•7 
 
LETTER 
 
 j * # # ^ # # # # # ESQ 
 
 A 
 
 CONNOISSEUR, 
 
 IN 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 BY WILLIAM CAREY. 
 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION IN AN AMATEUR CIRCLE, 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Printed by R. & W. Dean, 33, Market-streeet-lane. 
 1809. 
 
Sir, 
 
 DlJRING my late excursion in Cheshire, I was favoured 
 with your obliging letter, acknowledging the receipt of a copy 
 of my 1 Critical Description of the Procession of Chaucer's 
 ' Pilgrims, painted by Mr. Stothard.' 
 
 I thank you for your kind communication, and shall avail 
 myself of the first opportunity, to look in upon your additional 
 pictures. Believe me, that I read with much pleasure, your 
 intention of becoming a subscriber to the print from Mr. 
 Stothard's painting; for Schiavonetti will not fail to add the 
 spirit of his execution, to the beauties of the picture. The 
 style of his Cartoon of Pisa, from Michael Angelo, is a fresh 
 proof of his superior abilities asa draftsman ; — and in copying an 
 historical painting, he gives you the master, all of the master, and 
 nothing but the master. The British Graver has been tqp long a 
 stranger to the naked forms of the human figure, lam conscious, 
 however, that when the print of the Pilgrims is finished, and 
 you are enabled to fulfil your intention of comparing it, with my 
 description, the latter must suffer in your opinion. But if every 
 reader, will have the liberality to follow your example, by 
 becoming a subscriber to the engraving, the end, for which I 
 wrote, will be fully answered. 
 
 When leaving Cheshire, I accidentally heard of an historical 
 painting by Lionardo da Vinci, in the possession of Mr. 
 Ash worth, a Barrister, near Manchester. A desire to see a 
 composition, by so great a master, was a prevailing motive for 
 my visiting this town, on my return to Hampshire. 
 
 Owing, in some measure, to the state of the times, the Arts 
 cannot be said to flourish here. They are not, however, wholly 
 neglected. The capital possesses an immense accumulating stock, 
 but it does not engross all the talents of the empire. If you 
 
4 
 
 agree with me that Heaphy, in representations of village life; 
 Hills, in designing cattle; Atkinson, in landscape, fancy 
 subjects, and history ; Varley, Barret, Smith, Glover, 
 and TJavell, in every species of landscape scenery; confer 
 an annual honour on the exhibitions of the British School ; here 
 also, there are some rising Artists of great merit. Their number, 
 bears no proportion to the wealth of the place, and this can be 
 readily accounted for. it is pleasant enough, to hear declaimers 
 vaunt of the spontaneous efforts of Genius ; but they have a strange 
 mode of manifesting their love of Art, who abandon the Pro- 
 fessors to indigence. I am persuaded, that he who^ reels the 
 beauties of the old masters, will be the first to reward and honour 
 the living; for without due encouragement, superior abilities are 
 an evil worse than the studied malediction of the Poet. 
 
 ' Were I about to curse the man I hate, 
 
 * Attendance and dependence be his fate ! 
 
 6 Were I to curse the man I hate, still more, 
 
 ( May he be ever proud and ever poor P 
 To the wounded spirit of an Artist, struggling against the apathy 
 and bad taste of the multitude, every object in the creation 
 assumes an aspect of despondence. The sun becomes a source 
 of darkness. The independence of the worm, an object of envy. 
 In the public rooms of Mr. Ford, the principal ' English 
 6 and Foreign Bookseller,' who is a zealous lover of the Arts, 
 I saw many fine prints and drawings. He has lately removed 
 his immense stock of rare and curious books, to a noble range 
 of apartments on the first floor of the Commercial Buildings. 
 His library is not only well supplied with the British Classics, 
 and the best Foreign publications, but it contains many rarities of 
 Greek, Latin, and Hebrew literature, with a selection of manu- 
 script and printed works, in the Persian, Arabic, Turkish, and 
 other Oriental languages. His collection of authors, on natural 
 history, is very valuable. Among other drawings in his pos- 
 session, I was much struck with the breadth, force, and clearness 
 of a landscape, by Young Williamson, who has lately 
 settled here, from Liverpool. It is, if I recollect right, a local 
 view of mountain scenery, in some of the northern counties. 
 The gleams of light breaking through a stormy sky, produce 
 some fine transitions from lustre to solemnity. There is nothing 
 novel in the circumstance ; but the management is masterly ; 
 the execution chaste and solid ; the keeping excellent. I have 
 vn> seen no other drawing by this Artist. 8 Ex pede Herculetri 
 One is sufficient to produce a due impression of his abilities. In 
 almost every other walk of life, men may boast of lucky hits, 
 and accidental successes. A fortune is sometimes acquired by a 
 mistake ; a battle gained by an omission ; but no person ever 
 
5 
 
 composed an excellent poem or picture by chance. Success, in 
 these instances, is the result and the proof of genius. 
 
 I was attracted, some days ago, by a charming composition 
 of flowers, exhibited for sale in the window of a carver and 
 gilder. On inquiry, I learned that it was painted by Kelly, 
 a resident Artist, with whose name and works, I was before 
 unacquainted. The several objects are disposed with a happy 
 negligence, resembling the taste of B aptist, and, though they vie 
 in high finishing, with the works of Hulet of Bath, they betray 
 no appearance of labour. The light is mellow and judiciously 
 massed : the penciling sprightly and delicate, but sufficiently 
 varied for all the purposes of discrimination. In truth of na- 
 ture, dewy freshness and brilliancy of tint, the entire would do 
 honour to the talents of Rachel Ruisch or Van Os. I have 
 had no opportunity of learning this Artist's age, or to what ex- 
 tent he is encouraged ; but I cannot help regretting, that I have 
 not the power of impressing my high opinion of his merit, upon 
 all who view his pictures. In this sentiment, believe me, my 
 judgment is not seduced by personal acquaintance. I have not 
 even seen either Williamson or Kelly. 
 
 Burns, an Artist of versatile and improving powers, is em- 
 ployed in this town and neighbourhood. He is an extraordinary 
 young man. I earnestly wish that some of his works were sub- 
 mitted to your inspection, or to the unprejudiced eye of Sir 
 John Fleming Leicestkr. That gentleman has written me 
 an invitation to see his gallery of British Pictures at Tabley y 
 next winter ; and, if I should have an opportunity of availing 
 myself of his kindness, I shall perhaps venture to shew him a 
 study by Burns. We can add nothing to the fame of the 
 ancients. Let us do justice to the genius of our own times. 
 
 I am satisfied, that you would approve of his pictures. They are 
 neither encumbered by details, nor enfeebled by toil. I have seen 
 some of his recent landscapes, composed with boldness, occa- 
 sionally rising to grandeur, and sustained by a corresponding 
 vigour of execution. Although, the prevailing rage is for sultry 
 skies, and a meretricious warmth of colouring, his light is open 
 and silvery ; his effect sober. He is fond of combining local 
 recollections, with invention. The subjects, w hich 1 saw, were 
 pieces of water, overhung by high rocks and woody steeps, 
 diversified by level breaks of distance, and enriched with well 
 adapted figures. There is so much truth and force of character in 
 an old man's head, as large as life, which he lately painted from 
 nature, that even an experienced eye, might well mistake it for a 
 study by Opie. In one of his fancy subjects, the disposition 
 and style of the figure, reminded me of the habit of grace which 
 the prodigal, Westall, lavishes so profusely, on whatever he 
 
6 
 
 touches. The head and the fancy subject last mentioned, with 
 some of his landscapes, are in the possession of a gentleman in 
 this town, who has an excellent collection of pictures, by the 
 old masters; with some fine specimens by Wilson, Mortimer, 
 and Wright. I advert to this circumstance to observe, that 
 this gentleman, who, for thirty years, has contributed to diffuse 
 a taste for the fine Arts in Manchester, liberally engaged, some 
 months ago, to purchase whatever Burns could paint for a 
 limited season. 1 understand the engagement has recently ex- 
 pired. But I instance it with great pleasure, and you will 
 pardon me, ificannot help adding my opinion, that such an 
 attention to a young Artist of merit, is more honourable to an 
 amateur, than the having expended thousands of pounds upon 
 the works of the old masters. 
 
