and his friends, who had 
 equal reason to lament his fate as a prince and an in- 
 
 * This gift is registered in the public office at Milan as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 " 1429, 2G Aprilis, Ludovicus Maria Sfortia, dux Mediolani, 
 dono dedit D. Leonardo Quintio (sic) Florentio, pictori celeber- 
 rimo, pert. n. 16 soli seu fundi ejus vinae quam ab Abate seu 
 Monasterio S. Victoris in suburbano portae Vercellinse proxime 
 acquisierat, ut in eo spatio soli pro ejus arbitrio sedificare, colere 
 hortos, et quicquid ei vel posteris ejus, vel quibus dederit ut supra, 
 libuerit, facere et disponere possit." — Copied verbatim from the 
 Register. 
 
Iviii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 dividual, as they were all obliged to him for the means 
 of continuing their studies and exercising their talents. 
 He had been their patron and friend - and although his 
 enemies accuse him of having encouraged the fine arts 
 solely from ostentation, the greatest praise is due to 
 him for the manner in which he promoted general 
 knowledge. His worth must have also been more 
 appreciated by his literary friends when brought into 
 comparison with their new masters ; for Louis the 
 Twelfth, after he had made his grand entry into Milan, 
 thought of nothing but fetes and entertainments during 
 the time he remained there; and the French in general 
 were extremely indifferent to the progress of literature 
 and the arts. They destroyed a magnificent building 
 which Leonardo had designed for Galeazzo da San 
 Severino, and wantonly broke up his model for the 
 equestrian statue, both of which must have caused him 
 great mortification. 
 
 Finding his talents neglected, himself unrewarded, 
 and his works no longer esteemed, without any imme- 
 diate prospect of his former patron's re-establishment 
 in Milan, Leonardo determined to leave a city where 
 his finances were so much reduced, and his situation 
 so unpleasantly altered. It appears, however, that he 
 delayed his departure until the year 1500, and that he 
 waited the issue of II Moro's return to Milan at the 
 request of his faithless subjects, when they revolted 
 against the French. Hoping to maintain himself by 
 force, the ex-Duke raised a body of Swiss mercenaries, 
 who, instead of fighting in his defence, basely sold 
 him to his enemies, by whom he was taken in disguise 
 with his brother the Cardinal Ascanio, and several of 
 his followers. Il Moro was imprisoned in the castle of 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lxix 
 
 Loches, in France, where he died of a broken heart at 
 the unhappy issue of all his wild dreams of ambition, 
 after ten years' confinement. 
 
 During the uncertainty of this revolution, while 
 awaiting the result of his patron's laststruggle for power, 
 Da Vinci remained at Vaprio,* to be out of the way of 
 the cabals and disturbances of the capital. This would 
 have given him an opportunity of studying the source 
 of the Adda, which had always been a favourite object 
 of his researches. Or perhaps he lingered behind in 
 hopes of seeing Milan again restored to tranquillity, 
 and the love for the arts revived in a place where he 
 had so highly distinguished himself. He must also 
 have been extremely unwilling to lose the fruits of his 
 long services to this state, as he considered himself 
 attached to the court of Milan, whatever sovereign 
 might be at the head of that government. But, per- 
 ceiving at length that the French thought of nothing 
 but their amusements, he made up his mind to return 
 to his own country ; and shortly after, accompanied 
 by his friends Salaj'no and Luca Paciolo, set out for 
 Florence, where he resolved to take up his residence, 
 and hoped to find employment. 
 
 In the mean time the government of Florence had 
 passed into other hands, and had undergone an almost 
 
 * The Melzi Villa, at Vaprio, is half-way betwwen Milan and 
 Bergamo, on the canal of the Martesana, which was the work of 
 Leonardo, and which, as well from its utility as from the diffi- 
 culties he surmounted in its execution, would have been sufficient 
 to immortalize his memory. The situation was extremely plea- 
 sant, and this place was a great favourite with Da Vinci, who 
 frequently retired there. 
 
ix 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 entire change. Disgusted with the arrogance and 
 imbecility of Pietro dei Medici's conduct, his fellow- 
 citizens had revolted from his sway, and banished him 
 and his whole family, declaring them enemies to the 
 state. They had elected Pietro Soderinr, one of their 
 principal citizens, as their Lord, with the title of 
 " Gonfaloniere Perpetuo," and the city was now en- 
 joying more tranquillity than it had experienced since 
 the death of Lorenzo the Magnificent. The immense 
 wealth produced by their extensive commerce enabled 
 the Florentines to cultivate the fine arts, and adorn 
 their city with public buildings, notwithstanding the 
 miseries and disturbances occasioned by the perpetual 
 struggles of contending parties to obtain a preponder- 
 ance in the government of the state. Their patriotism 
 and public spirit overcame every difficulty, and the 
 pride of all was interested in enriching their country 
 with works of art, and in giving employment to the 
 first artists of the age. 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci was received with every distinc- 
 tion by the Gonfaloniere, who immediately enrolled 
 him in the list of those artists who were employed by 
 the government, and assigned him a sufficient pension 
 to provide for his subsistence, which enabled him to 
 form a tolerably comfortable establishment, with his 
 friend Paciolo and his scholar Salaj'no. On the subject 
 of this pension, Vasari relates the following anecdote. 
 
 " Leonardo was very high-minded, and extremely 
 generous in all his actions. It is said that, going one 
 day to the bank for the monthly provision that he was 
 accustomed to receive from Pietro Soderini, the 
 cashier wanted to give him some bundles of halfpence, 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lxi 
 
 which he refused, saying, I am not a halfpenny 
 painter.'** 
 
 It is a great pity that Da Vinci allowed his pride 
 to have so much ascendency over his better judgment. 
 His irritable sensibility was his greatest enemy through 
 life, and was the occasion of his losing many friends, 
 who had both the power and inclination to assist him. 
 This prevailing foible was also extremely detri- 
 mental to his fame in his profession, as it frequently 
 blinded him to the difficulties of executing the vast 
 conceptions of his all-comprehensive mind. His bril- 
 liant imagination made him suppose that every thing 
 must give way to his abilities, and led him into errors 
 which have deprived posterity of some of his best 
 works. His ideas were too gigantic for the age in 
 which he lived, and it would have been much better 
 for his reputation as a painter if he had been a less 
 universally accomplished man. 
 
 After his return to Florence, he pursued his studies 
 with unremitting assiduity, and diligently worked at 
 his profession, which he was the more obliged to 
 attend to from no longer having the advantage of so 
 good a salary as he had enjoyed at Milan. Instead of 
 the luxuries and extravagances of II Moro's splendid 
 court, he had now to accommodate hi/wself to the 
 more prudent restrictions of a republic, whose slmp- 
 tuary laws were enacted in a spirit of economy quite 
 different to what he had seen at Milan. 
 
 * " Io non sono un dipintore per quatrini." The quatrino is 
 translated in the text as a halfpenny, to make it the more intel- 
 ligible ; its real value is the fifth part of a grazia, which is the 
 eighth of a franc, valued at 6%d. English. 
 
 d 
 
Ixii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 The first work of consequence in which he was en- 
 gaged, was an altar-piece for the church of the 
 i( Annunziata." Unfortunately, however, he only 
 formed the design of this picture, which is generally 
 called the Cartoon of Santa Anna, which was so ex- 
 quisitely finished, that Vasari says, " not only all the 
 artists, but the whole city, men and women, young 
 and old, flocked to see it in such crowds, that for two 
 days it had almost the appearance of a public festival/' 
 The same author describes the artist's having success- 
 fully expressed in the countenance of the Virgin Mary 
 e< all the grace which simplicity and beauty could pos- 
 sibly give to the mother of Christ, anxious to show the 
 modesty, humility, and thankfulness, which she might 
 be supposed to feel in contemplating the beauty of 
 her child, which she is supporting in her lap 3 while 
 she is looking down at St. John, a little boy playing 
 with a kid, encouraged by the smiles of Santa Anna, 
 who is delighted to see her terrestrial progeny thus 
 become almost celestial." ce A consideration," he 
 further observes, " truly worthy of Leonardo's talents 
 and genius." This picture was carried to France in 
 the time of Francis the First ; but it must have found 
 its way back to Italy, as it belonged to Aurelio Luino, 
 when Lomazzo wrote his Treatise on Painting. 
 
 About this time Da Vinci applied himself more par- 
 ticularly to portraits, and painted two of the most 
 celebrated beauties of Florence ; the Lady Ginevra, 
 wife of Amerigo Benci, which, according to Vasari, 
 was " una cosa bellissima," and the Madonna Lisa, wife 
 of Francesco del Giocondo, which all the artists and 
 writers of that period considered as the perfection of 
 portrait-painting. Vasari describes this picture in so 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 Ixiii 
 
 very minute and lively a manner, that it is impossible 
 to give a more accurate description of it, than by 
 making use of his own words, written on the spot 
 shortly after it was finished: " In this head the be- 
 holder may observe how nearly it is possible for art to 
 approach nature. The eyes have the lustre and ex- 
 pression of life. The nose, and more particularly the 
 mouth, have more the appearance of real flesh and 
 blood than painting, from the beautiful contrast of the 
 vermillion of the lips with the clear red and white of 
 the complexion. Whoever attentively looks at the 
 throat, can almost see the beating of the pulse. As 
 the Madonna Lisa was a very beautiful woman, Leo- 
 nardo studied all possible means of making her picture 
 surpass every thing that had been then seen of the 
 sort. He was in the habit of having music, singing, 
 and all kinds of buffoonery to make her laugh and re- 
 move the air of melancholy so frequently to be observed 
 in portrait-painting; which produced so pleasing an 
 effect in this picture, that it gave to the canvass an 
 almost superhuman expression, and the only wonder 
 seemed to be that it was not alive." 
 
 Francis the First bought tin's picture for his collec- 
 tion at Fontainbleau, and paid 4000 gold crowns to 
 the family for whom it was painted, a sum that would 
 be equal to 45,000 francs in the present day. It is 
 now in the Louvre, and is considered one of the finest 
 specimens of Leonardo's painting extant ; it is called 
 " La belle Joconde," and there is a landscape in the 
 back-ground. 
 
 After remaining two years at Florence, Da Vinci 
 travelled over the greater part of Italy, and made 
 notes and drawings of whatever he found instructive 
 d2 
 
Ixiv 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and amusing. It would have been highly interesting 
 to have had an opportunity of collecting the remarks 
 of a traveller so perfectly capable of describing what- 
 ever he saw, and who united in himself the different 
 qualifications of a painter, mechanic, and architect, 
 with the philosophical feelings of a liberal-minded 
 man. He must have visited the whole of Romagna, as 
 we find from his notes he was at Urbino on the 30th 
 July, 1502, where he designed the fortress. He went 
 to Pesaro, Rinucci, and Cesena, where he remarks 
 " the picturesque manner in which the vines were sus- 
 pended in festoons." It would have been difficult to 
 have assigned a reason for his having consumed his 
 time and money in travelling, if it were not sufficiently 
 explained by the fact of the Duca Valentino's having 
 appointed him his surveyor and engineer general, as 
 that would have obliged him to visit all the strong 
 places, of which the Duke had usurped the dominion 
 as Gonfaloniere or Captain-General of the ecclesias- 
 tical army. The immoderate ambition of the house of 
 Borgia was, in this instance, of material service to 
 Leonardo, enabling him to see more of his country 
 than he had hitherto done, without any expense to 
 himself 3 as it is well known that, whatever were Valen- 
 tino's vices, he was, either from policy or ostentation, 
 liberal even to excess to those who were in his service. 
 Pope Alexander the Sixth died 18th August, 1503, 
 in the seventy-first year of his age, a victim, it is sup« 
 posed, to his own treacherous intrigues, as he is said 
 to have taken a goblet of poisoned wine which he had 
 prepared for one of his guests. This circumstance 
 destroyed all the brilliant projects of the house of 
 Borgia, and occasioned the sudden downfall of Valen- 
 tino and his dependents. He was succeeded by Julius 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lxv 
 
 the Second, whose wisdom and integrity partly in- 
 demnified Christendom for the profligate enormities 
 by which his predecessor had disgraced the pontificate. 
 The Pope's death also speedily terminated Da Vinci's 
 commission, as in 1503 we find him returned to Flo- 
 rence, and engaged to paint one side of the council- 
 hall in the Palazzo Vecchio, by the desire of the Gon- 
 faloniere Pietro Soderini. 
 
 This was the origin of all the jealousies and disputes 
 between Leonardo da Vinci and Michael Angelo Buo- 
 narroti, who had also been employed to make designs 
 for the same purpose ; and hence arose a rivalry be- 
 tween these two great men which caused them to 
 exert their utmost abilities in the cartoons they respec- 
 tively executed. As these paintings were intended as 
 a sort of national monument, it was necessary to select 
 some trait in the Florentine history, which might at 
 once serve to commemorate the glory of the republic 
 and the fame of the painter. From a long memoran- 
 dum in Leonardo's handwriting, we find that he had 
 chosen for his subject the defeat of Nicolo Picinino, 
 the Milanese General, near Anghiari, in Tuscany, and 
 that he had collected every circumstance of this battle, 
 either real or fictitious, in order to delineate it pro- 
 perly. We can easily perceive from his remarks the 
 labour he must have bestowed on collecting materials 
 for this picture, which, it is much to be regretted, was 
 never executed, as Vasari relates that having tried his 
 preparations on the wall, for painting it in oil, he 
 found it did not succeed, and therefore abandoned the 
 undertaking altogether.* Here is another instance of 
 
 * The memorandum for this picture is given in Brown's Life 
 (Appendix, No. III.), from Leonardo's manuscript. It is curious 
 
Ixvi 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 his versatility of talent interfering with his fame as a 
 painter ; for, had he been entirely ignorant of che- 
 mistry, he would necessarily have been obliged to 
 content himself with the ordinary rules of fresco paint- 
 ing, and he might again have left a work that would 
 have immortalized his name. 
 
 As these cartoons no longer exist, a description of 
 them may prove interesting. Vasari tells us that Leo- 
 nardo represented a combat of horsemen righting for 
 a standard, which group was only intended as a part 
 of the historical design just alluded to. It was so 
 wonderfully executed, that the horses themselves 
 seemed agitated with the same fury as their riders, and 
 were fighting as hard with their teeth as their riders 
 with their swords, to obtain possession of the contested 
 flag. 11 Neither is it possible," continues Vasari, <( to 
 describe Leonardo's designs, in the soldiers' dresses 
 so beautifully varied, as well as in the incredible skill 
 he showed in the forms and attitudes of the horses, as 
 no other artist could delineate the muscles and actions 
 of the horse with such uncommon beauty and fide- 
 lity." * Michael Angelo's cartoon represented a troop 
 of soldiers suddenly called to arms w T hen bathing, and 
 the scene of his picture was the siege of Pisa by the 
 Florentines, and has been so fully described by Mr. 
 Duppa in his Life of that great artist, that it need not 
 be here repeated. Both these cartoons were shown 
 
 to observe the minute details he entered into in his compositions, 
 and with what extreme accuracy he studied to increase the in- 
 terest of his historical performances. 
 
 * One part of Leonardo's cartoon was engraved by Marc An- 
 tonio, the other by Agostino Veneziano. The former is called 
 4i Les grimpeurs," and both are exceedingly rare. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 Ixvii 
 
 in the Medici palace until the death of the Duke 
 Giuliano, when they disappeared without any person 
 being able to account for it. Vasari says that Michael 
 Angelo's was torn in pieces, and that in his time there 
 was a small piece, remaining in the hands of a dilet- 
 tante at Mantua. It may be supposed in what esteem 
 they must have been held, when their fame was suffi- 
 cient to induce Raphael to come to Florence for the 
 sole purpose of studying them. He was so much sur- 
 prised and delighted at their freedom of manner and 
 boldness of execution, that from that moment he is 
 said to have resolved to abandon the stiffness and po- 
 verty of his master Pietro Perugino's style. 
 
 During his stay in Tuscany, Leonardo renewed his 
 former friendship with Giovan Francesco Rustici,* 
 who had been his fellow-student with Andrea Varoc- 
 chio when they were both young men. Rustici was 
 a man of good family, and more an artist from inclin- 
 ation than necessity. He had the good taste to listen 
 to Da Vinci's criticism, to whom he was particularly 
 attached; and was also well acquainted with the worth 
 of his observations. He was esteemed a good sculp- 
 tor and architect by his contemporaries, as well as by 
 his friend Leonardo ; and the three statues which he 
 cast in bronze for the baptistery at Florence, remain 
 to this day memorials of his fame. 
 
 In 1504 Leonardo da Vinci lost his father, with 
 whom he had always continued on the most affectionate 
 
 * Giovan Francesco Rustici was a man of a very extraordinary 
 turn of mind ; he became the founder of a society or club called 
 the Pajuolo, of which the account, given by Vasari, is very illus- 
 trative of the manners of the times. 
 
lxviii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 terms. Whatever might have been his birth, he had 
 made a point of keeping up a constant correspondence 
 and perfectly good understanding with his family. It 
 appears that soon after the Signore Pietro's death, he 
 placed a considerable sum of money at interest with 
 the chamberlain of Santa Maria Nuova, as there are 
 several memoranda among his papers of his having 
 received small payments at different times from this 
 person, and he afterwards disposed of this particular 
 property in his will. From this we may suppose that 
 some of his works had been very liberally rewarded, 
 as this money could only have been acquired by his 
 own exertions. It is Ammoretti's opinion that he 
 visited France in 1506, but there is not sufficient proof 
 of his having undertaken that journey, in the several 
 memoranda on which this gentleman hazards his 
 assertion ; for they might have as easily referred to 
 his subsequent residence in that country, although he 
 certainly considered himself in the service of the King 
 of France as sovereign of Milan. In whatever way 
 he employed the intermediate time, it is certain that 
 Leonardo was again in Lombardy in 1507, as there is 
 the following memorandum in his own handwriting : 
 " Canonica di Vaprio, a dì 5 Luglio 1507, cara mia 
 diletta Madre et mia Sorella et mia Cognata avvissovi 
 come sono sano per la grazia di Dio," &c. ; which 
 sufficiently proves the fact of his having been staying 
 at that time with his friends the Melzi. That he was 
 frequently in the habit of residing with them, not only 
 at their house at Canonica, but also at their palace at 
 Vaprio, there remains a proof as glorious to the artist's 
 feelings as to his generous patrons, in the picture of 
 the Madonna and Child which he painted on the wall 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lxix 
 
 of his apartment in their palace. The head of the 
 Madonna is six palms in height, and that of the Child 
 four. This painting suffered considerably in 1796, by 
 some soldiers having made a fire close to the wall on 
 which it is executed 3 but the faces are still in toler- 
 able preservation. 
 
 In 1507 Louis the Twelfth of France, finding him- 
 self continually disturbed in the possession of his 
 Lombard dominions by the Venetians and the States 
 of the Church, joined the famous league of Cambray, 
 that he might be at more liberty to invade Italy 
 with a sufficient force to establish his affairs on a 
 firmer basis of political security. At Agnadello, near 
 the Adda, the King gained a complete victory over 
 the Venetians, and returned to Milan to celebrate his 
 triumphs and revive the drooping spirits of its inha- 
 bitants by the presence of his splendid court. These 
 fetes and entertainments must have again called forth 
 Leonardo's exertions, for they are described with great 
 pomp by Arluno, in a manuscript now in the Ambro • 
 sian Library, who talks of the triumphal arches and 
 paintings executed by the first masters in honour 
 of the occasion. Although he does not mention Leo- 
 nardo da Vinci's name, he evidently alludes to him by 
 his making use of the phrase Cl pitture mollissime," 
 which that author was accustomed to apply to him 
 alone. Besides which, it is well known that he was 
 in great favour with his Majesty at that time, as he 
 appointed him painter to the court of France, and gave 
 him twelve ounces of water from the canal of the Mar- 
 tesana, which was a sort of right of property extremely 
 valuable to its possessor. As far as this gift can be 
 at present understood, it appears that he was entitled 
 
 d5 
 
Ixx 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to as much water as could be drawn off by a tunnel 
 that measured one foot in diameter, which is equal to 
 twelve ounces, and that he had the right of applying 
 this to whatever purpose he pleased. To an engineer 
 of his talents this was of the greatest value, as he 
 might have either applied it to hydraulical purposes, 
 or sold it to the proprietors of the neighbouring lands 
 to enrich the cultivation of their soil by its irrigations. 
 By his letters from Florence it would appear that he 
 intended making the former use of it, but the latter 
 would also have yielded him a handsome revenue. It 
 is not likely that he ever realized this property, but he 
 showed that he considered it belonged to him, by dis- 
 posing of it in his will. While in attendance on the 
 French court at Milan, he painted the portrait of 
 Gian Jacopo Triulzio, which is mentioned by Lomazzo, 
 and is now in the Public Gallery at Dresden. 
 
 The death of his uncle, Messer Francesco da Vinci, 
 a share in whose inheritance his brothers contested 
 with him, on the ground of his illegitimacy, determined 
 him to go to Florence to settle the dispute. It is not 
 known how the affair was determined between them, 
 but we may be allowed to conjecture that it must have 
 been in an amicable manner, from the circumstance of 
 his leaving his property in and near Florence to be 
 equally divided between his brothers at his death. In 
 1512 he returned to Milan, where he principally em- 
 ployed himself in hydraulical researches, in order to 
 perfect the canal by which he had brought the Adda 
 to the walls of the city. But he was again destined to 
 be interrupted in his professional occupations ; for he 
 had scarcely time to see his friends, and get settled in 
 his habitation before the new government of Milan 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. Ixxi 
 
 was broken up, and the tranquillity of Lombardy so 
 much destroyed, that he was again obliged to seek 
 refuge in a more peaceful quarter. 
 
 The Princes of Italy, jealous of the presence of a 
 foreign army, whose power might become inimical to 
 their interests, concluded a league with the Emperor 
 to replace the house of Sforza on the throne of Lom- 
 bardy. In a short time Maximilian, the eldest son of 
 Il Moro, returned in triumph to take undisputed pos- 
 session of his paternal inheritance, escorted by the 
 same Swiss mercenaries who had so shortly before 
 betrayed his father. He was received with acclama- 
 tions and rejoicings by the inhabitants of Milan. 
 Leonardo himself, although belonging, as he con- 
 ceived, to the court of France, was sufficiently attached 
 to the remembrance of his old patron, to paint two 
 portraits of the young Duke Maximilian, one of which 
 is now in the Gallery of Milan, and the other in the 
 private collection of the Melzi family. But the situa- 
 tion of Milan, and the disturbed state of politics in 
 Italy, were so extremely detrimental to Da Vinci's 
 projects, that he was almost unable to procure a sub- 
 sistence by his profession. Between the two govern- 
 ments he had already Jost what he considered as a pro- 
 vision for his old age, as he was now more than sixty , 
 and no longer possessed that buoyant feeling and 
 ardent disposition that carried him through every 
 thing in youth. It was quite in vain for Leonardo, or 
 any of his followers and companions in the Academy, 
 to think of remaining in a place where nothing was to 
 be expected but tumults and revenge. Literature and 
 the fine arts are nurtured by peace and tranquillity 
 alone ; where these cease to exist, the artist who 
 
Ixxii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 desires to increase his reputation had better depart 
 also. Accordingly, we find by the following memo- 
 randum, that Leonardo at last set out for Rome, 
 accompanied by his principal friends and scholars : 
 u Partii da Milano per Roma ad dì 24 di Settembre 
 1514, con Giovanni, Francesco Melzi, Salaj, Lorenzo 
 ed il Fanfoia." * 
 
 Leonardo arrived in safety at Florence, where he 
 found the power of the house of Medici restored by 
 the election of the Cardinal Giovanni to the pontificate, 
 under the name of Leo the Tenth, after the decease 
 of Julius the Second. The Pope's brother, Giuliano 
 de* Medici received him into his household and took 
 him to Rome. Every individual possessed of either 
 talents or reputation was then hastening to that capital 
 to recommend himself to the notice of Leo the Tenth -, 
 a pontiff whose name must ever be respected in the 
 annals of literature and the arts, and whose princely 
 liberality, by completing the restoration of learning, 
 made Rome once more mistress of the civilized world. 
 
 Although advanced in years, and the ardour of feel- 
 ing considerably abated by the experience which can 
 only be acquired from a knowledge of the world and 
 its disappointments, Da Vinci yet hoped to distinguish 
 himself amongst those who contended for the Pope's 
 favour. 
 
 On his arrival he was well received by Leo, both 
 from the high reputation he enjoyed,, and the circum- 
 stance of his being presented to thePontiffbyhis brother 
 
 * Probably this Giovanni means " il Beltramo," but there is 
 v no mention of any person called Fanfoia, unless it is a mistake 
 for Fojano, who is frequently spoken of by Lomazzo and others 
 in their manuscripts. 
 
.LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 Ixxiii 
 
 Giuliano, whose favour da Vinci had completely 
 gained. But his talents excited the envy of all those 
 who surrounded his Holiness's person and had already 
 secured his confidence, as they considered his ap- 
 proach as a sort of invasion of what they had appro- 
 priated to themselves as a right : so seldom can men 
 of genius bear with any sort of competition. No one 
 was more free from this unworthy feeling of envy than 
 Leonardo himself ; no one more anxious to do ample 
 justice to the merits of others ; but, most deservedly, 
 accustomed to hold the first place at Milan, and con- 
 scious that many of the improvements in the arts 
 which he now saw brought into use, were owing to 
 his own inventions and to the improvements which he 
 himself had introduced, he could not avoid feeling 
 most acutely that he no longer possessed the same 
 superiority over others which he had done in his 
 youth. If he had given himself time to think, he would 
 have been consoled by the reflection that this was the 
 natural consequence of the progress of the arts, to 
 which he, more than any other person, had eminently 
 contributed. Instead of feeling mortified at the prac- 
 tice of the theory which he himself had first propa- 
 gated, he ought to have rejoiced at its having met 
 with the success which he had originally contemplated. 
 But his bodily health was no longer equal to the 
 energy of his mind, and his increasing infirmities made 
 him more than usually irritable, for he had naturally 
 too much pride to indulge any feelings of vanity. 
 
 Under these circumstances it was not to be expected 
 that Da Vinci could have felt himself happily situated 
 at Rome. Harassed by disappointments, his genius 
 was overcast by the praises he heard on all sides 
 
lxxiv 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 bestowed on others, whom he could not have consi- 
 dered in any way superior to himself. But they en- 
 joyed a greater share of his Holiness's favour, and 
 kept Leonardo in the back-ground by persuading the 
 Pope that he embraced too many branches of science 
 to be able to succeed in any, and that he was become 
 much too speculative in his ideas to execute any work 
 of importance. By these and similar calumnies, un- 
 worthy their own fame, and prompted solely by jea- 
 lousy, they contrived to keep Da Vinci without any 
 employment worthy of his talents. 
 
 Of all the celebrated persons who at that time orna- 
 mented the court of Rome, Raffaelle enjoyed the 
 greatest share of the Pope's confidence and esteem, 
 although he was more considerably indebted to his 
 predecessor Pope Julius the Second. That Pontiff 
 first brought him into notice at the recommendation 
 of his kinsman, Bramante da Urbino, who was then in 
 his service, and employed him to paint a suite of 
 rooms in the Vatican. He executed this commission 
 with such extraordinary taste and skill, that the fres- 
 coes he then painted are generally considered superior 
 to any of his subsequent productions under the reign 
 of Leo the Tenth. 
 
 The great Michael Angelo, who was also at Rome 
 at that period, had not the good fortune to be so much 
 distinguished by Leo as he had been by Julius, who 
 was his friend and patron ; and it ought to be ob- 
 served, in justice to the latter, that many of the great 
 works, the whole praise of which has been unthink- 
 ingly bestowed on Leo, more properly belonged to 
 his predecessor, he having originally undertaken them, 
 though Leo had the liberality and generosity to carry 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 Ixxv 
 
 them into effect. If Leonardo da Vinci bad enjoyed 
 the advantage of the protection of Julius the Second, 
 he would, no doubt, have been in a much better situ- 
 ation; and had he employed that time in his service 
 which lie lost during the disturbances at Milan, he 
 would not only have been at the head of his profession 
 as an artist, but his knowledge of military tactics, and 
 his talents as an engineer, would have made him an 
 invaluable acquisition to that warlike Pontiff. 
 
 The reign of Leo the Tenth forms so striking an 
 era in Italian literature, that one is too apt to con- 
 found him personally with the age in which he lived. 
 Without at all wishing to deteriorate the good qualities 
 which this magnificent Pontiff undoubtedly possessed, 
 it appears from the history of those times, that the age 
 contributed more to his elevation, than he did indivi- 
 dually to the advancement of learning. Had Julius 
 lived a few years longer, we should have talked of the 
 Julian age of Rome, instead of <f the golden days of 
 Leo/' and the advantages to mankind would have 
 been much the same. The ruling principle of Leo's 
 policy was the aggrandisement of the house of Medici , 
 and by simply following the taste of the age, and act- 
 ing up to the spirit of the times, he could most easily 
 attain his object, while he gratified his own taste for 
 splendour by becoming the liberal patron of men of 
 letters. It is easy to be generous, even to profusion, 
 of what does not belong to us ; and few of St. Peter's 
 representatives have ever made a freer use of his patri- 
 mony. Circumstances made Leo what he was, and 
 unless he had abandoned the pontificate altogether 
 he must have been talked and flattered into virtues 
 which he might not have otherwise possessed. It is 
 
lxxvi 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 certainly no proof of his discernment or good taste, 
 that he either could not or did not appreciate the 
 talents of Leonardo da Vinci sufficiently to fix him 
 near his person ; while it is well known that he neg- 
 lected those of Michael Angelo Buonarroti. 
 
 Leonardo, however, during his short stay in Rome 
 was not altogether unemployed, as he painted a pic- 
 ture for Messer Baldassare da Pescia, the Pope's da- 
 tario (almoner), who seemed to have more feeling for 
 his merits than his master. This picture was painted 
 on wood, and represented a Holy Family, consisting 
 of the Virgin and Child, with St. Joseph and St. John 
 behind, in which group was a portrait of a young lady 
 in full length, of singular beauty and noble features. 
 De Pagave, in speaking of this picture, observes that, 
 ° although the Vincian style is perfectly discernible, it 
 is evident that he had imitated Raffaelle in this com- 
 position 3" and for this reason he probably chose to 
 distinguish it by the monogram of his own name, that 
 it might not be taken for the work of any other artist. 
 The beautiful lady whose portrait he introduced in 
 this picture, is supposed to be the Pope's sister-in-law, 
 as it is very natural that Leonardo should have paid 
 this compliment to his patron's wife, Giuliano de' Me- 
 dici having just married Filiberta of Savoy. Whoever 
 the lady might have been, the picture was so wonder- 
 fully executed that it attracted the Pope's attention, 
 and occasioned him to employ Da Vinci, old as he was, 
 in preference to Raffaelle and Michael Angelo, in the 
 execution of a work which afterwards became the 
 cause of his disgrace and of his departure from Rome. 
 Vasari relates the story, that Leonardo, with his usual 
 love of experiments, began to distil different herbs 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lxxvii 
 
 and oils to make a particular kind of varnish, and that 
 some ill-natured persons told this to the Pope, who 
 exclaimed, u Oh ! this man will never do any thing, 
 for he begins to think of the end of his work before 
 the commencement." This hasty remark was imme- 
 diately repeated to Leonardo, who, already disgusted 
 with his Holiness for having sent for Michael Angelo 
 to Rome, with whom he was on bad terms, determined 
 on leaving it. 
 
 It is not to be wondered at, that so high-minded a 
 man as Leonardo should have been offended at such 
 an observation. Conscious of his own merits, and in- 
 dignant at the neglect with which he had been treated 
 during his residence at the papal court, he could not 
 do otherwise than resolve to quit a place where he 
 had met with so many vexations, and seek another 
 patron in spite of his age and infirmities* There is 
 nothing to be collected, either from his notes or the 
 manuscripts in the Ambrosian Library, to prove that 
 he undertook any thing more of consequence at Rome, 
 except some improvements he introduced in the mint 
 for purifying and embellishing the Roman coin. Be- 
 fore his misunderstanding with the Pope, he had most 
 likely painted the fresco of the Virgin on the walls of 
 St. Onofrio, of which nothing now remains; as well as 
 several other pictures for various individuals, who still 
 cherished his name, and were anxious to possess some 
 specimen of his abilities. 
 
 It was most unworthy of Leo's character, as the great 
 Maecenas of the whole Christian world, to have treated 
 Leonardo da Vinci with so little consideration. If for 
 no other reasons but his former works, long experi- 
 ence, and great reputation, he should have received 
 
lxxviii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 him with kindness. The extreme amiability of his 
 manners towards all might have at least blunted the 
 shafts of envy and ill-nature. That he was himself 
 superior to such meanness, he had given a proof in the 
 last picture he painted, where he had, in a great mea- 
 sure, adopted the ease of Raffaelle's style, in addition 
 to the exquisite softness and minute finishing of his 
 own. It was no small compliment to RafFaelle that 
 Leonardo, even in his old age, should have conde- 
 scended to imitate him - for in such a man it was con- 
 descension to alter his style in imitation of any one. 
 Although it would be impossible to deny that Raffaelle 
 excelled Da Vinci in painting nearly as much as 
 Michael Angelo did in sculpture, still it must be gener- 
 ally allowed, that, if they were the greater artists, he 
 was the greater man, without derogating from the high 
 character of either. When we consider the state in 
 which Leonardo da Vinci found the arts when he first 
 engaged in painting as a profession, the improvements 
 which he introduced, the scholars whom he educated, 
 and the prejudices which he annihilated, we are all 
 lost in admiration of his various merits. Even Michael 
 Angelo and RafFaelle are obliged to him for a part 
 of their glory ; because they first became the great 
 men they were from studying his works. RafFaelle 
 borrowed from him that almost divine grace, which 
 Leonardo so well knew how to impart to the counte- 
 nances he painted 5 Michael Angelo took from him 
 that daring style of drawing by which he astonished 
 mankind ; and if afterwards both surpassed him, they 
 were nevertheless infinitely indebted to the advantages 
 they derived from his original inventions. Yet, such 
 is the ungrateful reward of talent in all times, this man 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lxxix 
 
 was obliged to expatriate himself when more than 
 seventy years of age ! 
 
 The politics of Italy were now again becoming em- 
 broiled. King Louis the Twelfth of France died on 
 the first day of the year 1515, and he was succeeded 
 by Francis the First. It was not to be supposed that 
 a young King of only twenty-two years of age would 
 feel inclined to submit quietly to the loss of his Italian 
 dominions, particularly as he had assumed the title of 
 Duke of Milan on his accession to the throne, both in 
 right of his predecessor and of the Emperor's conces- 
 sion of that duchy at the league of Cambray. Having 
 concluded an advantageous peace with the King of 
 England and the Archduke of Austria, afterwards 
 Charles V., the young monarch advanced towards 
 Italy, determined to make light of every difficulty. 
 His successes induced Leo to incline towards an 
 accommodation. Francis was already in possession of 
 Pavia ; and his armies were proceeding with rapid 
 strides to reconquer the whole of Lombardy. 
 
 These political events no sooner became public than 
 Leonardo da Vinci resolved to profit by the successes 
 of his former patrons, the French, in whose service he 
 still considered himself. He therefore set out for 
 Pavia, where he was received by Francis with every 
 mark of friendship. He soon became a great favourite 
 with his Majesty, who delighted in his society and 
 conversation ; and Da Vinci's spirits began to revive 
 at again finding himself in a situation where all his 
 excellent qualities were duly appreciated. He felt 
 himself of the same consequence he had formerly 
 been; and presiding over the revels and entertain- 
 ments of a magnificent court, he exerted his utmost 
 
lxxx 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 taste and skill to please his chivalrous patron and his 
 nobles. 
 
 It is supposed that the Lion, spoken of by Lomazzo, 
 was contrived by Leonardo on this occasion to increase 
 the pomp of some of the fetes given in honour of the 
 King's successes. This piece of mechanism was so 
 admirably contrived, that the lion walked of itself up 
 to the King's throne, and threw open its body, which 
 was filled with " fleurs de lis," in compliment to his 
 Majesty. This pageant is frequently mentioned by 
 the writers of that period, when it was, no doubt, 
 considered as a most wonderful invention. 
 
 Both the Pope and the King of France were ex- 
 tremely desirous of an interview, and Bologna was 
 fixed upon as the place where the congress should be 
 held. The King came attended with very little pomp, 
 and only a small part of his brilliant court, but among 
 them was Leonardo da Vinci, * who must have been 
 highly gratified in being able to show himself to the 
 Pope's followers as the friend and favourite of a 
 powerful monarch, after having been almost compelled 
 to quit Rome. To the young King his experience 
 was doubtless of the greatest use in treating with so 
 wary a politician as Leo ; and his general knowledge 
 of Italy, both in politics and literature, must have 
 increased his favour with Francis, to whose interest he 
 was now most firmly attached, and from that time 
 
 * Among Leonardo's papers was found a design for the por- 
 trait of Signore Artus, under which is written, in his own hand- 
 writing, " Ritratto diM. Artus, Maestro di Camera del Rè Fran- 
 cesco primo, nella Giunta con Papa Leon decimo," which fully 
 proves that Da Vinci was present on that occasion. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lxxxi 
 
 Leonardo considered himself as belonging to the 
 French court. Conscious of his own deserts, Leonardo 
 da Vinci felt as an insult what was merely the effect of 
 an envious cabal ; but his sensitive mind was so deeply 
 wounded, that he determined to abandon his country 
 for ever, and establish himself at the court of France 
 for the rest of his days. If his pride could have sub- 
 mitted to prove his superior merit by his works, in- 
 stead of showing that he was offended by leaving the 
 court of Rome, there is every probability that he 
 must have triumphed over his enemies and regained 
 the Pontiff's favour. But most likely he considered 
 himself too old to begin the struggle anew, and he 
 was perhaps too proud to submit to a competition for 
 fame in a country where he had for so many years 
 held the first place, and which was so much indebted 
 to his exertions for many of the advantages which she 
 possessed in the fine arts. Another reason that must 
 have naturally influenced him at his time of life, was 
 the instability of the Italian courts, the disadvantages 
 of which he had sufficiently experienced in the down- 
 fall of the house of Sforza, and the continual changes 
 of the government of Milan. By these circumstances 
 he had lost all the fruits of his long services to that 
 state during the best part of his life ; and even his 
 reputation had considerably suffered by it, in the de- 
 struction of his works. The equestrian statue of 
 Francesco Sforza, which he was to have cast in bronze, 
 and by which he hoped to have established his fame 
 as a sculptor, never proceeded any further than the 
 model, and even that was destroyed by the brutality 
 of the soldiery. The evils of war and the miseries of 
 civil dissension had dispersed his friends and scholars, 
 
lxxxii 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and nothing remained of the Academy which he had 
 founded, but the effects which it produced on the arts 
 in laying a foundation for the improvement of painting, 
 by which all subsequent artists have more or less 
 benefited. The friends of his brighter days were all 
 either dead or no longer able to struggle against the 
 misfortunes which they had met with from the un- 
 settled state of their country ; so that it was not to be 
 wondered at that Da Vinci should have preferred 
 sheltering himself under the protection of a powerful 
 monarch who promised to provide most generously for 
 the rest of his life, to the precarious subsistence which 
 Italy could afford him. 
 
 Previous to his departure from Milan, the King 
 tried every means in his power to remove the painting 
 of " The Last Supper/' in order to send it to France. 
 Every thing was done to deprive Milan of this magnifi- 
 cent work which she has so badly taken care of -, but it 
 was found impracticable, although Francis would have 
 spared no expense to have succeeded in his designs, 
 and Leonardo did all in his power to gratify his new 
 patron. However, all their efforts were ineffectual, 
 and, as Vasari says, " the picture having been done 
 immediately on the wall, his Majesty was obliged to 
 depart with his wish ungratified, and leave the paint- 
 ing to the Milanese/* * 
 
 About the end of January 1516 Leonardo accom- 
 panied Francis the First to Paris, as painter to the 
 court of France, with an annual salary of 700 crowns, 
 and a liberal provision for all his wants ; where he met 
 with a reception equal to his merits. The King 
 
 * An excellent copy of the Last Supper was purchased in Italy 
 by Sir Thomas Lawrence, and is now at the Royal Academy. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lxxxiii 
 
 treated him with distinguished favour, and the cour- 
 tiers vied with each other in following his Majesty's 
 example. 
 
 From the time of his arrival in France, his health 
 began to deteriorate, so much so, that he was incap- 
 able of applying himself to any thing of consequence. 
 It is known from the direction of a letter found among 
 his papers, " A Monsieur Lyonard Peintre, par Am- 
 boise," that he must have been at that place ; as also 
 from the circumstance of his will being dated from 
 thence, in which he speaks of the furniture and 
 valuables he possessed at " Du Cloux," about a mile 
 from Amboise, where he most likely resided. 
 
 It does not appear probable that he painted any 
 thing in France, as Vasari tells us that the King himself 
 could not prevail on him to finish his cartoon of Santa 
 Anna, which he had brought from Italy, and which 
 was afterwards painted by some of his scholars on his 
 outlines. It is also most likely that Leonardo, finding 
 himself growing old, and much oppressed with sick- 
 ness, would not have wished to undertake any work 
 that he no longer felt himself able to complete without 
 almost compromising his former reputation. We may 
 therefore suppose that the painting of Francis's 
 mistress, " La belle Furoniere," is the work of some 
 of his scholars. 
 
 Towards the latter end of his life, Leonardo's health 
 was so much broken, that his infirmities no longer 
 permitted him to take any part in the pleasures of the 
 world, and he began to prepare himself for that awful 
 change which he expected to be soon called upon to 
 make. Vasari tells us, that believing himself near 
 death, Da Vinci devoted the remainder of his days to 
 
Ixxxiv 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 a more strict observance of the precepts of the Ca- 
 tholic religion ; which would almost imply that he had 
 lived the greater part of his life without any. But this 
 inference is strongly contradicted by the morality and 
 propriety of his general conduct. For although his 
 person, talents, and accomplishments would have given 
 him every probability of success, particularly when 
 united with the example of a most libertine court, it is 
 well known there was no man of his time less addicted 
 to gallantry and intrigue. His writings also are all of 
 a more serious nature than could have been expected 
 from the vivacity of his disposition in early life. And 
 even his paintings are entirely free from any sort of 
 lascivious or indecent ideas. He seldom painted naked 
 figures ; but whenever he did undertake such subjects, 
 they were always remarkable for the purity and mo- 
 desty of their attitudes ; as in the Leda, which is men- 
 tioned by Lomazzo, where he painted the eyes cast 
 down from shame. Vasari must, therefore, have in- 
 tended to express a total abandonment of the present 
 to fix his mind exclusively on the future, rather than 
 to insinuate any want of religion in his youth. Na- 
 turally enthusiastic in his feelings, he turned his 
 thoughts to his Maker with the same ardour which 
 had distinguished him in all his actions ; and his death 
 was as glorious as his life had been virtuous and useful. 
 Having accompanied the court to Fontainbleau, he 
 expired in the arms of Francis the First, who came to 
 visit him during his iilness, and happened by accident 
 to be with him when he was seized with a mortal 
 paroxysm that speedily terminated his existence. 
 What a triumph to the arts ! and what an honour to 
 the King! who had the pleasing remembrance of 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 lxxxv 
 
 having comforted the last moments of one of the 
 greatest artists that had then enlightened the world ; 
 and Francis must have looked back with more real 
 satisfaction and self-approbation, to the recollection 
 of his having supported and soothed Leonardo da 
 Vinci in the hour of death, than to many of the more 
 brilliant events of his reign. If at such a moment, 
 when all artificial distinctions are at an end, Leonardo 
 could have entertained one worldly thought, it must 
 have alleviated his sufferings and encouraged his 
 hopes, to know that he breathed out his soul in the 
 arms of one of the greatest monarchs in Europe, who, 
 while living, regarded him with the warmest admira- 
 tion, and when dying lamented him with the sincerest 
 regret. 
 