 As you know my veneration of the old schools, you cannot 
 misunderstand me, when I say, that the praises bestowed upon 
 names of long-established celebrity, more frequently proceed 
 from the vanity of Ignorance, than from the ardour of true 
 Taste. There are enough of cold Pretenders, who creep silently 
 in the rear of public Rumour, with an ear cocked to catch the 
 opinion of others, and to echo it to the skies, at the moment 
 when it becomes sufficiently popular to confer a character of 
 superior discernment on the Trumpeter. Their praise of the 
 ancients is a lesson parroted from the Bookseller But what the 
 parrot has not been taught, it cannot utter. This is the real 
 cause, why they are ever alive to the Dead, and dead to the 
 Living. 
 
 I am sorry to say, that this ungenerous caution, is not confined 
 to men of tasteless, ignoble minds. I know some individuals of 
 superior name, who, without daring to step forward and bear 
 evidence to the truth, can behold a young Artist, sinking un- 
 noticed in friendless poverty. They are silent, because they 
 have not the courage to lend their sanction to the forlorn hope 
 of an unfledged genius ; because, they fear to hazard their own 
 reputation for taste, by prematurely applauding the powers of 
 
 * one, who is noticed by nobody.' 
 
 Yet these mean deserters of the noble cause, which they pro- 
 fess to support, are amateurs, forsooth ! They have their fits of 
 admiration ! Their fervours and their flights of enthusiasm ; 
 
 * their gems,' and 4 their jewels ;' their green curtains, and 
 their tabernacles of precious wood, to enshrine the idols of art, 
 which they affect to worship. 
 
 They can talk to you of beauty and grace and sublimity : of 
 the schools and the masters : of the Italian taste, with which 
 they are enraptured, and the Flemish vulgarity, at which their 
 delicacy is shocked ! 
 
7 
 
 Without further remarks on this strange inconsistency, I re- 
 turn to the point from whence I digressed. At two or three 
 and twenty, every student has much to learn. Burns appears 
 to be only about that age. But he set out well ; he knows the 
 right road, and pushes on vigorously. I can perceive that his 
 eye is fixed on the main object ; not a number of parts, making 
 a crowd of littlenesses ; but a few well-selected features, amply 
 treated, and producing a grand whole. The handling of his 
 pictures is loose, with hardly any tendency to the vice of the 
 times, an affectation of spirit. The pencil is her organ of speech, 
 yet pure Art will never confound the means with the end. The 
 ostentation of a dashing pencil and a rough embossed touch, is as 
 opposite to legitimate spirit, in a picture, as a loud voice and 
 big words are to true courage, in a gentleman. The annual 
 visitants at Somerset-House, have frequently occasion to smile 
 at the bluster of a bragging brush, and the silly parade of a 
 fretwork surface. A picture painted in this ragged, boasting 
 method, may be justly likened to < a tale full of sound and fury, 
 signifying nothing.' 
 
 We see, in our intercourse with the world, that the dread of one 
 defect often produces an opposite excess. The fear of profusion 
 leads to parsimony, of remis^iess to rigour, of superstition to in- 
 fidelity. In the Arts this tendency is very obvious. Thus hard- 
 ness and extravagance are frequently followed by a want of deci- 
 sion and tameness ; an attention to painful minutiae by the omis- 
 sion of essentials ; a luxuriant, or scorched colouring by cold- 
 ness and sterility. We are told that his abhorrence of the mea- 
 ger, angular figures of the early Flemish and German Painters 
 impelled Rubens to the adoption of heavy forms : and it is 
 certain that the attempt to escape from the licentious handling 
 and incorrect outline of Boucher and ibis school, has driven 
 David and the Academicians of Paris, to dryness and servility. 
 
 The correct taste of Burns appears to revolt from a gaudy- 
 style. There is nothing cold in his colouring, although its cha- 
 racteristic is coolness. His shadows have a noble breadth and 
 force ; but, in some instances there is, perhaps, too much of a 
 sameness in their hue. It may be necessary to temper their 
 strength with sweetness. There is this distinction between same- 
 ness and uniformity of tone, that the one produces flatness and 
 poverty, the other repose and grandeur ; the first is effected by 
 the cheap expedient of a general colour, compounded on the 
 palette, the latter by the skilful subduing, or, to speak techni- 
 cally, the breaking of dilferent tints into union, on the canvas. 
 I would not have this promising Artist deprive his shadows of 
 their negative character, but their complexion might, in some 
 passages, perhaps, be improved by an economical introduction of 
 dark brown and genial olive tints. 
 
8 
 
 His pictures are the result of reflection, executed with evident 
 facility. He studies from nature, and he cannot too closely study 
 the effects of air and sunny vapour; not to render his skies less 
 bright, but of a less positive colour, more imperceptible in the 
 gradations, tenderer and lower in tone. We are never dazzled 
 by the brightness of Claude or Wilson. It steals with a mel- 
 lowed glow upon the spectator, through the harmonious expanse 
 of a pure atmosphere. Their splendour is more enchanting be- 
 cause thus softened, as the eye of Beauty glances with more pre- 
 vailing power through the delicate medium of a transparent veil. 
 
 The remarks which I have just made do not detract from his 
 general merit. They are confined to the subordinate parts of his 
 art; to practical objects which lie within his attainment. I have 
 noticed them merely to avoid the appearance of being partial. 
 You know what a risk is incurred by venturing to declare an 
 opinion in favour of a modern Artist, and especially of one not yet 
 known to the Public at large. The prejudice against our own 
 times is so strong, that he who does not notice, on such an occa- 
 sion as the present, something like defects where they exist, will 
 obtain little credit when he speaks of beauties. 
 
 In the higher range of his art, as a Landscape Painter, Burns 
 possesses. signal advantages. His conceptions are just ; his view 
 of nature^large ; his imagination vivid. I had a casual interview 
 with him at Liverpool about ten months ago. His person is slen- 
 der and below the middle stature. His dark eye and physiognomy 
 full of intelligence, are the just index of his mind. In a short 
 conversation, I thought I could perceive enough to convince me 
 that, to his fine taste and judgment, he adds all an Artist's laud- 
 able ambition of professional excellence. 
 
 Manner, imitation and indolence, are evils which all young- 
 Artists have to dread. If he can avoid these dangers, folloio 
 the lessons of common sense, and practise an honourable economy, 
 his success is certain. But whatever my hopes or wishes are, 
 and I confess that they are high, I am no prophet. The fairest 
 plant may droop for want of sunshine. The swift may loiter in 
 the course ; and the strong man slumber in the lap of idleness. 
 In the estimate of contemporary genius, we are permitted to 
 decide by what we witness. The possibilities of the future, are 
 wholly beyond our investigation. 
 
 Goodwin, whose landscapes in water-colours, were highly 
 approved of in the last Brook-street Exjbition, has been here 
 for some months. I had seen him half a dozen years ago ; and, 
 a few days after my arrival here, he obligingly invited me to 
 view some tinted landscapes, which he intended for the present 
 exhibition. Their excellence afforded me much gratification, 
 and, in your visit to the Rooms, you will judge, by them, that 
 
9 
 
 Ms improvement has been steadily progressive* He shewed me 
 some sketches of woodland scenery, coloured on the spot from 
 nature, and I was much pleased with their truth and spirit. The 
 leafing and trunks of the trees, the grounds and clouds, are cle- 
 verly defined. These studies possess the charm of much efieciw^ 
 with little trouble, and, like a short-hand note, they convey the 
 substance though not the details of the subject. I make this re- 
 mark on them as professed sketches ; for 1 am no friend to that sort 
 of slightness which displays blank spaces for breadth, and claims 
 approbation for neglects and crudities. The highest powers of 
 Genius are disgraced by hurry and carelessness. Pope could 
 not forbear censuring this fault in the Master whom he rever- 
 enced : 
 
 Ev'n copious Dryden wanted, or forgot, 
 The last, but greatest art, the art to blot. 
 It is certain, however, that the negligence of Dryden was less 
 his fault than his misfortune ; and, in the words of Shakespeare's 
 Apothecary, he might have pleaded that * his poverty, aud not 
 his will, consented :' but no neglect can be justly charged upon 
 Goodwin. His drawings are sought after, and well worth the 
 high prices at which they are sold, and his heart and soul 
 are honourably interested in performing his best, on whatever 
 his pencil is employed. Sir Joshua Reynold- declared that 
 he himself, constantly exerted all his powers in the pursuit of 
 excellence : but, if efforts are directed to give subordinate parts 
 superior consequence, the loss is worse than time thrown away. 
 The principle of selection in a local prospect implies that much, 
 of what is seen in nature, is to be modified in form and 
 colour, and all that is inessential to general truth, omitted. 
 This deserving Artist need not fear his ultimate success. His 
 diligence, modesty, and abilities, have introduced him to con- 
 nections of high respectability, capable of appreciating and 
 rewarding his merit. Nevertheless, it would be advisable for 
 him, to be less anxious in the last stage of his finished drawings. 
 The wish to leave nothing undone, or rather to perfect all we 
 undertake, when duly regulated, is the sure pledge of improve- 
 ment; and it is no small difficulty, for a mind intent on excellence, 
 to know when to lay down the pencil ; or to distinguish the 
 golden mean between what is too slight, and what is over- 
 finished. To proceed is easy, like Virgil's facilis descensus 
 Averno, but that which is excellent this moment, may by five 
 minutes' additional progress, be rendered the reverse. Then to 
 return ! * hoc opus, hie labor est.' Of this, every painter can 
 furnish sufficient examples, from his own practice. 
 
 You may probably remember, that when I had the pleasure 
 of viewing your collection of pictures, I made some remarks on 
 B 
 
10 
 
 the recent exhibitions, and particularly noticed the excellence 
 of some superior pictures, with a promise of my further remarks. 
 
 The merits of these, are still strongly impressed upon my 
 mind, at the end of a twelvemonth. Among others, I have 
 often mentioned, 6 Hector reproving Paris in the chamber of 
 Helen,' by Cooke ; the Helen, a charming model of Grecian 
 loveliness ; the Hector, a commanding figure, sedate and 
 majestic, cast in the muscular mould of a Homeric Hero ; 
 Paris, elegant and graceful, but like Angelica Kauffman's 
 males, more of a woman in man's apparel, than an effeminate 
 man. The light-heeled Phrygian, was not effeminate as a man, 
 but as a warrior. His manners were softened down, by the 
 blandishments of voluptuous passion, but his person, though 
 not powerful, ought to possess all that species of manly beauty 
 which might be supposed, the cause of Helen's passion, though 
 not an apology for her frailty. 
 
 Achilles lamenting over the dead body of Patrocles, painted by 
 a young Artist, whose name I do not just now recollect; the 
 dead body, correctly drawn; the disposition of Achilles, mas- 
 terly ; and parts of the composition, bear some resemblance, to 
 the mode in which Gavin Hamilton has treated the same 
 subject. It is remarkable, that in their general effect, neither 
 this nor the preceding picture betray, any features of the 
 school of Reynolds. They are coloured with spirit, but 
 they do not court the eye by seductive tones, or powerful 
 masses of light and shade. The Painters appear to have 
 aimed at success, by the superior instruments of historical 
 Art, truth of form, invention, character and expression. In 
 each composition, there is an epic dignity, highly honourable 
 to the British pencil. 
 
 The Judgment of Solomon, by Hilton. This picture, is 
 perhaps, a little too hard in the colouring : it wants more force 
 in the masses of shadow, and has some uncouth parts. In the 
 naked details of the figures, there appeared to me, something 
 like a too implicit following of the living model. But these 
 defects, which, perhaps, exist only in my supposition, are neaily 
 compensated for by freedom of outline, ample forms, action 
 well understood, strong natural expression, and a distribution of 
 groups, which excite, great hopes of the Artist's future pro- 
 gress. Practical skill, feeling, and mind, he possesses ; but the 
 jt Graces will not be won, without being wooedrrf*Some of the 
 landscapes, by the Miss Rein agles, are ir, the style of superior 
 Flemish composition ; others, designed with a wildness of 
 imagination and appropriate spirit of pencil, worthy of Sal- 
 vator, himself. Like that great Artist, the Genius of these 
 Sisters, appears eminently suited to subjects of desolate eleva- 
 
li 
 
 tion. They delight in the rude aspect of nature ; in mountain 
 passes and solitary glens, gloomy forests with dark streams, and 
 torrents tumbling over rocks and precipices. Their figures, are 
 adapted to the scenery ; travellers, bewildered and appalled by 
 the approach of night, or savage Banditti, roaming the wild for 
 prey. Perhaps, there never was a premium more richly me- 
 rited, than that, which the British Institution awarded to one 
 of their compositions. But this is a gifted Family ; and the 
 Sisters and Brothers, possess Genius by inheritance* In a hun- 
 dred years, their Father's paintings, will be valued at as high 
 prices, as the works of the old Masters, sell for in our time. 
 
 A large local prospect, (exhibited at Somerset-House), 
 with a broken tree across the fore-ground, painted by James 
 Ward. Vivid oppositions of colour, toned into a deep and 
 sparkling harmony ; the majestic march of clouds ; a vast 
 extent of distance, in admirable keeping ; middle and fore- 
 grounds designed with simplicity and a bold sweep of lines ; 
 characterize this noble picture. The two following, are also 
 painted by the same Artist : 
 
 A Lion, sharpening his claws on a Cork tree, in a wilderness ; 
 an extraordinary picture, which, in pencil and colouring, emu- 
 lates the power and glow of Titian. A team of Waggon 
 Horses, startled by thunder and lightning. The lurid tone of 
 light, breadth, stormy depth of shade, and grandeur of con- 
 ception, in this astonishing production, form a sort of era in 
 style, and justly place it at the head of this class of subjcets, 
 in the British School. 
 