 Such was the enviable fate of Leonardo da Vinci, 
 who died at the age of seventy-five, universally 
 esteemed and as universally regretted. His whole 
 life was spent in advancing the happiness of his fellow- 
 creatures by furthering the progress of science. Few 
 men have done more good in the world : a generous 
 patron, an affectionate friend, and a liberal-minded 
 man, he was as ready to promote the views of others 
 as he was to acknowledge their merit ; and he had 
 scarcely a wish beyond the advancement of general 
 knowledge and the encouragement of the fine arts. 
 
 Several authors, and among others Ammoretti, 
 attempt to deprive Leonardo of the honour of having 
 died in the arms of Francis, which they treat as a fic- 
 titious story invented to amuse the lovers of the mar- 
 vellous; but it is too well confirmed by contemporary 
 writers and general tradition to be destroyed by these 
 sceptics. We have, moreover, the testimony of Va- 
 
 e 
 
Ixxxvi 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sari, who relates the circumstance in these words : — 
 (t At length, seeing himself near death, he confessed 
 himself with much contrition ; and although he was 
 unable to stand, he desired his friends and servants to 
 support him, that he might receive the holy sacrament 
 out of bed in a more reverent posture. When fatigued 
 with this exertion, the King came to visit him, and 
 Leonardo, raising himself up in his bed out of respect 
 to his Majesty, began to relate the circumstances of 
 his illness, and the wrongs he had done both to God 
 and man, by not making better use of his talents. In 
 the midst of this conversation he was seized with a 
 paroxysm, which proved the messenger of death 3 on 
 seeing which, the King hastened to assist him, and 
 supported him in his bed, in order to alleviate his suf- 
 ferings. But his divine spirit, knowing he could not 
 receive greater honour, expired in the King's arms 
 in the seventy-fifth year of his age." 
 
 Leonardo's having made his will at Amboise, is no 
 proof of his having died at Cloux, particularly as it 
 was written some months before his death. And as it 
 is well known that Fontainbleau was the favourite re- 
 sidence of Francis, there is every reason to suppose 
 that he would have desired Leonardo's assistance in the 
 embellishment of that place. As he was also attached 
 to the court and to the King personally, he would in 
 all probability have been wherever his master was. 
 Another reason Ammoretti gives for discrediting this 
 anecdote, is the circumstance of Francesco Melzi's 
 having written from Amboise to inform Da Vinci's 
 brothers of his death. But is it not possible, and even 
 probable, that Melzi, as his executor, should have gone 
 to the place where his effects were, and of which he 
 had also to give an account? At any rate, this story 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI. lxxxvi 
 
 is too pleasing a fiction, if it be one, to be slightly 
 discredited $ and few would wish to disbelieve what 
 tradition has handed down to us, what all the poets 
 and painters who have since touched on the subject 
 have confirmed, and what is besides as glorious to 
 Leonardo, as it is creditable to Francis. 
 
 To a noble presence and beautiful countenance, Da 
 Vinci united uncommon strength both of body and 
 mind. His eloquence was so persuasive, that Vasari 
 says, " Con le parole sue volgeva al sì e al no ogn' 
 indurata intentione ;" and his physical force was so 
 great, that he could bend a horse-shoe as if it were 
 lead. He was very magnificent in his attire, and 
 rather too fond of adorning his person in early life ; 
 but these foibles were more than counterbalanced by 
 the hospitality and liberality of his disposition. The 
 founder of an academy over which he presided for 
 some years, he may be supposed to have left a great 
 many literary works, which are most of them in ma- 
 nuscript, and preserved in different public libraries 
 throughout Europe. Among these are a treatise on 
 Hydraulics, with designs, another on Anatomy, and 
 another on the Anatomy of the Horse, which is noticed 
 by Vasari, Borghini, and Lomazzo 5 and a treatise on 
 Perspective and on Light and Shade. But his best- 
 known work is the Trattato della Pittura, of which 
 there are several editions • an old one with etchings 
 by Stefano della Bella, and a more recent one printed 
 at Paris by Du Fresne in 1651, with figures by Nico- 
 las Poussin. This was translated into English and 
 published in London by John Senex in 1721. The en- 
 suing translation, by Rigaud, was first published in 
 London in 1802. 
 
 As an engineer, the canal of the Martesana, by 
 
IxXXVÌÌÌ THE LIFE OF DA VINCI. 
 
 which he conducted the waters of the Adda to the 
 walls of Milan, a distance of nearly two hundred miles, 
 would have been alone sufficient to establish his repu- 
 tation. In this great work he obliged the impediments 
 of nature to give way to the efforts of genius, and he 
 succeeded to the admiration of all Italy. 
 
 As a painter, Leonardo da Vinci may be considered 
 the first who reconciled minute finishing with gran- 
 deur of design and harmony of expression. His was 
 the very poetry of painting. His exquisite taste, by 
 continually making him dissatisfied with his works, 
 urged him on to a nearer approach to perfection than 
 had ever been attained. For this reason his scholars 
 were superior to those of any other master, as he 
 exacted from them the same profound attention to 
 nature, and laborious minuteness of style, which dis- 
 tinguished himself. 
 
 It is to be remembered, to the immortal honour of 
 Leonardo da Vinci, that he first dissipated the film of 
 ignorance which impeded the progress of the arts ; 
 and if Rafiaelle and Michael Angelo afterwards sur- 
 passed him in his own line, it is to him that justly 
 belongs the merit of having first pointed out the road 
 which they so successfully followed. It is easier to 
 improve than to invent; but to him who had the 
 talents to imagine and the courage to overcome the 
 prejudices of ages, ought to belong the gratitude of 
 posterity, more than to those who, by following his 
 precepts, increased their own reputation. To no one, 
 in short, are the arts more largely indebted than to 
 Leonardo da Vinci, whose virtues endeared him to all 
 who knew him, and whose exertions so mainly con- 
 tributed to the refinement and civilization of future 
 ages. 
 
CATALOGUE 
 
 OF THE PRINCIPAL 
 
 WORKS PAINTED BY LEONARDO 
 
 DA VINCI. 
 
 It is difficult to give a correct catalogue of the works 
 of any artist who lived at so distant a period as Leonardo 
 da Vinci, and also to point out the different places where 
 they are to be found, with the names of their respective 
 owners : the more so, as works of art, as well as states 
 and kingdoms, have so frequently changed masters of 
 late years, that it is almost impossible to trace them 
 through so many revolutions. 
 
 The most considerable of Leonardo's undertakings 
 were those painted on the walls of the refectory in the 
 Convent of the Madonna della Grazia, at Milan ; but, 
 unfortunately, little remains of them to establish his 
 fame in the present day. His grand painting of " The 
 Last Supper," and his portraits of the Duke Ludovico il 
 Moro, the Duchess Beatrice, and their children, are 
 nearly defaced ; and in addition to the ravages of time, 
 the figure of our Saviour, which lie painted on the wall, 
 is destroyed by the enlargement of a doorway. 
 
 At the Canonica de Vaprio, he painted his own por- 
 trait by the side of a window, in the house of his friends 
 the Melzi ; and in Vaprio, his colossal painting of the 
 Virgin Mary is still to be seen in the palace belonging 
 to the same family. In Rome he painted a figure of the 
 Virgin on the wall of the cloisters in the Convent of St. 
 e 3 
 
xc 
 
 CATALOGUE OF THE 
 
 Onofrio. But of all these little remains but the outlines, 
 from the circumstance of their having been painted on 
 walls, and as difficult to remove as to preserve. 
 
 His oil paintings are much more numerous, as he 
 painted on wood, on canvass, and on paper. As Milan 
 was the place where he resided longest, it may be sup- 
 posed that he painted most of his pictures there ; but the 
 greater part of those which could be removed, have long 
 since been transported into other countries. 
 
 In the Public Gallery of Milan, are the portraits of 
 the Duchess Beatrice and the Duke Maximilian. An- 
 other copy of the latter is in the Melzi Gallery. There 
 is also the portrait of an Old Man, and a half figure of 
 St. John the Baptist, which is considered as Leonardo's 
 work, in the Public Gallery ; but by some authors they 
 are supposed to be only painted on his outlines. 
 
 In the Archbishop's Palace, a Virgin and Child, un- 
 finished. 
 
 In the Palazzo Belgioso, a Holy Family that was at 
 Piacenza j and innumerable smaller pictures dispersed 
 among the private collections in Milan, most of which 
 have now found their way to England. 
 
 At Isola Bella, in the possession of the Boromeo family, 
 there is a half figure of a Young Man, in very good pre- 
 servation. 
 
 At Bologna. 
 
 In the Hall of the Gonfaloniere, the portrait of a Boy. 
 At Florence. 
 
 In the Public Gallery.— The Medusas Head. A 
 small picture in the Tribune representing Herodias re- 
 ceiving the head of St. John the Baptist : by some this 
 
WORKS OF DA VINCI. 
 
 xci 
 
 picture is attributed to Luino. The outlines, or rather 
 the unfinished sketch of a large painting, representing 
 the Epiphany, in the Scuola Fiorentina. And his own 
 portrait, in the Hall of the Painters. 
 
 In the Palazzo Pitti, a Magdalen ; most beautiful. 
 
 In the Palazzo Nicolini, the portrait of a Man. 
 
 In the Mozzi Gallery, the portrait of a Lady. 
 
 In the possession of Signor Fineschi is the famous 
 picture of the Angel, described by Vasari, from the col- 
 lection in the Palazzo Vecchio. This picture was for 
 sale in 1828. 
 
 Rome, 
 
 In the Palazzo Borghese, a Holy Family. This is 
 considered one of Leonardo's best pictures, and formerly 
 belonged to Pope Clement the Seventh. 
 
 Palazzo Aldobrandini. — Jesus Christ disputing with 
 the Doctors of Law ; and the celebrated painting of La 
 Vanità et la Modestia. The former picture is now in 
 the National Gallery in London, and the latter was in 
 1828 in the possession of the late Earl of Dudley. 
 
 In the Giustiniani Gallery, a Holy Family 3 now in 
 England, in the collection of the Earl of Suffolk. 
 
 A very fine portrait of a Lady was in the possession of 
 the late Count D'Albany 5 and there was also a St. John 
 in the collection of the Signora Angelica Kauffmann 3 but 
 these pictures are both removed 5 the latter probably to 
 Spain. 
 
 In Germany. 
 
 In the Imperial Gallery at Vienna — a picture of the 
 Birth of our Saviour 5 and an Herodias. 
 
 In the collection of Prince Kaunitz, the celebrated 
 Leda. 
 
xcii 
 
 CATALOGUE OF THE 
 
 In the Gallery of Prince Liechtenstein, the Head of 
 oar Saviour. This is the picture so much praised by 
 Winkelman as a model of manly beauty. 
 
 At Dresden, in the Public Gallery, the portrait of Gian 
 Jacopo Triulzio, General of the French army under 
 Francis I. 
 
 At Munich, in the Public Gallery, a painting of the 
 Virgin. 
 
 In the Royal Collection at Berlin, a very fine picture 
 of Vertumnus and Pomona. 
 
 Russia. 
 
 At St. Petersburgh, in the Emperor's collection at the 
 Hermitage, a Holy Family. 
 
 There are several smaller pictures of less note, which 
 are considered as the work of his scholars, some of them 
 perhaps finished upon his outlines. 
 
 Spain. 
 
 At Madrid, in the Royal Gallery — Jesus Christ brought 
 before Pilate. Two pictures of the Virgin. A Head of 
 St. John. This is most probably the picture that was 
 in the collection of the Signora Angelica Kauffmann, as 
 most of her pictures were sent to Spain. A San Giro- 
 lamo in the grotto. 
 
 France. 
 
 At Paris, in the Louvre — the portrait of Mona Lisa, 
 wife of Francesco del Giocondo, a Florentine, usually 
 called " La belle Joconde." This is generally considered 
 as Leonardo's best work. It was purchased by Francis I. 
 for four thousand gold crowns, a sum which would now 
 be equal to forty-five thousand francs. In the back- 
 
WORKS OF DA VINCI. 
 
 xciii 
 
 ground is a landscape. Sir Abraham Hume, Bart., has 
 a copy of this picture. 
 
 The portrait of a Lady, supposed to be Lucretia Cre- 
 velli. She is dressed in red. 
 
 A St. John holding the cross in one hand, and point- 
 ing to heaven with the other. 
 
 A Holy Family, representing the infant Jesus giving 
 his benediction to St. John, who is presented to him by 
 Elizabeth. This picture is engraved by Desnayers. 
 
 A Holy Family, representing the Archangel Michael 
 presenting Jesus the scales to weigh the good and evil 
 actions of man : he is seated on the Virgin's lap, and they 
 are both looking at Elizabeth and John the Baptist 
 playing with a lamb. 
 
 Two pictures called Leonardo's, which are attributed 
 rather to his school than to himself. One is St. John 
 presenting the Cross of rushes to our Saviour. The 
 other is St. Catharine of Alexandria at prayers. 
 
 A picture of the Virgin Mary sitting on the lap of 
 Santa Anna, our Saviour and St. John playing at their 
 feet. This is undoubtedly an original of Leonardo's : 
 but has suffered very much from being over-cleaned, and 
 is now greatly discoloured. 
 
 The Chevalier Gault relates that Monsieur de Chamois 
 possesses one of Da Vinci's pictures representing Joseph 
 and Potiphar's wife. He also says there is a group of 
 Contadini in the Royal Gallery, but it exists there no 
 longer. 
 
 The portrait of King Charles the Eighth of France, 
 who died in 1497, for some time attributed to Leonardo, 
 is now considered as the work of Perugino. 
 
 There are also several pictures in private collections 
 in Paris, esteemed the works of Leonardo da Vinci 5 but 
 
 1 
 
xciv 
 
 CATALOGUE OF THE 
 
 the author has endeavoured to name only those which are 
 well known, and can be easily traced. 
 
 A picture has lately been discovered at Fontainebleau, 
 which had long been given up as lost ; the subject is 
 Leda, and it is spoken of in the highest terms of praise. 
 
 In England. 
 
 The picture of Christ disputing with the Doctors of 
 Law, formerly in the Aldobrandini Palace at Rome, is 
 now in the National Gallery, having been bequeathed by 
 the Rev. Holwell Carr, who purchased it from Lord 
 Northwick, for 3,000 guineas. 
 
 La Colombi na — purchased for 250 guineas by Robert 
 Udney, Esq. from the Orleans collection. 
 
 The Virgin, Child, and Angels, from the Escurial pa- 
 lace, in the collection of Lord Ashburton. 
 
 Portrait of Mona Lisa, the wife of Francesco del Gio- 
 condo, in the collection of Sir Abraham Hume, Bart. 
 This picture is a repetition of the one at Paris, and, 
 although a very fine painting, is not equal to it. 
 
 At Stowe, in the collection of his Grace the Duke of 
 Buckingham, a Holy Family. 
 
 A Holy Family, in excellent preservation, and one of 
 Leonardo's best compositions. This picture was pur- 
 chased from Mr. Justice Crawley, of Luton in Bedford- 
 shire, and came originally from Italy. It was lately in the 
 possession of Mess. Woodburn, of St. MartinVlane, who 
 have caused it to be engraved, and have sold the picture 
 to an English Nobleman. A smaller picture on this sub- 
 ject, said to be painted by Da Vinci, is in the Fitzwilliam 
 Collection at Cambridge. 
 
 In the collection of the late Duke of Bridgewater, was 
 the portrait of a Woman, purchased by his Grace from 
 
WORKS OF DA VINCI. 
 
 XCV 
 
 the Orleans Collection, for CO guineas, which is now 
 in the possession of Lord Francis Egerton, at Cleveland 
 House. 
 
 Herodias, in the Orleans collection, passed into the 
 possession of Edward Coxe, esq. of Hampstead, and 
 was sold again at his sale. 
 
 A Laughing Boy, with a play-thing in his hand. No- 
 thing can exceed the masterly execution of this picture. 
 It has the correctness of Raphael's drawing, and the 
 graces and softness of Correggio's pencil. This picture 
 was in the Arundel Collection, inherited by Lady Betty 
 Germaine, who bequeathed it to Sir William Hamilton ; 
 at whose sale, in April, 1801, it was purchased by Mr. 
 Beckford for 1365/. It was at Fonthill, and is now at 
 the Duke of Hamilton's. There are two drawings after 
 the same Boy in the drawing book of Leonardo da Vinci, 
 in the Ambrosian Library at Milan. 
 
 The Holy Family, that was in the Giustiniani Palace 
 at Rome, is now in England in the collection of the 
 Earl of Suffolk, at his seat at Charlton, near Malmesbury. 
 
 The picture of the Conception, originally in the church 
 of San Francesco at Milan, is likewise in this country. 
 
 A fine picture of Francis I. in the character of our 
 Saviour, was in 1828, in the possession of H. C. An- 
 drews, Esq. of Sloane-street. 
 
 Several of the scholars of Leonardo da Vinci painted so 
 like himself, that many of the pictures attributed to him 
 belong more properly to his school, as his own occupa- 
 tions were so various that he could not possibly have 
 painted all the pictures that are reputed to be his own 
 works. 
 
xcvi 
 
 VALUABLE DRAWINGS. 
 
 DRAWINGS. 
 
 A volume of valuable Drawings by Leonardo da Vinci, 
 once the property of Pompeo Leoni, is now in the pos- 
 session of his Britannic Majesty, and is at present kept 
 at Cumberland Lodge. In it are contained 234 leaves, on 
 which are pasted 779 drawings. It consists u of a variety 
 of elegant heads, some of which are drawn with red and 
 black chalks, on blue or red paper 5 others with a metal 
 pencil on a tinted paper -, a few of them are washed and 
 heightened with white, and many are 01/ common paper. 
 The subjects are miscellaneous, as portraits, caricatures, 
 single figures, tilting, horses, and other animals ; botany, 
 optics, perspective, gunnery, hydraulics, mechanics, and 
 a great number of anatomical subjects, which are drawn 
 with a more spirited pen, and illustrated with a variety 
 of manuscript notes in his usual left-hand writing, in 
 very fair characters. This volume contains the very 
 characteristic portrait of Da Vinci, by himself, which 
 was engraved by Bartolozzi 5 * together with sixteen 
 other subjects, as male and female heads, characters, and 
 caricatures 5 and published by Mr. Chamberlaine under 
 royal patronage. 
 
 His Majesty's drawing of the Lord's Supper is accu- 
 rately executed on paper with black lead, and highly 
 finished ; and formerly did honor to the Bonfiglioli col- 
 lection at Bologna, f 
 
 * Chamberlaine' s Life of Da Vinci, p. 11. 
 
 f Rogers' "Collection of Prints in imitation of Drawings, 1778," 
 in which work is a copy in imitation of this drawing of the Last 
 Supper, " W. W. Ryland sc. 1768." 
 
BY LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 xcvii 
 
 In 1 778, Robert Udney, esq. possessed a collection of 
 11 admirable Cartoons, containing 13 Heads in the Last 
 Supper, which had been bought by the Procurator Sagre - 
 do at Venice, with the rest of the Marquis of Casinidi's 
 collection.* These were bought at Mr. Udney's sale by 
 the late Mr. Woodburn, who sold them to the Duke of 
 Hamilton -, the latter bequeathed them to the Duke of 
 Somerset, in whose possession the greater part, if not the 
 whole, are at present. 
 
 In the collection bequeathed to the British Museum 
 by Richard Payne Knight, esq., are three small drawings 
 by Leonardo da Vinci ; 1 . a front portrait of Artus, cham- 
 berlain of Francis the First, remarkably fine 5 2. anothen 
 a profile head, fine ; and 3. in pen and ink, a fanciful bat- 
 tle of monsters, a dragon, a bear, an unicorn, 8cc. A seated 
 figure holds a shield, on which is reflected the sun, which 
 is seen raging in the sky. 
 
 A valuable series of Leonardo's Drawings for the 
 " Last Supper/' which was in the Ambrosian Library 
 at Milan, has since been purchased by Sir Thomas Ba- 
 ring, Bart. They were afterwards bought of Sir T. Ba- 
 ring by the late Sir Thomas Lawrence. As that grand 
 painting is so much destroyed, these drawings are of the 
 highest interest. They have since, with about forty other 
 drawings by Leonardo da Vinci, and the whole of Sir T. 
 Lawrence's collection, come into the possession of Mess. 
 Woodburn, St. Martin's-lane. One of Leonardo's draw- 
 ings for the Last Supper, is still in the Ambrosian Libra- 
 ry at Milan. The late Sir T. Lawrence was desirous of 
 adding it to his collection. 
 
 * Rogers's " Prints in Imitation of Drawings," vol. i. p. 9. 
 
 / 
 
xcviii 
 
 WORKS OF DA VINCI. 
 
 MANUSCRIPTS. 
 
 Fourteen MS. volumes by Leonardo da Vinci are in 
 the National Library at Paris,, whither they were re- 
 moved from the Ambrosian Library at Milan. J. B- 
 Venturi (p. 4.) says, that they contain speculations 
 in those branches of natural philosophy nearest allied 
 to geometry j that they are first sketches and occa- 
 sional notes, the author always intending afterwards 
 to compose from them complete treatises. They are 
 written backwards from right to left, in the man- 
 ner of the oriental writers, probably with intention 
 that the curious should not rob him of his discoveries. 
 The spirit of geometry guided him throughout, whether 
 it were in the art of analysing a subject in the connexion 
 of the discourse, or the care of always generalizing his 
 f ideas. As to natural philosophy, he never was satisfied 
 on any proposition if he had not proved it by experiment. 
 Venturi has given extracts from Da Vinci's MSS. 
 arranged under the following heads : Sect. 1. Of the 
 descent of heavy bodies, combined with the rotation of 
 the earth. 2. Of the earth divided into particles. 3. Of 
 the earth and the moon. 4. Of the action of the sun on 
 the sea. 5. Of the ancient state of the earth. 6. Of 
 the flame and the air. 7. Of statics. 8. Of the descent 
 of heavy bodies by inclined planes. 9. Of the water 
 which one draws from a canal. 10. Of whirlpools. 11. 
 Of vision. 12. Of military architecture. 13. Of some 
 instruments. 14. Two chemical processes. 15. Of 
 method. 
 
 In the Arundel collection of MSS. in the British Mu- 
 seum, No. 263 is a paper Volume in 8vo, ff. 283, written 
 backwards, and illustrated by diagrams and delineations. 
 It is his rough book of observations and demonstrations 
 
SCHOLARS OF DA VINCI. 
 
 xcix 
 
 on subjects chiefly of mixed mathematics ; being uncon- 
 nected notes written by him at different times, com- 
 mencing 22 March 1508, on the mechanical powers of 
 forces, percussion, gravity, motion, optics, astronomy, &e. 
 with various arithmetical and geometrical propositions in 
 Italian. Several memoranda occur in this volume, (noticed 
 in the printed Catalogue of the Arundel MSS. p. 79,) 
 particularly the death of his father Pietro da Vinci. 
 
 LIST OF LEONARDO DA VINCl's SCHOLARS, COLLECTED 
 FROM HIS OWN NOTES AND MANUSCRIPTS. 
 
 Francesco Melzi. 
 
 Andrea Salaj'no, known in England by the 
 
 name of Solario. 
 Marco Oggioni. 
 Gian Antonio Beltraffio. 
 Cesare da Sesto. 
 Pietro Ricci detto Gianpedrino. 
 Lorenzo Lotto. 
 Nicolo Appiano. 
 
 Bernardino Foxolo, Fanfoya, Jachomo, and Bernardino 
 Luino, who was not his scholar, properly speaking, but 
 who painted after his manner, studied him closely, and 
 coloured a great many of his drawings and cartoons, with 
 almost as much grace and softness as he could have done 
 himself. 
 
 Lomazzo was more his friend and contemporary than 
 his scholar, although he derived great benefit from his 
 instructions. 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN FRANCIS RIGAUD, ESQ. R.A. 
 
 John Francis Rigaud^ (whose excellent 
 Translation of the Treatise on Paintings by Leo- 
 nardo da Vinci, forms the principal part of this 
 Volume,) was born at Turin, in the kingdom of 
 Sardinia, on the 18th of May, 1742. His father 
 was a respectable merchant, the descendant of a 
 Protestant family, which had left France at the 
 revocation of the Edict of Nantz, and had settled 
 at Turin, where they flourished among the first 
 merchants of that celebrated city. 
 
 It was intended that the subject of this narrative 
 should have followed the mercantile vocation 
 of his father; and, for that purpose, he had been 
 brought into the counting-house ; but, manifest- 
 ing an unconquerable love for the art of painting? 
 his father liberally consented to indulge his incli- 
 nation, and afforded him every possible facility 
 for prosecuting his favourite study. He immedi- 
 
MEMOIR, &C. 
 
 ci 
 
 ately placed him under the care of one of the first 
 Artists of that day, the Chevalier Beaumont, prin- 
 cipal Painter to the King of Sardinia. Under his 
 instructions he made rapid progress ; and leaving 
 Turin, when properly grounded in the art, he 
 set out on his travels to visit the principal 
 cities of Italy, to examine the most celebrated 
 pictures of the great Masters; and, with that 
 view, he stopped principally at Rome, at Bo- 
 logna, and at Parma, where he successfully copied 
 the famous picture of St. Jerome, by Corregio ; 
 and, in consequence of his merit, he was elected, 
 in 1766, a Member of the Clementine Academy of 
 Bologna. In 1772 he left Italy, and visited Paris, 
 where he had offers of considerable employment : 
 but his thirst for knowledge and fame being predo- 
 minant, he rejected the patronage that was offered 
 to him, determined to see the productions of the 
 British School, and partake of the advantages of 
 the establishment of the Royal Academy at Lon- 
 don ; of which he hoped to become, by his assi- 
 duity and abilities, a deserving Member. The 
 first Picture that he exhibited in England, was 
 the Hercules, which secured him great praise. 
 In November of the same year, he was elected an 
 Associate: and in 1785 he was chosen a Royal 
 Academician. 
 
 From the moment he received his first academic 
 honours in this country he was determined to settle 
 in it, and continued to follow the Historic line of 
 
cii 
 
 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Painting, which was his great delight; occasionally 
 painting Portraits, which he undertook with reluct- 
 ance, regretting every moment that was not em- 
 ployed in the higher department of Art. 
 
 Always anxious for improvement, he left Eng- 
 land in the year 1782, to make a tour through 
 Flanders and Germany, visiting all the great Col- 
 lections : and having thus gratified himself with 
 the sight of them, he explored the grand beauties 
 of Nature in Switzerland. From Switzerland he 
 returned to England, and from that time con- 
 tinued the exercise of his professional talents 
 with vigour and diligence. He painted some ceil- 
 ings, which then, fortunately for Art, was the 
 fashion of the time ; particularly one for the late 
 Marquis of Donegal, at Fisherwick; the Library 
 at Packington, in encaustic, for the present Earl 
 of Aylesford ; and the ceiling of the Court Room 
 at the Trinity House, on Tower Hill. 
 
 Having studied so much in Italy, where Fresco 
 Painting was still practised, he was completely ac- 
 quainted with its process ; and, by the encourage- 
 ment of the Earl of Aylesford, who honoured him 
 with his friendship and patronage, he was induced 
 to paint for his Lordship an Altar-piece, in Fresco, 
 for the Parish Church at Packington, his Lord- 
 ship's Seat in Warwickshire ; which is supposed 
 to be the first Painting in Fresco executed in this 
 country. He painted another Altar-piece, after 
 the same manner, for the Parish Church of St. 
 
J. F. RIGAUD, R A. 
 
 ciii 
 
 Martin Outwich, in the city of London. His 
 celebrated Picture of the Exposing of Moses, was 
 so much admired by a Swedish gentleman, then 
 on his travels in England, that he ordered a du- 
 plicate, which was taken to Stockholm; and such 
 was the impression it made in that city, that he 
 was not only immediately elected a Member of 
 its Royal Academy, but was appointed Historical 
 Painter to the King of Sweden. In England he 
 was employed in those great undertakings, the 
 Poets, Shakspeare, and Historic Galleries. 
 
 His love for Painting was not evinced by his 
 pencil only, his pen was also engaged in its ser- 
 vice ; for he made an excellent translation of the 
 Treatise on Painting by Leonardo da Vinci, and 
 wrote an Essay for the periodical publication in- 
 titled "The Artist/' on the materials for Painting. 
 
 He continued in the perfect enjoyment of his 
 faculties, and in the full exercise of his Art, until 
 the very last moment of his life ; and he died as 
 tranquilly as he had lived honourably; he was 
 found dead in his bed, at the Seat of the Earl 
 of Aylesford, at Packington in Warwickshire, 
 on the 6th of December 1810, in the sixty-ninth 
 year of his age. 
 
 As an Artist, his Works will convey his name 
 with high respect to posterity. Many of his best 
 Easel Pictures were comprised in a Sale of his Col- 
 lection by Mr. Peter Coxe, April 3, 1811, (wh« 
 
civ 
 
 MEMOIR, &C. 
 
 prefixed to the Catalogue this memoir, of which 
 we gladly avail ourselves.) 
 
 As a man, he was an agreable member of so- 
 ciety, had a rich fund of general knowledge, and 
 showed an urbanity of manners which rendered 
 him universally pleasing: the recollection of which 
 will endear his memory to all who had the happi- 
 ness of knowing him. He was eminently upright, 
 of quick sensibility, warm and sincere in friend- 
 ship, a good husband, and an excellent father. 
 
 A portrait of Mr. Rigaud, drawn by George 
 Dance, R.A. in 1793, and engraved by William 
 Daniel, R.A., will be found in the second volume 
 of Dance's Collection of Portraits, fol. 1814. 
 
 Throgmorton Street, 1811. 
 
A 
 
 TREATISE ON PAINTING. 
 
 DRAWING. 
 
 PROPORTION. 
 
 Chap. I. — What the young Student in Painting 
 ought in the first place to learn. 
 
 The young student should, in the first place, 
 acquire a knowledge of perspective, to enable him 
 to give to every object its proper dimensions : after 
 which, it is requisite that he be under the care of 
 an able master, to accustom him, by degrees, to a 
 good style of drawing the parts. Next, he must 
 study Nature, in order to confirm and fix in his 
 mind the reason of those precepts which he has 
 learnt, He must also bestow some time in viewing 
 the works of various old masters, to form his eye 
 and judgment, in order that he may be able to put 
 in practice all that he has been taught.* 
 
 * This passage has been by some persons much misunderstood, 
 and supposed to require, that the student should be a deep pro- 
 
 B 
 
2 PROPORTION. 
 
 Chap. IL — Rule for a young Student in Painting. 
 
 The organ of sight is one of the quickest, and 
 takes in at a single glance an infinite variety of 
 forms ; notwithstanding which, it cannot perfectly 
 comprehend more than one object at a time. For 
 example, the reader, at one look over this page, 
 immediately perceives it full of different characters; 
 but he cannot at the same moment distinguish each 
 letter, much less can he comprehend their meaning. 
 He must consider it word by word, and line by line, 
 if he be desirous of forming a just notion of these 
 characters. In like manner, if we wish to ascend 
 to the top of an edifice, we must be content to ad- 
 vance step by step, otherwise we shall never be able 
 to attain it. 
 
 A young man, who has a natural inclination to 
 the study of this art, I would advise to act thus : 
 In order to acquire a true notion of the form of 
 things, he must begin by studying the parts which 
 compose them, and not pass to a second till he has 
 well stored his memory, and sufficiently practised 
 the first ; otherwise he loses his time, and will most 
 certainly protract his studies. And let him remem- 
 ber to acquire accuracy before he attempts quick- 
 ness. 
 
 ficient in perspective, before he commences the study of painting; 
 but it is a knowledge of the leading principles only of perspective 
 that the author here means, and without such a knowledge, which 
 is easily to be acquired, the student will inevitably fall into errors, 
 as gross as those humourously pointed out by Hogarth, in his 
 Frontispiece to Kirby's Perspective. 
 
PROPORTION. 
 
 3 
 
 Chap. III. — How to discover a young Man's 
 Disposition for Painting. 
 
 Many are very desirous of learning to draw, 
 and are very fond of it, who are, notwithstanding, 
 void of a proper disposition for it. This may be 
 known by their want of perseverance \ like boys, 
 who draw every thing in a hurry, never finishing, 
 or shadowing. 
 
 Chap. IV. — Of Painting, and its Divisions. 
 
 Painting is divided into two principal parts. 
 The first is the figure, that is, the lines which dis- 
 tinguish the forms of bodies, and their compo- 
 nent parts. The second is the colour contained 
 within those limits. 
 
 Chap. V. — Division of the Figure. 
 
 The form of bodies is divided into two parts ; 
 that is, the proportion of the members to each 
 other, which must correspond with the whole ; 
 and the motion, expressive of what passes in the 
 mind of the living figure. 
 
 Chap. VI. — Proportion of Members. 
 The proportion of members is again divided into 
 two parts, viz. equality, and motion. By equality 
 is meant (besides the measure corresponding with 
 the whole), that you do not confound the members 
 of a 'young subject with those of old age, nor plump 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 ^PROPORTION. 
 
 ones with those that are lean ; and that, moreover, 
 you do not blend the robust and firm muscles of 
 man with feminine softness: that the attitudes and 
 motions of old age be not expressed with the quick- 
 ness and alacrity of youth; nor those of a female 
 figure like those of a vigorous young man. The 
 motions and members of a strong man should be 
 such as to express his perfect state of health. 
 
 Chap. VII. — Of Dimensions in general. 
 
 In general, the dimensions of the human body 
 are to be considered in the length, and not in the 
 breadth ; because in the wonderful works of Na- 
 ture, which we endeauvour to imitate, we cannot in 
 any species find any one part in one model precisely 
 similar to the same part in another. Let us be at- 
 tentive, therefore, to the variation of forms, and 
 avoid all monstrosities of proportion ; such as long 
 degs united to short bodies, and narrow chests with 
 long arms. Observe also attentively the measure 
 of joints, in which Nature is apt to vary consider- 
 ably-; and imitate her example by doing the same. 
 
 Chap. Viti. — Motion, Changes, and Proportion 
 of Members. 
 
 The measures of the human body vary in each 
 member, according as it is more or less bent, or 
 seen in different views, increasing on one side as 
 much as they diminish on the other. 
 
PROPORTION. 
 
 5 
 
 Chap. IX. — The Difference of Proportion be- 
 tween Children and grown Men. 
 
 In men and children I find a great difference 
 between the joints of the one and the other, in the 
 length of the bones. A man has the length of 
 two heads from the extremity of one shoulder to 
 the other, the same from the shoulder to the 
 elbow, and from the elbow to the fingers ; but the 
 child has only one, because Nature gives the pro- 
 per size first to the seat of the intellect, and after- 
 wards to the other parts. 
 
 Chap. X. — The Alterations in the Proportion of 
 the human Body from Infancy to full Age. 
 
 A man, in his infancy, has the breadth of his 
 shoulders equal to the length of the face, and to 
 the length of the arm from the shoulder to the 
 elbow, when the arm is bent.* It is the same again 
 from the lower belly to the knee, and from the 
 knee to the foot. But, when a man is arrived at 
 the period of his full growth, every one of these 
 dimensions becomes double in length, except the 
 face, which, with the top of the head, undergoes 
 but very little alteration in length. A well-pro- 
 portioned and full-grown man, therefore, is ten 
 times the length of his face; the breadth of his 
 shoulders will be two faces, and in like manner all 
 the above lengths will be double. The rest will 
 
 * See Chap, cccli. 
 
6 
 
 PROPORTION. 
 
 be explained in the general measurement of the 
 human body.* 
 
 Chap. XI. — Of the Proportion of Members. 
 
 All the parts of any animal whatever must be 
 correspondent with the whole. So that, if the body 
 be short and thick, all the members belonging to 
 it must be the same. One that is long and thin 
 must have its parts of the same kind; and so of 
 the middle size. Something of the same may be 
 observed in plants, when uninjured by men or 
 tempests : for, when thus injured they bud and 
 grow again, making young shoots from old plants, 
 and by those means destroying their natural sym- 
 metry. 
 
 Chap. XII. — That every Part be proportioned 
 to its Whole. 
 
 If a man be short and thick, be careful that all 
 his members be of the same nature, viz. short 
 arms and thick, large hands, short fingers, with 
 broad joints; and so of the rest. 
 
 Chap. XIII. — Of the Proportion of the Members. 
 
 Measure upon yourself the proportion of the 
 parts, and, if you find any of them defective, note 
 it down, and be very careful to avoid it in drawing 
 your own compositions. For this is reckoned a 
 common fault in painters, to delight in the imita- 
 tion of themselves. 
 
 * Not to be found in this work. 
 
PROPORTION. 
 
 7 
 
 Chap. XIV. — The Danger of forming an erro- 
 neous Judgment in regard to the Proportion and 
 Beauty of the Parts, 
 
 If the painter has clumsy hands, he will be apt 
 to introduce them into his works, and so of any 
 other part of his person, which may not happen to 
 be so beautiful as it ought to be. He must, there- 
 fore, guard particularly against that self-love, or 
 too good opinion of his own person, and study by 
 every means to acquire the knowledge of what is 
 most beautiful, and of his own defects, that he 
 may adopt the one and avoid the other. 
 
 Chap. XV. — Another Precept. 
 
 The young painter must, in the first instance, 
 accustom his hand to copying the drawings of 
 good masters ; and when his hand is thus formed, 
 and ready, he should, with the advice of his di- 
 rector, use himself also to draw from relievos; 
 according to the rules we shall point out in the 
 treatise on drawing from relievos.* 
 
 * From this, and many other similar passages, it is evident, 
 that the author intended at some future time to arrange his ma- 
 nuscript collections, and to publish them as separate treatises. 
 That he did not do so is well known ; but it is also a fact, that, in 
 selecting from the whole mass of his collections the chapters of 
 which the present work consists, great care appears in general to 
 have been taken to extract also those to which there was any re- 
 ference from any of the chapters intended for this work, or which 
 from their subject were necessarily connected with them. Accord- 
 ingly, the reader will find, in the notes to this translation, that 
 
s 
 
 PROPORTION. 
 
 Chap. XVI. — The Manner of drawing from 
 Relievos, and rendering Paper fit for it. 
 
 When you draw from relievos, tinge your paper 
 of some darkish demi-tint. And after you have 
 made your outline, put in the darkest shadows, 
 and, last of all, the principal lights, but sparingly, 
 especially the smaller ones; because those are 
 easily lost to the eye at a very moderate distance.* 
 
 Chap. XVII. — Of drawing from Casts or Nature. 
 
 In drawing from relievo, the draftsman must 
 place himself in such a manner, as that the eye 
 of the figure to be drawn be level with his own.f 
 
 all such chapters in any other part of the present work are uni- 
 formly pointed out, as have any relation to the respective passages 
 in the text. This, which has never before been done, though in- 
 dispensably necessary, will be found of singular use, and it was 
 thought proper here, once for all, to notice it. 
 
 In the present instance the chapters, referring to the subject in 
 the text, are Chap. xv. xvn. xvm. xix. xx. xxvi. ; and though 
 these do not afford complete information, yet it is to be remem- 
 bered, that drawing from relievos is subject to the very same rules 
 as drawing from Nature ; and that, therefore, what is elsewhere 
 said on that subject is also equally applicable to this. 
 
 * The meaning of this is, that the last touches of light, such as 
 the shining parts (which are always narrow), must be given spar- 
 ingly. In short, that the drawing must be kept in broad masses 
 as much as possible. 
 
 f This is not an absolute rule, but it is a very good one for 
 drawing of portraits. 
 
PROPORTION. 
 
 Chap. XVIII. — To draiv Figures from Nature. 
 
 Accustom yourself to hold a plummet in your 
 hand, that you may judge of the bearing of the 
 parts. 
 
 Chap. XIX. — Of drawing from Nature. 
 
 When you draw from Nature, you must be at 
 the distance of three times the height of the ob 
 ject ; and when you begin to draw, form in your 
 own mind a certain principal line (suppose a per- 
 pendicular) ; observe well the bearing of the parts 
 towards that line ; whether they intersect it, are 
 parallel to it or oblique. 
 
 Chap. XX. — Of drawing Academy Figures. 
 
 When you draw from a naked model, always 
 sketch in the whole of the figure, suiting all the 
 members well to each other ; and though you finish 
 only that part which appears the best, have a re- 
 gard to the rest, that, whenever you make use of 
 such studies, all the parts may hang together. 
 
 In composing your attitudes, take care not to 
 turn the head on the same side as the breast, nor 
 let the arm go in a line with the leg * If the 
 head turn towards the right shoulder, the parts 
 must be lower on the left side than on the other : 
 but if the chest come forward, and the head turn 
 towards the left, the parts on the right side are to 
 be the highest. 
 
 * See Chap. ei. 
 B 5 
 
10 
 
 PROPORTION. 
 
 Chap. XXI. — Of studying in the Dark, on first 
 waking in the Morning, and before going to sleep. 
 
 I have experienced no small benefit, when in 
 the dark and in bed, by retracing in my mind the 
 outlines of those forms which I had previously 
 studied, particularly such as had appeared the 
 most difficult to comprehend and retain ; by this 
 method they will be confirmed and treasured up 
 in the memory. 
 
 Chap. XXII. — Observations on drawing Portraits. 
 
 The cartilage, which raises the nose in the mid- 
 dle of the face, varies in eight different ways. It 
 is equally straight, equally concave, or equally con- 
 vex, which is the first sort. Or, secondly, un- 
 equally straight, concave, or convex. Or, thirdly, 
 straight in the upper part, and concave in the 
 under. Or, fourthly, straight again in the upper 
 part, and convex in those below. Or, fifthly, it 
 may be concave and straight beneath. Or, sixthly, 
 concave above, and convex below. Or, seventhly, 
 it may be convex in the upper part, and straight 
 in the lower. And in the eighth and last place, 
 convex above, and concave beneath. 
 
 The uniting of the nose with the brows is in two 
 ways, either it is straight or concave. The forehead 
 has three different forms. It is straight, concave, 
 or round. The first is divided into two parts, viz. 
 it is either convex in the upper part, or in the lower, 
 sometimes both \ or else flat above and below. 
 
PROPORTION. 
 
 ] I 
 
 Chap. XXIII. — The Method of retaining in the 
 Memory the Likeness of a Man, so as to draw 
 his Profile, after having seen him only once. 
 
 You must observe and remember well the varia- 
 tions of the four principal features in the profile ; 
 the nose, mouth, chin, and forehead. And first of 
 the nose, of which there are three different sorts,* 
 straight, concave, and convex. Of the straight there 
 are but four variations, short or long, high at the 
 end, or low. Of the concave there are three 
 sorts ; some have the concavity above, some in the 
 middle, and some at the end. The convex noses 
 also vary three ways ; some project in the upper 
 part, some in the middle, and others at the bot- 
 tom. Nature, which seems to delight in infinite 
 variety, gives again three changes to those noses 
 which have a projection in the middle; for some 
 have it straight, some concave, and some convex. 
 
 Chap. XXIV. — How to remember the Form of a 
 Face. 
 
 If you wish to retain with facility the general look 
 of a face, you must first learn how to draw well 
 several faces, mouths, eyes, noses, chins, throats, 
 necks, and shoulders ; in short, all those principal 
 parts which distinguish one man from another. For 
 instance, noses are of ten different sorts :f straight, 
 bunched, concave, some raised above, some below 
 
 * See the preceding chapter. 
 
 t See the two preceding chapters. 
 
12 
 
 PROPORTION. 
 
 the middle, aqueline, flat, round, and sharp. These 
 affect the profile. In the front view there are eleven 
 different sorts. Even, thick in the middle, thin in 
 the middle, thick at the tip, thin at the beginning, 
 thin at the tip, and thick at the beginning. Broad, 
 narrow, high, and low nostrils ; some with a large 
 opening, and some more shut towards the tip. 
 
 The same variety will be found in the other parts 
 of the face, which must be drawn from Nature, 
 and retained in the memory. Or else, when you 
 mean to draw a likeness from memory, take with 
 you a pocket-book, in which you have marked all 
 these variations of features, and after having given 
 a look at the face you mean to draw, retire a little 
 aside, and note down in your book which of the 
 features are similar to it ; that you may put it all 
 together at home. 
 
 Chap. XXV. — That a Painter should take Plea- 
 sure in the Opinion of every body. 
 