 The danger of habitual imitation, is, in no instance, more 
 strongly exemplified, than in the progress of Ward. The 
 success of George Morland, influenced him, perhaps, with- 
 out his being himself conscious of the circumstance, to follow 
 that Artist s manner, for a long time. He painted similar 
 subjects, pigs, asses, straw-yards, cart horses, clowns, and their 
 children ; always with a degree of merit, and was thus made 
 known to the Public. About the time of Morland's decline, 
 he appears to have felt his own superior powers, and obeyed 
 their call. The vigour, with which he has since advanced, 
 augurs his still further advancement. When we compare the 
 tame choice, and following of nature, in his earlier manner, with 
 the energy, and occasionally, the near approach to sublimity, 
 in his present style, who can recognize a trace of the latter, in 
 the former? When I first saw the team of Horses startled by 
 thunder and lightning, I felt as if thrown back two centuries, 
 and involuntarily exclaimed to my friend, 4 not the school of 
 Morland — but the resurrection of Rubens.' 
 
12 
 
 I am compelled here to pass with a brief notice of its title, 
 the 4 stormy twilight ,' by Kavell, a composition before which, 
 I spent an hour each day, for eight days successively, with 
 unabated pleasure. 
 
 The extent, majesty, and elevation of Havell's Genius, 
 eminently qualify him for heroic landscape. The ordinary 
 aspect of the seasons, has no charm for him. He turns from the 
 level scene of familiar objects. He can paint them, for he has 
 painted them, successfully ; but they are not his choice. His 
 Imagination wings her boldest flights, in the visionary hours. 
 Evening, covering the mountains, and stretching her giant sha- 
 dows over the vallies ; Nature clad in mourning for the de- 
 parture of Day ; Morning, resting ' on cloud capt towers,' 
 or moving over the grey hills, at the early dawn of doubtful 
 light, are his favourite subjects. The effect of his lofty 
 scenery, is heightened by powerful depths of shadow and 
 undaunted oppositions of tint. The local colours, are as 
 true as those of Titian. Roused, by immediate contrast, 
 to their fiercest tone, and tamed by Science, to the mel- 
 lowest union, they gleam with the vivid* and sombre* fresh- 
 ness of reality upon the eye. In defining the expression 
 of passion in the human countenance, and in speaking of 
 the face of nature, the analogy is so strong, that we 
 commonly apply the same terms to both. We say, 1 a 
 smiling morning,' 6 a threatening day :' — 4 an angry evening :' 
 and as a shifting of hue, sudden paleness, or a flush of red in 
 the countenance, paint the internal disturbance of the mind ; 
 so the stern tone of tawny light, streaming in many of Ha- 
 vell's skies, is the presage of an approaching warfare in the 
 elements ; or an indication of the moment, when the struggle is 
 dying away. This choice of time, marks the superior mind of 
 the Artist ; for, the extreme violence of passion, or of storm, 
 is less impressive on canvas, than that mitigated degree of each, 
 which leaves something for the Spectator to imagine, and fills 
 his mind with an idea, beyond what is represented before him. 
 This is the true principle of design ; the soul, the grandeur of 
 effect. In attempting too much, Art, proportionally, lessens 
 her influence. In apparently limiting her sphere, she extends 
 her power. 
 
 In contemplating the Deluge, by Nicholas Poussin, and . 
 the landscape of the St. Peter's Martyrdom, by Titian, a 
 religious mind feels an impression of the Deity, similar to that 
 
 * * These apparently contradictory expressions, are understood by Painters, 
 founded in truth, and exemplified by the high authority of ' dark with excess 
 of lightf 
 
13 
 
 which we are sensible of, when wandering on a sea shore, or in 
 an expansive prospect. Then the Omnipotent Creator speaks 
 to us in his works, and we more than ever feel the consciousness 
 of our divine origin. The superior landscapes of Gaspar and 
 Rubens ; of Claude and Wilson ; the sublime scenery and 
 tremendous tones, of Francesco Mo la, awaken the same 
 exalted emotion. I have felt, 1 have cherished, these feelings 
 but, without hesitation, I must own, that I never felt a more 
 powerful impression from any landscape, than that which 
 I experienced in contemplating ' the stormy twilight^ by 
 Havell. 
 
 I would here gladly offer my remarks, on some other admi- 
 rable productions. But I must not trespass beyond my limits. 
 My mind is filled, with the excellence of Cristall's affecting 
 representation of a boat* pushing off to assist a vessel in distress ; 
 of Varley's classic composition, the ruins of an ancient city ; 
 of the RuYSDAEL-like solemnity, and harmonious stillness, of 
 Glover's mountain scenery in Wales, and of the exquisite 
 chastity of Barret's lovely style, his dawn, his morning, his 
 mid-day, his calm resplendent sun, setting upon the sea-shores, 
 and gilding the fishermen and vessels prepared, for the voyage of 
 the night. 
 
 There are some interesting features of resemblance, between the 
 aims of Havell andBARRET. Havell, pursues the sublime 
 by elevation; Barret, by extension; the former, by a lofty ho- 
 rizon, and a mountainous sweep of line, ascending amid the 
 the clouds, conducts the mind to the footstool of the Almighty ; 
 the latter, upon the shores of the sea, fills the soul with ideas 
 of illimitable space and power. The effect of Havell's sce- 
 nery, is accompanied with a sentiment of apprehension, allied to 
 terror. He exhibits Nature, clothed with the attributes of 
 power, but agitated, and as if about to manifest some extraor- 
 dinary exertion of her might. Barret represents Nature, 
 serene, smiling, and majestic ; in harmony with all the sur- 
 rounding Elements ; and reposing in the consciousness of universal 
 peace. Havell, sets before you a grand ideal Deity, whose very 
 $mile controls and awes you. Barret, introduces us to a chaste, 
 affecting, and beautiful Genius, upon whose lovely countenance, 
 we could gaze for ever with delight. If I were a Poet, desirous 
 for the moment of inspiration, I would visit the ' stormy twilight' 
 of Havell. Were I a Lover, who sought to mellow a grief, or 
 to calm a perturbation, I would watch the sun-set upon the sea 
 coast, of Barret, 
 
 * I was informed, that the Duke of Argyle purchased this admirable draw- 
 ing. The price which he paid, was one hundred guineas. 
 
14 
 
 Glover, possesses the talent of seizing upon an advantageous 
 feature, or fixing a fleeting beauty. His sphere is locality ; 
 but his choice is classic ; his eye acute, his mind replete with 
 science, and glowing with genial images. Like the industrious 
 Bee, he has wandered over the fields of Art, and enriched 
 himself with her treasures. Me has looked at Claude and 
 Gaspar ; at Ruysdael, Hobbima, and Waterloo; at 
 Berghem and Potter ; Cuyp and Adrian Vandeveld, 
 until he has felt their spirit ; and they have taught him to behold 
 Nature with their eyes. 
 
 This is the true mode for an Artist to study the old Masters ; 
 not to pilfer parts from them, but to endeavour to match their 
 treasures, with something sterling of his own ; not to steal their 
 thoughts, but to think like them. It was in this spirit, that 
 Raphael studied the Antique : and that Dr. Johnson poured 
 into his capacious mind, the learning of past ages, until he 
 rendered his own time and country illustrious by it s fruits. 
 
 He excels, in the representation of particular elfects, such as 
 mists sailing over the banks of rivers, and veiling a part of the 
 low lands in the middle grounds, without affecting the clearness 
 of the hills in the distance. He is equally successful, in 
 painting the dewy exhalations of morning, gilded by the sun, as 
 they rise and hover over marshy grounds. Of this style, the 
 view of a ruined Palace in Wales, and another view, with a 
 sort of waoden bridge, of which I do not recollect the name, 
 were exquisite specimens. They were exhibited in Bond-street, 
 last year. 
 
 There is a grace and sweetness in whatever he does. Although 
 his handling is apparently minute, his attention is always fixed 
 on the general effect, and what he accomplishes, is accomplished 
 with facility. He is charged with manner^ but, I think, idly; 
 because, the charge does not apply to him, more than to others ; 
 and because, his method of handling is essential to the delicacy 
 of his ideas. He has a peculiar mode of expressing his 
 thoughts with his pencil ; but a similar habit, was common to 
 each of the old Masters, and it is also to be found in the 
 Moderns. The paintings of Lawrence, Shee,* Hopner, 
 
 * There never was a more happy distinction between manner and style, than 
 in two whole length portraits of MRS. Hope in Somerset House, last year The 
 one was painted by SHEE; the other by a French Artist at Paris (as I was in- 
 formed.) A union of courtly elegance and natural grace, an unaffected sim- 
 plicity in the attitude, drapery disposed with becoming taste, and a back ground 
 enriched with the combinations of a classic fancy, immediately fixed the 
 judicious eye upon Sh EE's Portrait. There was an elastic flow in the outline. 
 The figure was finely drawn, and the roundness of the arms made out with sin- 
 gular beauty. To these merits were added, the charms of dignified expression 
 and character j a firm execution j a vigorous body of colour, with a delicate 
 
15 
 
 Owen, and, all of our superior Artists, have each distinguishing 
 traits in the execution ; and I know the style of Glover, from 
 that of Barret, Varley and Havell, only, in the same degree 
 that I distinguish the blank verse of Akenside or Cowper, 
 from the blank verse of Thomson or Milton. The reflection of 
 his powers in his able pupil, Holworthy, is as honourable to 
 the Master and Scholar, as the shining progress of Turner, (not 
 the R. A ) is to that Artist and Varley, his Preceptor. 
 
 Few can give so many charms to a close view, as 
 Glover, but his powers are not limited: they expand with 
 the theatre before him. In the romantic view of the Parson's 
 bridge, his mind rose to the elevation of the scenery around 
 him. The breadth of transparent shadow ; the gradual transi- 
 tion from warm verdure on the base of the near mountains, 
 to cool aerial hues, as their lofty summits tower in the upper 
 regions; the chastity and union of the colouring; the repose 
 and grandeur of the general effect ; altogether place this draw- 
 ing, among the first order of local representations. I never 
 think of it, but with one opinion; allow Glover a choice 
 of nature in his own class of subjects, and, if he will but 
 grant himself due time for a happy choice, he may contend for 
 the prize of merit, with the proudest of his Rivals. 
 
 I have already remarked, that I am here, unwillingly re- 
 strained by my limits. I feel this restraint less sensibly, as I 
 have elsewhere noted for publication, my reflections on these, 
 and many superior productions by other Artists, who are an 
 honour to the British School. I must now pass them in silence, 
 to recall your recollection to my former observations, on the 
 excellence of a family conversation, then in the British Insti- 
 tution. It was, if I remember right, named in the catalogue, 
 * a visit to the Grandmother ;' and I acquainted you, that I had 
 not, then, ever seen the Painter, 
 
 You will, perhaps, be surprised to learn, that an Artist of 
 so much acknowledged merit, can devise any opportunity, of 
 absence from the capital. I find, however, that he has been a 
 good deal employed here of late, and I am informed, by some 
 
 richness in the carnations, and a general effect so bright, so forcible and mel- 
 low in tone, that were I about to point out a study for a young Painter, I would 
 choose this Portrait of MRS Hope ; were I a Helen, ambitious of perpetuating 
 the beauty of my face and person, I would employ Shee to be my Painter. 
 
 The other portrait of Mrs. Hope, was French, in air, attitude, and execution. 
 It was stiff and studied; tame and elaborate; tawdry and glaring; without 
 tenderness or truth ; without ma<s, or effect, or ch Tacter It hung in an angle, 
 close to Sh e e's noble picture, and was as opposite to the latter in place, as it was 
 itself, in opposition to Nature. I never saw a more precious piece of still life. It 
 wa8 as smooth and glittering as a pendent icicle, and as cold. 
 
16 
 
 gentlemen 'of the Town, that he is urged to make it his residence. 
 You may judge from this, that his professional efforts here, 
 have met with a very flattering reception. 
 
 Uis portraits unite a pleasing resemblance, with an air of easy 
 gentility. The attitudes, dispositions, and introduction of ac- 
 cessories, evince much reflection, taste and science. I have 
 not seen any of his whole lengths, but his heads are correctly 
 drawn and agreeably coloured, with healthy carnations, of a 
 sanguine local colour, pearly semi-tints and ruddy shades. His 
 pencil is firm, without any affectation of 4 bravura.' The eye 
 is at once impressed, with the pleasing union of his pictures . It is 
 not a harmony produced by hazarding the clash of hostile co- 
 lours, and subduing them into union. He rarely ventures, to 
 give additional brilliancy to his warm masses, by the opposition 
 of cool colours. The emerald green, the vivid azure, the deep 
 blue, and purple, those cold but precious tints, which when 
 thrown by the master-hand of Giorgione, into one scale, 
 made the flesh breathe and palpitate in the other, are not often 
 introduced, as a counterpoise, on his canvas. 
 
 You will perceive that his system, is the simple harmony of 
 assimilating tints: and he possesses the ability, to avail himself 
 of its advantages, and escape its defects, His pictures exhibit 
 richness, depth, and mellowness, in a high degree. This success, 
 proves his thorough knowledge of effect ; for it is certain, that, 
 unless his system be combined With a powerful clairo-scuro, 
 to supply by force of light and shadow, what is wanting, in 
 variety of colour, it is liable to monotony. Notwithstanding 
 this, the greatest Colourists have adopted it, more especially in 
 chamber subjects. Titian and his scholars, have occasionally 
 resorted to it ; perhaps as a variation from the style of their 
 compositions, represented in the open country, w here the sky 
 and distant landscape, formed a natural balance Of cool colours. 
 Of the principle of simple union to which I advert, if my re- 
 collection of a cursory view be not erroneous, the painting of 
 the Woman taken in Adultery, now in the parlour at Dukinfield, 
 is a golden example. In this remark I do not refer to character 
 or composition ; and I have no clear remembrance whether the re- 
 presentation is a close or an open scene. 
 
 Teniers, the celebrated Flemish Painter, was one, who car- 
 ried the simple union of cool colours to the highest perfection ; and 
 the value set upon his pictures, is, in a great measure, supposed 
 to be founded on the fascination of their silvery style. 
 
 There is nothing surprising in the circumstance of his being so 
 universal a favourite. He was natural in a class of subjects, 
 where, notwithstanding all the affected grimace of false refinement, 
 a natural choice, or following of nature, was, not merely ad- 
 
17 
 
 miss*ble, but right reason. There is a simplicity in the action 
 of his figures, in his grouping, composition, light and shadow, 
 which corresponds with the simplicity of his subjects ; and the 
 fund of character and rustic revelry, in his pictures, proves him 
 to have intimately studied, all the pleasures and pursuits, the 
 toils and festivities of Village life. 
 
 There is a transparent charm in his tints, and a delicious 
 mellowness in his cool effects, which, if I may use the expres- 
 sion, give to coolness a summer aspect. The vivacity of his 
 pencil, was not obtained by any sacrifice of truth. It was ac* 
 companied by a felicity of touch, in the last finishing of his 
 pictures, which rarely failed, to decide the character of the 
 object, with superior correctness and spirit. Sometimes he 
 calls in an opposition of colours ; and the sun gleams, partially, 
 on the middle and fore-grounds of his landscape, pointing the 
 village spire with gold, in lively contrast to the shadowy blue 
 of his distance, and tender azure of his sky. 
 