 A painter ought not certainly to refuse listening 
 to the opinion of any one; for we know that, 
 although a man be not a painter, he may have just 
 notions of the forms of men ; whether a man has 
 a hump on his back, a thick leg, or a large hand ; 
 whether he be lame, or have any other defect. 
 Now, if we know that men are able to judge of the 
 works of Nature, should we not think them more 
 able to detect our errors? 
 
IS 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Chap. XXVI. — What is principally to be observed 
 in Figures. 
 
 The principal and most important considera- 
 tion required in tlrawing figures, is to set the head 
 well upon the shoulders, the chest upon the hips, 
 the hips and shoulders upon the feet. 
 
 Chap. XXVII.— Mode of Studying. 
 
 Study the science first, and then follow the 
 practice which results from that science. Pursue 
 method in your study, and do not quit one part 
 till it be perfectly engraven in the memory ; and 
 observe what difference there is between the 
 members of animals and their joints.* 
 
 Chap. XXVIII. — Of being universal. 
 
 It is an easy matter for a man who is well versed 
 in the principles of his art, to become universal in 
 the practice of it, since all animals have a similarity 
 of members, that is, muscles, tendons, bones, &c. 
 These only vary in length or thickness, as will be 
 demonstrated in the Anatomy.f As for aquatic 
 animals, of which there is great variety, 1 shall not 
 
 * Man being the highest of the animal creation, ought to be 
 the chief object of study. 
 
 f An intended Treatise, as it seems, on Anatomy, which how- 
 ever never was published ; but there are several chapters in the 
 present work on the subject of Anatomy, most of which will be 
 
14 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 persuade the painter to take them as a rule, hav- 
 ing no connexion with our purpose. 
 
 Chap. XXIX. — A Precept for the Painter. 
 
 It reflects no great honour on a painter to be 
 able to execute only one thing well, such as a 
 head, an academy figure, or draperies, animals, 
 landscape or the like, confining himself to some 
 particular object of study; because there is scarcely 
 a person so void of genius as to fail of success, if 
 he apply earnestly to one branch of study, and 
 practise it continually. 
 
 Chap. XXX. — Of the Measures of the human 
 Body, and the bending of Members. 
 
 It is very necessary that painters should have 
 a knowledge of the bones which support the flesh 
 by which they are covered, but particularly of the 
 joints, which increase and diminish the length of 
 them in their appearance. As in the arm, which 
 does not measure the same when bent, as when 
 extended ; its difference between the greatest ex- 
 tension and bending, is about one eighth of its 
 length. The increase and diminution of the arm 
 is effected by the bone projecting out of its socket 
 at the elbow ; which, as is seen in figure A B, 
 
 found under the present head of Anatomy ; and of such as could 
 not be placed there, because they also related to some other 
 branch, the following is a list by which they may be found ; Chap- 
 ters vi. vii. x. XI. xxxiv. xxxv. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. XL. XLI. XLII. XLIII. XLIV. XLV. XLVI. XLVIII. XLIX. 
 L. LI. LII. CXXIX. 
 
ANATOMY. 
 
 15 
 
 Plate I. is lengthened from the shoulder to the 
 elbow ; the angle it forms being less than a right 
 angle. It will appear longer as that angle be- 
 comes more acute, and will shorten in proportion 
 as it becomes more open or obtuse. 
 
 Chap. XXXI. — Of the small Bones in several 
 Joints of the human Body. 
 
 There are in the joints of the human body cer- 
 tain small bones, fixed in the middle of the ten- 
 dons which connect several of the joints. Such 
 are the patellas of the knees and the joints of the 
 shoulders, and those of the feet. They are eight 
 in number, one at each shoulder, one at each knee, 
 and two at each foot under the first joint of the 
 great toe towards the heel. These grow extremely 
 hard as a man advances in years. 
 
 Chap. XXXII. — Memorandum to be observed by 
 the Painter. 
 
 Note down which muscles and tendons are 
 brought into action by the motion of any member, 
 and when they are hidden. Remember that these 
 remarks are of the greatest importance to painters 
 and sculptors, who profess to study anatomy, and 
 the science of the muscles. Do the same with 
 children, following the different gradations of age 
 from their birth even to decrepitude, describing 
 the changes which the members, and particularly 
 the joints, undergo ; which of them grow fat, and 
 which lean. 
 
16 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Chap. XXXIII.— The Shoulders. 
 
 The joints of the shoulders, and other parts 
 which bend, shall be noticed in their places in the 
 Treatise on Anatomy, where the cause of the mo- 
 tions of all the parts which compose the human 
 body shall be explained.* 
 
 Chap. XXXIV. — The Difference of Joints 
 between Children and grown Men. 
 
 Young children have all their joints small, but 
 they are thick and plump in the spaces between 
 them ; because there is nothing upon the bones at 
 the joints, but some tendons to bind the bones 
 together. The soft flesh, which is full of fluids, is 
 enclosed under the skin in the space between the 
 joints ; and as the bones are bigger at the joints 
 than in the space between them, the skin throws 
 off in the progress to manhood that superfluity, 
 and draws nearer to the bones, thinning the whole 
 part together. But upon the joints it does not 
 lessen, as there is nothing but cartilages and ten- 
 dons. For these reasons children are small in the 
 joints, and plump in the space between, as may 
 be observed in their fingers, arms, and narrow 
 shoulders. Men, on the contrary, are large and 
 full in the joints, in the arms and legs ; and where 
 children have hollows, men are knotty and promi- 
 nent, 
 
 * See chap, lxxxvii. 
 
ANATOMY. 
 
 17 
 
 Chap. XXXV. — Of the Joints of the Fingers. 
 
 The joints of the fingers appear larger on all 
 sides when they bend ; the more they bend the 
 larger they appear. The contrary is the case when 
 straight. It is the same in the toes, and it will be 
 more perceptible in proportion to their fleshiness. 
 
 Chap. XXXVI.— Of the Joint of the Wrist. 
 
 The wrist or joint between the hand and arm les- 
 sens on closing the hand, and grows larger when 
 it opens. The contrary happens in the arm, in the 
 space between the elbow and the hand, on all sides; 
 because in opening the hand the muscles are ex- 
 tended and thinned in the arm, from the elbow to 
 the wrist ; but when the hand is shut, the same 
 muscles swell and shorten. The tendons alone 
 start, being stretched by the clenching of the hand. 
 
 Chap. XXXVIL— Of the Joint of the Foot. 
 
 The increase and diminution in the joint of the 
 foot is produced on that side where the tendons 
 are seen, as D E F, Plate I. which increases when 
 the angle is acute, and diminishes when it becomes 
 obtuse. It must be understood of the joint in the 
 front part of the foot ABC. 
 
 Chap. XXXVIII.— Of the Knee. 
 Of all the members which have pliable joints, 
 
18 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 the knee is the only one that lessens in the bend- 
 ing, and becomes larger by extension. 
 
 Chap. XXXIX.— Of the Joints. 
 
 All the joints of the human body become larger 
 by bending, except that of the leg. 
 
 Chap. XL.— Of the Naked. 
 
 When a figure is to appear nimble and delicate, 
 its muscles must never be too much marked, nor 
 are any of them to be much swelled. Because 
 such figures are expressive of activity and swift- 
 ness, and are never loaded with much flesh upon 
 the bones. They are made light by the want of 
 flesh, and where there is but little flesh there can- 
 not be any thickness of muscles. 
 
 Chap. XLI. — Of the Thickness of the Muscles. 
 
 Muscular men have large bones, and are in ge- 
 neral thick and short, with very little fat ; because 
 the fleshy muscles in their growth contract closer 
 together, and the fat, which in other instances 
 lodges between them, has no room. The muscles 
 in such thin subjects, not being able to extend, 
 grow in thickness, particularly towards their mid- 
 dle, in the parts most removed from the extremi- 
 ties. 
 
 Chap. XLII. — Fat Subjects have small Muscles. 
 Though fat people have this in common with 
 
ANATOMY. 
 
 19 
 
 muscular men, that they are frequently short and 
 thicks they have thin muscles ; but their skin con- 
 tains a great deal of spongy and soft flesh full of 
 air; for that reason they are lighter upon the 
 water, and swim better than muscular people. 
 
 Chap. XLIII. — Which of the Muscles disappear 
 in the Motions of the Body. 
 
 In raising or lowering the arm, the pectoral 
 muscles disappear, or acquire a greater relievo. A 
 similar effect is produced by the hips, when they 
 bend either inwards or outwards. It is to be ob- 
 served, that there is more variety of appearances 
 in the shoulders, hips, and neck, than in any other 
 joint, because they are susceptible of the greatest 
 variety of motions. But of this subject I shall 
 make a separate treatise*. 
 
 Chap. XLIV.— Of the Muscles. 
 The muscles are not to be scrupulously marked 
 all the way, because it would be disagreeable to 
 the sight, and of very difficult execution. But on 
 that side only where the members are in action, 
 they should be pronounced more strongly; for 
 muscles that are at work naturally collect all their 
 parts together, to gain increase of strength, so that 
 
 * It does not appear that this intention was ever carried into 
 execution ; but there are many chapters in this work on the sub- 
 ject of motion, where all that is necessary for a painter in this 
 branch will be found. 
 
20 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 some small parts of those muscles will appear, that 
 were not seen before. 
 
 Chap. XLV. — Of the Muscles. 
 The muscles of young men are not to be marked 
 strongly, nor too much swelled, because that would 
 indicate full strength and vigour of age, which they 
 have not yet attained. Nevertheless they must 
 be more or less expressed, as they are more or less 
 employed. For those which are in motion are 
 always more swelled and thicker than those which 
 remain at rest. The intrinsic and central line of 
 the members which are bent, never retains its 
 natural length. 
 
 Chap. XLVI. — The Extension and Contraction 
 of the Muscles. 
 The muscle at the back part of the thigh shows 
 more variety in its extension and contraction, than 
 any other in the human body ; the second, in that 
 respect, àre those which compose the buttocks ; 
 the third, those of the back ; the fourth, those of 
 the neck; the fifth, those of the shoulders ; and the 
 sixth, those of the Abdomen, which, taking their 
 rise under the breast, terminate under the lower 
 belly; as I shall explain when I speak of each. 
 
 Chap. XLVIT. — Of the Muscle between the Chest 
 and the lower Belly. 
 
 There is a muscle which begins under the breast 
 
ANATOMY. 
 
 21 
 
 at the Sternum, and is inserted into, or terminates 
 &t the Os pubis, under the lower belly. It is called 
 the Rectus of the Abdomen ; it is divided, length- 
 ways, into three principal portions, by transverse 
 tendinous intersections or ligaments, viz. the supe- 
 rior part, and a ligament ; the second part, with 
 its ligaments ; and the third part, with the third 
 ligament ; which last unites by tendons to the Os 
 pubis. These divisions and intersections of the 
 same muscle are intended by nature to facilitate 
 the motion when the body is bent or distended. 
 If it were made of one piece, it would produce too 
 much variety when extended, or contracted, and 
 also would be considerably weaker. When this 
 muscle has but little variety in the motion of the 
 body, it is more beautiful.* 
 
 Chap. XLVIII. — Of a Man's complex Strength, 
 but first of the Arm. 
 
 The muscles which serve either to straighten or 
 bend the arm, arise from the different processes of 
 the Scapula; some of them from the protuberances 
 of the Humerus, and others about the middle of 
 
 * Anatomists have divided this muscle into four or five sec- 
 tions ; but painters, following the ancient sculptors, show only 
 the three principal ones ; and, in fact, we find that a greater 
 number of them (as may often be observed in nature) gives a dis- 
 agreeable meagrenesià to the subject. Beautiful nature does not 
 show more than three, though there may be more hid under the 
 skin. 
 
22 ANATOMY. 
 
 the Os humeri. The extensors of the arm arise 
 from behind^ and the flexors from before. 
 
 That a man has more power in pulling than in 
 pushing, has been proved by the ninth proposition 
 De Ponderibus,* where it is said, that of two equal 
 weights, that will have the greatest power which 
 is farthest removed from the pole or centre of its 
 balance. It follows then of course, that the muscle 
 N B, Plate II. and the muscle N C, being of equal 
 power, the inner muscle N C, will nevertheless be 
 stronger than the outward one N B, because it is 
 inserted into the arm at C, a point farther removed 
 from the centre of the elbow A, than B, which is 
 on the other side of such centre, so that that ques- 
 tion is determined. But this is a simple power, 
 and I thought it best to explain it before I men- 
 tioned the complex power of the muscles, of which 
 I must now take notice. The complex power, or 
 strength, is, for instance, this, when the arm is 
 going to act, a second power is added to it (such 
 as the weight of the body and the strength of the 
 legs, in pulling or pushing), consisting in the ex- 
 tension of the parts, as when two men attempt to 
 throw down a column ; the one by pushing, and 
 the other by pulling ,f 
 
 * A treatise on weights, like many others, intended by this 
 author, but never published, 
 f See the next chapter. 
 
ANATOMY. 
 
 23 
 
 Chap. XLIX. — In which of the two Actions, Pull- 
 iny or Pushing, a Man has the greatest Power, 
 Plate II. 
 
 A man has the greatest power in pulling, for in 
 that action he has the united exertion of all the 
 muscles of the arm, while some of them must be 
 inactive when he is pushing ; because when the 
 arm is extended for that purpose, the muscles 
 which move the elbow cannot act, any more than 
 if he pushed with his shoulders against the column 
 he means to throw down ; in which case only the 
 muscles that extend the back, the legs under the 
 thigh, and the calves of the legs, would be active. 
 From which we conclude, that in pulling there is 
 added to the power of extension the strength of 
 the arms, of the legs, of the back, and even of the 
 chest, if the oblique motion of the body require it. 
 But in pushing, though all the parts were employed, 
 yet the strength of the muscles of the arms is 
 wanting ; for to push with an extended arm with- 
 out motion does not help more than if a piece of 
 wood were placed from the shoulder to the column 
 meant to be pushed down. 
 
 Chap. L. — Of the bending of Members, and of the 
 Flesh round the bending Joint. 
 
 The flesh which covers the bones near and at 
 the joints, swells or diminishes in thickness accord- 
 
24 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 ing to their bending or extension ; that is, it in- 
 creases at the inside of the angle formed by the 
 bending, and grows narrow and lengthened on the 
 outward side of the exterior angle. The middle 
 between the convex and concave angle participates 
 of this increase or diminution, but in a greater or 
 less degree as the parts are nearer to, or farther 
 from, the angles of the bending joints. 
 
 Chap. LI. — Of the naked Body. 
 
 The members of naked men who work hard 
 in different attitudes, will show the muscles more 
 strongly on that side where they act forcibly to 
 bring the part into action ; and the other muscles 
 will be more or less marked, in proportion as they 
 co-operate in the same motion. 
 
 Chap. LII. — Of a Ligament without Muscles. 
 
 Where the arm joins with the hand, there is a 
 ligament, the largest in the human body, which is 
 without muscles, and is called the strong ligament 
 of the Carpus ; it has a square shape, and serves 
 to bind and keep close together the bones of the 
 arm, and the tendons of the fingers, and prevent 
 their dilating, or starting out. 
 
 Chap. LIII. — Of Creases. 
 
 In bending the joints the flesh will always form 
 a crease on the opposite side to that where it is 
 tight. 
 
ANATOMY. 
 
 25 
 
 Chap. LIV. — How near behind the Back one Arm 
 can be brought to the other, Plate III. and IV. 
 
 When the arms are carried behind the back, the 
 elbows can never be brought nearer than the length 
 from the elbow to the end of the longest finger ; so 
 that the fingers will not be seen beyond the elbows, 
 and in that situation, the arms with the shoulders 
 form a perfect square. The greatest extension of 
 the arm across the chest is, when the elbow comes 
 over the pit of the stomach ; the elbow and the 
 shoulder in this position, will form an equilateral 
 triangle. 
 
 Chap. LV. — Of the Muscles. 
 
 A naked figure being strongly marked, so as to 
 give a distinct view of all the muscles, will not 
 express any motion ; because it cannot move^ if 
 some of its muscles do not relax while the others 
 are pulling. Those which relax cease to appear 
 in proportion as the others pull strongly and be- 
 come apparent. 
 
 Chap. LVI.— Of the Muscles. 
 
 The muscles of the human body are to be more 
 or less marked according to their degree of action. 
 Those only which act are to be shewn, and the 
 more forcibly they act, the stronger they should 
 be pronounced. Those that do not act at all must 
 remain soft and flat. 
 
 c 
 
26 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 Chap. LVII. — Of the Bending of the Body. 
 
 The bodies of men diminish as much on the side 
 which bends, as they increase on the opposite side. 
 That diminution may at last become double, in 
 proportion to the extension on the other side. But 
 of this I shall make a separate treatise*. 
 
 Chap. LVIII. — The same subject. 
 
 The body which bends, lengthens as much on 
 one side as it shortens on the other; but the central 
 line between them will never lessen or increase. 
 
 Chap. LIX. — The Necessity of anatomical Know- 
 ledge. 
 
 The painter who has obtained a perfect know- 
 ledge of the nature of the tendons and muscles, 
 and of those parts which contain the most of them, 
 will know to a certainty, in giving a particular 
 motion to any part of the body, which, and how 
 many of the muscles give rise and contribute to it; 
 .which of them, by swelling, occasion their short- 
 ening, and which of the cartilages they surround. 
 
 He will not imitate those who, in all the diffe- 
 rent attitudes they adopt, or invent, make use of 
 the same muscles, in the arms, back, or chest, or 
 any other parts. 
 
 * It is believed that this treatise, like many others promised 
 by the author, was never written. 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 27 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE OF FIGURES. 
 
 Chap. LX. — Of the Equipoise of a Figure standing 
 still. 
 
 The non-existence of motion in any animal rest- 
 ing on its feet, is owing to the equality of weight 
 distributed on each side of the line of gravity. 
 
 Chap. LXI. — Motion produced by the Loss of 
 Equilibrium. 
 
 Motion is created by the loss of due equipoise, 
 that is, by inequality of weight ; for nothing can 
 move of itself, without losing its centre of gravity, 
 and the farther that is removed, the quicker and 
 stronger will be the motion. 
 
 Chap. LXII. — Of the Equipoise ofBodies,V\&teY. 
 
 The balance or equipoise of parts in the human 
 body is of two sorts, viz. simple and complex. 
 Simple, when a man stands upon his feet without 
 motion : in that situation, if he extends his arms 
 at different distances from the middle, or stoop, 
 the centre of his weight will always be in a per- 
 pendicular line upon the centre of that foot which 
 supports the body ; and if he rests equally upon 
 both feet, then the middle of the chest will be per- 
 c 2 
 
28 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 pendicular to the middle of the line which mea- 
 sures the space between the centres of his feet. 
 
 The complex balance is, when a man carries a 
 weight not his own, which he bears by different 
 motions \ as in the figure of Hercules stifling An- 
 teus, by pressing him against his breast with his 
 arms, after he has lifted him from the ground. 
 He must have as much of his own weight thrown 
 behind the central line of his feet, as the weight 
 of Anteus adds before. 
 
 Chap. LXIII. — Of Positions. 
 
 The pit of the neck, between the two clavicles, 
 falls perpendicularly with the foot which bears the 
 weight of the body. If one of the arms be thrown 
 forwards, this pit will quit that perpendicular; and 
 if one of the legs goes back, that pit is brought 
 forwards, and so changes its situation at every 
 change of posture. 
 
 Chap. LXIV. — Of balancing the Weight round 
 the Centre of Gravity in Bodies. 
 
 A figure standing upon its feet without motion, 
 will form an equipoise of all its members round 
 the centre of its support. 
 
 If this figure without motion, and resting upon 
 its feet, happens to move one of its arms forwards, 
 it must necessarily throw as much of its weight on 
 the opposite side, as is equal to that of the ex- 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 29 
 
 tended arm and the accidental weight. And the 
 same I say of every part, which is brought out 
 beyond its usual balance. 
 
 Chap. LXV.— Of Figures that have to lift up, or 
 carry any Weight. 
 
 A weight can never be lifted up or carried by 
 any man, if he do not throw more than an equal 
 weight of his own on the opposite side. 
 
 Chap. LXVI. — The Equilibrium of a Man stand- 
 ing upon his Feet, Plate VI. 
 
 The weight of a man resting upon one leg will 
 always be equally divided on each side of the cen- 
 tral or perpendicular line of gravity, which sup- 
 ports him. 
 
 Chap. LXVII.— Of Walking, Plate VII. 
 
 A man walking will always have the centre of 
 gravity over the centre of the leg which rests upon 
 the ground. 
 
 Chap. LXVIII. — Of the Centre of Gravity in Men 
 and Animals. 
 
 The legs, or centre of support, in men and ani- 
 mals, will approach nearer to the centre of gravity, 
 in proportion to the slowness of their motion; and, 
 on the contrary, when the motion is quicker, they 
 willbe farther removed from that perpendicular line. 
 
30 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 Chap. LXIX. — Of the corresponding Thickness of 
 Parts on each Side of the Body. 
 
 The thickness or breadth of the parts in the hu- 
 man body will never be equal on each side, if the 
 corresponding members do not move equally and 
 alike. 
 
 Chap. LXX. — Of the Motions of Animals. 
 All bipeds in their motions lower the part 
 immediately over the foot that is raised, more than 
 over that resting on the ground, and the highest 
 parts do just the contrary. This is observable in 
 the hips and shoulders of a man when he walks ; 
 and also in birds in the head and rump. 
 
 Chap. LXXI. — Of Quadrupeds and their Motions. 
 
 The highest parts of quadrupeds are susceptible 
 of more variation when they walk, than when they 
 are still, in a greater or less degree, in proportion 
 to their size. This proceeds from the oblique posi- 
 tion of their legs when they touch the ground, 
 which raise the animal when they become straight 
 and perpendicular upon the ground. 
 
 Chap. LXXII. — Of the Quickness or Slowness 
 of Motion. 
 
 The motion performed by a man, or any other 
 animal whatever, in walking, will have more or 
 less velocity as the centre of their weight is more or 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 31 
 
 less removed from the centre of that foot upon 
 which they are supported. 
 
 Chap. LXXIII. — Of the Motion of Animals. 
 
 That figure will appear the swiftest in its course 
 which leans the most forwards. 
 
 Any body, moving of itself, will do it with more 
 or less velocity in proportion as the centre of its 
 gravity is more or less removed from the centre of 
 its support. This is mentioned chiefly in regard 
 to the motion of birds, which, without any clap- 
 ping of their wings, or assistance of wind, move 
 themselves. This happens when the centre of 
 their gravity is out of the centre of their support, 
 viz. out of its usual residence, the middle between 
 the two wings. Because, if the middle of the 
 wings be more backward than the centre of the 
 whole weight, the bird will move forwards and 
 downwards, in a greater or less degree as the 
 centre of its weight is more or less removed from 
 the middle of its wings. From which it follows, 
 that if the centre of gravity be far removed from 
 the other centre, the descent of the bird will be 
 very oblique; but if that centre be near the middle 
 of the wings, the descent will have very little obli- 
 quity. 
 
 Chap. LXXIV. — Of a Figure moving against the 
 Wind, Plate VIII. 
 A man moving against the wind in any direc- 
 
32 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE?. 
 
 tion, does not keep his centre of gravity duly dis- 
 posed upon the centre of support*. 
 
 Chap. LXXV.— Of the Balance of a Figure rest- 
 ing upon its Feet, 
 
 The man who rests upon his feet, either bears 
 the weight of his body upon them equally, or un- 
 equally. If equally, it will be with some accidental 
 weight, or simply with his own ; if it be with an 
 additional weight, the opposite extremities of his 
 members will not be equally distant from the per- 
 pendicular of his feet. But if he simply carries 
 his own weight, the opposite extremities will be 
 equally distant from the perpendicular of his feet: 
 and on this subject of gravity I shall write a se- 
 parate bookf. 
 
 Chap. LXXVI.— A Precept. 
 
 The navel is always in the central or middle line 
 of the body, which passes through the pit of the 
 stomach to that of the neck, and must have as 
 much weight, either accidental or natural, on one 
 side of the human figure as on the other. This is 
 demonstrated by extending the arm, the wrist of 
 which performs the office of a weight at the end 
 of a steelyard ; and will require some weight to be 
 thrown on the other side of the navel, to counter- 
 
 * See chap. lxiv. 
 
 t See in this work from chap, lx, to lxxxi. 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 33 
 
 balance that of the wrist. It is on that account 
 that the heel is often raised. 
 
 Chap. LXXVII. — Of a Man standing r , but resting 
 more upon one Foot than the other. 
 
 After a man, by standing long, has tired the leg 
 upon which he rests, he sends part of his weight 
 upon the other leg. But this kind of posture is to 
 be employed only for old age, infancy, or extreme 
 lassitude, because it expresses weariness, or very 
 little power in the limbs. For that reason, a young 
 man, strong and healthy, will always rest upon 
 one of his legs, and if he removes a little of his 
 weight upon the other, it is only a necessary pre- 
 parative to motion, without which it is impossible 
 to move ; as we have proved before, that motion 
 proceeds from inequality*. 
 
 Chap. LXXVIII.— Of the Balance of Figures, 
 Plate IX. 
 
 If the figure rests upon one foot, the shoulder 
 on that side will always be lower than the other ; 
 and the pit of the neck will fall perpendicularly 
 over the middle of that leg which supports the 
 body. The same will happen in whatever other 
 view we see that figure, when it has not the arm 
 much extended, nor any weight on its back, in its 
 
 * See chapters lxi. lxiv. 
 c 5 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 hand, or on its shoulder, and when it does not, 
 either behind or before, throw out that leg which 
 does not support the body. 
 
 Chap. LXXIX. — In what Manner extending one 
 Arm alters the Balance. 
 
 The extending of the arm, which was bent, re- 
 moves the weight of the figure upon the foot which 
 bears the weight of the whole body : as is observ- 
 able in rope-dancers, who dance upon the rope with 
 their arms open, without any pole. 
 
 Chap. LXXX. — Of a man bearing a weight on his 
 Shoulders, Plate X. 
 
 The shoulder which bears the weight is always 
 higher than the other. This is seen in the figure 
 opposite, in which the centre line passes through 
 the whole, with an equal weight on each side, to 
 the leg on which it rests. If the weight were not 
 equally divided on each side of this central line of 
 gravity, the whole would fall to the ground. But 
 Nature has provided, that as much of the natural 
 weight of the man should be thrown on one side, 
 as of accidental weight on the other, to form a coun- 
 terpoise. This is effected by the man's bending, 
 and leaning on the side not loaded, so as to form an 
 equilibrium to the accidental' weight he carries; and 
 this cannot be done, unless the loaded shoulder be 
 raised, and the other lowered. This is the resource 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 35 
 
 with which Nature has furnished a man on such 
 occasions. 
 
 Chap. LXXXI. — Of Equilibrium, 
 
 Any figure bearing an additional weight out of 
 the central line, must throw as much natural or ac- 
 cidental weight on the opposite side as is sufficient 
 to form a counterpoise round that line, which passes 
 from the pit of the neck, through the whole mass 
 of weight, to that part of the foot which rests upon 
 the ground. We observe, that when a man lifts 
 a weight with one arm, he naturally throws out 
 the opposite arm ; and if that be not enough to 
 form an equipoise, he will add as much of his own 
 weight, by bending his body, as will enable him to 
 resist such accidental load. We see also, that a 
 man ready to fall sideways and backwards at the 
 same time, always throws out the arm on the 
 opposite side. 
 
 Chap. LXXXII.— Of Motion. 
 
 Whether a man moves with velocity or slow- 
 ness, the parts above the leg which sustains the 
 weight, will always be lower than the others on 
 the opposite side. 
 
 Chap. LXXXIIL— The Level of the Shoulders. 
 The shoulders or sides of a man, or any other 
 animal, will preserve less of their level, in pro- 
 portion to the slowness of their motion ; and vice 
 
36 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 versa, those parts will lose less of their level when 
 the motion is quicker. This is proved by the 
 ninth proposition, treating of local motions, where 
 it is said, any weight will press in the direction of 
 the line of its motion ; therefore the whole mov- 
 ing towards any one point, the parts belonging to 
 it will follow the shortest line of the motion of 
 its whole, without giving any of its weight to the 
 collateral parts of the whole. 
 
 Chap. LXXXIV. — Objection to the above an- 
 sivered, Plates XL and XII. 
 It has been objected, in regard to the first part 
 of the above proposition, that it does not follow 
 that a man standing still, or moving slowly, has 
 his members always in perfect balance upon the 
 centre of gravity ; because we do not find that 
 Nature always follows that rule, but, on the con- 
 trary, the figure will sometimes bend sideways, 
 standing upon one foot; sometimes it will rest 
 part of its weight upon that leg which is bent at 
 the knee, as is seen in the figures B. C. But I 
 shall reply thus, that what is not performed by the 
 shoulders in the figure C, is done by the hip, as is 
 demonstrated in another place. 
 
 Chap. LXXXV. — Of the Position of Figures, 
 Plate XIII. 
 
 In the same proportion as that part of the 
 naked figure marked D A, lessens in height from 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISÉ. 
 
 37 
 
 the shoulder to the hip, on account of its position 
 the opposite side increases. And this is the reason : 
 the figure resting upon one (suppose the left) foot, 
 that foot becomes the centre of all the weight above; 
 and the pit of the neck, formed by the junction of 
 the two clavicles, quits also its natural situation 
 at the upper extremity of the perpendicular line 
 (which passes through the middle surface of the 
 body), to bend over the same foot ; and as this 
 line bends with it, it forces the transverse lines, 
 which are always at right angles, to lower their 
 extremities on that side where the foot rests, as 
 appears in AB C. The navel and middle parts 
 always preserve their natural height. 
 
 Chap. LXXXVL— Of the Joints. 
 
 In the bending of the joints it is particularly 
 useful to observe the difference and variety of 
 shape they assume ; how the muscles swell on one 
 side, while they flatten on the other ; and this is 
 more apparent in the neck, because the motion of 
 it is of three sorts, two of which are simple mo- 
 tions, and the other complex, participating also of 
 the other two. 
 
 The simple motions are, first, when the neck 
 bends towards the shoulder, either to the right or 
 left, and when it raises or lowers the head. The 
 second is, when it twists to the right or left, with- 
 out rising or bending, but straight, with the head 
 turned towards one of the shoulders. The third 
 
38 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 motion, which is called complex^ is, when to the 
 bending of it is added the twisting, as when the 
 ear leans towards one of the shoulders, the head 
 turning the same way, and the face turned up- 
 wards. 
 
 Chap. LXXXVIL— Of the Shoulders. 
 Of those which the shoulders can perform, simple 
 motions are the principal, such as moving the arm 
 upwards and downwards, backwards and forwards. 
 Though one might almost call those motions in- 
 finite, for if the arm can trace a circle upon a wall, 
 it will have performed all the motions belonging 
 to the shoulders. Every continued quantity 
 being divisible ad infinitum,, and this circle being 
 a continued quantity, produced by the motion of 
 the arm going through every part of the circum- 
 ference^ it follows, that the motions of the shoul- 
 ders may also be said to be infinite. 
 
 Chap. LXXXVIIL— Of the Motions of a Man. 
 
 When you mean to represent a man removing a 
 weight, consider that the motions are various^ viz. 
 either a simple motion, by bending himself to raise 
 the weight from the ground upwards, or when he 
 drags the weight after him, or pushes it before him, 
 or pulls it down with a rope passing through a pul- 
 ley. It is to be observed, that the weight of the 
 man's body pulls the more in proportion as the cen- 
 tre of his gravity is removed from the centre of 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 39 
 
 his support. To this must be added the strength of 
 the effort that the legs and back make when they 
 are bent, to return to their natural straight situa- 
 tion. 
 
 A man never ascends or descends, nor walks at 
 all in any direction, without raising the heel of the 
 back foot. 
 
 Chap. LXXXIX. — Of the Disposition of Mem- 
 bers preparing to act with great Force, Plate XIV. 
 
 When a man prepares himself to strike a vio- 
 lent blow, he bends and twists his body as far as 
 he can to the side contrary to that which he 
 means to strike, and collecting all his strength, he 
 by a complex motion, returns and falls upon the 
 point he has in view.* 
 
 Chap. XC. — Of Throwing any Thing with Vio- 
 lence, Plate XV. 
 
 A man throwing a dart, a stone, or any thing 
 else with violence, may be represented, chiefly, 
 two different ways ; that is, he may be preparing 
 to do it, or the act may be already performed. 
 If you mean to place him in the act of preparation, 
 the inside of the foot upon which he rests will be 
 under the perpendicular line of the pit of the neck ; 
 and if it be the right foot, the left shoulder will be 
 perpendicular over the toes of the same foot. 
 
 * See chapters civ. cliv. 
 
40 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 Chap. XCI. — On the Motion of driving any thing 
 into or drawing it out of the Ground. 
 He who wishes to pitch a pole into the ground, 
 or draw one out of it, will raise the leg and bend 
 the knee opposite to the arm which acts, in order 
 to balance himself upon the foot that rests, with- 
 out which he could neither drive in, nor pull out 
 any thing. 
 
 Chap. XCIL— Of forcible Motions, Plate XVI. 
 
 Of the two arms, that will be most powerful in 
 its effort, which, having been farthest removed 
 from its natural situation, is assisted more strongly 
 by the other parts to bring it to the place where it 
 means to go. As the man A, who moves the arm 
 with a club E, and brings it to the opposite side 
 B, assisted by the motion of the whole body. 
 
 Chap. XCIIL— The Action of Jumping. 
 
 Nature will of itself, and without any reasoning 
 in the mind of a man going to jump, prompt him 
 to raise his arms and shoulders by a sudden mo- 
 tion, together with a great part of his body, and 
 to lift them up high, till the power of the effort 
 subsides. This impetuous motion is accompanied 
 by an instantaneous extension of the body which 
 had bent itself, like a spring or bow, along the 
 back, the joints of the thighs, knees, and feet, and 
 is let off obliquely, that is upwards and forwards; 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 41 
 
 so that the disposition of the body tending for- 
 wards and upwards, makes it describe a great arch 
 when it springs up, which increases the leap. 
 
 Chap. XCIV. — Of the three Motions in jumping 
 upwards. 
 
 When a man jumps upwards, the motion of the 
 head is three times quicker than that of the heel, 
 before the extremity of the foot quits the ground, 
 and twice as quick as that of the hips ; because 
 three angles are opened and extended at the same 
 time : the superior one is that formed by the body 
 at its joint with the thigh before, the second is at 
 the joint of the thighs and legs behind, and the 
 third is at the instep before * 
 
 Chap. XCV. — Of the easy Motions of Members. 
 In regard to the freedom and ease of motions, it 
 
 * The author here means to compare the different quickness of 
 the motion of the head and the heel, when employed in the same 
 action of jumping ; and he states the proportion of the former 
 to be three times that of the latter. The reason he gives for this 
 is in substance, that as the head has but one motion to make, 
 while in fact the lower part of the figure has three successive 
 operations to perform at the places he mentions, three times the 
 velocity, or, in other words, three times the degree of effort, is 
 necessary in the head, the prime mover, to give the power of in- 
 fluencing the other parts ; and the rule deducible from this axiom 
 is, that where two different parts of the body concur in the same 
 action, and one of them has to perform one motion only, while 
 the other is to have several, the proportion of velocity or effort 
 in the former must be regulated by the number of operations 
 necessary in the latter. 
 
42 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 is very necessary to observe, that when you mean 
 to represent a figure which has to turn itself a lit- 
 tle round, the feet and all the other members are 
 not to move in the same direction as the head. 
 But you will divide that motion among four joints, 
 viz. the feet, the knees, the hips, and the neck. 
 If it rests upon the right leg, the left knee should 
 be a little bent inward, with its foot somewhat 
 raised outward. The left shoulder should be 
 lower than the other, and the nape of the neck 
 turned on the same side as the outward ankle of 
 the left foot, and the left shoulder perpendicular 
 over the great toe of the right foot. And take it 
 as a general maxim, that figures do not turn their 
 heads straight with the chest, Nature having for 
 our convenience formed the neck so as to turn 
 with ease on every side when the eyes want to 
 look round; and to this the other joints are in 
 some measure subservient. If the figure be sit- 
 ting, and the arms have some employment across 
 the body, the breast will turn over the joint of 
 the hip. 
 
 Chap. XCVL— -The greatest Twist which a Man 
 can make^ in turning to look at himself behind. 
 Plate XVII. 
 
 The greatest twist that the body can perform is 
 when the back of the heels and the front of the 
 face are seen at the same time. It is not done 
 without difficulty, and is effected by bending the 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 43 
 
 leg and lowering the shoulder on that side to- 
 wards which the head turns. The cause of this 
 motion, and also which of the muscles move first 
 and which last, I shall explain in my treatise on 
 anatomy.* 
 
 Chap. XCVII. — Of turning the Leg without the 
 Thigh. 
 
 It is impossible to turn the leg inwards or out- 
 wards without turning the thigh by the same mo- 
 tion, because the setting in of the bones at the 
 knee is such, that they have no motion but back- 
 wards and forwards, and no more than is neces- 
 sary for walking or kneeling ; never sideways, be- 
 cause the form of the bones at the joint of the 
 knee does not allow it. If this joint had been 
 made pliable on all sides, as that of the shoulder, 
 or that of the thigh bone with the hip, a man 
 would have had his legs bent on each side as often 
 as backwards and forwards, and seldom or never 
 straight with the thigh. Besides, this joint can 
 bend only one way, so that in walking it can never 
 go beyond the straight line of the leg; it bends 
 only forwards, for if it could bend backwards, a 
 man could never get up again upon his feet, if 
 once he were kneeling ; as when he means to get 
 up from the kneeling posture (on both knees), he 
 gives the whole weight of his body to one of the 
 
 * It is explained in this work, or at least there is something 
 respecting it in the preceding chapter, and in chap. eli. 
 
44 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 knees to support, unloading the other, which at 
 that time feels no other weight than its own, and 
 therefore is lifted up with ease, and rests his foot 
 flat upon the ground ; then returning the whole 
 weight upon that foot, and leaning his hand upon 
 his knee, he at once extends the other arm, raises 
 his head, and straightening the thigh with the 
 body, he springs up, and rests upon the same 
 foot, while he brings up the other. 
 
 Chap. XCVIII. — Postures of Figures, 
 
 Figures that are set in a fixed attitude, are ne- 
 vertheless to have some contrast of parts. If one 
 arm come before, the other remains still or goes 
 behind. If the figure rest upon one leg, the 
 shoulder on that side will be lower than the other. 
 This is observed by artists of judgment, who 
 always take care to balance the figure well upon 
 its feet, for fear it should appear to fall. Because 
 by resting upon one foot, the other leg being a 
 little bent, does not support the body any more 
 than if it were dead ; therefore it is necessary that 
 the parts above that leg should transfer the cen- 
 tre of their weight upon the leg which supports 
 the body. 
 
 Chap. XCIX. — Of the Gracefulness of the 
 Members. 
 
 The members are to be suited to the body in 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 45 
 
 graceful motions, expressive of the meaning which 
 the figure is intended to convey. If it had to 
 give the idea of genteel and agreeable carriage, 
 the members must be slender and well turned, 
 but not lean ; the muscles very slightly marked, 
 indicating in a soft manner such as must neces- 
 sarily appear ; the arms, particularly, pliant, and 
 no member in a straight line with any other ad- 
 joining member. If it happen, on account of the 
 motion of the figure, that the right hip be higher 
 than the left, make the joint of the shoulder fall 
 perpendicularly on the highest part of that hip ; 
 and let that right shoulder be lower than the left. 
 The pit of the neck will always be perpendicular 
 over the middle of the instep of the foot that 
 supports the body. The leg that does not bear will 
 have its knee a little lower than the other, and 
 near the other leg. 
 
 In regard to the positions of the head and arms, 
 they are infinite, and for that reason I shall not 
 enter into any detailed rule concerning them ; suf- 
 fice it to say, that they are to be easy and free, 
 graceful, and varied in their bendings, so that they 
 may not appear stiff like pieces of wood. 
 
 Chap. C. — That it is impossible for any Memory 
 to retain the Aspects and Changes of the Mem- 
 bers, 
 
 It is impossible that any memory can be able to 
 
46 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE, 
 
 retain all the aspects or motions of any member of 
 any animal whatever. This case we shall exem- 
 plify by the appearance of the hand. And be- 
 cause any continued quantity is divisible ad infi- 
 nitum, the motion of the eye which looks at the 
 hand, and moves from A to B, moves by a space 
 A B, which is also a continued quantity, and con- 
 sequently divisible ad infinitum, and in every part 
 of the motion varies to its view the aspect and 
 figure of the hand ; and so it will do if it move 
 round the whole circle. The same will the hand 
 do which is raised in its motion, that is, it will 
 pass over a space, which is a continued quantity.* 
 
 * The eyeball moving up and down to look at the hand, de- 
 scribes a part of a circle, from every point of which it sees it in 
 an infinite variety of aspects. The hand also is moveable ad in- 
 finitum (for it can go round the whole circle — see chap, lxxxvii), 
 and consequently shew itself in an infinite variety of aspects, 
 which it is impossible for any memory to retain. 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 47 
 
 Chap. CI. — The Motions of Figures. 
 
 Never put the head straight upon the shoulders, 
 but a little turned sideways to the right or left, 
 even though the figures should be looking up or 
 down, or straight, because it is necessary to give 
 them some motion of life and spirit. Nor ever 
 compose a figure in such a manner, either in a 
 front or back view, as that every part falls straight 
 upon another from the top to the bottom. But 
 if you wish to introduce such a figure, use it 
 for old age. Never repeat the same motions of 
 arms, or of legs, not only not in the same figure, 
 but in those which are standing by, or near ; if 
 the necessity of the case, or the expression of the 
 subject you represent, do not oblige you to it*. 
 
 Chap. CII. — Of common Motions. 
 
 The variety of motions in man are equal to the 
 variety of accidents or thoughts affecting the mind, 
 and each of these thoughts, or accidents, will ope- 
 rate more or less, according to the temper and age 
 of the subject; for the same cause will in the 
 actions of youth, or of old age, produce very dif- 
 ferent effects. 
 
 Chap. CIII. — Of simple Motions. 
 
 Simple motion is that which a man performs in 
 merely bending backwards or forwards. 
 
 * See chap. xx. civ. 
 
48 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 
 
 Chap. CIV. — Complex Motion. 
 
 Complex motion is that which, to produce some 
 particular action, requires the body to bend down- 
 wards and sideways at the same time. The painter 
 must be careful in his compositions to apply these 
 complex motions according to the nature of the 
 subject, and not to weaken or destroy the effect of 
 it by introducing figures with simple motions, 
 without any connexion with the subject. 
 
 Chap. CV. — Motions appropriated to the Subject. 
 
 The motions of your figures are to be expressive 
 of the quantity of strength requisite to the force of 
 the action. Let not the same effort be used to 
 take up a stick as would easily raise a piece of 
 timber. Therefore shew great variety in the ex- 
 pression of strength, according to the quality of 
 the load to be managed. 
 
 Chap. CVI. — Appropriate Motions. 
 
 There are some emotions of the mind which are 
 not expressed by any particular motion of the 
 body, while in others, the expression cannot be 
 shewn without it. In the first, the arms fall down, 
 the hands and all the other parts, which in general 
 are the most active, remain at rest. But such 
 emotions of the soul as produce bodily action, 
 must put the members into such motions as are 
 
MOTION AND EQUIPOISE. 49 
 
 appropriated to the intention of the mind. This, 
 however, is an ample subject, and we have a great 
 deal to say upon it. There is a third kind of mo- 
 tion, which participates of the two already de- 
 scribed ; and a fourth, which depends neither on 
 the one nor the other. This last belongs to insen- 
 sibility, or fury, and should be ranked with mad- 
 ness or stupidity ; and so adapted only to grotesque 
 or Moresco work. 
 
 Chap. CVII. — Of the Postures of Women and 
 young People. 
 
 It is not becoming in women and young people 
 to have their legs too much asunder, because it 
 denotes boldness ; while the legs close together 
 shew modesty. 
 
 Chap. CVIII. — Of the Postures of Children. 
 
 Children and old people are not to express 
 quick motions, in what concerns their legs. 
 
 Chap. CIX. — Of the Motion of the Members. 
 