 Rembrandt observed the principle of simpleunion, in every 
 period of his practice. The magic of his effect, the single 
 mass of light, to which all others are sacrificed, owes its 
 brilliancy to the force and gradation of one tone of colour, and 
 one tone of shadow, compounded of warm, transparent tints. 
 
 From these examples, you may judge, that the Painter of 
 6 a visit to the Grandmother,' has great authorities, in favour 
 of his system of colouring. You will also perceive, that, in 
 discriminating his system, I merely sought to avoid general 
 terms, which appear to imply much, but convey no distinct 
 meaning. I thought it right to place his merits, on their legi- 
 timate basis. The Portrait of Mr. Dawson, the celebrated 
 Mathematician, is a fine specimen of this Artist's abilities ; and 
 I suspect, that it will not be easy for the highest degree of 
 provincial encouragement, to retain a man of so much merit, 
 for any long period, from the Capital. 
 
 There are some other Artists here, of whose merits, I cannot 
 give you any distinct notion ; as I have not seen their works. 
 I must, therefore, be contented to speak from report ; and to 
 pass, with the brevity of a catalogue, over the names of 
 Faulkner, a miniature Painter of reputation; M'Morland 
 and Walton, who give instructions in drawing; the former, 
 a native of Scotland, a man of theoretical science, general good 
 sense, and respectability ; the latter, esteemed for blameless 
 manners, and his successful attention to his pupils. I have 
 heard a laudable trait of this gentleman's character, from one 
 of his brother Artists ; ' he/isvery ready to do justice to the 
 merits of others, and very A (MB^in speaking of his own.' m*w6 
 
 An old Provincial Artist, of good natural abilities, ha* 
 C 
 
13 
 
 resided here some years. He paints portraits, shippings 
 village sports, and rustic festivals, in an original style ; but I 
 fear, at very inadequate prices. Like Cranch of Frome, he 
 possesses an eye to ordinary life, and, with much better co- 
 louring, a considerable stock of whimsical fancy. I saw, in 
 Halifax, some years ago, a Country Fair, painted by this 
 Artist, with a large crowd running from a Bull, and a group of 
 tumblers, showmen, dancing dogs, and dancing girls in men's 
 clothes, on a stage. I confess, that I was surprised at the vein 
 of humour and natural expression, in many of the figures, and 
 the spirited action of others. There was even a degree of 
 coquetish, theatrical elegance, in the girls, which was very 
 characteristic. It was painted with a neat but ready pencil, a 
 degree of warmth in the colouring, and something of Flemish 
 finish and transparency, in the effect. The picture was large, 
 and contained a multitude of figures ; in which, I found much 
 to please and entertain me ; yet, according to my information, 
 it was painted for ten pounds ! 
 
 In the same apartment, hung two small oval pictures, good 
 resemblances of the Master and Mistress of the family, painted 
 slightly, with clean flesh tints, and no unpleasing fluency of 
 brush. These, I was informed, were ' done' by him, some 
 years ago, for half-a-guinea each ! With such prices, a large 
 family, an occasional turn for methodism, a modest appearance, 
 and some unbending notions, you may judge that this worthy 
 man, has not made a very large fortune, by his pencil. When I 
 touch upon his merits here, some Amateurs stare, as if I spoke 
 an unknown language, But there is, generally, a prejudice 
 against a Provincial Artist, who vegetates upon one spot, let 
 his merit be what it may. This Artist is, however, more fully 
 employed and deservedly better paid now, than heretofore. 
 Every thing which I have seen from his hand, is indicative of 
 abilities; but of abilities cramped in their growth, by the 
 pressure of unfavourable circumstances. He has, no doubt, 
 worked according to his payment, but, when I compare his 
 pictures with their prices, their merit is great indeed. If 
 he allowed himself more time to finish his pictures, and 
 charged a much higher price, which they are certainly worth, 
 it would be only doing justice to his own capacity. I have not 
 seen him, but I understand, that he is a man of excellent moral 
 character, close application, and inoffensive manners. Of his 
 Confidence in his own powers, I have heard a recent instance ; 
 on his return from London, being asked what he thought of 
 Wilkie s works, he answered^ * O very well, but I can 
 paint better myself.' 
 
19 
 
 Fielding is here; a veteran Artist, whose old heads, in 
 the mannei of Denner, are purchased at high prices, by the 
 admirers of that Master. As you are better acquainted with 
 his works than I am, I shall only notice, that, at a very ad- 
 vanced age, he possesses sufficient health and spirits to continue 
 his practice, with assiduity. I have never seen him, but I give 
 you this, on the report of a gentleman, who saw him at his 
 easel yesterday. He has a son, a young Artist of great merit, 
 who gives instructions, as a Drawing Master, in Liverpool. 
 I do not know him, but I saw in the house of Mr. Harrison, 
 a Merchant, of that town, among other clever drawings, by 
 young Fielding, a moonlight view of Melross Abbey, from 
 Walter Scott's Marmion, in which there was a very lovely 
 stillness and solemnity. 
 
 Many of Wright of Derby's superior Pictures, are in 
 this town and neighbourhood ; and, whatever cause that Artist 
 had, to complain of neglect in the Capital, his friends have 
 reason to be proud of the estimation, in which his works are 
 held here. 1 The dead Soldier,' which is considered one of his 
 most affecting, and best coloured incidents, is at Mayfield, the 
 residence of John LeiGh Philips, Esq., near this place. 
 The composition is well known, by Mr. Heath's print; in 
 which, every part of the figures, does honour to the Engraver. 
 The child's head and the mother's bosom, are so exquisitely 
 mellow and delicate, that they are entitled to the honour of 
 classing in the same folio, w ith one of the most brilliant speci- 
 mens of graphic beauty, the Wife and Child of Vandyck, by 
 Bartolozzi. I confess, however, that, when the print was 
 first published, I was of opinion, there was a want of keeping 
 in the sky and back-ground ; and the moment I looked up at 
 the painting, the same thought recurred to me, with a sort of 
 confirmation. On mentioning my opinion, I was informed, that 
 the back-ground was etched and finished by another Artist ; 
 and, no doubt, time has contributed to the present superior union 
 of the picture. 
 
 Mr. Philips, the gentleman whom I have recently men- 
 tioned, was an intimate friend of Mr. Wright; and, from 
 his conversation, I have learned some anecdotes of the Artist, 
 which I shall communicate to you, as illustrative of his cha- 
 racter and practice. Wright had been, many years, ill of 
 the liver complaint, which occasioned his death ; and, when 
 the progress of his disorder, rendered him averse from the 
 fatigue of working on large pictures, he painted small land- 
 scapes, which he generally finished in two days; that is, working 
 at his ease, only a few hours, each day. His price, for these 
 small landscapes, was ten guineas, and they were purchased, 
 
20 
 
 generally, as fast as he painted them. His circumstances were, 
 not only easy, but affluent. He kept a handsome table, at 
 which, without ostentation or profusion, he was happy to enjoy 
 the company of his private friends ; and at his decease, he left 
 a property of from ten to twelve thousand pounds. 
 
 Mr. Philips, has, with some of his larger and capital land- 
 scapes, a few of the smaller class, painted in two days, and, 
 then, priced at ten guineas. According to the gradual rise of 
 Wright's reputation, since his death, they would now proba- 
 bly sell for treble that sum. It appears to me, that they were 
 executed by a very simple process, and with a very few tints. 
 The shadows of the fore-ground, the middle-grounds, and dis- 
 tances, were principally painted of one warm, brown hue, only 
 rendered more faint in the aerial gradations ; and, so far, these 
 parts have a strong resemblance to the shadows in Both's 
 pictures. The principle light is in the sky ; and the sky, ge- 
 nerally, forms one unclouded breadth, of a low, creamy tone, 
 not unlike the skies, in some of Cuyp's smaller landscapes ; the 
 effect is very fascinating. 
 
 After I had looked at two of these small pictures, it struck 
 me, that they were painted from a fixed arrangement of tints 
 on the palette, rising, as it were, numerically from one, two, 
 three, &c. according to their different degrees of force, so that 
 the Artist had little more to do than to transfer, at once, any 
 particular colour to its proper place upon the canvas. I do not 
 mean to imply, that the Palette is set, at random, by other 
 Artists, but, what I saw, induced me to conclude, that Wrigbt 
 must have paid, more than common attention, to the mechanical 
 part of his art ; and particularly, to the setting of his palette. 
 In reply to this observation, Mr. Philips informed me, that 
 he had heard Wright say, 4 on the setting of the palette, de- 
 pended the painting of the picture.' 
 
 There was a singular coincidence, between my sudden idea of 
 a numerical scale of tints, and the real fact of Wright's 
 practice ; for, after I had mentioned it, the same gentleman 
 further informed me, that on one occasion, when the Artist had 
 expatiated largely, on the advantages of a scale of tints ; a 
 friend jocosely answered, that he would practise the plan in 
 water colours, by mixing tints in a set of numbered teapots, to 
 pour out drawings, to his Amateur friends, as an agreeable 
 desert, after a more substantial entertainment. 
 
 In almost all the landscapes which I have seen, he has painted 
 with little more than general hues, and, in his day-light scenes, 
 to which I advert, he rarely enters into the detail of local 
 colours. He was, perhaps, diverted by his other studies from 
 this part of his Art, for moon-lights, torch, and fire-lights, 
 
21 
 
 were his favourite subjects ; and, in these particular effects, Ue 
 is unrivalled. 
 
 Wright, like Sir Joshua Reynolds, was fond of trying 
 experiments in colouring. He at one time, painted a number of 
 portraits, with flesh tints, compounded of some sort of newly 
 invented yellow, leak, white, &c. There was a delicate warmth 
 in the effect, when painted ; but in a few months, the other 
 colours were absorbed, and the yellow only remained. This 
 was an extreme mortification to the Artist, as he had no mode of 
 stopping the progress of this jaundice ; and was under the ne- 
 cessity of painting fresh portraits for his Sitters. 
 
 He was intimate with Wilson, whose abilities he justly 
 estimated ; and, whenever he was in London, he rarely failed 
 to visit his great, but amicable Rival. In conversing together, 
 familiarly, one day, upon the subject of their Art, Wright 
 proposed to exchange one of his pictures for one of Wilson's. 
 The latter assented, with the easy consciousness of his own par- 
 ticular excellence, as distinguished from the particular excel- 
 lence of his friend ; ' with all my heart, Wright — I'll give 
 you air, and you'll give me fire.' 
 
 The above unquestionable anecdote is important, as it shows 
 that Wilson acknowledged the superior power of Wright, 
 in fire-light subjects : but was of opinion he wanted aerial 
 effect, in his day-light scenery. This latter opinion, however, 
 can be considered only comparatively ; that he thought Wright 
 did not paint the effects of air with the same degree of excellence 
 as he, himself, did ; and it is known, that, in aerial effect, Wil- 
 son considered himself above every Rival. 
 
 The very proposal may be supposed to imply on the part of 
 Wright, an ingenuous acknowledgement of Wilson's su- 
 periority in this particular. I have never heard that Wilson 
 imitated Wright; but we know that Wright avowedly- 
 imitated Wilson ; and, in such instances, reached his glow and 
 aerial effect, to admiration* There is one of his smaller land- 
 scapes, in this style, now in the possession of F. D. Astley, 
 Esq,, at Dukinfield ; painted with a sweetness of pencil which, in 
 pictures of a confined size, Wilson occasionally wanted. In 
 his small landscapes, the touch, of the latter Artist, is often as 
 large and full of colour, as in his great compositions : in these, 
 his pencil has a conscious power and decided character, above 
 all commendation. 
 
 It appears to me ; from a view of Wright's various works, 
 as a portrait painter, a painter of history, and of landscape, 
 that his mind was of a wider compass ; that is, it possessed a 
 power in more departments of Art, than that of Wilson ; but 
 Wilson, in his peculiar province, as a Landscape Painter, 
 
took a more elevated and broader view of Nature, in her 
 general character. Wright, in particular effects, surpassed 
 Wilson. Wilson, in general effects, surpassed Wright. 
 The latter meditated more, reduced ever}' part of his practice 
 to fixed principles ; and accumulated materials, diligently, for 
 whatever he undertook. In his best pictures, I think that I see 
 his Spirit engaged, like a noble animal lashing its sides, and 
 rousing every power to the utmost exertion. 
 
 His portrait, taken by himself when a young Man, is now in 
 the possession of Mr. Philips. It is drawn on a warm, slate- 
 coloured paper, in black and white ; the shadows being laid in 
 with a stump, and firmly determined with touches of the chalks, 
 in the last finishing. 1 have seen some heads drawn by Piaz- 
 zetta, in the same stjle, but none superior. In mellowness 
 and breadth, it nearly resembles the portraits drawn by Carlo 
 Vanloo's distinguished pupil, the elder West, who, to the 
 Frenchman's masterly handling of the chalks, added a delicate 
 purity, incompatible with Vesprit of the Parisian Academy. 
 
 I lately saw in the possession of the Kev. Mr. Y ATESof 
 Liverpool, the portrait of a Lady, firmly drawn and painted 
 by Wright, with strength, mellowness and nature. In style, 
 it resembled a portrait of his father, which Sir Robert Darcy 
 Hildyard, shewed me, in the Parlour at Sudbury, painted 
 by Mr. Dance, the Academician. This branch of Art is 
 now carried to a very high, if not the highest, degree of perfec- 
 tion, but^WaiGHT's portraits differ from many, of the present 
 day, in this, that his rest upon a sound basis of truth, without 
 any richness of tone ; and the latter have richness of tone, 
 without any solid truth to rest upon. 
 
 In the painting of a Boy and Girl with a bladder, which is in 
 this town, there is no brightness of colouring, -but there is a fine 
 breadth of silvery middle-tint, a roundness, and chastity of tone, 
 which leave you no time to think upon the choice of subject. 
 
 His moonlights have a grandeur, which we look in vain for, 
 in the same subjects by V anberneer. There is a stillness, 
 and, if I may use the expression, ' a darkness visible,' in the 
 Flemish Artist's moonlights, which are wonderfully beautiful. 
 But, like Elsheimer, he painted the ebon character of iNight; 
 and his skies want the flood of visionary twilight, the silver 
 glory, which streams over the skies of Wright. In this charm 
 W'rjght had no successful competitor, in his own time, but 
 Vernet ; and, if that admirable Artist, sometimes, equals him 
 in the majesty of midnight ; he is confessedly inferior, in the 
 effect of candlelight, conflagration, and volcanic eruption. 
 