 Let every member be employed in performing 
 its proper functions. For instance, in a dead body, 
 or one asleep, no member should appear alive or 
 awake. A foot bearing the weight of the whole 
 body, should not be playing its toes up and down, 
 but flat upon the ground; except when it rests 
 entirely upon the heel. 
 
 D 
 
50 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 Chap. CX* — Of mental Motions. 
 A mere thought, or operation of the mind, ex- 
 cites only simple and easy motions of the body ; 
 not this way, and that way> because its object is 
 in the mind, which does not affect the senses when 
 it is collected within itself. 
 
 Chap. CXI. — Effect of the Mind upon the Motions 
 of the Body, occasioned by some outward Object. 
 
 When the motion is produced by the presence 
 of some object, either the cause is immediate or 
 not. If it be immediate^ the figure will first turn 
 towards it the organs most necessary, the eyes . 
 leaving its feet in the same place \ and will only 
 move the thighs, hips, and knees a little towards 
 the same side, to which the eyes are directed. 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 Chap. CXII. — Of those who apply themselves to 
 the Practice, without having learnt the Theory 
 of the Art. 
 
 Those who become enamoured of the practice of 
 the art, without having previously applied to the 
 
LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 diligent study of the scientific part of it^ may be 
 compared to mariners, who put to sea in a ship 
 without rudder or compass, and therefore cannot 
 be certain of arriving at the wished-for port. 
 
 Practice must always be founded on good 
 theory; to this, Perspective is the guide and 
 entrance, without which nothing can be well 
 done. 
 
 Chap. CXIII. — Precepts in Painting. 
 
 Perspective is to Painting what the bridle is 
 to a horse^ and the rudder to a ship. 
 
 The size of a figure should denote the distance 
 at which it is situated. 
 
 If a figure be seen of the natural size, remem- 
 ber that it denotes its being near to the eye. 
 
 Chap. CXIV. — Of the Boundaries of Objects, 
 called Outlines or Contours. 
 
 The outlines or contours of bodies are so little 
 perceivable, that at any small distance between 
 that and the object, the eye will not be able to 
 recognize the features of a friend or relation, if 
 it were not for their clothes and general appear- 
 ance. So that by the knowledge of the whole it 
 comes to know the parts. 
 
 Chap. CXV. — Of linear Perspective. 
 Linear Perspective consists in giving, by 
 
 D 2 
 
52 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 established rules, the true dimensions of objects, 
 according to their respective distances ; so that 
 the second object be less than the first, the third 
 than the second, and by degrees at last they be- 
 come invisible. I find by experience, that, if the 
 second object be at the same distance from the 
 first, as the first is from the eye, though they be 
 of the same size, the second will appear half the 
 size of the first ; and, if the third be at the same 
 distance behind the second, it will diminish two 
 thirds ; and so on, by degrees, they will, at equal 
 distances, diminish in proportion ; provided that 
 the interval be not more than twenty cubits * ; 
 at which distance it will lose two fourths of its 
 size ; at forty it will diminish three fourths ; and 
 at sixty it will lose five sixths, and so on progres- * 
 sively. But you must be distant from your pic- 
 ture twice the size of it ; for, if you be only once 
 the size, it will make a great difference in the mea- 
 sure from the first to the second. 
 
 Chap. CXVI. — What Parts of Objects disappear 
 first by Distance. 
 
 Those parts which are of less magnitude will 
 first vanish from the sight f. This happens, be- 
 
 * About thirteen yards of our measure ; the Florentine braccia, 
 or cubit, by which the author measures, being 1 foot 10 inches 
 T-8ths English measure. 
 
 -f* See chap. cxxi. and cccv. 
 
LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 53 
 
 cause the shape of small objects, at an equal dis- 
 tance, comes to the eye under a more acute angle 
 than the large ones, and the perception is less, in 
 proportion as they are less in magnitude. It fol- 
 lows then, that if the large objects, by being re- 
 moved to a great distance, and consequently 
 coming to the eye by a small angle, are almost 
 lost to the sight, the small objects will entirely 
 disappear. 
 
 CXVII.— Of remote Objects. 
 
 The outlines of objects will be less seen, in 
 proportion as they are more distant from the eye. 
 
 Chap. CXVIII.— Of the Point of Sight 
 
 The point of sight must be on a level with the 
 eyes of a common-sized man, and placed upon 
 the horizon, which is the line formed by a flat 
 country terminating with the sky. An exception 
 must be made as to mountains, which are above 
 that line. 
 
 Chap. CXIX. — A Picture is to be viewed from 
 one Point only. 
 
 This will be proved by one single example. If 
 you mean to represent a round ball very high up, 
 on a flat and perpendicular wall, it will be neces- 
 sary to make it oblong, like the shape of an egg, 
 and to place yourself (that is, the eye, or point of 
 
54 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 view) so far back, as that its outline or circumfer- 
 ence may appear round. 
 
 Chap. CXX. — Of the Dimensions of the first 
 Figure in an historical Painting. 
 
 The first figure in your picture will be less than 
 Nature, in proportion as it recedes from the front 
 of the picture, or the bottom line; and by the 
 same rule the others behind it will go on lessen- 
 ing in an equal degree.* 
 
 Chap. CXXI. — Of Objects that are lost to the 
 Sight in Proportion to their Distance. 
 
 The first things that disappear, by being re- 
 moved to some distance, are the outlines or 
 boundaries of objects. The second, as they re- 
 move farther, are the shadows which divide con- 
 tiguous bodies. The third are the thickness of 
 legs and feet; and so in succession the small 
 parts are lost to the sight, till nothing remains 
 but a confused mass, without any distinct parts. 
 
 * It is supposed that the figures are to appear of the natural 
 size, and not bigger. In that case, the measure of the first, to 
 be of the exact dimension, should have its feet resting upon the 
 bottom line ; but as you remove it from that, it should 
 diminish. 
 
 No allusion is here intended to the distance at which a picture 
 is to be placed from the eye. 
 
LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 55 
 
 Chap. CXXII. — Errors not so easily seen in small 
 Objects as in large ones. 
 
 Supposing this small object to represent a 
 man, or any other animal, although the parts, by 
 being so much diminished or reduced, cannot be 
 executed with the same exactness of proportion, 
 nor finished with the same accuracy, as if on a 
 larger scale, yet on that very account the faults 
 will be less conspicuous. For example, if yon 
 look at a man at the distance of two hundred 
 yards, and with all due attention mean to form a 
 judgment, whether he be handsome or ugly, de- 
 formed or well made, you will find that, with all 
 your endeavours, you can hardly venture to 
 decide. The reason is, that the man diminishes 
 so much by the distance, that it is impossible to 
 distinguish the parts minutely. If you wish to 
 know by demonstration the diminution of the 
 above figure, hold your finger up before your eye 
 at about nine inches distance, so that the top of 
 your finger corresponds with the top of the head 
 of the distant figure : you will perceive that your 
 finger covers, not only its head, but part of its 
 body ; which is an evident proof of the appa- 
 rent diminution of that object. Hence it often 
 happens, that we are doubtful, and can scarcely, 
 at some distance, distinguish the form of even a 
 friend. 
 
56 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 Chap. CXXIII. — Historical Subjects one above 
 another on the same Wall to be avoided. 
 
 This custom, which has been generally adopted 
 by painters, on the front and sides of chapels, is 
 much to be condemned. They begin with an 
 historical picture, its landscape and buildings, in 
 one compartment. After which, they raise ano- 
 ther compartment, and execute another history 
 with other buildings upon another level; and 
 from thence they proceed to a third and fourth, 
 varying the point of sight, as if the beholder was 
 going up steps, while, in fact, he must look at 
 them all from below, which is very ill-judged in 
 those matters. 
 
 We know that the point of sight is the eye of 
 the spectator ; and if you ask, how is a series of 
 subjects, such as the life of a saint, to be repre- 
 sented, in different compartments on the same 
 wall ? I answer, that you are to place the prin- 
 cipal event in the largest compartment, and make 
 the point of sight as high as the eye of the spec- 
 tator. Begin that subject with large figures ; and 
 as you go up, lessen the objects, as well the 
 figures, as buildings, varying the plans according 
 to the effect of perspective; but never varying 
 the point of sight : and so complete the series of 
 subjects, till you come to a certain height, where 
 terrestrial objects can be seen no more, except 
 
LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 57 
 
 the tops of trees, or clouds and birds ; or if you 
 introduce figures, they must be aerial, such as 
 angels, or saints in glory, or the like, if they suit 
 the purpose of your history. If not, do not 
 undertake this kind of painting, for your work 
 will be faulty, and justly reprehensible fi 
 
 Chap. CXXIV. — Why Objects in Painting can 
 never detach, as natural Objects do. 
 
 Painters often despair of being able to imitate 
 Nature, from observing, that their pictures have 
 not the same relief, nor the same life, as natural 
 objects have in a looking glass, though they both 
 appear upon a plain surface. They say, they have 
 colours which surpass in brightness the quality 
 of the lights, and in darkness the quality of the 
 shades of the objects seen in the looking-glass ; 
 but attribute this circumstance to their own igno- 
 rance, and not to the true cause, because they do 
 not know it. It is impossible that objects in 
 
 * The author does not mean here to say, that one historical 
 picture cannot be hung over another. It certainly may, be- 
 cause, in viewing each, the spectator is at liberty (especially if 
 they are subjects independent of each other) to shift his place so 
 as to stand at the true point of sight for viewing every one of 
 them ; but in covering a wall with a succession of subjects from 
 the same history, the author considers the whole as in fact but 
 one picture, divided into compartments, and to be seen at one 
 view, and which cannot therefore admit more than one point of 
 sight. In the former case the pictures are, in fact, so many dis- 
 tinct subjects unconnected with each other. 
 
 D 5 
 
58 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 painting should appear with the same relief as 
 those in the looking-glass, unless we look at them 
 with only one eye. 
 
 The reason is this. The two eyes A B looking 
 at objects one behind another, as M and N, see 
 them both : because M cannot entirely occupy 
 the space of N, by reason that the base of the 
 visual rays is so broad, that the second object is 
 seen behind the first. But if one eye be shut, 
 and you look with the other S, the body F will 
 entirely cover the body R, because the visual rays 
 beginning at one point, form a triangle, of which 
 the body F is the base, and being prolonged, they 
 form two diverging tangents at the two extremi- 
 ties of F, which cannot touch the body R behind 
 it, therefore can never see it.* 
 
 * See chap, cccxlviii. 
 
 This chapter is obscure, and may probably be made clear by 
 merely stating it in other words. Leonardo objects to the use of 
 both eyes, because, in viewing in that manner the objects here 
 mentioned, two balls, one behind the other, the second is seen, 
 
LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 59 
 
 Chap. CXXV. — -How to give the proper Dimen- 
 sion to Objects in Painting. 
 
 In order to give the appearance of the natural 
 size, if the piece be small (as miniatures), the 
 
 which would not be the case, if the angle of the visual rays were 
 not too big for the first object. Whoever is at all acquainted 
 with optics, need not be told, that the visual rays commence in 
 a single point in the centre, or nearly the centre of each eye, and 
 continue diverging. But, in using both eyes, the visual rays 
 proceed not from one and the same centre, but from a different 
 centre in each eye, and intersecting each other, as they do a 
 a little before passing the first object, they become together 
 broader than the extent of the first object, and consequently give 
 a view of part of the second. On the contrary, in using but one 
 eye, the visual rays proceed but from one centre ; and as, there- 
 fore, there cannot be any intersection, the visual rays, when they 
 reach the first object, are not broader than the first object, and 
 the second is completely hidden. Properly speaking, therefore, 
 in using both eyes we introduce more than one point of sight, 
 which renders the perspective false in the painting ; but in using 
 one eye only, there can be, as there ought, but one point of sight. 
 There is, however, this difference between viewing real objects 
 and those represented in painting, that in looking at the former, 
 whether we use one or both eyes, the objects, by being actually 
 detached from the back ground, admit the visual rays to strike 
 on them, so as to form a correct perspective, from whatever 
 point they are viewed, and the eye accordingly forms a perspec- 
 tive of its own ; but in viewing the latter, there is no possibility 
 of varying the perspective ; and, unless the picture is seen pre- 
 cisely under the same angle as it was painted under, the perspec- 
 tive in all other views must be false. This is observable in the 
 perspective views painted for scenes at the playhouse. If the 
 beholder is seated in the central line of the house, whether in 
 the boxes or pit, the perspective is correct ; but, in proportion 
 as he is placed at a greater or less distance to the right or left 
 of that line, the perspective appears to him more or less faulty. 
 And hence arises the necessity of using but one eye in viewing 
 a painting, in order thereby to reduce it to one point of sight. 
 
60 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 figures on the fore-ground are to be finished with 
 as much precision as those of any large painting, 
 because being small they are to be brought up 
 close to the eye. But large paintings are seen at 
 some distance ; whence it happens, that though 
 the figures in each are so different in size, in ap- 
 pearance they will be the same. This proceeds 
 from the eye receiving those objects under the 
 same angle j and it is proved thus. Let the large 
 
 £ 
 
 D 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 Jbr 
 
 
 G 
 
 
 E 
 
 C 
 
 painting be B C, the eye A, and D E a pane of 
 glass, through which are seen the figures situated 
 at B C. I say that the eye being fixed, the figures 
 in the copy of the paintings B Care to be smaller, 
 in proportion as the glass D E is nearer the eye A, 
 and are to be as precise and finished. But if you 
 will execute the picture B C upon the glass D E, 
 this ought to be less finished than the picture B 
 C, and more so than the figure M N transferred 
 upon the glass F G ; because, supposing the figure 
 P O to be as much finished as the natural one in 
 B C, the perspective of O P would be false, since, 
 though in regard to the diminution of the figure 
 
LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 Gì 
 
 it would be right, B C being diminished in P O, 
 finishing would not agree with the distance, be- 
 cause in giving it the perfection of the natural 
 BC,BC would appear as near as O P ; but, if 
 you search for the diminution of O P, O P 
 will be found at the distance B C, and the dimi- 
 nution of the finishing as at F G. 
 
 Chap. CXXVI. — How to draw accurately any 
 particular Spot. 
 
 Take a glass as large as your paper, fasten it 
 well between your eye and the object you mean 
 to draw, and fixing your head in a frame (in such 
 a manner as not to be able to move it) at the dis- 
 tance of two feet from the glass ; shut one eye, 
 and draw with a pencil accurately upon the glass 
 all that you see through it. After that, trace 
 upon paper what you have drawn on the glass, 
 which tracing you may paint at pleasure, observ- 
 ing the aerial perspective. 
 
 Chap. CXXVII. — Disproportion to be avoided, 
 even in the accessory Parts. 
 
 A great fault is committed by many painters, 
 which is highly to be blamed, that is, to represent 
 the habitations of men, and other parts of their 
 compositions, so low, that the doors do not reach 
 as high as the knees of their inhabitants, though, 
 according to their situation, they are nearer to the 
 
62 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 eye of the spectator, than the men who seem 
 willing to enter them. I have seen some pictures 
 with porticos, supported by columns loaded with 
 figures ; one grasping a column against which it 
 leans, as if it were a walking stick, and other simi- 
 lar errors, which are to be avoided with the greatest 
 care. 
 
63 
 
 INVENTION, or COMPOSITION. 
 
 Chap. CXXVIII. — Precept for avoiding a bad 
 Choice in the Style or Proportion of Figures. 
 
 The painter ought to form his style upon the 
 most proportionate model in Nature; and after 
 having measured that, he ought to measure him- 
 self also, and be perfectly acquainted with his own 
 defects or deficiencies ; and having acquired this 
 knowledge, his constant care should be to avoid 
 conveying into his work those defects which he 
 has found in his own person ; for these defects, 
 becoming habitual to his observation, mislead his 
 judgment, and he perceives them no longer. We 
 ought, therefore, to struggle against such a preju- 
 dice, which grows up with us ; for the mind, be- 
 ing fond of its own habitation, is apt to represent 
 it to our imagination as beautiful. From the 
 same motive it may be, that there is not a woman, 
 however plain in her person, w T ho may not find 
 her admirer, if she be not a monster. Against 
 this bent of the mind you ought very cautiously 
 to be on your guard. 
 
 Chap. CXXIX. — Variety in Figures.. 
 
 A painter ought to aim at universal excellence ; 
 for he will be greatly wanting in dignity, if he do 
 
64 
 
 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 one thing well and another badly, as many do, who 
 study only the naked figure, measured and pro- 
 portioned by a pair of compasses in their hands, 
 and do not seek for variety. A man may be well 
 proportioned, and yet be tall or short, large or 
 lean, or of a middle size ; and whoever does not 
 make great use of these varieties, which are all 
 existing in Nature in its most perfect state, will 
 produce figures as if cast in one and the same 
 mould, which is highly reprehensible. 
 
 Chap. CXXX. — How a Painter ought to proceed 
 in his Studies. 
 The painter ought always to form in his mind a 
 kind of system of reasoning or discussion within 
 himself on any remarkable object before him. He 
 should stop, take notes, and form some rule tipon 
 it ; considering the place, the circumstances, the 
 lights and shadows. 
 
 Chap. CXXXI. — Of sketching Histories and 
 Figures. 
 
 Sketches of historical subjects must be slight, 
 attending only to the situation of the figures, with- 
 out regard to the finishing of particular members, 
 which may be done afterwards at leisure, when 
 the mind is so disposed. 
 
 Chap. CXXXII. — How to study Composition. 
 The young student should begin by sketching 
 slightly some single figure, and turn that on all 
 sides, knowing already how to contract, and how to 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 65 
 
 extend the members ; after which, he may put two 
 together in various attitudes, we will suppose in the 
 act of fighting boldly. This composition also he 
 must try on all sides, and in a variety of ways, 
 tending to the same expression. Then he may 
 imagine one of them very courageous, while the 
 other is a coward. Let these attitudes, and many 
 other accidental affections of the mind, be with 
 great care studied, examined, and dwelt upon. 
 
 Chap. CXXXIIL— Of the Attitudes of Men. 
 
 The attitudes and all the members are to be 
 disposed in such a manner, that by them the in- 
 tentions of the mind may be easily discovered. 
 
 Chap. CXXXIV. — Variety of Positions. 
 The positions of the human figure are to be 
 adapted to the age and rank ; and to be varied ac- 
 cording to the difference of the sexes, men or 
 women. 
 
 Chap. CXXXV .—Of Studies from Nature for 
 History. 
 
 It is necessary to consider well the situation for 
 which the history is to be painted, particularly the 
 height ; and let the painter place accordingly the 
 model from which he means to make his studies 
 for that historical picture ; and set himself as much 
 below the object, as the picture is to be above the 
 eye of the spectator, otherwise the work will be 
 faulty. 
 
66 
 
 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 Chap. CXXXVI.— Of the Variety of Figures in 
 History Painting. 
 
 History painting must exhibit variety in its 
 fullest extent. In temper, size, complexion, ac- 
 tions, plumpness, leanness, thick, thin, large, 
 small, rough, smooth, old age and youth, strong 
 and muscular, weak, with little appearance of mus- 
 cles, cheerfulness, and melancholy. Some should 
 be with curled hair, and some with straight; some 
 short, some long, some quick in their motions, 
 and some slow, with a variety of dresses and co- 
 lours, according as the subject may require. 
 
 Chap. CXXXVII.— Of Variety in History. 
 
 A painter should delight in introducing great 
 variety into his compositions, avoiding repetition, 
 that by this fertility of invention he may attract 
 and charm the eye of the beholder. If it be requi- 
 site, according to the subject meant to be repre- 
 sented, that there should be a mixture of men dif- 
 fering in their faces, ages, and dress, grouped with 
 women, children, dogs, and horses, buildings, hills 
 and flat country ; observe dignity and decorum in 
 the principal figure ; such as a king, magistrate, 
 or philosopher, separating them from the low 
 classes of the people. Mix not afflicted or weep- 
 ing figures with joyful and laughing ones ; for 
 Nature dictates that the cheerful be attended by 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION, 67 
 
 others of the same disposition of mind. Laughter 
 is productive of laughter, and vice versa. 
 
 Chap. CXXXVIIL— Of the Age of Figures. 
 
 Do not bring together a number of boys with as 
 many old men, nor young men with infants, nor 
 women with men ; if the subject you mean to re- 
 present does not oblige you to it. 
 
 Chap. CXXXIX.— Of Variety of Faces. 
 
 The Italian painters have been accused of a 
 common fault, that is, of introducing into their 
 compositions the faces, and even the whole figures, 
 of Roman emperors, which they take from the 
 antique. To avoid such an error, let no repeti- 
 tion take place, either in parts, or the whole of a 
 figure ; nor let there be even the same face in 
 another composition ; and the more the figures 
 are contrasted, viz. the deformed opposed to the 
 beautiful, the old to the young, the strong to the 
 feeble, the more the picture will please and be 
 admired. These different characters, contrasted 
 with each other, will increase the beauty of the 
 whole. 
 
 It frequently happens that a painter, while he 
 is composing, will use any little sketch or scrap of 
 drawing he has by him, and endeavour to make 
 it serve his purpose ; but this is extremely injudi- 
 cious, because he may very often find that the 
 
08 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 members he has drawn have not the motion suited 
 to what he means to express ; and after he has 
 adopted, accurately drawn, and even well finished 
 them, he will be loth to rub out and change them 
 for others. 
 
 Chap. CXL. — A Fault in Painters. 
 
 It is a very great fault in a painter to repeat the 
 same motions in figures, and the same folds in 
 draperies in the same composition, as also to 
 make all the faces alike. 
 
 Chap. CXLI. — How you may learn to compose 
 Groups for History Painting. 
 
 When you are well instructed in perspective, 
 and know perfectly how to draw the anatomy and 
 forms of different bodies or objects, it should be 
 your delight to observe and consider in your 
 walks the different actions of men, when they are 
 talking, or quarrelling; when they laugh, and when 
 they fight. Attend to their positions, and to those 
 of the spectators; whether they are attempting to 
 separate those who fight, or merely lookers-on. 
 Be quick in sketching these with slight strokes in 
 your pocket-book, which should always be about 
 you, and made of stained paper, as you ought not 
 to rub out. When it is full, take another, for 
 these are not things to be rubbed out, but kept 
 with the greatest care; because forms and mo- 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 69 
 
 tions of bodies are so infinitely various, that the 
 memory is not able to retain them ; therefore 
 preserve these sketches as your assistants and 
 masters. 
 
 Chap. CXLII. — How to study the Motions of the 
 human Body, 
 
 The first requisite towards a perfect acquaint- 
 ance with the various motions of the human body, 
 is the knowledge of all the parts, particularly the 
 joints, in all the attitudes in which it may be 
 placed. Then make slight sketches in your pocket- 
 book as opportunities occur, of the actions of men, 
 as they happen to meet your eye, without being 
 perceived by them ; because, if they were to ob- 
 serve you, they would be disturbed from that 
 freedom of action, which is prompted by inward 
 feeling; as when two men are quarrelling and 
 angry, each of them seeming to be in the right, 
 and with great vehemence move their eyebrows, 
 arms, and all the other members, using motions 
 appropriated to their words and feelings. This 
 they could not do, if you wanted them to imitate 
 anger, or any other accidental emotion ; such as 
 laughter, weeping, pain, admiration, fear, and the 
 like. For that reason, take care never to be with- 
 out a little book, for the purpose of sketching 
 those various motions, and also groups of people 
 standing by. This will teach you how to compose 
 
70 INVENTION^ OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 history. Two things demand the principal atten- 
 tion of a good painter. One is the exact outline 
 and shape of the figure ; the other, the true ex- 
 pression of what passes in the mind of that figure, 
 which he must feel, and that is very important. 
 
 Chap. CXLIII. — Of Dresses, and of Draperies 
 and Folds. 
 
 The draperies with which you dress figures 
 ought to have their folds so accommodated as to 
 surround the parts they are intended to cover; 
 that in the mass of light there be not any dark 
 fold; and in the mass of shadows none receiving 
 too great a light. They must go gently over, 
 describing the parts ; but not with lines across^ 
 cutting the members with hard notches, deeper 
 than the part can possibly be ; at the same time, 
 it must fit the body, and not appear like an empty 
 bundle of cloth ; a fault of many painters, who, 
 enamoured of the quantity and variety of folds, 
 have encumbered their figures, forgetting the in- 
 tention of clothes, which is to dress and surround 
 the parts gracefully wherever they touch; and 
 not to be filled with wind, like bladders puffed up 
 where the parts project. I do not deny that we 
 ought not to neglect introducing some handsome 
 folds among these draperies, but it must be done 
 with great judgment, and suited to the parts, 
 where, by the actions of the limbs and position of 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 7 1 
 
 the whole body, they gather together. Above all, 
 be careful to vary the quality and quantity of 
 your folds in compositions of many figures ; so 
 that, if some have large folds, produced by thick 
 woollen cloth, others, being dressed in thinner 
 stuff, may have them narrower ; some sharp and 
 straight, others soft and undulating. 
 
 Chap. CXLIV.— Of the Nature of Folds in 
 Draperies. 
 
 Many painters prefer making the folds of their 
 draperies with acute angles, deep and precise ; 
 others with angles hardly perceptible ; and some 
 with none at all; but instead of them, certain 
 curved lines. 
 
 Chap. CXLV. — How the Folds of Draperies 
 ought to be represented, Plate XVIII. 
 
 That part of the drapery, which is the farthest 
 from the place where it is gathered, will appear 
 more approaching its natural state. Every thing 
 naturally inclines to preserve its primitive form. 
 Therefore a stuff or cloth, which is of equal 
 thickness on both sides, will always incline 
 to remain flat. For that reason, when it is con- 
 strained by some fold to relinquish its flat situ- 
 ation, it is observed that, at the part of its greatest 
 restraint, it is continually making efforts to re- 
 turn to its natural shape ; and the parts most 
 distant from it re-assume more of their primitive 
 
72 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 state by ample and distended folds. For exam- 
 ple, let A B C be the drapery mentioned above ; 
 A B the place where it is folded or restrained. I 
 have said that the part, which is farthest from the 
 place of its restraint, would return more toward 
 its primitive shape. Therefore C being the far- 
 thest, will be broader and more extended than any 
 other part. 
 
 Chap. CXLVI. — How the Folds in Draperies 
 ought to be made. 
 
 Draperies are not to be encumbered with many 
 folds : on the contrary, there ought to be some 
 only where they are held up with the hands or 
 arms of the figures, and the rest left to fall with 
 natural simplicity. They ought to be studied 
 from nature ; that is to say, if a woollen cloth be 
 intended, the folds ought to be drawn after such 
 cloth ; if it be of silk, or thin stuff, or else very 
 thick for labourers, let it be distinguished by the 
 nature of the folds. But never copy them, as 
 some do, after models dressed in paper, or thin 
 leather, for it greatly misleads. 
 
 Chap. CXLVII. — Foreshortening of Folds, 
 Plate XIX. 
 
 Where the figure is fore-shortened, there ought 
 to appear a greater number of folds, than on the 
 other parts, all surrounding it in a circular man- 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 73 
 
 ner. Let E be the situation of the eye. M N 
 will have the middle of every circular fold suc- 
 cessively removed farther from its outline, in 
 proportion as it is more distant from the eye. In 
 M O of the other figure the outlines of these 
 circular folds will appear almost straight, because 
 it is situated opposite the eye ; but in P and (Ì 
 quite the contrary, as in N and M. 
 
 Chap. CXLVIII.— Of Folds. 
 
 The folds of draperies, whatever be the motion 
 of the figure, ought always to shew, by the form 
 of their outlines, the attitude of such figure \ so 
 as to leave, in the mind of the beholder, no 
 doubt or confusion in regard to the true position 
 of the body ; and let there be no fold, which, by 
 its shadow, breaks through any of the members ; 
 that is to say, appearing to go in deeper than the 
 surface of the part it covers. And if you repre- 
 sent the figure clothed with several garments, one 
 over the other, let it not appear as if the upper 
 one covered only a mere skeleton ; but let it ex- 
 press that it is also well furnished with flesh, and 
 a thickness of folds, suitable to the number of 
 its under garments. 
 
 The folds surrounding the members ought to 
 diminish in thickness near the extremities of the 
 part they surround. 
 
 The length of the folds, which are close to the 
 
 E 
 
74 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 members, ought to produce other folds on that 
 side where the member is diminished by fore- 
 shortening, and be more extended on the opposite 
 side. 
 
 Chap. CXLIX.— Of Decorum. 
 
 Observe decorum in every thing you represent, 
 that is, fitness of action, dress, and situation, ac- 
 cording to the dignity or meanness of the sub- 
 ject to be represented. Be careful that a king, 
 for instance, be grave and majestic in his coun- 
 tenance and dress ; that the place be well deco- 
 rated ; and that his attendants, or the by-standers, 
 express reverence and admiration, and appear as 
 noble, in dresses suitable to a royal court. 
 
 On the contrary, in the representation of a 
 mean subject, let the figures appear low and des- 
 picable; those about them with similar counte- 
 nances and actions, denoting base and presump- 
 tuous minds, and meanly clad. In short, in both 
 cases, the parts must correspond with the general 
 sentiment of the composition. 
 
 The motions of old age should not be similar 
 to those of youth ; those of a woman to those of 
 a man ; nor should the latter be the same as those 
 of a boy. 
 
 Chap. CL. — The Character of Figures in 
 Composition. 
 In general, the painter ought to introduce very 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. *J5 
 
 few old men, in the ordinary course of historical 
 subjects, and those few separated from young 
 people; because old people are few, and their 
 habits do not agree with those of youth. Where 
 there is no conformity of custom, there can be 
 no intimacy, and, without it, a company is soon 
 separated. But if the subject require an appear- 
 ance of gravity, a meeting on important business, 
 as a council, for instance, let there be few young 
 men introduced, for youth willingly avoids such 
 meetings. 
 
 Chap. CIA.— The Motion of the Muscles, when 
 the Figures are in natural Positions. 
 
 A figure, which does not express by its position 
 the sentiments and passions, by which we sup- 
 pose it animated, will appear to indicate that its 
 muscles are not obedient to its will, and the 
 painter very deficient in judgment. For that rea- 
 son, a figure is to shew great eagerness and mean- 
 ing ; and its position is to be so well appropriated 
 to that meaning, that it cannot be mistaken, nor 
 made use of for any other. 
 
 Chap. CLII. — A Precept in Painting. 
 The painter ought to notice those quick mo- 
 tions, which men are apt to make without think- 
 ing, when impelled by strong and powerful affec- 
 tions of the mind. He ought to take memoran- 
 E 2 
 
76 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION, 
 
 dums of them, and sketch them in his pocket- 
 book, in order to make use of them when they 
 may answer his purpose ; and then to put a living 
 model in the same position, to see the quality and 
 aspect of the muscles which are in action. 
 
 Chap. CLIIL— Of the Motion of Man, 
 Plates XX. and XXL 
 
 The first and principal part of the art is com- 
 position of any sort, or putting things together. 
 The second relates to the expression and motion 
 of the figures, and requires that they be well 
 appropriated, and seeming attentive to what they 
 are about ; appearing to move with alacrity and 
 spirit, according to the degree of expression suit- 
 able to the occasion ; expressing slow and tardy 
 motions, as well as those of eagerness in pursuit: 
 and that quickness and ferocity be expressed with 
 such force as to give an idea of the sensations of 
 the actors. When a figure is to throw a dart, 
 stones, or the like, let it be seen evidently by the 
 attitude and disposition of all the members, that 
 such is its intention; of which there are two 
 two examples in the opposite plates, varied both 
 in action and power. The first in point of vigour 
 is A. The second is B. But A will throw his 
 weapon farther than B, because, though they seem 
 desirous of throwing it to the same point, A 
 having turned his feet towards the object, while 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 77 
 
 his body is twisted and bent back the contrary 
 way, to increase his power, returns with more 
 velocity and force to the point to which he means 
 to throw. But the figure B having turned his 
 feet the same way as his body, it returns to its 
 place with great inconvenience, and consequently 
 with weakened powers. For in the expression of 
 great efforts, the preparatory motions of the 
 body must be strong and violent, twisting and 
 bending, so that it may return with convenient 
 ease, and by that means have a great effect. In 
 the same manner, if a cross-bow be not strung 
 with force, the motion of whatever it shoots will 
 be short and without effect; because, where 
 there is no impulse, there can be no motion ; and* 
 if the impulse be not violent, the motion is but 
 tardy and feeble. So a bow which is not strung 
 has no motion ; and if it be strung, it will remain 
 in that state till the impulse be given by ano- 
 ther power which puts it in motion, and it 
 will shoot with a violence equal to that which 
 was employed in bending it. In the same 
 manner, the man who does not twist and 
 bend his body will have acquired no power. 
 Therefore, after A has thrown his dart, he will 
 find himself twisted the contrary way, viz. on the 
 side where he has thrown; and he will have 
 acquired only power sufficient to serve him to 
 return to where he was at first. 
 
78 INVENTION^ OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 Chap. CLIV.— Of Attitudes and the Motions of 
 the Members. 
 
 The same attitude is not to be repeated in the 
 same picture, nor the same motion of members in 
 the same figure, nay, not even in the hands or fin- 
 gers. 
 
 And if the history requires a great number of 
 figures, such as a battle, or a massacre of soldiers, 
 in which there are but three ways of striking, viz. 
 thrusting, cutting, or back-handed ; in that case 
 you must take care, that all those who are cutting 
 be expressed in different views ; some turning 
 their backs, some their sides, and others be seen 
 in front ; varying in the same manner the three 
 different ways of fighting, so that all the actions 
 may have a relation to those three principles. 
 In battles, complex motions display great art, 
 giving spirit and animation to the whole. By 
 complex motion is meant, for instance, that of a 
 single figure shewing the front of the legs, and 
 the same time the profile of the shoulder. But of 
 this I shall treat in another place.* 
 
 Chap. CLV. — Of a single Figure separate from 
 an historical Group. 
 
 The same motion of members should not be re- 
 
 Chap, xcvi. and civ. 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 7^ 
 
 peated in a figure which you mean to be alone ; 
 for instance, if the figure be represented running 
 it must not throw both hands forward ; but one for- 
 ward and the other backward, or else it cannot 
 run. If the right foot come forward, the right 
 arm must go backward and the left forward, 
 because, without such disposition and contrast 
 of parts, it is impossible to run well. If 
 another figure be supposed to follow this, one 
 of its legs should be brought somewhat forward, 
 and the other be perpendicular under the head ; 
 the arm on the same side should pass forward. 
 But of this we shall treat more fully in the book 
 on motion. * 
 
 Chap. CLVI. — On the Attitudes of the human 
 
 Figure. 
 
 A painter is to be attentive to the motions 
 and actions of men, occasioned by some sudden 
 accident. He must observe them on the spot, 
 take sketches, and not wait till he wants such ex- 
 pression, and then have it counterfeited for him ; 
 for instance, setting a model to weep when there is 
 no cause ; such an expression without a cause will 
 be neither quick nor natural. But it will be of great 
 use to have observed every action from nature, as it 
 
 * See the Life of the Author chap. xx. and ci. of the present 
 work. 
 
80 INVENTION OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 occurs, and then to have a model set in the same 
 attitude to help the recollection, and find out 
 something to the purpose, according to the subject 
 in hand. 
 
 Chap. CLVIL — How to represent a Storm. 
 
 To form a just idea of a storm, you must con- 
 sider it attentively in its effects. When the wind 
 blows violently over the sea or land, it removes 
 and carries off with it everything that is not firmly 
 fixed to the general mass. The clouds must 
 appear straggling and broken, carried according to 
 the direction and the force of the wind, and 
 blended with clouds of dust raised from the sandy 
 shore. Branches and leaves of trees must be 
 represented as carried along by the violence of the 
 storm, and together with numberless other light 
 substances, scattered in the air. Trees and grass 
 must be bent to the ground, as if yielding to the 
 course of the wind. Boughs must be twisted out 
 of their natural form, with their leaves reversed 
 and entangled. Of the figures dispersed in the pic- 
 ture, some should appear thrown on the ground, so 
 wrapped up in their cloaks and covered with dust, 
 as to be scarcely distinguishable. Of those who 
 remain on their feet, some should be sheltered by 
 and holding fast behind some great trees, to avoid 
 the same fate: others bending to the ground, 
 their hands over their faces to ward off the dust ; 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 81 
 
 their hair and their clothes flying straight up at 
 the mercy of the wind. 
 
 The high tremendous waves of the stormy sea 
 will be covered with foaming froth ; the most sub- 
 tle parts of which, being raised by the wind, like 
 a thick mist, mix with the air. What vessels are 
 seen should appear with broken cordage, and torn 
 sails, fluttering in the wind; some w T ith broken 
 masts fallen across the hulk, already on its side 
 amidst the tempestuous waves. Some of the crew 
 should be represented as if crying aloud for help, 
 and clinging to the remains of the shattered vessel. 
 Let the clouds appear as driven by tempestuous 
 winds against the summits of lofty mountains, 
 enveloping those mountains, and breaking and 
 recoiling with redoubled force, like waves against 
 a rocky shore. The air should be rendered awfully 
 dark, by the mist, dust, and thick clouds. 
 
 Chap. CLVIU.—How to compose a battle. 
 
 First, let the air exhibit a confused mixture of 
 smoke, arising from the discharge of artillery and 
 musquetry, and the dust raised by the horses of 
 the combatants ; and observe, that dust being of 
 an earthy nature, is heavy ; but yet, by reason of 
 its minute particles, it is easily impelled upwards, 
 and mixes with the air ; nevertheless, it naturally 
 falls downwards again, the most subtle parts of it 
 alone gaining any considerable degree of elevation* 
 
 e 5 
 
82 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION- 
 
 and at its utmost height it is so thin and transpa- 
 rent, as to appear nearly of the colour of the air. 
 The smoke, thus mixing with the dusty air, forms a 
 kind of dark cloud, at the top of which it is distin- 
 guished from the dust by a blueish cast, the dust 
 retaining more of its natural colour. On that part 
 from which the light proceeds, this mixture of air, 
 smoke, and dust, will appear much brighter than 
 on the opposite side. The more the combatants 
 are involved in this turbulent mist, the less dis- 
 tinctly they will be seen, and the more confused 
 will they be in their lights and shades. Let the 
 faces of the musketeers, their bodies, and every 
 object near them, be tinged with a reddish hue, 
 even the air or cloud of dust ; in short, all that 
 surrounds them. This red tinge you will diminish, 
 in proportion to their distance from the primary 
 cause. The group of figures, which appear at a 
 distance between the spectator and the light, will 
 form a dark mass upon a light ground ; and their 
 legs will be more undetermined and lost as they 
 approach nearer to the ground ; because there the 
 dust is heavier and thicker. 
 
 If you mean to represent some straggling 
 horses running out of the main body, introduce also 
 some small clouds of dust, as far distant from each 
 other as the leap of the horse, and these little 
 clouds will become fainter, more scanty, and dif_ 
 fused, in proportion to their distance from the 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 83 
 
 horse. That nearest to his feet will consequently 
 be the most determined, smallest, and the thick- 
 est of all. 
 
 Let the air be full of arrows, in all directions ; 
 some ascending, some falling down, and some 
 darting straight forwards. The bullets of the mus- 
 ketry, though not seen, will be marked in their 
 course by a train of smoke, which breaks through 
 the general confusion. The figures in the fore- 
 ground should have their hair covered with dust, 
 as also their eyebrows, and all parts liable to re- 
 ceive it. 
 
 The victorious party will be running for- 
 wards, their hair and other light parts flying in 
 the wind, their eyebrows lowered, and the motion 
 of every member properly contrasted; for in- 
 stance, in moving the right foot forwards, the left 
 arm must be brought forward also. If you make 
 any of them fallen down, mark the trace of his 
 fall on the slippery, gore-stained dust ; and where 
 the ground is less impregnated with blood, let the 
 print of men's feet and of horses, that have passed 
 that way, be marked. Let there be some horses 
 dragging the bodies of their riders, and leaving 
 behind them a furrow, made by the body thus 
 trailed along. 
 
 The countenances of the vanquisned will appear 
 pale and dejected. Their eyebrows raised, and 
 much wrinkled about the forehead and cheeks. 
 
34 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 The tip of their noses somewhat divided from the 
 nostrils by arched wrinkles terminating at the 
 corner of the eyes, those wrinkles being occasi- 
 oned by the opening and raising of the nostrils ; 
 the upper lips turned up, discovering the teeth. 
 Their mouths wide open, and expressive of violent 
 lamentation. One may be seen fallen wounded 
 on the ground, endeavouring with one hand to 
 support his body, and covering his eyes with the 
 other, the palm of which is turned towards the 
 enemy. Others running away, and with open 
 mouths seeming to cry aloud. Between the legs 
 of the combatants let the ground be strewed 
 with all sorts of arms ; as broken shields, spears, 
 swords, and the like. Many dead bodies should 
 be introduced, some entirely covered with dust, 
 others in part only; let the blood, which seems 
 to issue immediately from the wound, appear of 
 its natural colour, and running in a winding 
 course, till, mixing with the dust, it forms a red- 
 dish kind of mud. Some should be in the ago- 
 nies of death ; their teeth shut, their eyes wildly 
 staring, their fists clenched, and their legs in a 
 distorted position. Some may appear disarmed, 
 and beaten down by the enemy, still fighting with 
 their fists and teeth, and endeavouring to take a 
 passionate, though unavailing revenge. There 
 may be also a straggling horse without a rider, 
 tunning in wild disorder ; his mane flying in the 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 85 
 
 wind, beating down with his feet all before him 
 and doing a deal of damage, A wounded soldier 
 may also be seen falling to the ground, and at- 
 tempting to cover himself with his shield, while 
 an enemy bending over him endeavours to give 
 him the finishing stroke. Several dead bodies 
 should be heaped together under a dead horse 
 Some of the conquerers, as having ceased fighting^ 
 may be wiping their faces from the dirt, collected 
 on them by the mixture of dust with the water 
 from their eyes. 
 
 The corps de reserve will be seen advancing 
 gaily, but cautiously, their eyebrows directed for- 
 wards, shading their eyes with their hands to ob- 
 serve the motions of the enemy, amidst clouds of 
 dust and smoKe, and seeming attentive to the 
 orders of their chief. You may also make their 
 commander holding up his staff, pushing forwards 
 and pointing towards the place where they are 
 wanted. A river may likewise be introduced, with 
 horses fording it, dashing the water about between 
 their legs, and in the air, covering all the adjacent 
 ground with water and foam. Not a spot is to 
 be left without some marks of blood and carnage. 
 
 Chap. CLIX. — The Representation of an Orator 
 and his Audience. 
 
 If you have to represent a man who is speaking 
 to a large assembly of people, you are to consider 
 
86 
 
 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 the subject matter of his discourse, and to adapt 
 his attitude to such subject. If he means to per- 
 suade, let it be known by his gesture. If he is 
 giving an explanation, deduced from several rea- 
 sons, let him put two fingers of the right hand 
 within one of the left, having the other two bent 
 close, his face turned towards the audience, with 
 the mouth half open, seeming to speak. If he is 
 sitting, let him appear as going to raise himself up 
 a little, and his head be forward. But if he is 
 represented standing, let him bend his chest and 
 his head forward towards the people. 
 
 The auditory are to appear silent and attentive, 
 with their eyes upon the speaker, in the act of 
 admiration. There should be some old men, with 
 their mouths close shut, in token of approbation, 
 and their lips pressed together, so as to form wrin- 
 kles at the corners of the mouth, and about the 
 cheeks, and forming others about the forehead, by 
 raising the eyebrows, as if struck with astonish- 
 ment. Some others of those sitting by, should be 
 seated with their hands within each other, round 
 one of their knees ; some with one knee upon the 
 other, and upon that, one hand receiving the elbow, 
 the other supporting the chin, covered with a ve- 
 nerable beard. 
 
 Chap. CLX. — Of demonstrative Gestures. 
 The action by which a figure points at any thing 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 87 
 
 near, either in regard to time or situation, is to be 
 expressed by the hand very little removed from 
 the body. But if the same thing is far distant, the 
 hand must also be far removed from the body, and 
 the face of the figure pointing, must be turned to- 
 wards those to whom he is pointing it out. 
 
 Chap. CLXI.— Of the Attitudes of the By- 
 standers at some remarkable Event. 
 
 All those who are present at some event deserv- 
 ing notice, express their admiration, but in various 
 manners. As when the hand of justice punishes 
 some malefactor. If the subject be an act of de- 
 votion, the eyes of all present should be directed 
 towards the object of their adoration, aided by a 
 variety of pious actions with the other members ; 
 as at the elevation of the host at mass, and other 
 similar ceremonies. If it be a laughable subject, 
 or one exciting compassion and moving to tears, 
 in those cases it will not be necessary for all to 
 have their eyes turned towards the object, but 
 they will express their feelings by different ac- 
 tions ; and let there be several assembled in groups, 
 to rejoice or lament together. If the event be ter- 
 rific, let the faces of those who run away from the 
 sight, be strongly expressive of fright, with vari- 
 ous motions ; as shall be described in the tract on 
 Motion. 
 
88 
 
 INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 Chap. CLXII. — How to represent Night. 
 
 Those objects which are entirely deprived of 
 light, are lost to the sight, as in the night ; there- 
 fore if you mean to paint a history under those 
 circumstances, you must suppose a large fire, and 
 those objects that are near it to be tinged with its 
 colour, and the nearer they are the more they will 
 partake of it. The fire being red, all those objects 
 which receive light from it will appear of a reddish 
 colour, and those that are most distant from it 
 will partake of the darkness that surrounds them. 
 The figures which are represented before the fire 
 will appear dark in proportion to the brightness of 
 the fire, because those parts of them which we see, 
 are tinged by that darkness of the night, and not 
 by the light of the fire, which they intercept. 
 Those that are on either side of the fire, will be 
 half in the shade of night, and half in the red light. 
 Those seen beyond the extent of the flames, will 
 be all of a reddish light upon a black ground. In 
 regard to their attitudes, let those who are nearest 
 the fire, make screens of their hands and cloaks, 
 against the scorching heat, with their faces turned 
 on the contrary side, as if ready to run away from 
 it. The most remote will only be shading their 
 eyes with their hands, as if hurt by the too great 
 glare. 
 
INVENTION, OR COMPOSITION. 89 
 
 Chap. CLXIII. — The Method of awakening the 
 Mind to a Variety of Inventions. 
 
 I will not omit to introduce among these pre- 
 cepts a new kind of speculative invention, which 
 though apparently trifling, and almost laughable, 
 is nevertheless of great utility in assisting the ge- 
 nius to find variety for composition. 
 
 By looking attentively at old and smeared walls, 
 or stones and veined marble of various colours, 
 you may fancy that you see in them several com- 
 positions, landscapes, battles, figures in quick mo- 
 tion, strange countenances, and dresses, with an 
 infinity of other objects. By these confused lines 
 the inventive genius is excited to new exertions. 
 
 Chap. CLXIV. — Of Composition in History. 
 
 When the painter has only a single figure to re- 
 present, he must avoid any shortening whatever, 
 as well of any particular member, as of the whole 
 figure, because he would have to contend with the 
 prejudices of those who have no knowledge in that 
 branch of the art. But in subjects of history, com- 
 posed of many figures, shortenings may be intro- 
 duced with great propriety, nay, they are indis- 
 pensable, and ought to be used without reserve, 
 as the subject may require ; particularly in battles, 
 where of course many shortenings and contortions 
 of figures happen, amongst such an enraged mul- 
 
90 EXPRESSION AND CHARACTER. 
 
 titude of actors, possessed, as it were, of a brutal 
 madness. 
 
 EXPRESSION AND CHARACTER. 
 
 Chap. CLXV. — Of expressive Motions. 
 
 Let your figures have actions appropriated to 
 what they are intended to think or say, and these 
 will be well learnt by imitating the deaf, who by 
 the motion of their hands, eyes, eyebrows, and the 
 whole body, endeavour to express the sentiments 
 of their mind. Do not ridicule the thought of a 
 master without a tongue teaching you an art he 
 does not understand \ he will do it better by his 
 expressive motions, than all the rest by their words 
 and examples. Let then the painter, of whatever 
 school, attend well to this maxim, and apply it to 
 the different qualities of the figures he represents, 
 and to the nature of the subject in which they are 
 actors. 
 
 Chap. CLXVI. — How to paint Children. 
 
 Children are to be represented with quick and 
 contorted motions, when they are sitting; but when 
 standing, with fearful and timid motions. 
 
EXPRESSION AND CHARACTER. 91 
 
 Chap. CLXVII. — How to represent old Men. 
 
 Old men must have slow and heavy motions ; 
 their legs and knees must be bent when they are 
 standing, and their feet placed parallel and wide 
 asunder. Let them be bowed downwards, the 
 head leaning much forward, and their arms very 
 little extended. 
 
 Chap. CLXVIII. — How to paint old Women. 
 
 Old women, on the contrary, are to be repre- 
 sented bold and quick, with passionate motions, 
 like furies*. But the motions are to appear a great 
 deal quicker in their arms than in their legs. 
 
 Chap. CLXIX. — How to paint Women. 
 
 Women are to be represented in modest and 
 reserved attitudes, with their knees rather close, 
 their arms drawing near each other, or folded about 
 the body; their heads looking downwards, and 
 leaning a little on one side. 
 
 Chap. CLXX— 0/ the Variety of Faces. 
 The countenances of your figures should be ex- 
 
 * The author here speaks of unpolished nature ; and indeed it 
 is from such subjects only, that the genuine and characteristic 
 operations of nature are to be learnt. It is the effect of educa- 
 tion to correct the natural peculiarities and defects, and, by so 
 doing, to assimilate one person to the rest of the world. 
 
92 EXPRESSION AND CHARACTER. 
 
 pressive of their different situations : men at work, 
 at rest, weeping, laughing, crying out, in fear, or 
 joy> and the like. The attitudes also, and all the 
 members, ought to correspond with the sentiment 
 expressed in the faces. 
 
 Chap. CLXXL— The Parts of the Face and their 
 Motions. 
 
 The motions of the different parts of the face, 
 occasioned by sudden agitations of the mind, are 
 many. The principal of these are Laughter, Weep- 
 ing, Calling out, Singing, either in a high or low 
 pitch, Admiration, Anger, Joy, Sadness, Fear, 
 Pain, and others, of which I propose to treat. 
 First, of Laughing and Weeping, which are very 
 similar in the motion of the mouth, the cheeks, 
 the shutting of the eyebrows, and the space be- 
 tween them ; as we shall explain in its place, in 
 treating of the changes which happen in the face, 
 hands, fingers, and all the other parts of the body, 
 as they are affected by the different emotions of the 
 soul ; the knowledge of which is absolutely neces- 
 sary to a painter, or else his figures may be said 
 to be twice dead. But it is very necessary also 
 that he be careful not to fall into the contrary ex- 
 treme ; giving extraordinary motions to his figures, 
 so that in a quiet and peaceable subject, he does 
 not seem to represent a battle, or the revellings of 
 drunken men : but, above all, the actors in any 
 
EXPRESSION AND CHARACTER. 93 
 
 point of history must be attentive to what they 
 are about, or to what is going forward ; with ac- 
 tions that denote admiration, respect, pain, suspi- 
 cion, fear, and joy, according as the occasion, for 
 which they are brought together, may require. 
 Endeavour that different points of history be not 
 placed one above the other on the same canvass, 
 nor walls with different horizons*, as if it were a 
 jeweller's shop, shewing the goods in different 
 square caskets. 
 
 Chap. CLXXII. — Laughing and Weeping. 
 
 Between the expression of laughter and that of 
 weeping there is no difference in the motion of 
 the features, either in the eyes, mouth, or cheeks ; 
 only in the ruffling of the brows, which is added 
 when weeping, but more elevated and extended 
 in laughing. One may represent the figure weep- 
 ing as tearing his clothes, or some other expres- 
 sion, as various as the cause of his feeling may 
 be 3 because some weep for anger, some through 
 fear, others for tenderness and joy, or for suspi- 
 cion ; some for real pain and torment ; whilst 
 others weep through compassion, or regret at the 
 loss of some friend and near relation. These 
 different feelings will be expressed by some with 
 marks of despair, by others with moderation; 
 some only shed tears, others cry aloud, while an- 
 
 See chap, cxxiii. 
 
94 EXPRESSION AND CHARACTER. 
 
 other has his face turned towards Heaven, with 
 his hand depressed, and his fingers twisted. Some 
 again will be full of apprehension, with their 
 shoulders raised up to their ears, and so on, ac- 
 cording to the above causes. 
 
 Those who weep, raise the brows, and bring 
 them close together above the nose, forming 
 many wrinkles on the forehead, and the corners 
 of the mouth are turned downwards. Those who 
 laugh have them turned upwards, and the brows 
 open and extended. 
 
 Chap. CLXXIIL— Of Anger. 
 
 If you represent a man in a violent fit of anger, 
 make him seize another by the hair, holding his 
 head writhed down against the ground, with his 
 knee fixed upon the ribs of his antagonist ; his 
 right arm up, and his fist ready to strike ; his 
 hair standing on end, his eyebrows low and 
 straight; his teeth close, and seen at the corner 
 of the mouth; his neck swelled, and his body 
 covered in the abdomen with creases, occasioned 
 by his bending over his enemy, and the excess of 
 his passion. 
 
 Chap. CLXXIV,— Despair. 
 
 The last act of despondency is, when a man is 
 in the act of putting a period to his own exist- 
 ence. He should be represented with a knife in 
 one hand, with which he has already inflicted the 
 
EXPRESSION AND CHARACTER. 95 
 
 wound, and tearing it open with the other. His 
 garments and hair should be already torn. He 
 will be standing with his feet asunder, his knees a 
 little bent, and his body leaning forward, as if 
 ready to fall to the ground. 
 
96 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 Chap. CLXXV.— The Course of Study to be 
 pursued. 
 
 The student who is desirous of making great 
 proficiency in the art of imitating the works of 
 Nature, should not only learn the shape of figures 
 or other objects, and be able to delineate them with 
 truth and precision, but he must also accompany 
 them with their proper lights and shadows, accord- 
 ing to the situation in which those objects appear. 
 
 Chap. CLXXVI. — Which of the tivo is the most 
 useful Knowledge, the Outlines of Figures, or that 
 of Light and Shadow. 
 
 The knowledge of the outline is of most con- 
 sequence, and yet may be acquired to great cer- 
 tainty by dint of study; as the outlines of the 
 different parts of the human figure, particularly 
 those which do not bend, are invariably the same. 
 But the knowledge of the situation, quality, and 
 quantity of shadows, being infinite, requires the 
 most extensive study. 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 97 
 
 Chap. CLXXVII. — Wliich is the most important, 
 the Shadows or Outlines in Painting. 
 It requires much more observation and study 
 to arrive at perfection in the shadowing of a pic- 
 ture, than in merely drawing the lines of it. The 
 proof of this is, that the lines may be traced upon a 
 veil or a flat glass placed between the eye and the 
 object to be imitated. But that cannot be of any 
 use in shadowing, on account of the infinite gra- 
 dation of shades, and the blending of them, which 
 does not allow of any precise termination ; and 
 most frequently they are confused, as will be de- 
 monstrated in another place.* 
 
 Chap. CLXXVIII. — What is a Painter's first 
 Aim and Object. 
 The first object of a painter is to make a sim- 
 ple flat surface appear like a relievo, and some of 
 its parts detached from the ground ; he who 
 excels all others in that part of the art, deserves 
 the greatest praise. This perfection of the art 
 depends on the correct distribution of lights and 
 shades, called Chiaroscuro. If the painter then 
 avoids shadows, he may be said to avoid the glory 
 of the art, and to render his work despicable to 
 real connoisseurs, for the sake of acquiring the 
 esteem of vulgar and ignorant admirers of fine 
 colours, who never have any knowledge of relievo. 
 
 * See chap, cclxiv. 
 F 
 
98 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 Chap. CLXXIX.— The Difference of Superficies, 
 in regard to Painting. 
 
 Solid bodies are of two sorts : the one has the 
 surface curvilinear, oval, or spherical ; the other 
 has several surfaces, or sides producing angles, 
 either regular or irregular. Spherical, or oval 
 bodies, will always appear detached from their 
 ground, though they are exactly of the same colour. 
 Bodies also of different sides and angles will always 
 detach, because they are always disposed so as to 
 produce shades on some of their sides, which 
 cannot happen to a plain superficies.* 
 
 Chap. CLXXX. — How a Painter may become 
 universal. 
 
 The painter who wishes to be universal, and 
 please a variety of judges, must unite in the same 
 composition, objects susceptible of great force in 
 the shadows, and great sweetness in the manage- 
 ment of them ; accounting, however, in every in- 
 stance, for such boldness and softenings. 
 
 Chap. CLXXXI. — Accuracy ought to be learnt 
 before Dispatch in the Execution. 
 
 If you wish to make good and useful studies, 
 use great deliberation in your drawings, observe 
 
 > * See chapter cclxvii. 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 99 
 
 well among the lights, which, and how many, hold 
 the first rank in point of brightness; and so 
 among the shadows, which are darker than others, 
 and in what manner they blend together ; com- 
 pare the quality and quantity of one with the 
 other, and observe to what part they are directed. 
 Be careful also in your outlines, or divisions of 
 the members. Remark well what quantity of parts 
 are to be on one side, and what on the other ; and 
 where they are more or less apparent, or broad, 
 or slender. Lastly, take care that the shadows 
 and lights be united, or lost in each other ; with- 
 out any hard strokes or lines ; as smoke loses 
 itself in the air, so are your lights and shadows to 
 pass from the one to the other, without any appa- 
 rent separation. 
 
 When you have acquired the habit, and formed 
 your hand to accuraey, quickness of execution 
 will come of itself.* 
 
 Chap. CLXXXII. — How the Painter is to pluce 
 himself in regard to the Light, and his Model. 
 
 Let A B be the window, M the centre of it, C 
 the model. The best situation for the painter 
 will be a little sideways, between the window and 
 his model, as D, so that he may see his object 
 partly in the light and partly in the shadow. 
 
 * Sir Joshua Reynolds frequently inculcated these precepts m 
 his lectures, and indeed they eannot be too often enforced. 
 
 F 2 
 
100 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 Chap. CLXXXIIL— Of the best Light. 
 
 The light from on high, and not too powerful, 
 will be found the best calculated to shew the 
 parts to advantage. 
 
 Chap. CLXXXIV.— Of Drawing by Candle- 
 light. 
 
 To this artificial light apply a paper blind, and 
 you will see the shadows undetermined and soft. 
 
 Chap. CLXXXV. — Of those Painters ivho draw 
 at Home from one Light, and afterivards adapt 
 their studies to another Situation in the Country, 
 and a different Light. 
 
 It is a great error in some painters who draw 
 a figure from nature at home, by any particular 
 light, and afterwards make use of that drawing 
 in a picture representing an open country, which 
 receives the general light of the sky, where the 
 surrounding air gives light on all sides. This 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW, 
 
 101 
 
 painter would put dark shadows, where Nature 
 would either produce none, or, if any, so very faint 
 as to be almost imperceptible ; and he would throw 
 reflected lights where it is impossible there should 
 be any. 
 
 Chap. CLXXXVI. — How high the Light should be 
 in drawing from Nature. 
 
 To paint well from Nature, your window should 
 be to the North, that the lights may not vary. If 
 it be to the South, you must have paper blinds, 
 that the sun, in going round, may not alter the 
 shadows. The situation of the light should be 
 such as to produce upon the ground a shadow 
 from your model as long as that is high. 
 
 Chap. CLXXXVII. — What Light the Painter 
 must make Use of to give most Relief to his 
 Figures. 
 
 The figures which receive a particular light show 
 more relief than those which receive an universal 
 one ; because the particular light occasions some 
 reflexes, which proceed from the light of one ob- 
 ject upon the shadows of another, and help to 
 detach it from the dark ground. But a figure 
 placed in front of a dark and large space, and re- 
 ceiving a particular light, can receive no reflexion 
 from any other objects, and nothing is seen of the 
 figure but what the light strikes on, the rest being 
 
102 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 "blended and lost in the darkness of the back 
 ground. This is to be applied only to the imita- 
 tion of night subjects with very little light. 
 
 Chap. CLXXXVIII. — Advice to Painters, 
 
 Be very careful, in painting, to observe, that be- 
 tween the shadows there are other shadows, almost 
 imperceptible, both for darkness and shape ; and 
 this is proved by the third proposition,* which 
 says, that the surfaces of globular or convex bodies 
 have as great a variety of lights and shadows as 
 the bodies that surround them have. 
 
 Chap. CLXXXIX.— Of Shadows. 
 
 Those shadows which in Nature are undeter- 
 mined, and the extremities of which can hardly be 
 perceived, are to be copied in your painting in the 
 same manner, never to be precisely finished, but 
 left confused and blended. This apparent neglect 
 will show great judgment, and be the ingenious 
 result of your observation of Nature. 
 
 Chap. CXC. — Of the Kind of Light proper for 
 drawing from Relievos, or from Nature. 
 
 Lights separated from the shadows with too 
 much precision, have a very bad effect. In order, 
 
 * Probably this would have formed a part of his intended Trea- 
 tise on Light and Shadow, but no such proposition occurs in the 
 present work. 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 103 
 
 therefore, to avoid this inconvenience, if the object 
 be in the open country, you need not let your 
 figures be illumined by the sun ; but may suppose 
 some transparent clouds interposed, so that the 
 sun not being visible, the termination of the sha- 
 dows will be also imperceptible and soft. 
 
 Chap. CXCI. — Whether the Light should be ad- 
 mitted in Front or sideways ; and which is most 
 pleasing and graceful. 
 
 The light admitted in front of heads situated 
 opposite to side walls that are dark, will cause them 
 to have great relievo, particularly if the light be 
 placed high ; and the reason is, that the most pro- 
 minent parts of those faces are illumined by the 
 general light striking them in front, which light 
 produces very faint shadows on the part where it 
 strikes ; but as it turns towards the sides, it begins 
 to participate of the dark shadows of the room, 
 which grow darker in proportion as it sinks into 
 them. Besides, when the light comes from on 
 high, it does not strike on every part of the face 
 alike, but one part produces great shadows upon 
 another 3 as the eyebrows, which deprive the whole- 
 sockets of the eyes of light. The nose keeps it off 
 from great part of the mouth, and the chin from 
 the neck, and such other parts. This, by concen- 
 trating the light upon the most projecting parts, 
 produces a very great relief. 
 
104 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 Chap. CXCIL— Of the Difference of Lights 
 according to the Situation. 
 
 A small light will cast large and determined 
 shadows upon the surrounding bodies. A large 
 light, on the contrary, will cast small shadows on 
 them, and they will be much confused in their ter- 
 mination. When a small but strong light is sur- 
 rounded by a broad but weaker light, the latter 
 will appear like a demi-tint to the other, as the 
 sky round the sun. And the bodies which receive 
 the light from the one, will serve as demi-tints to 
 those which receive the light from the other. 
 
 Chap. CXCIII. — How to distribute the Light on 
 Figures. 
 
 The lights are to be distributed according to the 
 natural situation you mean your figures should 
 occupy. If you suppose them in sunshine, the 
 shades must be dark, the lights broad and ex- 
 tended, and the shadows of all the surrounding 
 objects distinctly marked upon the ground. If 
 seen in a gloomy day, there will be very little dif- 
 ference between the lights and shades, and no 
 shadows at the feet. If the figures be represented 
 within doors, the lights and shadows will again be 
 distinctly divided, and produce shadows on the 
 ground. But if you suppose a paper blind at the 
 window, and the walls painted white, the effect 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 105 
 
 will be the same as in a gloomy day, when the 
 lights and shadows have little difference. If the 
 figures are enlightened by the fire, the lights must 
 be red and powerful, the shadows dark, and the 
 shadows upon the ground and upon the walls must 
 be precise ; observing that they spread wider as 
 they go off from the body. If the figures be en- 
 lightened, partly by the sky and partly by the fire, 
 that side which receives the light from the sky 
 will be the brightest, and on the other side it will 
 be reddish, somewhat of the colour of the fire. 
 Above all, contrive that your figures receive a 
 broad light, and that from above ; particularly in 
 portraits, because the people we see in the street 
 receive all the light from above ; and it is curious 
 to observe, that there is not a face ever so well 
 known amongst your acquaintance, but would be 
 recognised with difficulty, if it were enlightened 
 from beneath. 
 
 Chap. CXCIV.— Of the Beauty of Faces. 
 
 You must not mark any muscles with hardness 
 of line, but let the soft light glide upon them, and 
 terminate imperceptibly in delightful shadows : 
 from this will arise grace and beauty to the face. 
 
 Chap. CXCV. — How, in drawing a Face, to give it 
 Grace, by the Management of Light and Shade. 
 
 A face placed in the dark part of a room, ac- 
 f 5 
 
106 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 quires great additional grace by means of light and 
 shadow. The shadowed part of the face blends 
 with the darkness of the ground, and the light part 
 receives an increase of brightness from the open 
 air, the shadows on this side becoming almost in- 
 sensible; and from this augmentation of light and 
 shadow, the face has much relief, and acquires 
 great beauty. 
 
 Chap. CXCVI. — How to give Grace and Relief to 
 Faces. 
 
 In streets running towards the west, when the 
 sun is in the meridian, and the walls on each side 
 so high that they cast no reflexions on that side 
 of the bodies which is in shade, and the sky is not 
 too bright, we find the most advantageous situa- 
 tion for giving relief and grace to figures, particu- 
 larly to faces; because both sides of the face will 
 participate of the shadows of the walls. The sides 
 of the nose and the face towards the west, will be 
 light, and the man whom we supposed placed at 
 the entrance, and in the middle of the street, will 
 see all the parts of that face, which are before him, 
 perfectly illumined, while both sides of it, towards 
 the walls, will be in shadow. What gives addi- 
 tional grace is, that these shades do not appear 
 cutting, hard, or dry, but softly blended and lost 
 in each other. The reason of it is, that the light 
 which is spread all over in the air, strikes also the 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 107 
 
 pavement of the street, and reflecting upon the 
 shady part of the face, it tinges that slightly with 
 the same hue : while the great light which comes 
 from above being confined by the tops of houses, 
 strikes on the face with different points, almost to 
 the very beginning of the shadows under the pro- 
 jecting parts of the face. It diminishes by de- 
 grees the strength of them, increasing the light 
 till it comes upon the chin, where it terminates, 
 and loses itself, blending softly into the shades on 
 all sides. For instance, if such light were A E, 
 the line F E would give light even to the bottom of 
 the nose. The line C F will give light only to the 
 under lip; but the line A H would extend the 
 shadow to all the under parts of the face, and 
 under the chin. 
 
 In this situation the nose receives a very strong 
 light from all the points A B C D E. 
 
108 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 Chap. CXCVII. — Of the Termination of Bodies 
 upon each other. 
 
 When a body, of a cylindrical or convex sur- 
 face, terminates upon another body of the same 
 colour, it will appear darker on the edge, than the 
 body upon which it terminates. And any flat 
 body, adjacent to a white surface, will appear very 
 dark; but upon a dark ground it will appear lighter 
 than any other part, though the lights be equal. 
 
 Chap. CXCVf II. — Of the Back-grounds of painted 
 Objects. 
 
 The ground which surrounds the figures in any 
 painting, ought to be darker than the light part of 
 those figures, and lighter than the shadowed part. 
 
 Chap. CXCIX. — How to detach and bring forward 
 Figures out of their Back-ground. 
 
 If your figure be dark, £>lace it on alight ground; 
 if it be light, upon a dark ground; and if it be 
 partly light and partly dark, as is generally the 
 case, contrive that the dark part of the figure be 
 upon the light part of the ground, and the light 
 side of it against the dark.* 
 
 Chap. CC. — Of proper Back-grounds. 
 It is of the greatest importance to consider well 
 
 * See chapters cc. and ccxix. 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. W9 
 
 the nature of back-grounds, upon which any opake 
 body is to be placed. In order to detach it pro- 
 perly, you should place the light part of such opake 
 body against the dark part of the back-ground, and 
 the dark parts on a light ground;* as in the cut.f 
 
 Chap. CCI. — Of the general Light diffused over 
 Figures. 
 
 In compositions of many figures and animals, 
 observe, that the parts of these different objects 
 ought to be darker in proportion as they are lower, 
 
 * See chap. ccix. 
 
 f This cannot be taken as an absolute rule ; it must be left in 
 a great measure to the judgment of the painter. For much grace- 
 ful softness and grandeur is acquired, sometimes, by blending the 
 lights of the figures with the light part of the ground ; and so of 
 the shadows ; as Leonardo himself has observed in chapters cxciv. 
 cxcv. and Sir Joshua Reynolds has often put in practice with 
 success. 
 
110 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 and as they are nearer the middle of the groups, 
 though they are all of an uniform colour. This is 
 necessary, because a smaller proportion of the sky 
 (from which all bodies are illuminated) can give 
 light to the lower spaces between these different 
 figures, than to the upper parts of the spaces. It 
 is proved thus : A B C D is that portion of the 
 sky which gives light to all the objects beneath ; 
 M and N are the bodies which occupy the space 
 STRH, in which it is evidently perceived, that 
 the point F, receiving the light only from the 
 portion of the sky C D, has a smaller quantity of 
 it than the point E which receives it from the 
 whole space A B (a larger portion than C D) ; 
 therefore it will be lighter in E than in F. 
 
 
 
 
 
 "SR. 
 
 
 a/ 
 
 
 
 T| 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ E 
 
 
 
 
 
 M 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 B 
 
 
 K 
 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Chap. CCII. — Of those Parts in Shadows which 
 appear the darkest at a Distance. 
 
 The neck, or any other part which is raised 
 straight upwards, and has a projection over it, 
 will be darker than the perpendicular front of 
 that projection ; and this projecting part will be 
 lighter, in proportion as it presents a larger sur- 
 face to the light. 
 
 For instance, the recess A receives no light from 
 any part of the sky G K, but B begins to receive 
 the light from the part of the sky H K, and C 
 from G K ; and the point D receives the whole of 
 F K. Therefore the chest will be as light as the 
 
112 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 forehead, nose, and chin. But what I have par- 
 ticularly to recommend^, in regard to faces, is, that 
 you observe well those different qualities of shades 
 which are lost at different distances (while there 
 remain only the first and principal spots or strokes 
 of shades, such as those of the sockets of the 
 eyes, and other similar recesses, which are always 
 dark), and at last the whole face becomes ob- 
 scured; because the greatest lights (being small 
 in proportion to the demi-tints) are lost. The 
 quality, therefore, and quantity of the principal 
 lights and shades are by means of great distance 
 blended together into a general half-tint ; and this 
 is the reason why trees and other objects are 
 found to be in appearance darker at some dis- 
 tance than they are in reality, when nearer to the 
 eye. But then the air, which interposes between 
 the objects and the eye, will render them light 
 again by tinging them with azure, rather in the 
 shades than in the lights ; for the lights will pre- 
 serve the truth of the different colours much 
 longer. 
 
 Chap. CCIII. — Of the Eye viewing the Folds of 
 Draperies surrounding a Figure. 
 
 The shadows between the folds of a drapery 
 surrounding the parts of the human body will be 
 darker as the deep hollows where the shadows 
 are generated are more directly opposite the eye. 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 113 
 
 This is to be observed only when the eye is placed 
 between the light and the shady part of the 
 figure. 
 
 Chap. CCIV.— Of the Relief of Figures remote 
 from the Eye. 
 Any opake body appears less relieved in pro- 
 portion as it is farther distant from the eye ; be- 
 cause the air, interposed between the eye and 
 such body, being lighter than the shadow of it, it 
 tarnishes and weakens that shadow, lessens its 
 power, and consequently lessens also its relief. 
 
 Chap. CCV. — Of Outlines of Objects on the Side 
 towards the Light. 
 
 The extremities of any object on the side which 
 receives the light, will appear darker if upon a 
 lighter ground, and lighter if seen upon a darker 
 ground. But if such body be flat, and seen upon 
 a ground equal in point of light with itself, and of 
 the same colour, such boundaries, or outlines, 
 will be entirely lost to the sight.* 
 
 Chap. CCVI. — How to make Objects detach from 
 their Ground, that is to say, from the Surface 
 on which they are painted. 
 
 Objects contrasted with a light ground will 
 appear much more detached than those which are 
 
 * See chap, cclxv. 
 
114 
 
 CONTRASTE AND EFFECT. 
 
 placed against a dark one. The reason is, that if 
 you wish to give relief to your figures, you will 
 make those parts which are the farthest from the 
 light, participate the least of it ; therefore they 
 will remain the darkest, and every distinction of 
 outline would be lost in the general mass of sha- 
 dows. But to give it grace, roundness, and effect, 
 those dark shades are always attended by re- 
 flexes, or else they would either cut too hard upon 
 the ground^ or stick to it, by the similarity of 
 shade, and relieve the less as the ground is dark- 
 er ; for at some distance nothing would be seen 
 but the light parts, therefore your figures would 
 appear mutilated of all that remains lost in the 
 back-ground. 
 
 CONTRASTE AND EFFECT. 
 
 Chap. CCVII — A Precept. 
 
 Figures will have more grace, placed in the 
 open and general light, than in any particular or 
 small one; because the powerful and extended 
 light will surround and embrace the objects : and 
 works done in that kind of light appear pleasant 
 
CONTRASTE AND EFFECT. 
 
 115 
 
 and graceful when placed at a distance*, while 
 those which are drawn in a narrow light will re- 
 ceive great force of shadoAV, but will never appear 
 at a great distance, but as painted objects. 
 
 Chap. CCVIII. — Of the Interposition of transpa- 
 rent Bodies between the Eye and the Object. 
 
 The greater the transparent interposition is be- 
 tween the eye and the object, the more the colour 
 of that object will participate of, or be changed 
 into that of the transparent medium f. 
 
 When an opake body is situated between the 
 eye and the luminary, so that the central line of 
 the one passes also through the centre of the 
 other, that object will be entirely deprived of 
 light. 
 
 Chap. CCIX. — Of proper Back-grounds for 
 Figures. 
 
 As we find by experience, that all bodies are 
 surrounded by lights and shadows, I would have 
 the painter to accommodate that part which is 
 enlightened^ so as to terminate upon something 
 dark ; and to manage the dark parts so that they 
 may terminate on a light ground. This will be of 
 
 * See chap, cxcvi. 
 
 f He means here to say, that in proportion as the body inter- 
 posed between the eye and the object is more or less transpa- 
 rent, the greater or less quantity of the colour of the body inter- 
 posed will be communicated to the object. 
 
116 
 
 REFLEXES. 
 
 great assistance in detaching and bringing out his 
 figures.* 
 
 Chap. CCX. — Of Back-grounds. 
 
 To give a great effect to figures, you must op- 
 pose to a light one a dark ground, and to a dark 
 figure a light ground, contrasting white with 
 black, and black with white. In general, all con- 
 traries give a particular force and brilliancy of 
 effect by their opposition.f 
 
 REFLEXES. 
 
 Chap.CCXI. — Of Objects placed on a light Ground, 
 and why such a Practice is useful in Painting. 
 
 When a darkish body terminates upon a light 
 ground, it will appear detached from that ground; 
 because all opake bodies of a curved surface are 
 not only dark on that side which receives no light, 
 and consequently very different from the ground ; 
 but even that side of the curved surface which is 
 enlightened, will not carry its principal light to 
 
 * See the note to chap. cc. 
 
 f See the preceding chapter, and chap. cc. 
 
REFLEXES. 
 
 117 
 
 the extremities, but have between the ground and 
 the principal light a certain demi-tint, darker than 
 either the ground or that light. 
 
 Chap. CCXII.— Of the different Effects of White, 
 according to the Difference of Back-grounds. 
 
 Any thing white will appear whiter, by being 
 opposed to a dark ground ; and, on the contrary, 
 darker upon a light ground. This we learn from 
 observing snow as it falls ; while it is descending 
 it appears darker against the sky, than when we 
 see it against an open window, which (owing to 
 the darkness of the inside of the house) makes it 
 appear very white. Observe also, that snow ap- 
 pears to fall very quick and in a great quantity 
 when near the eye ; but when at some distance, it 
 seems to come down slowly, and in a smaller 
 quantity.* 
 
 Chap. CCXIII.— Of Reverberation. 
 
 Reverberations are produced by all bodies of a 
 bright nature, that have a smooth and tolerably 
 hard surface, which, repelling the light it receives, 
 makes it rebound like a foot-ball against the first 
 object opposed to it. 
 
 * The appearance of motion is lessened according to the dis- 
 tance, in the same proportion as objects diminish in size. 
 
118 
 
 REFLEXES. 
 
 Chap. CCXIV. — Where there cannot be any 
 Reverberation of Light. 
 
 The surfaces of hard bodies are surrounded by 
 various qualities of light and shadow. The lights 
 are of two sorts ; one is called original, the other 
 derivative. The original light is that which comes 
 from the sun, or the brightness of fire, or else from 
 the air. The derivative is a reflected light. But 
 to return to our definition, I say, there can be no 
 reflexion on that side which is turned towards 
 any dark body; such as roofs either high or low, 
 shrubs, grass, wood, either dry or green ; because, 
 though every individual part of those objects be 
 turned towards the original light, and struck by 
 it ; yet the quantity of shadow which every one of 
 these parts produces upon the others, is so great, 
 that, upon the whole, the light, not forming a com- 
 pact mass, loses its effect, so that those objects 
 cannot reflect any light upon the opposite bodies. 
 
 Chap. CCXV. — In what Part the Reflexes have 
 more or less Brightness. 
 
 The reflected lights will be more or less appa- 
 rent or bright, in proportion as they are seen 
 against a darker or fainter ground ; because if the 
 ground be darker than the reflex, then this reflex 
 will appear stronger on account of the great diffe- 
 rence of colour. But, on the contrary, if this re- 
 
R EFLEX ES( 
 
 119 
 
 flexion has behind it a ground lighter than itself, 
 it will appear dark, in comparison to the bright- 
 ness which is close to h% and therefore it will be 
 hardly perceptible.* 
 
 Chap. CCXVL — Of the reflected Lights which 
 surround the Shadows. 
 The reflected lights which strike upon the midst 
 of shadows^ will brighten up or lessen their obscu- 
 rity in proportion to the strength of those lights, 
 and their proximity to those shadows. Many 
 painters neglect this observation, while others at- 
 tend to and deduce their practice from it. This 
 difference of opinion and practice divides the sen- 
 timents of artists, so that they blame each other 
 for not thinking and acting as they themselves do. 
 The best way is to steer a middle course, and not 
 to admit of any reflected light, but when the cause 
 of it is evident to every eye ; and vice versa, if you 
 introduce none at all, let it appear evident that 
 there was no reasonable cause for it. In doing so, 
 you will neither be totally blamed nor praised by 
 the variety of opinion, which, if not proceeding 
 from entire ignorance, will ensure to you the 
 approbation of both parties. 
 
 Chap. CCXVII. — Where Reflexes are to be most 
 apparent. 
 
 Of all reflected lights, that is to be the most ap- 
 
 * See chap, cexvii. and ccxix. 
 
120 
 
 REFLEXES. 
 
 parent, bold, and precise, which detaches from the 
 darkest ground ; and, on the contrary, that which 
 is upon a lighter ground will be less apparent. 
 And this proceeds from the contraste of shades, 
 by which the faintest makes the dark ones appear 
 still darker ; so in contrasted lights, the brightest 
 cause the others to appear less bright than they 
 really are.* 
 
 Chap. CCXVIII.— What Part of a Reflex is to be 
 the lightest. 
 
 That part will be the brightest which receives 
 the reflected light between angles the most nearly 
 equal. For example, let N be the luminary, and 
 A B the illuminated part of the object, reflecting 
 the light over all the shady part of the concavity 
 opposite to it. The light which reflects upon F 
 will be placed between equal angles. But E at 
 the base will not be reflected by equal angles, as it 
 is evident that the angle E A B is more obtuse 
 than the angle E B A. The angle A F B, however, 
 though it is between angles of less quality than the 
 angle E, and has a common base B A, is between 
 angles more nearly equal than E, therefore it will 
 be lighter in F than in E; and it will also be 
 brighter, because it is nearer to the part which 
 
 * See chap. ccxv. and ccxix. 
 
REFIjEX.ES» 
 
 121 
 
 gives them light, According to the 6th rule,* 
 which says, that part of the body is to be the 
 lightest, which is nearest to the luminary. 
 
 Chap. CCXIX. — Of the Termination of Reflexes 
 on their Grounds. 
 
 The termination of a reflected light on a ground 
 lighter than that reflex, will not be perceivable ; 
 but if such a reflex terminates upon a ground 
 darker than itself, it will be plainly seen ; and the 
 more so in proportion as that ground is darker, 
 and vice versa.f 
 
 Chap. CCXX. — Of double and treble Reflexions 
 of Light. 
 
 Double reflexes are stronger than single ones, 
 
 * This was intended to constitute a part of some book of Per- 
 spective, which we have not ; but the rule here referred to will be 
 found in chap cccx. of the present work. 
 
 t See chap. ccxv. and ccxvii. 
 
 G 
 
122 
 
 REFLEXES* 
 
 and the shadows which interpose between the com- 
 mon light and these reflexes are very faint. For 
 instance, let A be the luminous body, A N, A S, 
 are the direct rays, and S N the parts which re- 
 ceive the light from them, O and E are the places 
 enlightened by the reflexion of that light in those 
 parts. A N E is a single reflex, but A N O, A S O 
 is the double reflex. The single reflex is that 
 which proceeds from a single light, but the double 
 reflexion is produced by two different lights. The 
 single one E is produced by the light striking on 
 B D, while the double one O proceeds from the 
 enlightened bodies B D and D R co-operating to- 
 gether ; and the shadows which are between N O 
 and S O will be very faint. 
 
REFLEXES. 
 
 123 
 
 Chap. CCXXI. — Reflexes in the Water, and 
 particularly those of the Air. 
 
 The only portion of air that will be seen re- 
 flected in the water, will be that which is reflected 
 by the surface of the water to the eye between 
 equal angles ; that is to say, the angle of incidence 
 must be equal to the angle of reflexion. 
 
124 
 
 COLOURS AND COLOURING. 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 Chap. CCXXII. — What Surface is best calculated 
 to receive most Colours. 
 
 White is more capable of receiving all sorts of 
 colours, than the surface of any body whatever, 
 that is not transparent. To prove it, we shall say, 
 that any void space is capable of receiving what 
 another space, not void, cannot receive. In the 
 same manner, a white surface, like a void space, 
 being destitute of any colour, will be fittest to re- 
 ceive such as are conveyed to it from any other 
 enlightened body, and will participate more of 
 the colour than black can do; which latter, like a 
 broken vessel, is not able to contain any thing. 
 
 Chap. CCXXIII. — What Surface will shew most 
 perfectly its true Colour. 
 
 That opake body will show its colour more per- 
 fect and beautiful, which has near it another body 
 of the same colour. 
 
COLOURS. 
 
 125 
 
 Chap. CCXXIV. — On what Surfaces the true 
 Colour is least apparent. 
 
 Polished and glossy surfaces show least of their 
 genuine colour. This is exemplified in the grass 
 of the fields, and the leaves of trees, which, being 
 smooth and glossy, will reflect the colour of the 
 sun, and the air, where they strike, so that the 
 parts which receive the light do not show their 
 natural colour. 
 
 Chap. CCXXV.- — What Surfaces show most of 
 their true and genuine Colour. 
 
 Those objects that are the least smooth and po- 
 lished shew their natural colours best ; as we see 
 in cloth, and in the leaves of such grass or trees 
 as are of a woolly nature ; which, having no lustre, 
 are exhibited to the eye in their true natural co- 
 lour ; unless that colour happen to be confused by 
 that of another body casting on them reflexions 
 of an opposite colour, such as the redness of the 
 setting sun, when all the clouds are tinged with its 
 colour. 
 
 Chap. CCXXVL— Of the Mixture of Colours. 
 
 Although the mixture of colours may be ex- 
 tended to an infinite variety, almost impossible to 
 be described, I will not omit touching slightly upon 
 it, setting down at first a certain number of simple 
 
126 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 colours to serve as a foundation, and with each of 
 these mixing one of the others ; one with one, then 
 two with two, and three with three, proceeding in 
 this manner to the full mixture of all the colours 
 together : then I would begin again, mixing two 
 of these colours with two others, and three with 
 three, four with four, and so on to the end. To 
 these two colours we shall put three; to these 
 three add three more, and then six, increasing 
 always in the same proportion. 
 
 I call those simple colours, which are not com- 
 posed, and cannot be made or supplied by any 
 mixture of other colours. Black and White are 
 not reckoned among colours ; the one is the repre- 
 sentative of darkness, the other of light : that is, 
 one is a simple privation of light, the other is light 
 itself. Yet I will not omit mentioning them, be- 
 cause there is nothing in painting more useful and 
 necessary ; since painting is but an effect produced 
 by lights and shadows, viz. chiara-scuro. After 
 Black and White come Blue and Yellow, then 
 Green, and Tawny or Umber, and then Purple 
 and Red. These eight colours are all that Nature 
 produces. With these I begin my mixtures, first 
 Black and White, Black and Yellow, Black and 
 Red; then Yellow and Red: but I shall treat 
 more at length of these mixtures in a separate 
 work,* which will be of great utility, nay very ne- 
 
 * No such work was ever published, nor, for any thing that 
 appears, ever written. 
 
COLOURS. 
 
 127 
 
 cessary. I shall place this subject between theory 
 and practice. 
 
 Chap. CCXXVIL— Of the Colours produced by 
 the Mixture of other Colours, called secondary 
 Colours. 
 
 The first of all simple colours is White, though 
 philosophers will not acknowledge either White 
 Qr Black to be colours; because the first is the 
 cause, or the receiver of colours, the other totally 
 deprived of them. But as painters cannot do 
 without either, we shall place them among the 
 others ; and according to this order of things, 
 White will be the first, Yellow the second, Green 
 the third, Blue the fourth, Red the fifth, and Black 
 the sixth. We shall set down White for the re- 
 presentative of light, without which no colour can 
 be seen; Yellow for the earth; Green for water; 
 Blue for air; Red for fire; and Black for total 
 darkness. 
 
 If you wish to see by a short process the variety 
 of all the mixed, or composed colours, take some 
 coloured glasses, and, through them, look at all 
 the country round : you will find that the colour 
 of each object will be altered and mixed with the 
 colour of the glass through which it is seen ; ob- 
 serve which colour is made better, and which is 
 hurt by the mixture. If the glass be yellow, the 
 colour of the objects may either be improved, or 
 
128 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 greatly impaired by it. Black and White will be 
 most altered, while Green and Yellow will be 
 meliorated. In the same manner you may go 
 through all the mixtures of colours, which are in- 
 finite. Select those which are new and agreeable 
 to the sight ; and following the same method you 
 may go on with two glasses, or three, till you have 
 found what will best answer your purpose. 
 
 Chap. CCXXVIII.— Of Verdegris. 
 
 This green, which is made of copper, though it 
 be mixed with oil, will lose its beauty, if it be 
 not varnished immediately. It not only fades, 
 but, if washed with a sponge and pure water only, 
 it will detach from the ground upon which it 
 is painted, particularly in damp weather ; because 
 verdegris is produced by the strength of salts, 
 which easily dissolve in rainy weather, but still 
 more if washed with a wet sponge. 
 
 Chap. CCXXIX. — How to increase the Beauty of 
 Verdegris. 
 
 If you mix with the Verdegris some Caballine 
 Aloe, it will add to it a great degree of beauty. It 
 would acquire still more from Saffron, if it did not 
 fade. The quality and goodness of this Aloe will 
 be proved by dissolving it in warm Brandy. Sup- 
 posing the Verdigris has already been used, and 
 the part finished, you may then glaze it thinly 
 
COLOURS. 
 
 129 
 
 with this dissolved Aloe, and it will produce a very- 
 fine colour. This Aloe may be ground also in oil 
 by itself, or with the Verdegris, or any other co- 
 lour, at pleasure. 
 
 Chap. CCXXX. — How to paint a Picture that 
 will last almost for ever. 
 
 After you have made a drawing of your in- 
 tended picture, prepare a good and thick priming 
 with pitch and brickdust well pounded; after which 
 give it a second coat of white lead and Naples 
 yellow; then, having traced your drawing upon it, 
 and painted your picture, varnish it with clear and 
 thick old oil, and stick it to a flat glass, or crystal, 
 with a clear varnish. Another method, which 
 may be better, is, instead of the priming of pitch 
 and brickdust, take a flat tile well vitrified, then 
 apply the coat of white and Naples yellow, and all 
 the rest as before. But before the glass is applied 
 to it, the painting must be perfectly dried in a 
 stove, and varnished with nut oil and amber, or else 
 with purified nut oil alone, thickened in the sun * 
 
 * The French translation of 1716 has a note on this chapter, 
 saying, that the invention of enamel painting found out since the 
 time of Leonardo da Vinci, would better answer to the title of this 
 chapter, and also be a better method of painting. I must beg 
 leave, however, to dissent from this opinion, as the two kinds of 
 painting are so different that they cannot be compared. Leo- 
 nardo treats of oil painting, but the other is vitrification. Leo- 
 nardo is known to have spent a great deal of time in experiments, 
 of which this is a specimen, and it may appear ridiculous to the 
 G 5 
 
180 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 Chap. CCXXXL — The Mode of painting on 
 Canvass, or Linen Cloth *, 
 
 Stretch your canvass upon a frame, then give 
 it a coat of weak size, let it dry, and draw your 
 outlines upon it. Paint the flesh colours first; 
 and while it is still fresh or moist, paint also the 
 shadows, well softened and blended together. 
 The flesh colour may be made with white, lake, 
 and Naples yellow. The shades with black, um- 
 ber, and a little lake ; you may, if you please, use 
 black chalk. After you have softened this first 
 coat, or dead colour, and let it dry, you may re- 
 touch over it with lake and other colours, and gum 
 water that has been a long while made and kept 
 liquid, because in that state it becomes better, 
 and does not leave any gloss. Again, to make 
 the shades darker, take the lake and gum as 
 above, and ink*; and with this you may shade or 
 glaze many colours, because it is transparent; 
 such as azure, lake, and several others. As for 
 
 practitioners of more modern date, as he does not enter more 
 fully into a minute description of the materials, or the mode of 
 employing them. The principle laid down in the text appears to 
 me to be simply this : to make the oil entirely evaporate from the 
 colours by the action of fire, and afterwards to prevent the action 
 of the air by the means of a glass which in itself is an excellent 
 principle, bus: not applicable, anymore than enamel painting, to 
 large works. 
 
 * It is evident that distemper or size painting is here meant, 
 •f* Indian ink. 
 
COLOURS. 
 
 131 
 
 the lights, you may retouch or glaze them slightly 
 with gum water and pure lake, particularly vermi 
 lion. 
 
 Chap. CCXXXII. — Of lively and beautiful 
 Colours. 
 
 For those colours which you mean should ap- 
 pear beautiful, prepare a ground of pure white. 
 This is meant only for transparent colours : as for 
 those that have a body, and are opake, it matters 
 not what ground they have, and a white one is of 
 no use. This is exemplified by painted glasses ; 
 when placed between the eye and clear air, they 
 exhibit most excellent and beautiful colours, which 
 is not the case, when they have thick air, or some 
 opake body behind them. 
 
 Chap. CCXXXIII. — Of transparent Colours. 
 
 When a transparent colour is laid upon ano- 
 ther of a different nature, it produces a mixed 
 colour, different from either of the simple ones 
 which compose it. This is observed in the smoke 
 coming out of a chimney, which, when passing 
 before the black soot, appears blueish, but as it 
 ascends against the blue of the sky, it changes its 
 appearance into a reddish brown. So the colour 
 lake laid on blue will turn it to a violet colour ; 
 yellow upon blue turns to green ; saffron upon 
 white becomes yellow; white scumbled upon a 
 
132 
 
 COLOURS, 
 
 dark ground appears blue, and is more or less 
 beautiful, as the white and the ground are more 
 or less pure. 
 
 Chap. CCXXXIV.— In what Part a Colour will 
 appear in its greatest Beauty. 
 
 We are to consider here in what part any co- 
 lour will shew itself in its most perfect purity; 
 whether in the strongest light or deepest shadow, 
 in the demi-tint, or in the reflex. It would be 
 necessary to determine firsts of what colour we 
 mean to treat, because different colours differ 
 materially in that respect. Black is most beau- 
 tiful in the shades \ white in the strongest light ; 
 blue and green in the half-tint; yellow and red 
 in the principal light ; gold in the reflexes ; and 
 lake in the half-tint. 
 
 Chap. CCXXXV. — How any Colour without a 
 Gloss, is more beautiful in the Lights than in the 
 Shades. 
 
 All objects which have no gloss, shew their 
 colours better in the light than in the shadow, 
 because the light vivifies and gives a true know- 
 ledge of the nature of the colour, while the sha- 
 dows lower, and destroy its beauty, preventing 
 the discovery of its nature. If, on the contrary, 
 black be more beautiful in the shadows, it is be- 
 cause black is not a colour. 
 
COLOURS. 
 
 133 
 
 Chap. CCXXXVL— Of the Appearance of 
 Colours. 
 
 The lighter a colour is in its nature, the more 
 so it will appear when removed to some distance; 
 but with dark colours it is quite the reverse. 
 
 Chap. CCXXXVIL— What Part of a Colour is 
 to be the most beautiful. 
 
 If A be the light, and B the object receiving it 
 in a direct line, E cannot receive that light, but 
 only the reflexion from B, which we shall suppose 
 to be red. In that case, the light it produces 
 being red, it will tinge with red the object E; and 
 if E happen to be also red before, you will see 
 that colour increase in beauty, and appear redder 
 than B ; but if E were yellow, you will see a new 
 colour, participating of the red and the yellow. 
 
134 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 Chap. CCXXXVIIL— That the beauty of a Co- 
 lour is to be found in the Lights. 
 
 As the quality of colours is discovered to the 
 eye by the light, it is natural to conclude, that 
 where there is most light, there also the true qua- 
 lity of the colour is to be seen ; and where there 
 is most shadow the colour will participate of, and 
 be tinged with the colour of that shadow. Re- 
 member then to shew the true quality of the 
 colour in the light parts only*. 
 
 Chap. CCXXXIX.— Of Colours. 
 
 The colour which is between the light and the 
 shadow will not be so beautiful as that which is 
 in the full light. Therefore the chief beauty of 
 colours will be found in the principal lights f. 
 
 Chap. CCXL. — No Object appears in its true 
 Colour, unless the Light which strikes upon it 
 be of the same Colour. 
 
 This is very observable in draperies, where the 
 light folds casting a reflexion, and throwing a 
 light on other folds opposite to them, make them 
 appear in their natural colour. The same effect is 
 produced by gold leaves casting their light reci- 
 procally on each other. The effect is quite con- 
 
 * This rule is not without exception : see chap, ccxxxiv. 
 t See chap, ccxxxviii. 
 
COLOURS. 
 
 135 
 
 trary if the light be received from an object of a 
 different colour*. 
 
 Chap. CCXLI. — Of the Colour of Shadows. 
 
 The colour of the shadows of an object can 
 never be pure if the body which is opposed to 
 these shadows be not of the same colour as that 
 on which they are produced. For instance, if in 
 a room, the walls of which are green, I place a 
 ligure clothed in blue, and receiving the light from 
 another blue object, the light part of that figure 
 will be of a beautiful blue, but the shadows of it 
 will become dingy, and not like a true shade of 
 that beautiful blue, because it will be corrupted 
 by the reflexions from the green wall ; and it 
 would be still worse if the walls were of a darkish 
 brown. 
 
 Chap. CCXLIL— Of Colours. 
 
 Colours placed in shadow will preserve more 
 or less of their original beauty, as they are more 
 or less immersed in the shade. But colours si- 
 tuated in a light space will shew their natural 
 beauty in proportion to the brightness of that 
 light. Some say, that there is as great variety in 
 the colours of shadows, as in the colours of ob- 
 jects shaded by them. It may be answered, that 
 
 * See chap, ccxxxvii. 
 
136 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 colours placed in shadow will shew less variety 
 amongst themselves as the shadows are darker. 
 We shall soon convince ourselves of this truths if, 
 from a large square, we look through the open 
 door of a church, where pictures, though enriched 
 with a variety of colours, appear all clothed in 
 darkness. 
 
 Chap. CCXLIII. — Whether it be possible for all 
 Colours to appear alike by means bf the same 
 Shadow. 
 
 It is very possible that all the different colours 
 may be changed into that of a general shadow ; as 
 is manifest in the darkness of a cloudy night, in 
 which neither the shape nor colour of bodies is 
 distinguished. Total darkness being nothing but 
 a privation of the primitive and reflected lights, 
 by which the form and colour of bodies are seen ; 
 it is evident, that the cause being removed the 
 effect ceases, and the objects are entirely lost to 
 the sight. 
 
 Chap. CCXLIV. — Why White is not reckoned 
 among the Colours. 
 
 White is not a colour, but has the power of 
 receiving all the other colours. When it is placed 
 in a high situation in the country, all its shades 
 
COLOURS. 
 
 137 
 
 are azure ; according to the fourth proposition*, 
 which says, that the surface of any opake body 
 participates of the colour of any other body send- 
 ing the light to it. Therefore white being de- 
 prived of the light of the sun by the interposition 
 of any other body, will remain white ; if exposed 
 to the sun on one side, and to the open air on 
 the other, it will participate both of the colour of 
 the sun and of the air. That side which is not 
 opposed to the sun, will be shaded of the colour 
 of the air. And if this white were not surrounded 
 by green fields all the w r ay to the horizon, nor 
 could receive any light from that horizon, with- 
 out doubt it would appear of one simple and uni- 
 form colour, viz. that of the air. 
 
 Chap. CCXLV.— Of Colours. 
 
 The light of the fire tinges every thing of a red- 
 dish yellow ; but this will hardly appear evident, 
 if we do not make the comparison with the day- 
 light. Towards the close of the evening this is 
 easily done ; but more certainly after the morning 
 twilight ; and the difference will be clearly distin- 
 guished in a dark room, when a little glimpse of 
 daylight strikes upon any part of the room, and 
 
 * See chapters ccxlvii. cclxxiv. in the present work. Probably 
 they were intended to form a part of a distinct treatise, and to 
 have been ranged as propositions in that, but at present they are 
 not so placed. 
 
138 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 there still remains a candle burning. Without 
 such a trial the difference is hardly perceivable, 
 particularly in those colours which have most si- 
 milarity ; such as white and yellow,, light green and 
 light blue ; because the light which strikes the 
 blue, being yellow, will naturally turn it green ; as 
 we have said in another place/* that a mixture of 
 blue and yellow produces green. And if to a 
 green colour you add some yellow, it will make it 
 of a more beautiful green. 
 
 Chap. CCXLVI. — Of the Colouring of remote 
 Objects. 
 
 The painter who is to represent objects at some 
 distance from the eye, ought merely to convey 
 the idea of general undetermined masses, making 
 choice, for that purpose, of cloudy weather, or to- 
 wards the evening, and avoiding, as was said be- 
 fore, to mark the lights and shadows too strong 
 on the extremities; because they^would in that 
 case appear like spots of difficult execution, and 
 without grace. He ought to remember, that the 
 shadows are never to be of such a quality, as to 
 obliterate the proper colour, in which they origi- 
 nated ; if the situation of the coloured body be not 
 in total darkness. He ought to mark no outline, 
 not to make the hair stringy, and not to touch 
 with pure white, any but those things which in 
 
 * See chap, ccxlviii. 
 
COLOURS. 
 
 139 
 
 themselves are white ; in short, the lightest touch 
 upon any particular object ought to denote the 
 beauty of its proper and natural colour. 
 
 Chap. CCXLVII. — The Surface of all opake Bo- 
 dies participates of the Colour of the surrounding 
 Objects. 
 
 The painter ought to know, that if any white 
 object is placed between two walls, one of which 
 is also white, and the other black, there will be 
 found between the shady side of that object and 
 the light side, a similar proportion to that of the 
 two walls ; and if that object be blue, the effect 
 will be the same. Having therefore to paint this 
 object, take some black, similar to that of the wall 
 from which the reflexes come ; and to proceed by 
 a certain and scientific method, do as follows. 
 When you paint the wall, take a small spoon to 
 measure exactly the quantity of colour you mean 
 to employ in mixing your tints ; for instance, if 
 you have put in the shading of this wall three 
 spoonfuls of pure black, and one of white, you 
 have, without any doubt, a mixture of a certain 
 and precise quality. Now having painted one of 
 the walls white, and the other dark, if you mean 
 to place a blue object between them with shades 
 suitable to that colour, place first on your pallet 
 the light blue, such as you mean it to be, without 
 any mixture of shade, and it will do for the lightest 
 
140 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 part of your object. After which take three spoon- 
 fuls of blacky and one of this light blue, for your 
 darkest shades. Then observe whether your object 
 be round or square : if it be square, these two ex- 
 treme tints of light and shade will be close to each 
 other, cutting sharply at the angle; but if it be 
 round, draw lines from the extremities of the walls 
 to the centre of the object, and put the darkest 
 shade between equal angles, where the lines inter- 
 sect upon the superficies of it ; then begin to make 
 them lighter and lighter gradually to the point 
 N O, lessening the strength of the shadows as 
 much as that place participates of the light A D, 
 and mixing that colour with the darkest shade 
 A B, in the same proportion. 
 
COLOURS. 
 
 141 
 
 Chap. CCXLVIII. — General Remarks on Colours. 
 
 Blue and green are not simple colours in their 
 nature, for blue is composed of light and dark- 
 ness; such is the azure of the sky, viz. perfect 
 black and perfect white. Green is composed of a 
 simple and a mixed colour, being produced by blue 
 and yellow. 
 
 Any object seen in a mirror, will participate of 
 the colour of that body which serves as a mirror ; 
 and the mirror in its turn is tinged in part by the 
 colour of the object it represents ; they partake 
 more or less of each other as the colour of the 
 object seen is more or less strong than the colour 
 of the mirror. That object will appear of the 
 strongest and most lively colour in the mirror, 
 which has the most affinity to the colour of the 
 mirror itself. 
 
 Of coloured bodies, the purest white will be seen 
 at the greatest distance, therefore the darker the 
 colour, the less it will bear distance. 
 
 Of different bodies equal in whiteness, and in 
 distance from the eye, that which is surrounded 
 by the greatest darkness will appear the whitest ; 
 and on the contrary, that shadow will appear the 
 darkest which has the brightest white round it. 
 
 Of different colours, equally perfect, that will 
 appear most excellent, which is seen near its direct 
 contrary. A pale colour against red, a black upon 
 
142 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 white (though neither the one nor the other are 
 colours) ; blue near a yellow; green near red; be- 
 cause each colour is more distinctly seen, when 
 opposed to its contrary, than to any other similar 
 to it. 
 
 Any thing white seen in a dense air full of va- 
 pours, will appear larger than it is in reality. 
 
 The air, between the eye and the object seen, 
 will change the colour of that object into its own; 
 so will the azure of the air change the distant 
 mountains into blue masses. Through a red glass 
 every thing appears red; the light round the stars 
 is dimmed by the darkness of the air, which fills 
 the space between the eye and the planets. 
 
 The true colour of any object whatever will be 
 seen in those parts which are not occupied by any 
 kind of shade, and have not any gloss (if it be a 
 polished surface). 
 
 I say, that white terminating abruptly upon a 
 dark ground, will cause that part where it termi- 
 nates to appear darker, and the white whiter. 
 
143 
 
 COLOURS IN REGARD TO LIGHT AND 
 SHADOW. 
 
 Chap. CCXLIX. — Of the Light proper for paint- 
 ing Flesh Colour from Nature. 
 
 Your window must be open to the sky, and the 
 walls painted of a reddish colour. The summer- 
 time is the best, when the clouds conceal the sun, 
 or else your walls on the south side of the room 
 must be so high, as that the sun-beams cannot 
 strike on the opposite side, in order that the 
 reflexion of those beams may not destroy the 
 shadows. 
 
 Chap. CCL. — Of the Painter's Window. 
 
 The window w T hich gives light to a painting- 
 room, ought to be made of oiled paper, without 
 any cross bar, or projecting edge at the opening, 
 or any sharp angle in the inside of the wall, but 
 should be slanting by degrees the whole thickness 
 of it; and the sides be painted black. 
 
 Chap. — CCLI. — The Shadows of Colours. 
 The shadows of any colour whatever must par- 
 ticipate of that colour more or less, as it is nearer 
 
144 
 
 COLOURS IN REGARD TO 
 
 to, or more remote from, the mass of shadows ; 
 and also in proportion to its distance from, or 
 proximity to, the mass of light. 
 
 Chap. CCLII. — Of the Shadows of White. 
 
 To any white body receiving the light from the 
 sun, or the air, the shadows should be of a blueish 
 cast ; because white is no colour, but a receiver of 
 all colours ; and as by the fourth proposition * we 
 learn, that the surface of any object participates of 
 the colours of other objects near it, it is evident 
 that a white surface will participate of the colour 
 of the air by which it is surrounded. 
 
 Chap. CCLIII. — Which of the Colours will pro- 
 duce the darkest Shade. 
 
 That shade will be the darkest which is pro- 
 duced by the whitest surface; this also will have 
 a greater propensity to variety than any other sur- 
 face ; because white is not properly a colour, but 
 a receiver of colours, and its surface will partici- 
 pate strongly of the colour of surrounding objects, 
 but principally of black or any other dark colour, 
 which being the most opposite to its nature, pro- 
 duces the most sensible difference between the 
 shadows and the lights. 
 
 * See chap, cclxxiv. 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 145 
 
 Chap. CCLIV. — How to manage, ivhen a White 
 terminates upon another White. 
 
 When one white body terminates on another of 
 the same colour, the white of these two bodies will 
 be either alike or not. If they be alike, that object 
 which of the two is nearest to the eye, should be 
 made a little darker than the other, upon the round- 
 ing of the outline; but if the object which serves 
 as a ground to the other be not quite so white, 
 the latter will detach of itself, without the help of 
 any darker termination. 
 
 Chap. CCLV. — On the Back-grounds of Figures. 
 
 Of two objects equally light, one will appear less 
 so if seen upon a whiter ground ; and, on the con- 
 trary, it will appear a great deal lighter if upon a 
 space of a darker shade. So flesh colour will ap- 
 pear pale upon a red ground, and a pale colour 
 will appear redder upon a yellow ground. In short, 
 colours will appear what they are not, according 
 to the ground which surrounds them. 
 
 Chap. CCLVI. — The Mode of composing History. 
 
 Amongst the figures which compose an histo- 
 rical picture, those which are meant to appear the 
 nearest to the eye, must have the greatest force ; 
 according to the second proposition* of the third 
 
 * Although the author seems to have designed that this, and 
 many other propositions to which he refers, should have formed 
 
 H 
 
14G 
 
 COLOURS IN REGARD TO 
 
 book, which says, that colour will be seen in the 
 greatest perfection which has less air interposed 
 between it and the eye of the beholder ; and for 
 that reason the shadows (by which we express the 
 relievo of bodies) appear darker when near than 
 when at a distance, being then deadened by the 
 air which interposes. This does not happen to 
 those shadows which are near the eye, where they 
 will produce the greatest relievo when they are 
 darkest. 
 
 Chap. CCLVII. — Remarks concerning Lights and 
 Shadows. 
 
 Observe, that where the shadows end, there be 
 always a kind of half-shadow to blend them with 
 the lights. The shadow derived from any object 
 will mix more with the light at its termination, in 
 proportion as it is more distant from that object. 
 But the colour of the shadow will never be simple; 
 this is proved by the ninth proposition,* which 
 
 a part of some regular work, and he has accordingly referred to 
 them whenever he has mentioned them, by their intended nume- 
 rical situation in that work, whatever it might be, it does not 
 appear that he ever carried this design into execution. There 
 are, however, several chapters in the present work, viz. ccxciii. 
 cclxxxix. cclxxxv. coxcv. in which the principle in the text is 
 recognised, and which propably would have been transferred into 
 the projected treatise, if he had ever drawn it up. 
 
 * The note on the preceding chapter is in a great measure appli- 
 cable to this, and the proposition mentioned in the text is also to 
 be found in chapter ccxlvii. of the present work. 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 147 
 
 says, that the superficies of any object participates 
 of the colours of other bodies, by which it is sur- 
 rounded, although it were transparent, such as 
 water, air, and the like : because the air receives 
 its light from the sun, and darkness is produced 
 by the privation of it. But as the air has no co- 
 lour in itself any more than water, it receives all 
 the colours that are between the object and the 
 eye. The vapours mixing with the air in the lower 
 regions near the earth, render it thick, and apt to 
 reflect the sun's rays on all sides, while the air 
 above remains dark; and because light (that is, 
 white) and darkness (that is, black), mixed toge- 
 ther, compose the azure that becomes the colour 
 of the sky, which is lighter or darker in propor- 
 tion as the air is more or less mixed with damp 
 vapours. 
 
 Chap. CCLVIII.— Why the Shadows of Bodies 
 upon a white Wall are blueish towards Evening. 
 
 The shadows of bodies produced by the redness 
 of the setting sun, will always be bluish- This is 
 accounted for by the eleventh proposition/" which 
 says, that the superficies of any opake body parti- 
 cipates of the colour of the object from which it 
 receives the light ; therefore the white wall being 
 deprived entirely of colour, is tinged by the colour 
 
 * See the note on the chapter next but one preceding. The 
 proposition in the text occurs in chap, ccxlvii. of the present 
 work. 
 
 H 2 
 
148 
 
 COLOURS IN REGARD TO 
 
 of those bodies from which it receives the light, 
 which in this case are the sun and sky. But be- 
 cause the sun is red towards the evening, and the 
 sky is blue, the shadow on the wall not being en- 
 lightened by the sun, receives only the reflexion 
 of the sky, and therefore will appear blue; and 
 the rest of the wall, receiving light immediately 
 from the sun, will participate of its red colour. 
 
 Chap. CCLIX. — Of the Colour of Faces. 
 
 The colour of any object will appear more or less 
 distinct in proportion to the extent of its surface. 
 This proposition is proved, by observing that a 
 face appears dark at a small distance, because, be- 
 ing composed of many small parts, it produces a 
 great number of shadows; and the lights being 
 the smallest part of it, are soonest lost to the sight, 
 leaving only the shadows, which being in a greater 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 149 
 
 quantity, the whole of the face appears dark, and 
 the more so if that face has on the head, or at the 
 back, something whiter. 
 
 Chap. CCLX. — A Precept relating to Painting, 
 
 Where the shadows terminate upon the lights, 
 observe well what parts of them are lighter than 
 the others, and where they are more or less soft- 
 ened and blended ; but above all remember, that 
 young people have no sharp shadings : their flesh 
 is transparent, something like what we observe 
 when we put our hand between the sun and eyes; 
 it appears reddish, and of a transparent bright- 
 ness. If you wish to know what kind of shadow 
 will suit the flesh colour you are painting, place 
 one of your fingers close to your picture, so as to 
 cast a shadow upon it, and according as you wish 
 it either lighter or darker, put it nearer or farther 
 from it, and imitate it. 
 
 Chap. CCLXL — Of Colours in Shadow, 
 
 It happens very often that the shadows of an 
 opake body do not retain the same colour as the 
 lights. Sometimes they will be greenish, while 
 the lights are reddish, although this opake body 
 be all over of one uniform colour. This happens 
 when the light falls upon the object (we will sup- 
 pose from the East), and tinges that side with its 
 own colour. In the West we will suppose another 
 
150 COLOURS IN REGARD TO 
 
 opake body of a colour different from the first, but 
 receiving the same light. This last will reflect its 
 colour towards the East, and strike the first with 
 its rays on the opposite side, where they will be 
 stopped, and remain with their full colour and 
 brightness. We often see a white object with red 
 lights, and the shades of a blueish cast ; this we 
 observe particularly in mountains covered with 
 snow, at sun-set, when the effulgence of its rays 
 makes the horizon appear all on fire. 
 
 Chap. CCLXIL— Of the Choice of Lights. 
 
 Whatever object you intend to represent is to 
 be supposed situated in a particular light, and that 
 entirely of your own choosing. If you imagine 
 such objects to be in the country, and the sun be 
 overcast, they will be surrounded by a great quan- 
 tity of general light. If the sun strikes upon those 
 objects, then the shadows will be very dark, in 
 proportion to the lights, and will be determined 
 and sharp ; the primitive as well as the secondary 
 ones. These shadows will vary from the lights in 
 colour, because on that side the object receives a 
 reflected light hue from the azure of the air, which 
 tinges that part ; and this is particularly observ- 
 able in white objects. That side which receives 
 the light from the sun, participates also of the 
 colour of that. This may be particularly observed 
 in the evening, when the sun is setting between 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 151 
 
 the clouds, which it reddens ; those clouds being 
 tinged with the colour of the body illuminating 
 them, the red colour of the clouds, with that of the 
 sun, casts a hue on those parts which receive the 
 light from them. On the contrary, those parts 
 which are not turned towards that side of the sky, 
 remain of the colour of the air, so that the former 
 and the latter are of two different colours. This 
 we must not lose sight of, that, knowing the cause 
 of those lights and shades, it be made apparent in 
 the effect, or else the work will be false and absurd. 
 But if a figure be situated within a house, and 
 seen from without, such figure will have its sha- 
 dows very soft ; and if the beholder stands in the 
 line of the light, it will acquire grace, and do credit 
 to the painter, as it will have great relief in the 
 lights, and soft and well-blended shadows, parti- 
 cularly in those parts where the inside of the room 
 appears less obscure, because there the shadows 
 are almost imperceptible : the cause of which we 
 shall explain in its proper place. 
 
152 COLOURS IN REGARD TO 
 
 COLOURS IN REGARD TO BACK- 
 GROUNDS. 
 
 Chap. CCLXIII. — Of avoiding hard Outlines. 
 Do not make the boundaries of your figures 
 with any other colour than that of the back-ground 
 on which they are placed; that is, avoid making 
 dark outlines. 
 
 Chap. CCLXIV.— Of Outlines. 
 
 The extremities of objects which are at some 
 distance, are not seen so distinctly as if they were 
 nearer. Therefore the painter ought to regulate 
 the strength of his outlines, or extremities, accord- 
 ing to the distance. 
 
 The boundaries which separate one body from 
 another, are of the nature of mathematical lines, 
 but not of real lines. The end of any colour is 
 only the beginning of another, and it ought not to 
 be called a line, for nothing interposes between 
 them, except the termination of the one against 
 the other, which being nothing in itself, cannot be 
 perceivable; therefore the painter ought not to 
 pronounce it in distant objects. 
 
 Chap. CCLXV. — Of Back- grounds. 
 One of the principal parts of painting is the 
 
BACK-GROUNDS. 
 
 153 
 
 nature and quality of back-grounds, upon which 
 the extremities of any convex or solid body will 
 always detach and be distinguished in nature, 
 though the colour of such objects, and that of the 
 ground, be exactly the same. This happens, be- 
 cause the convex sides of solid bodies do not re- 
 ceive the light in the same manner with the 
 ground, for such sides or extremities are often 
 lighter or darker than the ground. But if such 
 extremities were to be of the same colour as the 
 ground, and in the same degree of light, they cer- 
 tainly could not be distinguished. Therefore 
 such a choice in painting ought to be avoided by 
 all intelligent and judicious painters ; since the 
 intention is to make the object appear as it were 
 out of the ground. The above case would pro- 
 duce the contrary effect, not only in painting, but 
 also in objects of real relievo. 
 
 Chap. CCLXVI. — How to detach Figures from 
 the Ground. 
 
 All solid bodies will appear to have a greater 
 relief, and to come more out of the canvass, on a 
 ground of an undetermined colour, with the great- 
 est variety of lights and shades against the con- 
 fines of such bodies (as will be demonstrated in 
 its place), provided a proper diminution of lights 
 in the white tints, and of darkness in the shades, 
 be judiciously observed. 
 
 ii 5 
 
154 
 
 BACK-GROUNDS. 
 
 Chap. CCLXVII. — Of Uniformity and Variety 
 of Colours upon plain Surfaces. 
 
 The back-grounds of any flat surfaces which 
 are uniform in colour and quantity of light, will 
 never appear separated from each other; vice 
 versa, they will appear separated if they are of 
 different colours or lights. 
 
 Chap. CCLXVIII. — Of Back-grounds suitable 
 both to Shadows and Lights. 
 
 The shadows or lights which surround figures, 
 or any other objects, will help the more to detach 
 them the more they differ from the objects ; that 
 is, if a dark colour does not terminate upon an- 
 other dark colour, but upon a very different one ; 
 as white, or partaking of white, but lowered, and 
 approximated to the dark shade. 
 
 Chap. CCLXIX. — The apparent Variation of 
 Colours, occasioned by the Contraste of the 
 Ground upon which they are placed. 
 
 No colour appears uniform and equal in all its 
 parts, unless it terminate on a ground of the same 
 colour. This is very apparent when a black ter- 
 minates on a white ground, where the contraste 
 of colour gives more strength and richness to the 
 extremities than to the middle. 
 
CONTRASTE, HARMONY, AND REFLEXES. 155 
 
 CONTRASTE, HARMONY, AND REFLEX- 
 ES, IN REGARD TO COLOURS. 
 
 Chap. CCLXX. — Gradation in Painting. 
 
 What is fine is not always beautiful and good: 
 I address this to such painters as are so attached 
 to the beauty of colours, that they regret being 
 obliged to give them almost imperceptible sha- 
 dows, not considering the beautiful relief which 
 figures acquire by a proper gradation and strength 
 of shadows. Such persons may be compared to 
 those speakers who in conversation make use of 
 many fine words without meaning, which altoge- 
 ther scarcely form one good sentence. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXI. — How to assort Colours in such 
 a Manner as that they may add Beauty to each 
 other. 
 
 If you mean that the proximity of one colour 
 should give beauty to another that terminates 
 near it, observe the rays of the sun in the compo- 
 sition of the rainbow, the colours of which are 
 generated by the falling rain, when each drop in 
 its descent takes every colour of that bow, as is 
 demonstrated in its place*. 
 
 * Not in this work. 
 
156 CONTRASTE; HARMONY, AND REFLEXES. 
 
 If you mean to represent great darkness, it 
 must be done by contrasting it with great light ; 
 on the contrary, if you want to produce great 
 brightness, you must oppose to it a very dark 
 shade : so a pale yellow w T ill cause red to appear 
 more beautiful than if opposed to a purple colour. 
 
 There is another rule, by observing which, 
 though you do not increase the natural beauty of 
 the colours, yet by bringing them together they 
 may give additional grace to each other, as green 
 placed near red, while the effect would be quite 
 the reverse, if placed near blue. 
 
 Harmony and grace are also produced by a ju- 
 dicious arrangement of colours, such as blue with 
 pale yellow or white, and the like ; as will be no- 
 ticed in its place. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXII. — Of detaching the Figures. 
 
 Let the colours of which the draperies of your 
 figures are composed, be such as to form a pleas- 
 ing variety, to distinguish one from the other; 
 and although, for the sake of harmony, they should 
 be of the same nature*, they must not stick toge- 
 
 * I do not know a better comment on this passage than Feli- 
 bien's Examination of Le Brun's Picture of the Tent of Darius. 
 From this (which has been reprinted with an English translation 
 by Colonel Parsons, in 1700, in folio,) it will clearly appear, what 
 the chain of connexion is between every colour there used, and its 
 nearest neighbour, and consequently a rule may be formed from it 
 
CONTRASTED HARMONY, AND REFLEXES. 157 
 
 ther, but vary in point of light, according to the 
 distance and interposition of the air between 
 them. By the same rule, the outlines are to be 
 more precise, or lost, in proportion to their dis- 
 tance or proximity. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXIII.— Of the Colour of Reflexes, 
 
 All reflected colours are less brilliant and 
 strong, than those which receive a direct light, in 
 the same proportion as there is between the light 
 of a body and the cause of that light. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXIV.— What Body will be the most 
 strongly tinged ivith the Colour of any other 
 Object. 
 
 An opake surface will partake most of the ge- 
 nuine colour of the body nearest to it, because a 
 great quantity of the species of colour will be con- 
 veyed to it; whereas such colour would be broken 
 and disturbed if coming from a more distant ob- 
 ject. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXV.— Of Reflexes. 
 Reflexes will partake, more or less, both of 
 the colour of the object which produces them, and 
 of the colour of that object on which they are 
 
 with more certainty and precision than where the student is left 
 to develope it for himself, from the mere inspection of different 
 examples of colouring. 
 
158 CONTRASTE, HARMONY, AND REFLEXES. 
 
 produced, in proportion as this latter body is of a 
 smoother or more polished surface, than that by 
 which they are produced. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXVL— Of the Surface of all sha- 
 dowed Bodies. 
 
 The surface of any opake body placed in sha- 
 dow, will participate of the colour of any other 
 object which reflects the light upon it. This is 
 very evident ; for if such bodies were deprived of 
 light in the space between them and the other 
 bodies, they could not shew either shape or co- 
 lour. We shall conclude then, that if the opake 
 body be yellow, and that which reflects the light 
 blue, the part reflected will be green, because 
 green is composed of blue and yellow. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXVII. — That no reflected Colour is 
 simple , but is mixed with the nature of the other 
 Colours. 
 
 No colour reflected upon the surface of an- 
 other body, will tinge that surface with its own 
 colour alone, but will be mixed by the concurrence 
 of other colours also reflected on the same spot. 
 Let us suppose A to be of a yellow colour, which 
 is reflected on the convex C O E, and that the 
 blue colour B be reflected on the same place. I 
 say that a mixture of the blue and yellow colours 
 will tinge the convex surface ; and that, if the 
 
CONTRASTE,, HARMONY, AND REFLEXES, 159 
 
 ground be white, it will produce a green reflexion, 
 because it is proved that a mixture of blue and 
 yellow produces a very fine green. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXVIIL— Of the Colour of Lights 
 and Reflexes. 
 
 When two lights strike upon an opake body, 
 they can vary only in two ways ; either they are 
 equal in strength, or they are not. If they be 
 equal, they may still vary in two other ways, that 
 is, by the equality or inequality of their brightness; 
 they will be equal, if their distance be the same ; 
 and unequal, if it be otherwise. The object placed 
 at an equal distance, between two equal lights, in 
 point both of colour and brightness, may still be 
 enlightened by them in two different ways, either 
 equally on each side, or unequally. It will be 
 equally enlightened by them, when the space which 
 
160 CONTRASTE, HARMONY, AND REFLEXES. 
 
 remains round the lights shall be equal in colour, 
 in degree of shade, and in brightness. It will be 
 unequally enlightened by them when the spaces 
 happen to be of different degrees of darkness. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXIX. — Why reflected Colours seldom 
 partake of the Colour of the Body ivhere they 
 
 It happens very seldom that the reflexes are of 
 the same colour with the body from which they 
 proceed, or with that upon which they meet. To 
 exemplify this, let the convex body D F G E be 
 of a yellow colour, and the body B C, which re- 
 flects its colour on it, blue ; the part of the convex 
 surface which is struck by that reflected light, will 
 take a green tinge, being B C, acted on by the 
 natural light of the air or the sun. 
 
 meet. 
 
 D 
 
CONTRASTE, HARMONY, AND REFLEXES. 161 
 
 Chap. CCLXXX.— The Reflexes of Flesh Colours. 
 
 The lights upon the flesh colours, which are re- 
 flected by the light striking upon another flesh- 
 coloured body, are redder and more lively than 
 any other part of the human figure ; and that hap- 
 pens according to the third proposition of the 
 second book,* which says, the surface of any opake 
 body participates of the colour of the object which 
 reflects the light in proportion as it is near to or 
 remote from it, and also in proportion to the size 
 of it ; because, being large, it prevents the variety 
 of colours in smaller objects round it, from in- 
 terfering with, and discomposing the principal 
 colour, which is nearer. Nevertheless it does not 
 prevent its participating more of the colour of a 
 small object near it, than of a large one more re- 
 mote. See the sixth proposition f of perspective, 
 which says, that large objects may be situated at 
 such a distance as to appear less than small ones 
 that are near, 
 
 * See chap. ccxxiiL ecxxxvii. cclxxiv. cclxxxiL of the present 
 work. We have before remarked, that the propositions so fre- 
 quently referred to by the author, were never reduced into form, 
 though apparently he intended a regular work in which they were 
 to be included. 
 
 t No where in this work. 
 
162 CONTRASTED HARMONY, AND REFLEXES. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXXL— Of the Nature of Compa- 
 rison. 
 
 Black draperies will make the flesh of the human 
 figure appear whiter than in reality it is;* and 
 white draperies, on the contrary, will make it 
 appear darker. Yellow will render it higher co- 
 loured, while red will make it pale. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXXII. — Where theReflexes are seen. 
 
 Of all reflexions of the same shape, size, and 
 strength, that will be more or less strong, which 
 terminates on a ground more or less dark. 
 
 The surface of those bodies will partake most of 
 the colour of the object that reflects it, which re- 
 ceive that reflexion by the most nearly equal 
 angles. 
 
 Of the colours of objects reflected upon any 
 opposite surface by equal angles, that will be 
 the most distinct which has its reflecting ray the 
 shortest. 
 
 Of all colours, reflected under equal angles, and 
 at equal distance upon the opposite body, those 
 will be the strongest, which come reflected by the 
 lightest coloured body. 
 
 That object will reflect its own colour most pre- 
 cisely on the opposite object, which has not round 
 
 * This is evident in many of Vandyke's portraits, particularly 
 of ladies, many of whom are dressed in black velvet ; and this re- 
 mark will in some measure account for the delicate fairness which 
 he frequently gives to the female complexion. 
 
PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 163 
 
 it any colour that clashes with its own ; and con- 
 sequently that reflected colour will be most con- 
 fused which takes its origin from a variety of bo- 
 dies of different colours. 
 
 That colour which is nearest the opposed object, 
 will tinge it the most strongly ; and vice versa : 
 let the painter, therefore, in his reflexes on the 
 human body^ particularly on the flesh colour, mix 
 some of the colour of the drapery which comes 
 nearest to it ; but not pronounce it too distinctly, 
 if there be not good reason for it. 
 
 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXXIIL— A Precept of Perspective 
 in regard to Painting. 
 WheNj on account of some particular quality of 
 the air, you can no longer distinguish the diffe- 
 rence between the lights and shadows of objects, 
 you may reject the perspective of shadows, and 
 make use only of the linear perspective, and the 
 diminution of colours, to lessen the knowledge of 
 the objects opposed to the eye ; and this, that is 
 to say, the loss of the knowledge of the figure of 
 each object, will make the same object appear 
 more remote. 
 
164 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 The eye can never arrive at a perfect knowledge 
 of the interval between two objects variously dis- 
 tant, by means of the linear perspective alone^ if 
 not assisted by the perspective of colours. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXXIV.— Of the Perspective of 
 Colours. 
 
 The air will participate less of the azure of the 
 sky, in proportion as it comes nearer to the hori- 
 zon, as it is proved by the third and ninth propo- 
 sition,* that pure and subtile bodies (such as com- 
 pose the air) will be less illuminated by the sun 
 than those of thicker and grosser substance : and 
 as it is certain that the air which is remote from 
 the earth, is thinner than that which is near it, it 
 will follow, that the latter will be more impreg- 
 nated with the rays of the sun, which giving light 
 at the same time to an infinity of atoms floating 
 in this air, renders it more sensible to the eye. 
 So that the air will appear lighter towards the 
 horizon, and darker as well as bluer in looking up 
 to the sky ; because there is more of the thick air 
 between our eyes and the horizon, than between 
 our eyes and that part of the sky above our heads. 
 
 * These propositions, any more than the others mentioned in 
 different parts of this work, were never digested into a regular 
 treatise, as was evidently intended by the author, and consequently 
 are not to be found, except perhaps in some of the volumes of the 
 author's manuscript collections. 
 
PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 165 
 
 For instance : if the eye placed in P, looks 
 through the air along the line P R, and then lowers 
 itself a little along P S, the air will begin to ap- 
 pear a little whiter, because there is more of the 
 thick air in this space than in the first. And if it 
 be still removed lower, so as to look straight at 
 the horizon, no more of that blue sky will be per- 
 ceived which was observable along the first line 
 P R, because there is a much greater quantity of 
 thick air along the horizontal line P D, than along 
 the oblique P S, or the perpendicular P R. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXXV.— The Cause of the Diminu- 
 tion of Colours. 
 
 The natural colour of any visible object will be 
 diminished in proportion to the density of any 
 
166 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 other substance which interposes between that 
 object and the eye. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXXVI.— Of the Diminution of Co- 
 lours and Objects. 
 
 Let the colours vanish in proportion as the 
 objects diminish in size, according to the distance. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXXVIL— Of the Variety observable 
 in Colours, according to their distance or proxi- 
 mity. 
 
 The local colour of such objects as are darker 
 than the air, will appear less dark as they are more 
 remote ; and, on the contrary, objects lighter than 
 the air will lose their brightness in proportion to 
 their distance from the eye. In general, all ob- 
 jects that are darker or lighter than the air, are 
 discoloured by distance, which changes their qua- 
 lity, so that the lighter appears darker, and the 
 darker lighter. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXXVIII. — At what Distance Co- 
 lours are entirely lost. 
 
 Local colours are entirely lost at a greater or 
 less distance, according as the eye and the object 
 are more or less elevated from the earth. This is 
 proved by the seventh proposition*, which says 
 
 * See chap, ccxciii. cccvii. cccviii. 
 
PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 167 
 
 the air is more or less pure, as it is near to, or 
 remote from the earth. If the eye, then, and the 
 object are near the earth, the thickness of the air 
 which interposes, will in a great measure confuse 
 the colour of that object to the eye. But if the 
 eye and the object are placed high above the 
 earth, the air will disturb the natural colour of 
 that object very little. In short, the various gra- 
 dations of colour depend not only on the various 
 distances, in which they may be lost ; but also on 
 the variety of lights, which change according to 
 the different hours of the day, and the thickness 
 or purity of the air, through which the colour of 
 the object is conveyed to the eye. 
 
 Chap. CCLXXX1X. — Of the Change observable 
 in the same Colour, according to its Distance 
 from the Eye. 
 
 Among several colours of the same nature, 
 that which is the nearest to the eye will alter the 
 least ; because the air which interposes between 
 the eye and the object seen, envelopes, in some 
 measure, that object. If the air, which interposes, 
 be in great quantity, the object seen will be 
 strongly tinged with the colour of that air ; but if 
 the air be thin, then the view of that object, and 
 its colour, will be very little obstructed. 
 
168 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 Chap. CCXC— Of the blueish Appearance of re- 
 mote Objects in a Landscape. 
 
 Whatever be the colour of distant objects, 
 the darkest, whether natural or accidental, will 
 appear the most tinged with azure. By the na- 
 tural darkness is meant the proper colour of the 
 object; the accidental one is produced by the 
 shadow of some other body. 
 
 Chap. CCXCI. — Of the Qualities in the Surface 
 which first lose themselves by Distance. 
 
 The first part of any colour which is lost by 
 the distance, is the gloss, being the smallest part 
 of it, as a light within a light. The second that 
 diminishes by being farther removed, is the light, 
 because it is less in quantity than the shadow. 
 The third is the principal shadows, nothing re- 
 maining at last but a kind of middling obscurity. 
 
 Chap. CCXCII. — From what cause the azure of 
 the Air proceeds. 
 
 The azure of the sky is produced by the trans- 
 parent body of the air, illumined by the sun, and 
 interposed between the darkness of the expanse 
 above, and the earth below. The air in itself has 
 no quality of smell, taste, or colour, but is easily 
 impregnated with the quality of other matter sur- 
 rounding it ; and will appear bluer in proportion 
 
PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 169 
 
 to the darkness of the space behind it, as may be 
 observed against the shady sides of mountains, 
 which are darker than any other object. In this 
 instance the air appears of the most beautiful 
 azure, while on the other side that receives the 
 light, it shews through that more of the natural 
 colour of the mountain. 
 
 Chap. CCXCIII.— Of the Perspective of Colours. 
 
 The same colour being placed at various dis- 
 tances and equal elevation, the force and effect of 
 its colouring will be according to the proportion 
 of the distance which there is from each of these 
 colours to the eye. It is proved thus : let A B 
 E D be one and the same colour. The first, E, 
 is placed at two degrees of distance from the eye 
 A; the second, B, shall be four degrees; the 
 third, C, six degrees ; and the fourth, D, eight de- 
 grees ; as appears by the circles which terminate 
 upon and intersect the line A R. Let us suppose 
 that the space A R, S P, is one degree of thin air, 
 and S PET another degree of thicker air. It 
 will follow, that the first colour, E, will pass to 
 the eye through one degree of thick air, E S, and 
 through another degree, S A, of thinner air. And 
 B will send its colour to the eye in A, through 
 two degrees of thick air, and through two others 
 of the thinner sort. C will send it through three 
 degrees of the thin, and three of the thick sort, 
 
 i 
 
i/o 
 
 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 while D goes through four degrees of the one, and 
 four of the other. This demonstrates, that the 
 gradation of colours is in proportion to their dis- 
 tance from the eye*. But this happens only to 
 those colours which are on a level with the eye ; 
 as for those which happen to be at unequal eleva- 
 tions, we cannot observe the same rule, because 
 they are in that case situated in different qualities 
 of air, which alter and diminish these colours in 
 various manners. 
 
 2 3 4- 6 6 7 8 
 
 Chap. CCXCIV. — Of the Perspective of Colours 
 in dark Places. 
 
 In any place where the light diminishes in a 
 gradual proportion, till it terminates in total dark- 
 ness, the colours also will lose themselves and be 
 dissolved in proportion as they recede from the eye. 
 
 * See chap, cclxxxvii. 
 
PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 171 
 
 Chap. CCXCV. — Of the Perspective of Colours. 
 
 The principal colours, or those nearest to the 
 eye, should be pure and simple; and the degree of 
 their diminution should be in proportion to their 
 distance, viz. the nearer they are to the principal 
 point, the more they will possess of the purity of 
 those colours, and they will partake of the colour 
 of the horizon in proportion as they approach to it. 
 
 Chap. CCXCVL— Of Colours. 
 
 Of all the colours which are not blue, those that 
 are nearest to black will, when distant, partake 
 most of the azure; and, on the contrary, those will 
 preserve their proper colour at the greatest dis- 
 tance, that are most dissimilar to black. 
 
 The green therefore of the fields will change 
 sooner into blue than yellow, or white, which will 
 preserve their natural colour at a greater distance 
 than that, or even red. 
 
 Chap. CCXCVII. — How it happens that Colours 
 do not change, though placed in different Quali- 
 ties of Air. 
 
 The colour will not be subject to any alteration 
 when the distance and the quality of air have a re- 
 ciprocal proportion. What it loses by the distance 
 it regains by the purity of the air, viz. if we sup- 
 pose the first or lowest air to have four degrees of 
 
 12 
 
172 
 
 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 thickness, and the colour to be at one degree from 
 the eye, and the second air above to have three 
 degrees. The air having lost one degree of thick- 
 ness, the colour will acquire one degree upon the 
 distance. And when the air still higher shall have 
 lost two degrees of thickness, the colour will ac- 
 quire as many upon the distance ; and in that case 
 the colour will be the same at three degrees as at 
 one. But to be brief, if the colour be raised so 
 high as to enter that quality of air which has lost 
 three degrees of thickness, and acquired three de- 
 grees of distance, then you may be certain that 
 that colour which is high and remote, has lost no 
 more than the colour which is below and nearer ; 
 because in rising it has acquired those three de- 
 grees which it was losing by the same distance 
 from the eye ; and this is what was meant to be 
 proved. 
 
 Chap. CXCVIII. — Why Colours experience no 
 apparent Change, though placed in different 
 Qualities of Air. 
 
 It may happen that a colour does not alter, 
 though placed at different distances, when the 
 thickness of the air and the distance are in the 
 same inverse proportion. It is proved thus : — let 
 A be the eye, and H any colour whatever, placed 
 at one degree of distance from the eye, in a qua- 
 lity of air of four degrees of thickness j but be- 
 
PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 173 
 
 Air of one degree of 
 density. 
 
 N 
 
 \Two degrees of ditto. 
 
 Three degrees of ditto. 
 
 L 
 
 2 
 
 3 degrees of distance. 
 
 cause the second degree above, AMNL, con- 
 tains a thinner air by one-half, which air conveys 
 this colour, it follows that this colour will appear 
 as if removed double the distance it was at before, 
 viz. at two degrees of distance, A F and F G, from 
 the eye; and it will be placed in G. If that is 
 raised to the second degree of air AMNL, and 
 to the degree OM, PN, it will necessarily be 
 placed at E, and will be removed from the eye 
 the whole length of the line A E, which will be 
 proved in this manner to be equal in thickness to 
 the distance A G. If in the same quality of air 
 the distance A G interposed between the eye and 
 the colour occupies two degrees, and A E occu- 
 pies two degrees and a half, it is sufficient to pre- 
 serve the colour G, when raised to E, from any 
 change, because the degree A C and the degree 
 A F being the same in thickness, are equal and 
 alike, and the degree C D, though equal in length 
 
174 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 to the degree F G, is not alike in point of thick- 
 ness of air \ because half of it is situated in a de- 
 gree of air of double the thickness of the air 
 above : this half degree of distance occupies as 
 much of the colour as one whole degree of the air 
 above would, which air above is twice as thin as 
 the air below, with which it terminates ; so that 
 by calculating the thickness of the air, and the 
 distances, you will find that the colours have 
 changed places without undergoing any alteration 
 in their beauty. And we shall prove it thus : 
 reckoning first the thickness of the air, the colour 
 H is placed in four degrees of thickness, the co- 
 lour G in two degrees, and E at one degree. Now 
 let us see whether the distances are in an equal 
 inverse proportion ; the colour E is at two degrees 
 and a half of distance, G at two degrees, and H at 
 one degree. But as this distance has not an exact 
 proportion with the thickness of the air, it is ne- 
 cessary to make a third calculation in this man- 
 ner : A C is perfectly like and equal to A F ; the 
 half degree, C B, is like but not equal to A F, be- 
 cause it is only half a degree in length, which is 
 equal to a whole degree of the quality of the air 
 above ; so that by this calculation we shall solve 
 the question. For A C is equal to two degrees 
 of thickness of the air above, and the half degree 
 C B is equal to a whole degree of the same air 
 above ; and one degree more is to be taken in, 
 
PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 175 
 
 viz. B E, which makes the fourth. A H has four 
 degrees of thickness of air, A G also four, viz. 
 A F two in value, and F G also two, which taken 
 together make four. A E has also four, because 
 A C contains two, and C D one, which is the half 
 of A C, and in the same quality of air ; and there 
 is a whole degree above in the thin air, which alto- 
 gether make four. So that if A E is not double 
 the distance A G, nor four times the distance A H, 
 it is made equivalent by the half degree CB of 
 thick air, which is equal to a whole degree of thin 
 air above. This proves the truth of the proposi- 
 tion, that the colour H G E does not undergo any 
 alteration by these different distances. 
 
 Chap. CCXCIX. — Contrary Opinions in regard 
 to Objects seen afar off. 
 
 Many painters will represent the objects darker, 
 in proportion as they are removed from the eye ; 
 but this cannot be true, unless the objects seen 
 be white; as shall be examined in the next 
 chapter. 
 
 Chap. CCC. — Of the Colour of Objects remote 
 from the Eye. 
 
 The air tinges objects with its own colour more 
 or less in proportion to the quantity of interven- 
 ing air between it and the eye, so that a dark 
 . object at the distance of two miles (or a density of 
 
176 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 air equal to such distance), will be more tinged 
 with its colour than if only one mile distant. 
 
 It is said, that, in a landscape, trees of the same 
 species appear darker in the distance than near ; 
 this cannot be true, if they be of equal size, and 
 divided by equal spaces. But it will be so if the 
 first trees are scattered, and the light of the fields 
 is seen through and between them, while the others 
 which are farther off, are thick together, as is often 
 the case near some river or other piece of water : 
 in this case no space of light fields can be per- 
 ceived, but the trees appear thick together, accu- 
 mulating the shadow on each other. It also hap- 
 pens, that as the shady parts of plants are much 
 broader than the light ones, the colour of the plants 
 becoming darker by the multiplied shadows, is 
 preserved, and conveyed to the eye more strongly 
 than that of the other parts ; these masses, there- 
 fore, will carry the strongest parts of their colour 
 to a greater distance. 
 
 Chap. CCCI. — Of the Colour of Mountains. 
 
 The darker the mountain is in itself, the bluer 
 it will appear at a great distance. The highest 
 part will be the darkest, as being more woody ; 
 because woods cover a great many shrubs, and 
 other plants, which never receive any light. The 
 wild plants of those woods are also naturally of a 
 darker hue than cultivated plants ; for oak, beech, 
 
PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 177 
 
 fir, cypress, and pine trees are much darker than 
 olive and other domestic plants. Near the top of 
 these mountains, where the air is thinner and 
 purer, the darkness of the woods will make it 
 appear of a deeper azure, than at the bottom, 
 where the air is thicker. A plant will detach very 
 little from the ground it stands upon, if that 
 ground be of a colour something similar to its 
 own ; and; vice versa, that part of any white object 
 which is nearest to a dark one, will appear the 
 whitest, and the less so as it is removed from it ; 
 and any dark object will appear darker, the nearer 
 it is to a white one; and less so, if removed 
 from it. 
 
 Chap. CCCII. — Why the Colour and Shape of 
 Objects are lost in some Situations apparently 
 dark, though not so in Reality. 
 
 There are some situations which, though light, 
 appear dark, and in which objects are deprived 
 both of form and colour. This is caused by the 
 great light which pervades the intervening air ; as 
 is observable by looking in through a window at 
 some distance from the eye, when nothing is seen 
 but an uniform darkish shade ; but if we enter the 
 house, we shall find that room to be full of light, 
 and soon distinguish every small object contained 
 within that window. This difference of effect is 
 produced by the great brightness of the air, which 
 i 5 
 
178 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 contracts considerably the pupil of the eye, and 
 by so doing diminishes its power. But in dark 
 places the pupil is enlarged, and acquires as much 
 in strength, as it increases in size. This is proved 
 in my second proposition of perspective.^ 
 
 Chap. CCCIII. — Various Precepts in Painting. 
 
 The termination and shape of the parts in gene- 
 ral are very little seen, either in great masses of 
 light, or of shadows ; but those which are situated 
 between the extremes of light and shade are the 
 most distinct. 
 
 Perspective, as far as it extends in regard to 
 painting, is divided into three principal parts ; the 
 first consists in the diminution of size according 
 to distance; the second concerns the diminution 
 of colours in such objects ; and the third treats of 
 the diminution of the perception altogether of 
 those objects, and of the degree of precision they 
 ought to exhibit at various distances. 
 
 The azure of the sky is produced by a mixture 
 composed of light and darkness jf I say of light, 
 because of the moist particles floating in the air, 
 which reflect the light. By darkness, I mean the 
 pure air, which has none of these extraneous par- 
 ticles to stop and reflect the rays. Of this we see 
 an example in the air interposed between the eye 
 
 * This book on perspective was never drawn up. 
 t See chap, ccxcii. 
 
PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 17^ 
 
 and some dark mountains, rendered so by the 
 shadows of an innumerable quantity of trees ; or 
 else shaded on one side by the natural privation 
 of the rays of the sun; this air becomes azure, 
 but not so on the side of the mountain which is 
 light, particularly when it is covered with snow. 
 
 Among objects of equal darkness and equal 
 distance, those will appear darker that terminate 
 upon a lighter ground, and vice versa.* 
 
 That object which is painted with the most 
 white and the most black, will shew greater relief 
 than any other \ for that reason I would recom- 
 mend to painters to colour and dress their figures 
 with the brightest and most lively colours ; for if 
 they are painted of a dull or obscure colour, they 
 will detach but little, and not be much seen, when 
 the picture is placed at some distance ; because 
 the colour of every object is obscured in the 
 shades ; and if it be represented as originally so 
 all over, there will be but little difference between 
 the lights and the shades, while lively colours will 
 shew a striking difference. 
 
 * See chap, ccxii. ccxlviii. cclv. 
 
180 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 Chap. CCCIV. — Aerial Perspective. 
 
 There is another kind of perspective called 
 aerial, because by the difference of the air it is 
 easy to determine the distance of different objects, 
 though seen on the same line ; such, for instance, 
 as buildings behind a wall, and appearing all of 
 the same height above it. If in your picture you 
 want to have one appear more distant than another, 
 you must first suppose the air somewhat thick, 
 because, as we have said before, in such a kind of 
 air the objects seen at a great distance, as moun- 
 tains are, appear blueish like the air, by means of 
 the great quantity of air that interposes between 
 the eye and such mountains. You will then paint 
 the first building behind that wall of its proper 
 colour ; the next in point of distance, less distinct 
 in the outline, and participating, in a greater 
 degree, of the blueish colour of the air ; another, 
 which you wish to send off as much farther, should 
 be painted as much bluer ; and if you wish one of 
 them to appear five times farther removed beyond 
 the wall, it must have five times more of the azure. 
 
AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 181 
 
 By this rule these buildings which appeared all of 
 the same size, and upon the same line, will be 
 distinctly perceived to be of different dimensions, 
 and at different distances. 
 
 Chap. CCCV. — The Parts of the smallest Objects 
 will first disappear in Painting. 
 
 Of objects receding from the eye the smallest 
 will be first lost to the sight; from which it fol- 
 lows, that the largest will be the last to disappear. 
 The painter, therefore, ought not to finish the parts 
 of those objects which are very far off, but follow 
 the rule given in the sixth book.* 
 
 How many, in the representation of towns, and 
 other objects remote from the eye, express every 
 part of the buildings in the same manner as if they 
 were very near. It is not so in nature, because 
 there is no sight so powerful as to perceive dis- 
 tinctly at any great distance the precise form of 
 parts or extremities of objects. The painter there- 
 fore who pronounces the outlines, and the minute 
 distinction of parts, as several have done, will not 
 give the representation of distant objects, but by 
 this error will make them appear exceedingly near. 
 Again, the angles of buildings in distant towns 
 are not to be expressed (for they cannot be seen), 
 
 * There is no work of this author to which this can at present 
 refer, but the principle is laid down in chapters cclxxiv. cccvi. of 
 the present treatise. 
 
182 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 considering that angles are formed by the concur- 
 rence of two lines into one point, and that a point 
 has no parts; it is therefore invisible. 
 
 Chap. CCCVI. — Small Figures ought not to be 
 too much finished. 
 
 Objects appear smaller than they really are when 
 they are distant from the eye, and because there 
 is a great deal of air interposed, which weakens 
 the appearance of forms, and, by a natural conse- 
 quence, prevents our seeing distinctly the minute 
 parts of such objects. It behoves the painter 
 therefore to touch those parts slightly, in an unfi- 
 nished manner ; otherwise it would be against the 
 effect of Nature, whom he has chosen for his guide. 
 For, as we said before, objects appear small on 
 account of their great distance from the eye \ that 
 distance includes a great quantity of air, which, 
 forming a dense body, obstructs the light, and 
 prevents our seeing the minute parts of the 
 objects. 
 
 Chap. CCCVII. — Why the Air is to appear ivhiter 
 as it approaches nearer to the Earth. 
 
 As the air is thicker nearer the earth, and be- 
 comes thinner as it rises, look, when the sun is in 
 the east, towards the west, between the north and 
 south, and you will perceive that the thickest and 
 lowest air will receive more light from the sun 
 
AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 183 
 
 than the thinner air, because its beams meet with 
 more resistance. 
 
 If the sky terminate low, at the end of a plain, 
 that part of it nearest to the horizon, being seen 
 only through the thick air, will alter and break its 
 natural colour, and will appear whiter than over 
 your head, where the visual ray does not pass 
 through so much of that gross air, corrupted by 
 earthy vapours. But if you turn towards the east, 
 the air will be darker the nearer it approaches the 
 earth ; for the air being thicker, does not admit 
 the light of the sun to pass so freely. 
 
 Chap. CCCVIII. — How to paint the distant Part 
 of a Landscape. 
 
 It is evident that the air is in some parts thicker 
 and grosser than in others, particularly that nearest 
 to the earth ; and as it rises higher, it becomes 
 thinner and more transparent. The objects which 
 are high and large, from which you are at some 
 distance, will be less apparent in the lower parts ; 
 because the visual ray which perceives them, passes 
 through a long space of dense air ; and it is easy 
 to prove that the upper parts are seen by a line, 
 which, though on the side of the eye it originates 
 in a thick air, nevertheless, as it ascends to the 
 highest summit of its object, terminates in an air 
 much thinner than that of the lower parts ; and 
 for that reason the more that line or visual ray 
 
184 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 advances from the eye, it becomes, in its progress 
 from one point to another, thinner and thinner, 
 passing from a pure air into another which is 
 purer ; so that a painter who has mountains to re- 
 present in a landscape, ought to observe, that from 
 one hill to another, the tops will appear always 
 clearer than the bases. In proportion as the dis- 
 stance from one to another is greater, the top will 
 be clearer ; and the higher they are, the more they 
 will show their variety of form and colour. 
 
 Chap. CCCIX. — Of precise and confused Objects. 
 
 The parts that are near in the fore-ground 
 should be finished in a bold determined manner ; 
 but those in the distance must be unfinished, and 
 confused in their outlines. 
 
 Chap. CCCX.— Of distant Objects. 
 
 That part of any object which is nearest to the 
 luminary from which it receives the light, will be 
 the lightest. 
 
 The representation of an object in every degree 
 of distance, loses degrees of its strength; that is, 
 in proportion as the object is more remote from 
 the eye it will be less perceivable through the air 
 in its representation. 
 
 Chap. CCCXI. — Of Buildings seen ina thick Air. 
 That part of a building seen through a thick air, 
 
AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 185 
 
 will appear less distinct than another part seen 
 through a thinner air. Therefore the eye, N, 
 
 looking at the tower A D, will see it more con- 
 fusedly in the lower degrees, but at the same 
 time lighter; and as it ascends to the other de- 
 grees it will appear more distinct, but somewhat 
 darker. 
 
 Chap. CCCXII.— Of Towns and other Objects 
 seen through a thick Air. 
 
 Buildings or towns seen through a fog, or the 
 air made thick by smoke or other vapours, will 
 appear less distinct the lower they are ; and, vice 
 versa, they will be sharper and more visible in 
 proportion as they are higher. We have said in 
 chapter cccxxi. that the air is thicker the lower 
 it is, and thinner as it is higher. It is demon- 
 strated also by the cut, where the tower, A F, is 
 
186 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 seen by the eye N, in a thick air, from B to F, 
 
 ^ffl^-*^sKT^! A 
 
 which is divided into four degrees, growing thicker 
 as they are nearer the bottom. The less the quan- 
 tity of air interposed between the eye and its object 
 is, the less also will the colour of the object parti- 
 cipate of the colour of that air. It follows, that 
 the greater the quantity of air interposed between 
 the eye and the object seen, is, the more this ob- 
 ject will participate of the colour of the air. It is 
 demonstrated thus : N being the eye looking at 
 the five parts of the tower A F, viz. A B C D E, 
 I say, that if the air were of the same thickness, 
 there would be the same proportion between the 
 colour of the air at the bottom of the tower and 
 the colour of the air that the same tower has at 
 the place B, as there is in length between the line 
 M and F. As, however, we have supposed that 
 the air is not of equal thickness, but, on the con- 
 trary, thicker as it is lower, it follows, that the 
 
AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 187 
 
 proportion by which the air tinges the different 
 elevations of the tower BCF^ exceeds the propor- 
 tion of the lines ; because the line M F, besides 
 its being longer than the line S B, passes by un- 
 equal degrees through a quality of air which is 
 unequal in thickness. 
 
 Chap. CCCXIII. — Of the inferior Extremities of 
 distant Objects. 
 
 The inferior or lower extremities of distant ob- 
 jects are not so apparent as the upper extremities. 
 This is observable in mountains and hills, the tops 
 of which detach from the sides of other mountains 
 behind. We see the tops of these more deter- 
 mined and distinctly than their bases ; because the 
 upper extremities are darker, being less encom- 
 passed by thick air, which always remains in the 
 lower regions, and makes them appear dim and 
 confused. It is the same with trees, buildings, 
 and other objects high up. From this effect it 
 often happens that a high tower, seen at a great 
 distance, will appear broad at top, and narrow at 
 bottom ; because the thin air towards the top does 
 not prevent the angles on the sides and other dif- 
 ferent parts of the tower from being seen, as the 
 thick air does at bottom. This is demonstrated 
 by the seventh proposition,* which says, that the 
 thick air interposed between the eye and the sun, 
 * See chapters cccvii. cccxxii. 
 
188 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 is lighter below than above, and where the air is 
 whiteish, it confuses the dark objects more than 
 if such air were blueish or thinner, as it is higher 
 up. The battlements of a fortress have the spaces 
 between equal to the breadth of the battlement, 
 and yet the space will appear wider ; at a great 
 distance the battlements will appear very much 
 diminished, and being removed still farther, will 
 disappear entirely, and the fort show only the 
 straight wall, as if there were no battlements. 
 
 Chap. CCCXIV. — Which Parts of Objects disap- 
 pear first by being removed farther from the Eye, 
 and which preserve their Appearance. 
 
 The smallest parts are those which, by being 
 removed, lose their appearance first ; this may be 
 observed in the gloss upon spherical bodies, or 
 columns, and the slender parts of animals ; as in 
 a stag, the first sight of which does not discover 
 its legs and horns so soon as its body, which, be- 
 ing broader, will be perceived from a greater dis- 
 tance. But the parts which disappear the very 
 first, are the lines which describe the members, 
 and terminate the surface and shape of bodies. 
 
 Chap. CCCXV. — Why Objects are less distin- 
 guished in proportion as they are farther removed 
 from the Eye. 
 
 This happens because the smallest parts are lost 
 
AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 189 
 
 first; the second, in point of size, are also lost at 
 a somewhat greater' distance, and so on succes- 
 sively; the parts by degrees melting away, the 
 perception of the object is diminished; and at last 
 all the parts, and the whole, are entirely lost to 
 the sight.* Colours also disappear on account of 
 the density of the air interposed between the eye 
 and the object. 
 
 Chap. CCCXVI. — Why Faces appear dark at a 
 distance. 
 
 It is evident that the similitude of all objects 
 placed before us, large as well as small, is percepti- 
 ble to our senses through the iris of the eye. If 
 through so small an entrance the immensity of the 
 sky and of the earth is admitted, the faces of men 
 (which are scarcely any thing in comparison of such 
 large objects), being still diminished by the dis- 
 tance, will occupy so little of the eye, that they 
 become almost imperceptible. Besides, having to 
 pass through a dark medium from the surface to 
 the Retina in the inside, where the impression is 
 made, the colour of faces, (not being very strong, 
 and rendered still more obscure by the darkness 
 of the tube) when arrived at the focus appears 
 dark. No other reason can be given on that point, 
 except that the speck in the middle of the apple 
 of the eye is black, and, being full of a transpa- 
 
 * See chap. cxvi. cxxi. cccv. 
 
190 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 rent fluid like air, performs the same office as a 
 hole in a board, which on looking into it appears 
 black; and that those things which are seen 
 through both a light and dark air, become con- 
 fused and obscure. 
 
 Chap. CCCXVII. — Of Towns and other Buildings 
 seen through a Fog in the Morning or Evening. 
 
 Buildings seen afar off in the morning or in the 
 evening, when there is a fog, or thick air, show 
 only those parts distinctly which are enlightened 
 by the sun towards the horizon ; and the parts of 
 those buildings which are not turned towards the 
 sun remain confused and almost of the colour of 
 the fog. 
 
 Chap. CCCXVIIL— Of the Height of Buildings 
 seen in a Fog. 
 
 Of a building near the eye the top parts will 
 appear more confused than the bottom ; because 
 there is more fog between the eye and the top 
 than at the base. And a square tower, seen at a 
 great distance through a fog, will appear narrower 
 at the base than at the summit. This is accounted 
 for in chapter cccxin. which says, that the fog 
 will appear whiter and thicker as it approaches the 
 ground; and, as it is said before,* that a dark 
 object will appear smaller in proportion as it is 
 * See chap, cccxiii. and cccxxiii. 
 
AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 191 
 
 placed on a whiter ground. Therefore the fog 
 being whiter at bottom than at top, it follows that 
 the tower (being darkish) will appear narrower at 
 the base than at the summit. 
 
 Chap. CCCXIX. — Why Objects which are high, 
 appear darker at a Distance than those which 
 are low, though the Fog be uniform, and of equal 
 Thickness. 
 
 Amongst objects situated in a fog, thick air, 
 vapour, smoke, or at a distance, the highest will 
 be the most distinctly seen : and amongst objects 
 equal in height, that placed in the darkest fog, will 
 be most confused and dark. As it happens to the 
 eye H, looking at ABC, three towers of equal 
 
 H 
 
 height ; it sees the top C as low as R, in two de- 
 grees of thickness; and the top B, in one degree 
 only ; therefore the top C will appear darker than 
 the top of the tower B. 
 
192 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 Chap. CCCXX. — Of Objects seen in a Fog. 
 
 Objects seen through a fog will appear larger 
 than they are in reality, because the aerial perspec- 
 tive does not agree with the linear, viz. the colour 
 does not agree with the magnitude of the object;* 
 such a fog being similar to the thickness of air in- 
 terposed between the eye and the horizon in fine 
 weather. But in this case the fog is near the eye, 
 and though the object be also near, it makes it 
 appear as if it were as far off as the horizon ; where 
 a great tower would appear no bigger than a man 
 placed near the eye. 
 
 * To our obtaining a correct idea of the magnitude and distance 
 of any object seen from afar, it is necessary that we consider how 
 much of distinctness an object loses at a distance (from the mere 
 interposition of the air) , as well as what it loses in size ; and these 
 two considerations must unite before we can decidedly pronounce 
 as to its distance or magnitude. This calculation, as to distinct- 
 ness, must be made upon the idea that the air is clear, as, if by 
 any accident it is otherwise, we shall (knowing the proportion in 
 which clear air dims a prospect) be led to conclude this farther off 
 than it is, and, to justify that conclusion, shall suppose its real 
 magnitude correspondent with the distance, at which from its de- 
 gree of distinctness it appears to be. In the circumstance remarked 
 in the text there is, however, a great deception ; the fact is, that 
 the colour and the minute parts of the object are lost in the fog, 
 while the size of it is not diminished in proportion ; and the eye 
 being accustomed to see objects diminished in size at a great dis- 
 tance, supposes this to be farther off than it is, and consequently 
 imagines it larger. 
 
AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 193 
 
 Chap. CCCXXL — Of those Objects which the Eyes 
 perceive through a Mist or thick Air. 
 
 The nearer the air is to water, or to the ground, 
 the thicker it becomes. It is proved by the nine- 
 teenth proposition of the second book,* that bo- 
 dies rise in proportion to their weight ; and it fol- 
 lows, that a light body will rise higher than another 
 which is heavy. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXII. — Miscellaneous Observations. 
 
 Of different objects equal in magnitude, form, 
 shade, and distance from the eye, those will ap- 
 pear the smaller that are placed on the lighter 
 ground. This is exemplified by observing the sun 
 when seen behind a tree without leaves ; all the 
 ramifications seen against that great light are so 
 diminished that they remain almost invisible. The 
 same may be observed of a pole placed between 
 the sun and the eye. 
 
 Parallel bodies placed upright, and seen through 
 a fog, will appear larger at top than at bottom. 
 This is proved by the ninth proposition^ which 
 says, that a fog, or thick air, penetrated by the 
 rays of the sun, will appear whiter the lower 
 they are. 
 
 * This proposition, though undoubtedly intended to form apart 
 of some future work, which never was drawn up, makes no part of 
 the present. 
 
 t See chap, cccvii. 
 
 K 
 
VM 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 Things seen afar off will appear out of pro- 
 portion,, because the parts which are the lightest 
 will send their image with stronger rays than the 
 parts which are darkest. I have seen a woman 
 dressed in black, with a white veil over her head; 
 which appeared twice as large as her shoulders 
 covered with black. 
 
195 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 LANDSCAPE. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXIII. — Of Objects seen at aDistance. 
 
 Any dark object will appear lighter when re- 
 moved to some distance from the eye. It follows, 
 by the contrary reason, that a dark object will ap- 
 pear still darker when brought nearer to the eye. 
 Therefore the inferior parts of any object what- 
 ever, placed in thick air, will appear farther from 
 the eye at the bottom than at the top ; for that 
 reason the lower parts of a mountain appear far- 
 ther off than its top, which is in reality the farthest. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXIV. — Of a Town seen through a 
 thick Air. 
 
 The eye which, looking downwards, sees a town 
 immersed in very thick air, will perceive the top 
 of the buildings darker, but more distinct than the 
 bottom. The tops detach against a light ground, 
 because they are seen against the low and thick 
 air which is beyond them. This is a consequence 
 of what has been explained in the preceding 
 chapter. 
 
 k 2 
 
Ì9G 
 
 LANDSCAPE. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXV. — How to draw a Landscape. 
 
 Contrive that the trees in your landscape be half 
 in shadow and half in the light. It is better to 
 represent them as when the sun is veiled with thin 
 clouds, because in that case the trees receive a 
 general light from the sky, and are darkest in those 
 parts which are nearest to the earth. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXVI.— Of the Green of the Country. 
 
 Of the greens seen in the country, that of trees 
 and other plants will appear darker than that of 
 fields and meadows, though they may happen to 
 be of the same quality. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXVIL — What Greens will appear 
 most of a blueish Cast. 
 
 Those greens will appear to approach nearest to 
 blue which are of the darkest shade when remote. 
 This is proved by the seventh proposition,* which 
 says, that blue is composed of black and white 
 seen at a great distance. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXVIIL— The Colour of the Sea from 
 different Aspects. 
 
 When the sea is a little ruffled it has no same- 
 ness of colour ; for, whoever looks at it from the 
 shore, will see it of a dark colour, in a greater de- 
 
 * Vide chap, ccxcii. ccciii. 
 
LANDSCAPE. 
 
 197 
 
 gree as it approaches towards the horizon, and 
 will perceive also certain lights moving slowly on 
 the surface like a flock of sheep. Whoever looks 
 at the sea from on board a ship, at a distance from 
 the land, sees it blue. Near the shore it appears 
 darkish, on account of the colour of the earth re- 
 flected by the water, as in a looking-glass ; but at 
 sea the azure of the air is reflected to the eye by 
 the waves in the same manner. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXIX. — Why the same Prospect ap- 
 pears larger at some Times than at others. 
 
 Objects in the country appear sometimes larger 
 and sometimes smaller than they actually are, from 
 the circumstance of the air interposed between 
 the eye and the horizon, happening to be either 
 thicker or thinner than usual. 
 
 Of two horizons equally distant from the eye, 
 that which is seen through the thicker air will 
 appear farther removed ; and the other will seem 
 nearer, being seen through a thinner air. 
 
 Objects of unequal size, but equally distant, will 
 appear equal if the air which is between them and 
 the eye be of proportionable inequality of thickness, 
 viz. if the thickest air be interposed between the 
 eye and the smallest of the objects. This is proved 
 by the perspective of colours,* which is so deceit- 
 ful that a mountain which would appear small by 
 
 * See chap, ccxcviii. 
 
198 
 
 LANDSCAPE. 
 
 the compasses, will seem larger than a small hill 
 near the eye ; as a finger placed near the eye will 
 cover a large mountain far off. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXX.— Of Smoke. 
 
 Smoke is more transparent, though darker, to- 
 wards the extremities of its waves than in the 
 middle. 
 
 It moves in a more oblique direction in propor- 
 tion to the force of the wind which impels it. 
 
 Different kinds of smoke vary in colour, as the 
 causes that produce them are various. 
 
 Smoke never produces determined shadows, and 
 the extremities are lost as they recede from their 
 primary cause. Objects behind it are less appa- 
 rent in proportion to the thickness of the smoke. 
 It is whiter nearer its origin, and bluer towards its 
 termination. 
 
 Fire appears darker, the more smoke there is 
 interposed between it and the eye. 
 
 Where smoke is farther distant, the objects are 
 less confused by it. 
 
 It encumbers and dims all the landscape like a 
 fog. Smoke is seen to issue from different places, 
 with flames at the origin, and the most dense part 
 of it. The tops of mountains will be more seen 
 than the lower parts, as in a fog. 
 
LANDSCAPE. 
 
 199 
 
 Chap. CCCXXXI. — In what Part Smoke is 
 lightest. 
 
 Smoke which is seen between the sun and the 
 eye will be lighter and more transparent than any 
 other in the landscape. The same is observed of 
 dust, and of fog ; while, if you place yourself be- 
 tween the sun and those objects, they will appear 
 dark. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXXII. — Of the Sun-beams passing 
 through the Openings of Clouds. 
 
 The sun-beams which penetrate the openings 
 interposed between clouds of various density and 
 form, illuminate all the places over which they 
 pass, and tinge with their own colour all the dark 
 places that are behind : which dark places are 
 only seen in the intervals between the rays. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXXIIL— Of the Beginning of Rain. 
 
 When the rain begins to fall, it tarnishes and 
 darkens the air, giving it a dull colour, but receives 
 still on one side a faint light from the sun, and is 
 shaded on the other side, as we observe in clouds; 
 till at last it darkens also the earth, depriving it 
 entirely of the light of the sun. Objects seen 
 through the rain appear confused and of undeter- 
 mined shape, but those which are near will be 
 more distinct. It is observable, that on the side 
 where the rain is shaded, objects will be more 
 
200 
 
 LANDSCAPE. 
 
 clearly distinguished than where it receives the 
 light ; because on the shady side they lose only 
 their principal lights, whilst on the other they lose 
 both their lights and shadows, the lights mixing 
 with the light part of the rain, and the shadows 
 are also considerably weakened by it. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXXIV.— The Seasons are to be 
 observed. 
 
 In Autumn you will represent the objects ac- 
 cording as it is more or less advanced. At the 
 beginning of it the leaves of the oldest branches 
 only begin to fade, more or less, however, accord- 
 ing as the plant is situated in a fertile or barren 
 country ; and do not imitate those who represent 
 trees of every kind (though at equal distance) with 
 the same quality of green. Endeavour to vary 
 the colour of meadows, stones, trunks of trees, and 
 all other objects, as much as possible, for Nature 
 abounds in variety ad infinitum. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXXV.— The Difference of Climates 
 to be observed. 
 
 Near the sea-shore, and in southern parts, you 
 will be careful not to represent the Winter season 
 by the appearance of trees and fields, as you would 
 do in places more inland, and in northern coun- 
 tries, except when these are covered with ever- 
 greens, which shoot afresh all the year round. 
 
LANDSCAPE. 
 
 201 
 
 Chap. CCCXXXVL— Of Dust. 
 
 Dust becomes lighter the higher it rises, and 
 appears darker the less it is raised, when it is seen 
 between the eye and the sun. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXXVIL— How to represent the 
 Wind. 
 
 In representing the effect of the wind, besides 
 the bending of trees, and leaves twisting the wrong 
 side upwards, you will also express the small dust 
 whirling upwards till it mixes in a confused man- 
 ner with the air. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXXVIII.-O/a Wilderness. 
 
 Those trees and shrubs which are by their na- 
 ture more loaded with small branches, ought to be 
 touched smartly in the shadows, but those which 
 have larger foliage, will cause broader shadows. 
 
 Chap. CCCXXXIX.— Of the Horizon seen in the 
 Water. 
 
 By the sixth proposition,* the horizon will be 
 seen in the water as in a looking-glass, on that 
 side which is opposite the eye. And if the painter 
 has to represent a spot covered with water, let 
 him remember that the colour of it cannot be 
 
 * This was probably to have been a part of soire other work, 
 but it does not occur in this. 
 
 K 5 
 
202 
 
 LANDSCAPE. 
 
 either lighter or darker than that of the neigh- 
 bouring objects. 
 
 Chap. CCCXL.— Of the Shadow of Bridges on 
 the Surface of the Water. 
 The shadows of bridges can never be seen on 
 the surface of the water, unless it should have lost 
 its transparent and reflecting quality, and become 
 troubled and muddy; because clear water being 
 polished and smooth on its surface, the image of 
 the bridge is formed in it as in a looking-glass, 
 and reflected in all the points situated between 
 the eye and the bridge at equal angles ; and even 
 the air is seen under the arches. These circum- 
 stances cannot happen when the water is muddy, 
 because it does not reflect the objects any longer, 
 but receives the shadow of the bridge in the same 
 manner as a dusty road would receive it. 
 
 Chap. CCCXLI. — How a Painter ought to put in 
 Practice the Perspective of Colours. 
 
 To put in practice that perspective which teaches 
 the alteration, the lessening, and even the entire 
 loss of the very essence of colours, you must take 
 some points in the country at the distance of about 
 sixty-five yards* from each other; as trees, men, 
 or some other remarkable objects. In regard to 
 
 * Cento braccia, or cubits. The Florence braccio is one foot 
 ten inches seven-eighths, English measure. 
 
VARIOUS PRECEPTS IN PAINTING. 203 
 
 the first tree, you will take a glass, and having 
 fixed that well, and also your eye, draw upon it, with 
 the greatest accuracy, the tree you see through it; 
 then put it a little on one side, and compare it 
 closely with the natural one, and colour it, so that 
 in shape and colour it may resemble the original, 
 and that by shutting one eye they may both ap- 
 pear painted, and at the same distance. The same 
 rule may be applied to the second and third tree 
 at the distance you have fixed. These studies 
 will be very useful if managed with judgment, 
 where they may be wanted in the offscape of a 
 picture. I have observed that the second tree is 
 less by four-fifths than the first, at the distance of 
 thirteen yards. 
 
 Chap. CCCXLII. — Various Precepts in Painting. 
 
 The superficies of any opake body participates 
 of the colour of the transparent medium interposed 
 between the eye and such body, in a greater or less 
 degree, in proportion to the density of such me- 
 dium and the space it occupies. 
 
 The outlines of opake bodies will be less appa- 
 rent in proportion as those bodies are farther dis- 
 tant from the eye. 
 
 That part of the opake body will be the most 
 shaded, or lightest, which is nearest to the body 
 that shades it, or gives it light. 
 
204 VARIOUS PRECEPTS IN PAINTING. 
 
 The surface of any opake body participates more 
 or less of the colour of that body which gives it 
 light, in proportion as the latter is more or less 
 remote, or more or less strong. 
 
 Objects seen between lights and shadows will 
 appear to have greater relievo than those which 
 are placed wholly in the light, or wholly in shadow. 
 
 When you give strength and precision to objects 
 seen at a great distance, they will appear as if they 
 were very near. Endeavour that your imitation 
 be such as to give a just idea of distances. If the 
 object in nature appear confused in the outlines, 
 let the same be observed in your picture. 
 
 The outlines of distant objects appear undeter- 
 mined and confused, for two reasons : the first is, 
 that they come to the eye by so small an angle, 
 and are therefore so much diminished, that they 
 strike the sight no more than small objects do, 
 which though near can hardly be distinguished, 
 such as the nails of the fingers, insects, and other 
 similar things : the second is, that between the eye 
 and the distant objects there is so much air inter- 
 posed, that it becomes thick; and, like a veil, 
 tinges the shadows with its own whiteness, and 
 turns them from a dark colour to another between 
 black and white, such as azure. 
 
 Although, by reason of the great distance, the 
 appearance of many things is lost, yet those things 
 which receive the light from the sun will be more 
 
VARIOUS PRECEPTS IN PAINTING. 205 
 
 discernible, while the rest remain enveloped in 
 confused shadows. And because the air is thicker 
 near the ground, the things which are lower will 
 appear confused ; and vice versa. 
 
 When the sun tinges the clouds on the horizon 
 with red, those objects which, on account of their 
 distance, appear blueish, will participate of that 
 redness, and will produce a mixture between the 
 azure and red, which renders the prospect lively 
 and pleasant ; all the opake bodies which receive 
 that light will appear distinct, and of a reddish co- 
 lour, and the air, being transparent, will be impreg- 
 nated with it, and appear of the colour of lilies.* 
 
 The air which is between the earth and the sun 
 when it rises or sets, will always dim the objects 
 it surrounds, more than the air any where else, 
 because it is whiter. 
 
 It is not necessary to mark strongly the outlines 
 of any object which is placed upon another. It 
 ought to detach of itself. 
 
 If the outline or extremity of a white and curved 
 surface terminate upon another white body, it will 
 have a shade at that extremity, darker than any 
 part of the light; but if against a dark object, such 
 outline, or extremity, will be lighter than any part 
 of the light. 
 
 Those objects which are most different in colour, 
 will appear the most detached from each other. 
 
 * Probably the Author here means yellow lilies, or fleurs de lis. 
 
206 VARIOUS PRECEPTS IN PAINTING. 
 
 Those parts of objects which first disappear in 
 the distance, are extremities similar in colour, and 
 ending one upon the other, as the extremities of 
 an oak tree upon another oak similar to it. The 
 next to disappear at a greater distance are^ objects 
 of mixed colours, when they terminate one upon 
 the other, as trees, ploughed fields, walls, heaps of 
 rubbishy or of stones. The last extremities of bo- 
 dies that vanish are those which^ being light, ter- 
 minate upon a dark ground ; or being dark, upon 
 a light ground. 
 
 Of objects situated above the eye^ at equal 
 heights, the farthest removed from the eye will ap- 
 pear the lowest; and if situated below the eye, 
 the nearest to it will appear the lowest. The 
 parallel lines situated sidewise will concur to one 
 point.* 
 
 Those objects which are near a river^ or a lake, 
 in the distant part of a landscape, are less appa- 
 rent and distinct than those that are remote from 
 them. 
 
 Of bodies of equal density, those that are nearest 
 to the eye will appear thinnest^ and the most re- 
 mote thickest. 
 
 A large eye-ball will see objects larger than a 
 small one. The experiment may be made by look- 
 ing at any of the celestial bodies^ through a pin- 
 
 * That point is always found in the horizon, and is called the 
 point of sight, or the vanishing point. 
 
VARIOUS PRECEPTS IN PAINTING. 207 
 
 hole, which being capable of admitting but a por- 
 tion of its light, it seems to diminish and lose of 
 its size in the same proportion as the pin-hole is 
 smaller than the usual apparent size of the object. 
 
 A thick air interposed between the eye and any 
 object, will render the outlines of such object un- 
 determined and confused, and make it appear of 
 a larger size than it is in reality; because the linear 
 perspective does not diminish the angle which 
 conveys the object to the eye. The aerial per- 
 spective carries it farther off, so that the one re- 
 moves it from the eye, while the other preserves 
 its magnitude.* 
 
 When the sun is in the West the vapours of the 
 earth fall down again and thicken the air, so that 
 objects not enlightened by the sun remain dark 
 and confused, but those which receive its light 
 will be tinged yellow and red, according to the 
 sun^s appearance on the horizon. Again, those 
 that receive its light are very distinct, particularly 
 public buildings and towns in houses and villages, 
 because their shadows are dark, and it seems as if 
 those parts which are plainly seen were coming 
 out of confused and undetermined foundations, 
 because at that time every thing is of one and 
 the same colour, except what is enlightened by 
 the sun.f 
 
 Any object receiving the light from the sun, 
 
 * See chap, cccxx. f See chap, cccxvii. 
 
208 VARIOUS PRECEPTS IN PAINTING. 
 
 receives also the general light; so that two kinds 
 of shadows are produced : the darkest of the two 
 is that which happens to have its central line di- 
 rected towards the centre of the sun. The central 
 lines of the primitive and secondary lights are the 
 same as the central lines of the primitive and se- 
 condary shadows. 
 
 The setting sun is a beautiful and magnificent 
 object when it tinges with its colour all the great 
 buildings of towns, villages, and the top of high 
 trees in the country. All below is confused and 
 almost lost in a tender and general mass ; for, be- 
 ing only enlightened by the air, the difference be- 
 tween the shadows and the lights is small, and for 
 that reason it is not much detached. But those 
 that are high are touched by the rays of the sun, 
 and, as was said before, are tinged with its colour; 
 the painter therefore ought to take the same co- 
 lour with which he has painted the sun, and em- 
 ploy it in all those parts of his work which receive 
 its light. 
 
 It also happens very often, that a cloud will ap- 
 pear dark without receiving any shadow from a 
 separate cloud, according to the situation of the 
 eye; because it will see only the shady part of the 
 one, while it sees both the enlightened and shady 
 parts of the other. 
 
 Of two objects at equal height, that which is the 
 farthest off will appear the lowest. Observe the 
 
VARIOUS PRECEPTS IN PAINTING. 209 
 
 first cloud in the cut, though it is lower than the 
 second, it appears as if it were higher. This is 
 demonstrated by the section of the pyramidical 
 rays of the low cloud at M A, and the second 
 
 (which is higher) at N M, below M A. This hap- 
 pens also when, on account of the rays of the set- 
 ting or rising sun, a dark cloud appears higher 
 than another which is light. 
 
 Chap. CCCXLIII.— The Brilliancy of a Land- 
 scape. 
 
 The vivacity and brightness of colours in a land- 
 scape will never bear any comparison with a land- 
 scape in nature when illumined by the sun, unless 
 the picture be placed so as to receive the same 
 light from the sun itself. 
 
210 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 Chap. CCCXLIV.— Why a painted Object does 
 not appear so far distant as a real one, though 
 they be conveyed to the Eye by equal Angles. 
 
 If a house be painted on the pannel B C, at the 
 
 apparent distance of one mile, and by the side of 
 it a real one be perceived at the true distance of 
 one mile also ; which objects are so disposed, that 
 the pannel, or picture, A C, intersects the pyra- 
 midical rays with the same opening of angles ; yet 
 these two objects will never appear of the same 
 size, nor at the same distance, if seen with both 
 eyes.* 
 
 * This position has been already laid down in chapter cxxiv. 
 (and will also be found in chapter cccxlviii.) ; and the reader is 
 referred to the note on that passage, which will also explain that in 
 the text, for further illustration. It may, however, be proper to re- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 211 
 
 Chap. CCCXLV. — How to draw a Figure standing 
 upon its Feet, to appear forty Braccia * high, in 
 a Space of twenty Braccia, with proportionate 
 Members. 
 
 In this, as in any other case, the painter is not 
 to mind what kind of surface he has to work upon; 
 particularly if his painting is to be seen from a 
 determined point, such as a window, or any other 
 opening. Because the eye is not to attend to the 
 evenness or roughness of the wall, but only to 
 
 
 - F 
 
 R 
 
 
 Gr 
 
 
 mark, that though the author has here supposed both objects con- 
 veyed to the eye by an angle of the same extent, they cannot, in 
 fact, be so seen, unless one eye be shut ; and the reason is this : 
 if viewed with both eyes, there will be two points of sight, one in 
 the centre of each eye ; and the rays from each of these to the 
 objects must of course be different, and will consequently form dif- 
 ferent angles. 
 
 * The braccio is one foot ten inches and seven -eighths English 
 measure. 
 
212 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 what is to be represented as beyond that wall ; such 
 as a landscape, or any thing else. Nevertheless a 
 curved surface, such as F R G, would be the best, 
 because it has no angles. 
 
 Chap.CCCXLVI. — How to draw a Figure twenty- 
 four Braccia high, upon a Wall twelve Braccia 
 high. Plate XXII. 
 
 Draw upon part of the wall M N, half the 
 figure you mean to represent ; and the other half 
 upon the cove above, M R. But before that, it 
 will be necessary to draw upon a flat board, or a 
 paper, the profile of the wall and cove, of the same 
 shape and dimension, as that upon which you are 
 to paint. Then draw also the profile of your 
 figure, of whatever size you please, by the side of 
 it ; draw all the lines to the point F, and where 
 they intersect the profile M R, you will have the 
 dimensions of your figure as they ought to be 
 drawn upon the real spot. You will find, that on 
 the straight part of the wall M N, it will come of 
 its proper form, because the going off perpendicu- 
 larly will diminish it naturally ; but that part which 
 comes upon the curve will be diminished upon your 
 drawing. The whole must be traced afterwards 
 upon the real spot, which is similar to M N. This 
 is a good and safe method. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 213 
 
 Chap. CCCXLVII. — Tf hy, on measuring a Face, 
 and then painting it of the same Size, it will 
 appear larger than the natural one. 
 
 A B is the breadth of the space, or of the head, 
 and it is placed on the paper at the distance C F, 
 where the cheeks are, and it would have to stand 
 back all A C, and then the temples would be car- 
 ried to the distance OR of the lines A F, B F; so 
 that there is the difference C O and R D. It fol- 
 lows that the line C F, and the line D F, in order 
 to become shorter,* have to go and find the paper 
 where the whole height is drawn, that is to say, 
 the lines F A, and F B, where the true size is ; 
 and so it makes the difference, as I have said, of 
 C O, and R D. 
 
 F 
 
 * i. e. To be abridged according to the rules of perspective. 
 
214 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 Chap. GCCXLVIII.— Why the most perfect Imi- 
 tation of Nature will not appear to have the same 
 Relief as Nature itself 
 
 If nature is seen with two eyes, it will be impos- 
 sible to imitate it upon a picture so as to appear 
 with the same relief, though the lines, the lights, 
 shades, and colour, be perfectly imitated * It is 
 proved thus : let the eyes A B, look at the object 
 C, with the concurrence of both the central visual 
 rays A C and B C. I say, that the sides of the 
 visual angles (which contain these central rays) 
 will see the space G D, behind the object C. The 
 eye A will see all the space F D, and the eye B all 
 the space G E. Therefore the two eyes will see 
 behind the object C all the space FE; for which 
 
 reason that object C becomes as it were transpa- 
 rent, according to the definition of transparent 
 * See chap, cxxii. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 215 
 
 bodies, behind which nothing is hidden. This 
 cannot happen if an object were seen with one eye 
 only, provided it be larger than the eye. From 
 all that has been said, we may conclude, that a 
 painted object, occupying all the space it has be- 
 hind, leaves no possible way to see any part of 
 the ground, which it covers entirely by its own 
 circumference J* 
 
 Chap. CCCXLIX. — Universality of Painting ; a 
 Precept. 
 
 A painter cannot be said to aim at universality 
 in the art, unless he love equally every species of 
 that art. For instance, if he delight only in land- 
 cape, his can be esteemed only as a simple inves- 
 tigation; and, as our friend Botticellof remarks, 
 
 * The whole of this chapter, like the next but one preceding, 
 depends on the circumstance of there being in fact two points of 
 sight, one in the centre of each eye, when an object is viewed with 
 both eyes. In natural objects the effect which this circumstance 
 produces is, that the rays from each point of sight, diverging as 
 they extend towards the object, take in not only that, but some 
 part also of the distance behind it, till at length, at a certain dis- 
 tance behind it, they cross each other ; whereas, in a painted re- 
 presentation, there being no real distance behind the object, but 
 the whole being a flat surface, it is impossible that the rays from 
 the points of sight should pass beyond that flat surface ; and as the 
 object itself is on that flat surface, which is the real extremity of 
 the view, the eyes cannot acquire a sight of any thing beyond. 
 
 f A well-known painter at Florence, contemporary with Leo- 
 nardo da Vinci, who painted several altar-pieces and other public 
 works. 
 
216 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 is but a vain study ; since, by throwing a sponge 
 impregnated with various colours against a wall; it 
 leaves some spots upon it, which may appear like 
 a landscape, ft is true also, that a variety of com- 
 positions may be seen in such spots, according to 
 the disposition of mind with which they are con- 
 sidered; such as heads of men, various animals, 
 battles, rocky scenes, seas, clouds, woods, and the 
 like. It may be compared to the sound of bells, 
 which may seem to say whatever we choose to ima- 
 gine. In the same manner also, those spots may 
 furnish hints for compositions, though they do not 
 teach us how to finish any particular part ; and the 
 imitators of them are but sorry landscape-painters. 
 
 Chap. CCCL. — In what Manner the Mirror is the 
 true Master of Painters. 
 
 When you wish to know if your picture be like 
 the object you mean to represent, have a flat look- 
 ing-glass, and place it so as to reflect the object 
 you have imitated, and compare carefully the ori- 
 ginal with the copy. You see upon a flat mirror 
 the representation of things which appear real; 
 Painting is the same. They are both an even su- 
 perficies, and^both give the idea of something be- 
 yond their superficies. Since you are persuaded 
 that the looking-glass, by means of lines and 
 shades, gives you the representation of things as 
 if they were real ; you being in possession of co- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 217 
 
 lours which in their different lights and shades are 
 stronger than those of the looking-glass, may cer- 
 tainly, if you employ the rules with judgment, give 
 to your picture the same appearance of Nature as 
 you admire in the looking-glass. Or rather, your 
 picture will be like Nature itself seen in a large 
 looking-glass. 
 
 This looking-glass (being your master) will show 
 you the lights and shades of any object whatever. 
 Amongst your colours there are some lighter than 
 the lightest part of your model, and also some 
 darker than the strongest shades ; from which it 
 follows, that you ought to represent Nature as 
 seen in your looking-glass, when you look at it 
 with one eye only; because both eyes surround 
 the objects too much, particularly when they are 
 small.* 
 
 Chap. CCCLI. — Which Painting is to be esteemed 
 the best. 
 
 That painting is the most commendable which 
 has the greatest conformity to what is meant to be 
 imitated. This kind of comparison will often put 
 to shame a certain description of painters, who 
 pretend they can mend the works of Nature ; as 
 they do, for instance, when they pretend to repre- 
 sent a child twelve months old, giving him eight 
 heads in height, when Nature in its best propor- 
 
 * See chapters ccxxiv. and cccxlviii. 
 L 
 
218 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 tion admits but five. The breadth of the shoulders 
 also, which is equal to the head, they make double, 
 giving to a child a year old, the proportions of a 
 man of thirty. They have so often practised, and 
 seen others practise these errors, that they have 
 converted them into habit, which has taken so 
 deep root in their corrupted judgment, that they 
 persuade themselves that Nature and her imitators 
 are wrong in not following their own practice.* 
 
 Chap. CCCLII. — Of the Judgment to be made of 
 a Painter's Work. 
 
 The first thing to be considered is, whether the 
 figures have their proper relief, according to their 
 respective situations, and the light they are in: 
 that the shadows be not the same at the extremi- 
 ties of the groups, as in the middle ; because be- 
 ing surrounded by shadows, or shaded only on one 
 side, produce very different effects. The groups 
 in the middle are surrounded by shadows from the 
 other figures, which are between them and the 
 light. Those which are at the extremities have 
 the shadows only on one side, and receive the light 
 on the other. The strongest and smartest touches 
 of shadows are to be in the interstice between the 
 figures of the principal group where the light can- 
 not penetrate.f 
 
 Secondly, that by the order and disposition of 
 * See chap. x. t See chap. cci. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 219 
 
 the figures they appear to be accommodated to 
 the subject^ and the true representation of the 
 history in question. 
 
 Thirdly, that the figures appear alive to the occa- 
 sion which brought them together, with expres- 
 sions suited to their attitudes. 
 
 Chap. CCCLIII. — How to make an imaginary 
 Animal appear natural. 
 
 It is evident that it will be impossible to invent 
 any animal without giving it members, and these 
 members must individually resemble those of some 
 known animal. 
 
 If you wish, therefore, to make a chimera, or 
 imaginary animal, appear natural (let us suppose 
 a serpent) ; take the head of a mastiff, the eyes of 
 a cat, the ears of a porcupine, the mouth of a hare, 
 the brows of a lion, the temples of an old cock, 
 and the neck of a sea tortoise.* 
 
 Chap. CCCLIV. — Painters are not to imitate 
 one another. 
 
 One painter ought never to imitate the manner 
 of any other ; because in that case he cannot be 
 called the child of Nature, but the grandchild. It 
 is always best to have recourse to Nature, which 
 
 * Leonardo da Vinci was remarkably fond of this kind of in- 
 ventions, and is accused of having lost a great deal of time that 
 way. 
 
 L 2 
 
220 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 is replete with such abundance of objects, than to 
 the productions of other masters, who learnt every 
 thing from her. 
 
 Chap. CCCLV. — How to judge of one's own 
 Work. 
 
 It is an acknowledged fact, that we perceive 
 errors in the works of others more readily than in 
 our own. A painter, therefore, ought to be well 
 instructed in perspective, and acquire a perfect 
 knowledge of the dimensions of the human body \ 
 he should also be a good architect, at least as far 
 as concerns the outward shape of buildings, with 
 their different parts ; and where he is deficient, 
 he ought not to neglect taking drawings from 
 Nature. 
 
 It will be well also to have a looking-glass by 
 him, when he paints, to look often at his work in 
 it, which being seen the contrary way, will appear 
 as the work of another hand, and will better shew 
 his faults. It will be useful also to quit his wort 
 often, and take some relaxation, that his judgment 
 may be clearer at his return ; for too great appli< 
 cation and sitting still is sometimes the cause oi 
 many gross errors. 
 
 Chap. CCCLVI. — Of correcting Errors which 
 you discover. 
 
 Remember, that when, by the exercise of your 
 
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 221 
 
 own judgment j or the observation of other s, you 
 discover any errors in your work, you immediately 
 set about correcting them, lest, in exposing your 
 works to the public, you expose your defects also. 
 Admit not any self-excuse, by persuading yourself 
 that you shall retrieve your character^ and that by 
 some succeeding work you shall make amends for 
 your shameful negligence; for your work does 
 not perish as soon as it is out of your hands, like 
 the sound of music, but remains a standing monu- 
 ment of your ignorance. If you excuse yourself 
 by saying that you have not time for the study 
 necessary to form a great painter, having to strug- 
 gle against necessity, you yourself are only to 
 blame ; for the study of what is excellent is food 
 both for mind and body. How many philoso- 
 phers, born to great riches, have given them 
 away, that they might not be retarded in their 
 pursuits ! 
 
 Chap. CCCLVIL— The best Place for looking 
 at a Picture. 
 
 Let us suppose, that A B is the picture, re- 
 ceiving the light from D ; I say, that whoever is 
 placed between C and E will see the picture very 
 badly, particularly if it be painted in oil, or var- 
 nished ; because it will shine, and will appear al- 
 most of the nature of a looking-glass. For these 
 reasons, the nearer you go towards C, the less you 
 
222 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 will be able to see, because of the light from the 
 window upon the picture, sending its reflection to 
 that point. But if you place yourself between 
 E D, you may conveniently see the picture, and 
 the more so as you draw nearer to the point D, 
 because that place is less liable to be struck by 
 the reflected rays. 
 
 Chap. CCCLVIIL— Of Judgment. 
 There is nothing more apt to deceive us than 
 our own judgment, in deciding on our own works ; 
 and we should derive more advantage from having 
 our faults pointed out by our enemies, than by 
 hearing the opinions of our friends, because they 
 are too much like ourselves, and may deceive us 
 as much as our own judgment. 
 
 Chap. CCCLIX. — Of Employment anxiously 
 wished for by Painters. 
 And you, painter, who are desirous of great 
 
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 223 
 
 practice, understand, that if you do not rest it on 
 the good foundation of Nature, you will labour 
 with little honour and less profit ; and if you do it 
 on a good ground, your works will be many and 
 good, to your great honour and advantage. 
 
 Chap. CCCLX. — Advice to Painters. 
 
 A painter ought to study universal Nature, and 
 reason much within himself on all he sees, making 
 use of the most excellent parts that compose the 
 species of every object before him. His mind will 
 by this method be like a mirror, reflecting truly 
 every object placed before it, and become, as it 
 were, a second Nature. 
 
 Chap. CCCLXL— Of Statuary. 
 
 To execute a figure in marble, you must first 
 make a model of it in clay, or plaster, and when 
 it is finished, place it in a square case, equally ca 
 pable of receiving the block of marble intended to 
 be shaped like it. Have some peg-like sticks to 
 pass through holes made in the sides, and all 
 round the case; push them in till every one 
 touches the model, marking what remains of the 
 sticks outwards with ink, and making a counter- 
 mark to every stick and its hole, so that you may 
 at pleasure replace them again. Then having 
 taken out the model, and placed the block of mar- 
 ble in its stead, take so much out of it, till all the 
 
224 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 pegs go in at the same holes to the marks you had 
 made. To facilitate the work, contrive your frame 
 so that every part of it, separately, or all together, 
 may be lifted up, except the bottom, which must 
 remain under the marble. By this method you 
 may chop it off with great facility*. 
 
 Chap. CCCLXII. — On the Measurement and Di- 
 vision of Statues into Parts, 
 
 Divide the head into twelve parts, each part in- 
 to twelve degrees, each degree into twelve mi- 
 nutes, and these minutes into seconds f. 
 
 Chap. CCCLXIIL— A Precept for the Painter. 
 
 The painter who entertains no doubt of his own 
 ability, will attain very little. When the work 
 succeeds beyond the judgment, the artist acquires 
 nothing ; but when the judgment is superior to 
 the work, he never ceases improving, if the love 
 of gain do not retard his progress. 
 
 * The method here recommended, was the general and com- 
 mon practice at that time, and continued so with little, if any 
 variation, till lately. But about thirty years ago, the late Mr. 
 Bacon invented an entirely new method, which, as better answer- 
 ing the purpose, he constantly used, and from him others have 
 also adopted it into practice. 
 
 f This may be a good method of dividing the figure for the 
 purpose of reducing from large to small, or vice versd ; but it not 
 being the method generally used by the painters for measuring 
 their figures, as being too minute, this chapter was not introduced 
 amongst those of general proportions. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 225 
 
 Chap. CCCLXIV. — On the Judgment of Painters. 
 
 When the work is equal to the knowledge and 
 judgment of the painter, it is a bad sign; and 
 when it surpasses the judgment, it is still worse, 
 as is the case with those who wonder at having 
 succeeded so well. But when the j udgment sur- 
 passes the work, it is a perfectly good sign ; and 
 the young painter who possesses that rare dispo- 
 sition, will, no doubt, arrive at great perfection. 
 He will produce few works, but they will be such 
 as to fix the admiration of every beholder. 
 
 Chap. CCCLXV. — That a Man ought not to trust 
 to himself, but ought to consult Nature. 
 
 Whoever flatters himself that he can retain in 
 his memory all the effects of Nature, is deceived, 
 for our memory is not so capacious ; therefore 
 consult Nature for every thing. 
 
TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 The Number at the End of each Title refers to the corres- 
 ponding Chapter in the original Edition in Italian. 
 
 DRAWING. 
 
 PROPORTION. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 1. What the young Student in Painting ought in the 
 
 first Place to learn. Chapter 1. 
 
 2. Rule for a young Student in Painting. 3. 
 
 3. How to discover a young Man's Disposition for 
 
 Painting. 4. 
 
 4. Of Painting, and its Divisions. 47. 
 
 5. Division of the Figure. 48. 
 
 6. Proportion of Members. 49. 
 
 7. Of Dimensions in general. 173. 
 
 8. Motion, Changes, and Proportion of Members. 166. 
 
 9. The Difference of Proportion between Children and 
 
 grown Men. 1 69 
 
 10. The Alterations in the Proportion of the human 
 
 Body from Infancy to full Age. 167. 
 
 1 1. Of the Proportion of Members. 175. 
 
 12. That every Part be proportioned to its W T hole. 250. 
 
 13. Of the Proportion of the Members. 185. 
 
228 
 
 TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 14. The Danger of forming an erroneous Judgment in 
 
 regard to the Proportion and Beauty of the 
 Parts. 42, 
 
 15. Another Precept. 12. 
 
 1 6. The Manner of drawing from Relievos, and render- 
 
 ing Paper fit for it. 127. 
 
 1 7. Of drawing from Casts or Nature. S J . 
 
 18. To draw Figures from Nature. 38. 
 
 19. Of drawing from Nature. 25. 
 
 20. Of drawing Academy Figures. 30. 
 
 21. Of studying in the Dark, on first waking in the 
 
 Morning, and before going to Sleep. I 7. 
 
 22. Observations on drawing Portraits. 188 
 
 23. The Method of retaining in the Memory the Like- 
 
 ness of a Man, so as to draw his Portrait, after 
 . having seen him only once. 189. 
 
 24. How to remember the Form of a Face. 190. 
 
 25. That a Painter should take Pleasure in the Opinion 
 
 of every Body. 19. 
 
 ANATOMY. 
 
 26. What is principally to be observed in Figures. 213. 
 
 27. Mode of Studying. 7. 
 
 28. Of being universal. 22. 
 
 29. A Precept for the Painter. 5. 
 
 30. Of the Measures of the human Body, and the bend- 
 
 ing of Members. 1 74. 
 
 31. Of the small Bones in several Joints of the human 
 
 Body. 229. 
 
 32. Memorandum to be observed by the Painter. 57. 
 
 33. The Shoulders. 171. 
 
 34. The Difference of Joints between Children and 
 
 grown Men. 168. 
 
TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 229 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 35. Of the Joints of the Fingers. 170. 
 
 36. Of the Joint of the Wrist. 176. 
 
 37. Of the Joint of the Foot. 177. 
 
 38. Of the Knee. 178. 
 
 39. Of the Joints. 179. 
 
 40. Of the Naked. 220. 
 
 41. Of the Thickness of the Muscles. 221. 
 
 42. Fat Subjects have small Muscles. 222. 
 
 43. Which of the Muscles disappear in the different Mo- 
 
 tions of the Body. 223. 
 
 44. Of the Muscles. 226. 
 
 45. Of the Muscles. 224. 
 
 46. The Extension and Contraction of the Muscles. 227. 
 
 47. Of the Muscle between the Chest and the lower 
 
 Belly. 230. 
 
 48. Of a Man's complex Strength, but first of the 
 
 Arm. 234. 
 
 49. In which of the two Actions, Pulling or Pushing, a 
 
 Man has the greatest Power, Plate II. 235. 
 
 50. Of the bending of Members, and of the Flesh round 
 
 the bending Joint. 236. 
 
 51. Of the naked Body. 180. 
 
 52. Of a Ligament without Muscles. 228. 
 
 53. Of Creases. 238. 
 
 54. How near behind the Back one Arm can be brought 
 
 to the other. Plate III. and IV. 232. 
 
 55. Of the Muscles. 225. 
 
 56. Of the Muscles. 194. 
 
 57. Of the bending of the Body. 204. 
 
 58. The same Subject. 205. 
 
 59. The Necessity of anatomical Knowledge. 43. 
 
230 
 
 TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 MOTION AND EQUIPOISE OF FIGURES. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 60. Of the Equipoise of a Figure standing still. 203. 
 
 61. Motion produced by the Loss of Equilibrium. 208. 
 
 62. Of the Equipoise of Bodies, Plate V. 263. 
 
 63. Of Positions. 192. 
 
 64. Of balancing the Weight round the Centre of Gra- 
 
 vity in Bodies. 214. 
 
 65. Of Figures that have to lift up, or carry any Weight. 
 
 215. 
 
 66. The Equilibrium of a Man standing upon his Feet, 
 
 Plate VI. 201. 
 
 67. Of Walking, Plate VII. 202. 
 
 68. Of the Centre of Gravity in Men and Animals. 199. 
 
 69. Of the corresponding Thickness of Parts on each 
 
 Side of the Body. 269. 
 
 70. Of the Motions of Animals. 249. 
 
 71. Of Quadrupeds and their Motions. 268. 
 
 72. Of the Quickness or Slowness of Motion. 267. 
 
 73. Of the Motion of Animals. 299. 
 
 74. Of a Figure moving against the Wmà 3 PlateVIII. 295. 
 
 75. Of the Balance of a Figure resting upon its Feet. 266. 
 
 76. A Precept. 350. 
 
 77. Of a Man standing, but resting more upon one Foot 
 
 than the other. 264. 
 
 78. Of the Balance of Figures, Plate IX. 209. 
 
 79. In what Manner extending one Arm alters the Ba- 
 
 lance. 198. 
 
 80. Of a Man bearing a Weight on his Shoulders, Plate 
 
 X. 200. 
 
 81. Of Equilibrium. 206. 
 
 82. Of Motion. 195. 
 
 83. The Level of the Shoulders. 196. 
 
TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 23 i 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 84. Objection to the above answered, Plate XI. and 
 
 XII. 197. 
 
 85. Of the Position of Figures, Plate XIII. 89. 
 
 86. Of the Joints. 184. 
 
 87. Of the Shoulders. 172. 
 
 88. Of the Motions of a Man. 207. 
 
 89. Of the Disposition of Members preparing to act with 
 
 great Force, Plate XIV. 233. 
 
 90. Of throwing any Thing with Violence,PtoXr. 261. 
 
 91. On the Motion of driving anything into or drawing 
 
 it out of the Ground. 262. 
 
 92. Of forcible Motions, Plate XVI. 1 8 J . 
 
 93. The Action of Jumping. 260. 
 
 94. Of the three Motions in jumping upwards. 270. 
 
 95. Of the easy Motions of Members. 211. 
 
 96. The greatest Twist which a Man can make, in turn- 
 
 ing to look at himself behind, Plate XVII. 23 1 . 
 
 97. Of turning the Leg without the Thigh. 237. 
 
 98. Postures of Figures. 265. 
 
 99. Of the Gracefulness of the Members. 210. 
 
 100. That it is impossible for any Memory to retain the 
 
 Aspects and Changes of the Members. 271. 
 
 101. The Motions of Figures. 242. 
 
 102. Of common Motions. 248. 
 
 103. Of simple Motions. 239. 
 
 104. Complex Motions. 240. 
 
 105. Motions appropriated to the Subject. 241. 
 
 106. Appropriate Motions. 245. 
 
 107. Of the Postures of Women and young People. 259. 
 
 108. Of the Postures of Children. 258. 
 
 109. Of the Motion of the Members. 186. 
 
 110. Of mental Motions. 246. 
 
 111. Effect of the Mind upon the Motions of the Body, 
 
 occasioned by some outward Object. 247. 
 
232 
 
 TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 112. Of those who apply themselves to the Practice, with- 
 out having learnt the Theory of the Art. 23. 
 11-3. Precepts in Painting. 349. 
 
 114. Of the Boundaries of Objects called Outlines or 
 
 Contours 291. 
 
 115. Of linear Perspective 322. 
 
 116. What Parts of Objects disappear first by Dis- 
 
 tance. 318. 
 117« Of remote Objects. 316. 
 118. Of the Point of Sight. 281. 
 
 1 1 9- A Picture is to be viewed from one Point only. 59. 
 
 120. Of the Dimensions of the first Figure in an his- 
 
 torical Painting. 91. 
 
 121. Of Objects that are lost to the Sight, in Propor- 
 
 tion to their Distance. 292. 
 
 122. Errors not so easily seen in small Objects as in 
 
 large ones. 52. 
 
 123. Historical Subjects one above another on the same 
 
 Wall to be avoided. 54. 
 
 124. Why Objects in Painting can never detach as na- 
 
 tural Objects do. 53. 
 
 125. How to give the proper Dimension to Objects in 
 
 Painting. 71. 
 
 126. How to draw accurately any particular Spot. 32. 
 
 127. Disproportion to be avoided, even in the accessory 
 
 Parts. 290. 
 
 INVENTION OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 128. Precept for avoiding a bad Choice in the Style or 
 Proportion of Figures. 45. 
 
TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 233 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 129. Variety in Figures. 21. 
 
 130. How a Painter ought to proceed in his Studies. 6. 
 
 131. Of sketching Histories and Figures. 13. 
 
 132. How to study Composition. 96. 
 
 133. Of the Attitudes of Men. 216. 
 
 134. Variety of Positions. 217- 
 
 135. Of Studies from Nature for History, 37. 
 
 136. Of the Variety of Figures in History Painting. 94* 
 
 137. Of Variety in History. 97. 
 
 138. Of the Age of Figures. 252. 
 
 139. Of Variety of Faces. 98. 
 
 140. A Fault in Painters. 44. 
 
 141. How you may learn to compose Groups for History 
 
 Painting. 90. 
 
 142. How to study the Motions of the human Body. 95. 
 
 143. Of Dresses, and of Draperies and Folds. 358. 
 
 144. Of the Nature of Folds in Draperies. 359. 
 
 145. How the Folds of Draperies ought to be represented, 
 
 Plate XVIII. 360. 
 
 146. How the Folds in Draperies ought to be made. 361. 
 
 147. Fore-shortening of Folds, Plate XIX. 362. 
 
 148. Of Folds. 364. 
 
 149. Of Decorum. 251. 
 
 150. The Character of Figures in Composition. 253. 
 
 151. The Motion of the Muscles, when the Figures are 
 
 in natural Positions. 193. 
 
 152. A Precept in Painting, 58. 
 
 1 53. Of the Motion of Man, Plate XX. and XXL 1 82. 
 
 154. Of Attitudes, and the Motions of the Members. 183. 
 
 155. Of a single Figure separate from an historical 
 
 Group. 212. 
 
 156. On the Attitudes of the human Figure. 218- 
 
 157. How to representa Storm. 66. 
 
 158. How to compose a Battle. 67. 
 
234 TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 159. The Representation of an Orator and his Au- 
 
 dience. 254. 
 
 160. Of demonstrative Gestures. 243. 
 
 161. Of the Attitudes of the Bye-standers at some re- 
 
 markable Event. 219. 
 
 162. How to represent Night. 65. 
 
 163. The Method of awakening the Mind to a Variety 
 
 of Inventions. 16. 
 
 164. Of Composition in History. 93. 
 
 EXPRESSION AND CHARACTER, 
 
 165. Of expressive Motions. 50. 
 
 166. How to paint Children. 61. 
 
 167. How to represent old Men. 62. 
 
 168. How to paint old Women. 63. 
 
 169. How to paint Women. 64. 
 
 170. Of the Variety of Faces. 244. 
 
 171. The Parts of the Face, and their Motions. 187. 
 
 172. Laughing and Weeping, 257. 
 
 173. Of Anger. 255. 
 
 174. Despair. 256. 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADOW, 
 
 3 75. The Course of Study to be pursued. 2. 
 
 176. Which of the two is the most useful Knowledge, 
 
 the Outlines of Figures, or that of Light and 
 Shadow. 56. 
 
 177. Which is the most important, the Shadow or Out- 
 
 lines in Painting. 277. 
 
 178. What is a Painter's first Aim and Object. 305. 
 
TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 235 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 179. The Difference of Superficies,, in regard to Painting. 
 
 278. 
 
 180. How a Painter may become universal. 10. 
 
 181. Accuracy ought to be learnt before Dispatch in the 
 
 Execution. 18. 
 
 182. How the Painter is to place himself in regard to 
 
 the Light, and his Model. 40, 
 
 183. Of the best Light. 4L 
 
 184. Of drawing by Candle-light. 34, 
 
 185. Of those Painters who draw at Home from one 
 
 Light, and afterwards adapt their Studies to 
 another Situation in the Country, and a dif- 
 ferent Light. 46. 
 185. How high the Light should be in drawing from 
 Nature. 27. 
 
 187, What Light the Painter must make use of to give 
 
 most Relief to his Figures. 55, 
 
 188, Advice to Painters. 26. 
 
 189, Of Shadows. 60. 
 
 190, Of the kind of Light proper for drawing from Re- 
 
 lievos, or from Nature. 29. 
 
 191, Whether the Light should be admitted in Front 
 
 or sideways ; and which is the most pleasing 
 and graceful. 74, 
 
 192, Of the Difference of Lights according to the Situa- 
 
 tion. 289. 
 
 193, How to distribute the Light on Figures, 279. 
 
 194, Of the Beauty of Faces. 191. 
 
 195, How, in drawing a Face, to give it Grace, by the 
 
 Management of Light and Shade. 35. 
 
 196, How to give Grace and Relief to Faces. 287. 
 
 1 97, Of the Termination of Bodies upon each other. 294 . 
 
 198, Of the Back-grounds of painted Objects. 154, 
 
236 TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 199. How to detach and bring forward Figures out of 
 
 their Back-ground. 288, 
 
 200. Of proper Back-grounds. 141. 
 
 201. Of the general Light diffused over Figures. 303. 
 
 202. Of those Parts in Shadows which appear the dark- 
 
 est at a Distance. 327, 
 
 203. Of the Eye viewing the Folds of Draperies sur- 
 
 rounding a Figure. 363. 
 
 204. Of the Relief of Figures remote from the Eye. 336. 
 
 205. Of Outlines of Objects on the side towards the 
 
 Light. 337. 
 
 206. How to make Objects detach from their Ground, 
 
 that is to say, from the Surface on which they 
 are painted. 342, 
 
 CONTRASTE AND EFFECT. 
 
 207. A Precept. 343, 
 
 208. Of the Interposition of transparent Bodies between 
 
 the Eye and the Object. 357. 
 
 209. Of proper Back-grounds for Figures. 283, 
 
 210. Of Back-grounds. 160. 
 
 REFLEXES. 
 
 211. Of Objects placed on a light Ground, and why 
 
 such a Practice is useful in Painting. 159. 
 
 212. Of the different Effects of White, according to the 
 
 Difference of Back-grounds. 139. 
 
 213. Of Reverberation. 75. 
 
 214. Where there cannot be any Reverberation of Light. 
 
 76. 
 
 215. In what Part the Reflexes have more or less bright- 
 
 ness. 79. 
 
 216. Of the reflected Lights which surround the Sha- 
 
 dows. 78. 
 
TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 237 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 217. Where Reflexes are to be most apparent. 82. 
 
 218. What Part of a Reflex is to be the lightest. 80. 
 
 219. Of the Termination of Reflexes on their Grounds. 88. 
 
 220. Of double and treble Reflexions of Light. 83. 
 
 221. Reflexes in the Water, and particularly those of 
 
 the Air. 135. 
 
 COLOURS and COLOURING. 
 
 COLOURS. 
 
 222. What Surface is best calculated to receive most 
 
 Colours. 123. 
 
 223. What Surface will shew most perfectly its true 
 
 Colour. 125. 
 
 224. On what Surface the true Colour is least ap- 
 
 parent. 131. 
 
 225. What Surfaces shew most of their true and genuine 
 
 Colour. 132. 
 22G. Of the Mixture of Colours. 121. 
 
 227. Of the Colours produced by the Mixture of other 
 
 Colours, called secondary Colours. 161. 
 
 228. Of Verdigris. 119. 
 
 229. How to increase the Beauty of Verdigris. 120. 
 
 230. How to paint a Picture that will last almost for 
 
 ever. 352. 
 
 231 . The Mode of painting on Canvass, or Linen Cloth. 
 
 353. 
 
 232. Of lively and beautiful Colours. 100. 
 
 233. Of transparent Colours. 113. 
 
 234. In what Part a Colour will appear in its greatest 
 
 Beauty. 114. 
 
 235. How any Colour without Gloss, is more beautiful 
 
 in the Lights than in the Shades. 1 15. 
 
238 TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 236. Of the Appearance of Colours. 116. 
 
 237. What part of a Colour is to be the most beautiful. 
 
 117. 
 
 238. That the Beauty of a Colour is to be found in the 
 
 Lights. 118. 
 
 239. Of Colours. 111. 
 
 240. No Object appears in its true Colour, unless the 
 
 Light which strikes upon it be of the same 
 Colour. 150. 
 
 241. Of the Colour of Shadows, 147. 
 
 242. Of Colours. 153. 
 
 243. Whether it be possible for all Colours to appear 
 
 alike by means of the same Shadow. 109. 
 
 244. Why White is not reckoned among the Colours. 155 . 
 
 245. Of Colours. 156. 
 
 246. Of the Colouring of remote Objects. 339. 
 
 247. The Surface of all opaque Bodies participates of the 
 
 Colour of the surrounding Objects. 298. 
 
 248. General Remarks on Colours. 162. 
 
 COLOURS IN REGARD TO LIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 249. Of the Light proper for painting Flesh Colour from 
 
 Nature. 36. 
 
 250. Of the Painter's Window. 296. 
 
 251. The Shadows of Colours. 101. 
 
 252. Of the Shadows of White. 104. 
 
 253. Which of the Colours will produce the darkest 
 
 Shade. 105. 
 
 254. How to manage, when a White terminates upon 
 
 another White. 138. 
 * 255. On the Back-grounds of Figures. 140. 
 
 256. The Mode of composing History. 92. 
 
 257. Remarks concerning Lights and Shadows. 302. 
 
TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 239 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 258. Why the Shadows of Bodies upon a white Wall are 
 
 blueish towards the Evening. 328. 
 
 259. Of the Colour of Faces. 126. 
 
 260. A Precept relating to Painting. 284. 
 
 261. Of Colours in Shadow. 158. 
 
 262. Of the Choice of Lights. 28. 
 
 COLOURS IN REGARD TO BACK-GROUNDS. 
 
 263. Of avoiding hard Outlines. 51. 
 
 264. Of Outlines, 338. 
 
 265. Of Back-grounds, 334. 
 
 266. How to detach Figures from the Ground. 70. 
 
 267. Of Uniformity and Variety of Colours upon plain 
 
 Surfaces. 304, 
 
 268. Of Back-grounds suitable both to Shadows and 
 
 Lights. 137. 
 
 269. The apparent Variation of Colours, occasioned by 
 
 the Contraste of the Ground upon which they 
 are placed. 112. 
 
 CONTRASTE, HARMONY, AND REFLEXES, IN REGARD TO 
 COLOURS. 
 
 270. Gradation in Painting. 144. 
 
 271. How to assort Colours in such a Manner as that 
 
 they may add Beauty to each other. 99. 
 
 272. Of detaching the Figures. 73, 
 
 273. Of the Colour of Reflexes. 87. 
 
 274. What Body will be most strongly tinged with the 
 
 Colour of any other Object. 124. 
 
 275. OfPveflexes. 77. 
 
 276. Of the Surface of all shadowed Bodies. 122. 
 
240 TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 277. That no reflected Colour is simple, but is mixed with 
 
 the Nature of the other Colours. 84. 
 
 278. Of the Colour of Lights and Reflexes. 157. 
 
 279. Why reflected Colours seldom partake of the Colour 
 
 of the Body where they meet. 85. 
 
 280. The Reflexes of Flesh Colours. 81. 
 
 281. Of the Nature of Comparison. 146. 
 
 282. Where the Reflexes are seen. 86. 
 
 PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS. 
 
 283. A Precept of Perspective in regard to Painting. 354. 
 
 284. Of the Perspective of Colours. 134. 
 
 285. The Cause of the Diminution of Colours. 136. 
 
 286. Of the Diminution of Colours and Objects. 356. 
 
 287. Of the Variety observable in Colours, according to 
 
 their Distance or Proximity. 102. 
 
 288. At what Distance Colours are entirely lost. 103. 
 
 289. Of the Change observable in the same Colour, ac- 
 
 cording to its Distance from the Eye. 1 28. 
 
 290. Of the blueish Appearance of remote Objects in a 
 
 Landscape. 317. 
 
 291. Of the Qualities in the Surface which first lose 
 
 themselves by Distance. 293. 
 
 292. From what Cause the Azure of the Air proceeds. 151. 
 
 293. Of the Perspective of Colours. 107. 
 
 294. Of the Perspective of Colours in dark Places. 148. 
 
 295. Of the Perspective of Colours. 149. 
 
 296. Of Colours. 152. 
 
 297. How it happens that Colours do not change, though 
 
 placed in different Qualities of Air. 108. 
 
 298. WhyColours experience no apparent Change, though 
 
 placed in different Qualities of Air. 106. 
 
Chap 3 / 
 
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TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 241 
 
 CHAP, 
 
 299. Contrary Opinions in regard to Objects seen afar 
 
 off. 142. 
 
 300. Of the Colour of Objects remote from the Eye. 1 43. 
 
 301 . Of the Colour of Mountains. 163. 
 
 302. Why the Colour and Shape of Objects are soft in 
 
 some Situations apparently dark, though not so 
 in Reality. 110. 
 
 303. Various Precepts in Painting. 340. 
 
 AERIAL PERSPECTIVE. 
 
 304. Aerial Perspective 165. 
 
 305. The Parts of the smallest Objects will first disap- 
 
 pear in Painting. 306. 
 
 306. Small Figures ought not to be too much finished. 282 
 
 307. Why the Air is to appear whiter as it approache 
 
 nearer to the Earth. 69. 
 
 308. How to paint the distant Part of a Landscape. 68. 
 
 309. Of precise and confused Objects. 72. 
 
 310. Of distant Objects. 355. 
 
 311. Of Buildings seen in a thick Air. 312. 
 
 312. Of Towns and other Objects seen through a thick 
 
 Air. 309. 
 
 313. Of the inferior Extremities of distant Objects. 315. 
 
 314. Which Parts of Objects disappear first by being re- 
 
 moved farther from the Eye, and which pre- 
 serve their Appearance. 321. 
 
 315. Why Objects are less distinguished in proportion as 
 
 they are farther removed from the Eye. 319. 
 
 316. Why Faces appear dark at a Distance. 320. 
 
 317. Of Towns and other Buildings seen through a Fotr 
 
 in the Morning or Evening. 325. 
 
 318. Of the Height of Buildings seen in a Fog. 324. 
 
 M 
 
242 
 
 TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 319. Why Objects which are high, appear darker at a 
 
 Distance than those which are low, though the 
 Fog be uniform, and of equal Thickness. 326. 
 
 320. Of Objects seen in a Fog. 323. 
 
 321. Of those Objects which the Eye perceives through 
 
 a Mist or thick Air. 311. 
 
 322. Miscellaneous Observations. 308. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 LANDSCAPE. 
 
 323. Of Objects seen at a Distance. 313. 
 
 324. Of a Town seen through a thick Air. 314. 
 
 325. How to draw a Landscape. 33. 
 
 326. Of the Green of the Country. 129. 
 
 327. What Greens will appear most of a blueishCast. 130. 
 
 328. The Colour of the Sea from different Aspects. 145. 
 
 329. Why the same Prospect appears larger at some 
 
 Times than at others. 307. 
 
 330. Of Smoke. 331. 
 
 331. In what Part Smoke is lightest. 329. 
 
 332. Of the Sun-beams passing through the Openings of 
 
 Clouds. 310. 
 
 333. Of the Beginning of Rain. 347. 
 
 334. The Seasons are to be observed. 345. 
 
 335. The Difference of Climates is to be observed. 344. 
 
 336. Of Dust. 330. 
 
 337. How to represent the Wind. 346. 
 
 338. Of a Wilderness. 285. 
 
 339 Of the Horizon seen in the Water. 365. 
 340. Of the Shadow of Bridges on the Surface of the 
 Water. 348. 
 
TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 243 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 341. How a Painter ought to put in Practice the Per- 
 
 spective of Colours. 164. 
 
 342. Various Precepts in Painting. 332. 
 
 343. The brilliancy of a Landscape. 133. 
 
 I MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 344. Why a Painted object does not appear so far dis- 
 
 tant as a real one, though they be conveyed to 
 the Eye by equal Angles. 333, 
 
 345. How to draw a figure standing upon its Feet, to 
 
 appear forty Braccia high, in a space of twenty 
 Braccia, with proportionate Members. 300. 
 
 346. How to draw a figure twenty-fourBraccia high, upon 
 
 a Wall twelve Braccia high, Plate XXII. 301. 
 
 347. Why., on measuring a Face, and then painting it of 
 
 the same Size, it will appear larger than the 
 natural one. 297. 
 
 348. Why the most perfect Imitation of Nature will not 
 
 appear to have the same Relief as Nature 
 itself. 341. 
 
 349. Universality of Painting, A Precept. 9. 
 
 350. In what Manner the Mirror is the true Master of 
 
 Painters. 275. 
 
 351. Which Painting is to be esteemed the best. 276. 
 
 352. Of the Judgment to be made of a Painter's Work. 
 
 335. 
 
 353. How to make an imaginary Animal appear natural. 
 
 286. 
 
 354. Painters are not to imitate one another. 24. 
 
 355. How to judge of one's own Work. 274. 
 
 356. Of correcting Errors which you discover. 14. 
 
 357. The best Place for looking at a Picture. 280, 
 
 358. Of Judgment. 15. 
 
244 TABLE OF CHAPTERS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 359. Of Employment anxiously wished for by Painters. 
 
 272. 
 
 360. Advice to Painters. 8. 
 
 361. Of Statuary. 351. 
 
 362. On the Measurement and Division of Statues into 
 
 Parts. 39. 
 
 363. A Precept for the Painter. 1 1 . 
 
 364. On the Judgment of Painters. 273. 
 
 365. That a Man ought not to trust to himself, but 
 
 ought to consult Nature. 20, 
 
 THE END, 
 
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