 Wright produced an extraordinary grandeur, by the com- 
 bined eiiect of moon and fire-light. A subject of this class, a 
 
23 
 
 cottage on fire, at midnight, is in the possession of the gentle- 
 man, in this town, who had the taste and spirit to encourage the 
 rising genius of Burns, the Artist. The picture may be justly 
 considered one of his very successful productions. The contrast 
 of the cold, sullen darkness of night, with the terrific glare and 
 rich reflection of the flames, on the surrounding objects, is full 
 of awful beauty. From having witnessed some tremendous 
 fires, I can form a judgment of such spectacles ; and I have 
 seen similar subjects, painted by Vander Poel, a Fleming of 
 great merit, but this is far superior, in design and general power 
 of impression. 
 
 In the eruption of Vesuvius, viewed by moonlight, from the 
 shore of Posilippo, there is a sublimity, of which no person 
 can form a conception, who has not seen the picture. 
 
 He repeated this subject frequently ; and, in painting the 
 lava, did not wholly depend upon the effect of colour. On the 
 fore-grounds, formed by the desolated vineyards, near the base 
 of the mountain, he represented it, with a body of paint so 
 thick, that it appears to have been laid on in a heap, with the 
 palette-knife ; and worked over with, perhaps, the pencil-stick, 
 or some other implement. In some parts, the lava is still 
 flowing; and, in others, with masses of cinders scattered upon 
 it, just after it has ceased to move. 
 
 I have seen an eruption, of Vesuvius, painted by Vernet; 
 and although in the effect of air, sun and vapour, that Artist 
 frequently rivals the truth and delicacy of Claude ; yet in the 
 subject to which I advert, his selection of view and general 
 effect, appeared tome inferior to Wright's. De La Croix, 
 Vernet's favourite Pupil, has also fallen below Wright in 
 this subject. 
 
 After Mr. Wright's death, memoirs of his life, with an ac- 
 count of his principal pictures, were published in the monthly 
 magazine for October, 1797, by Mr. Philips, the gentleman 
 whom I have already mentioned. The critical acumen, 
 with which the article is written, is rendered more interesting, 
 by the honourable feelings of the Writer; and, as every well- 
 written biographical sketch ought to furnish a whole length 
 portrait, it gives you the Man, his person and mind, his habits, 
 temper, and professional pursuits. 
 
 Wilson also, originally, practised portrait painting; and 
 followed that profession, for many years. If appears, therefore, 
 that he commenced his studies with the *noblest object the || human 
 
 * That is, the naked figure , the great basis of Art 
 
 j| This is founded on a supposition that Wtlson studied the naked figure, and 
 \hccasts from the antique statu/es, asmuch, or aslittle, as Sik Joshua Reynolds, 
 and the other Portrait Painters of that day. I have no where met with any 
 
24* 
 
 figure j but why he abandoned that noble study ; whether 
 through conscious incapacity, or want of encouragement, we 
 are not directly informed: that it was not the latter, is pretty 
 certain, for in his time, a good portrait painter never wanted 
 encouragement in this country, that it was the former, may be 
 fairly surmised, from this fact ; the figures, which he painted 
 in his landscapes, were so indifferent, that he frequently em- 
 ployed other Artists to paint figures for him. Claude was 
 forced to the same expedient, but Claude did not commence 
 with studying the human figure. However, passing from con- 
 jecture to fact, from the motive to the change, if we affirm 
 that Wright, Mortimer, and Reynolds rose from Portrait 
 Painting to history, by what term are we to define the passage 
 of Wilson, from portrait to landscape painting? Are we to 
 term it a rise or a descent ? A proof of weakness or of capa- 
 city ? — This is a consideration, which has never been before 
 duly weighed.; but which is of no small importance, in our 
 unprejudiced estimate of this great Artist's general powers. 
 
 I have already remarked, that his genius, being confined to 
 landscape painting, was, in a general view, neither so copious, 
 nor so versatile, as that of Wright; who painted portraits 
 successfully, and historical subjects with great excellence, apart, 
 from his acknowledged merit as a Landscape Painter. I shall 
 now venture to offer a few remarks on Wilson, as a Landscape 
 Painter, in that province of Art, where he gained so high, and 
 so deserved a reputation. 
 
 It does not appear to me, that he was so attentive in amassing 
 materials, as Wright. But, in the fields of Art, it is certain 
 that the fruit does not, at all times, abound in proportion to 
 the labour. Wilson's pictures have this charm, that they 
 appear to have been effected without toil or prior study, by a 
 
 correct account of Wi r.sov. He has not had, like Wr r ght, the advantage of 
 a faithful Biographer, to narrate his prof essional progress to Posterity. But I 
 have heard it affirmed, and I have somewhere read, that he studied under 
 Hudson, at the same timewith Reynolds, Wright and Mortimur, Ido 
 not know how far the account is true or not ; and I have had no opportunity 
 of forming a judgment of his portraits, as I never met with one, or with any 
 Person who had been moie fortunate. Barry, who was an ethusiastic admirer 
 of Wilson's landscapes, in his vague account of that Artist, declares that 
 the 'mediocrity' of his portraits ' afforded no luminous hope of excellence.* 
 Barry would certainly not have put this report of others upon lasting record, in 
 the Painter's Dictionary, if he did not conceive it to be true ; or if he himself 
 had ever metwith any of Wilson's portraits, to justiiy a more favourable 
 conclusion. 
 
 Fuseli gives a decided opinion on Wilson's figures — ' Figures, it is diffi- 
 cult to say, which of the two introduced or handled with greater infelicity ; 
 treated by Claude or Wilson, St. Ursula with her Virgins, and Mkeas 
 landing ; Niobk with her Family, or Clyx drawn on the shore, have en equal 
 claim on our indifference or mirth* 
 
25 
 
 single movement of his mind. I do not mean to imply, that 
 this was the case$ or that he did not study, but that he had the 
 rare talent of so completely veiling his efforts, that in contem- 
 plating his best pictures, we forget the Painter. 
 
 In the pictures, on which he exerted himself, he manifested a 
 very superior power ; but it appears to me, that his mind was 
 not always on the stretch ; either he was naturally indolent ; or, 
 disgusted with the bad taste of the public, which gave a prefer- 
 ence to the Smiths of Chichester, he occasionally relaxed his 
 exertions. In whatever I have seen of Wright's painting, he 
 appears to have offered the best, which his mind could afford at 
 the moment. On the contrary, I have seen many, of Wilson's 
 smaller pictures, of ordinary materials, and which had little to 
 recommend them, but the charms of his colour and the vivacity 
 pf his pencil. 
 
 That an Artist, who felt neglected i and his best works dis- 
 regarded or condemned, should occasionally become supine, 
 and retort neglect upon the Public, by painting with less exer- 
 tion of mind and pencil, cannot be deemed very improbable. 
 Unless contemporary accounts be utterly false, Wilson was, 
 frequently, under the necessity of taking his small pictures to 
 particular Brokers, and selling them, for whatever trifling sum 
 he could procure. His large pictures were often sent, fresh 
 from the Easel, to the same markets. There is a person, now 
 living in St. James's Parish, London, of whom it is said, that 
 being hard pressed, one day, by Wilson, to give a small sum 
 for one of his pictures, he at length, led the Artist up to the 
 attic story, and opening a door, pointed to a pile of landscapes 
 against a wall, saying, ' Why, lookee, Dick ; you know I 
 wish to oblige you ; but, see, there's all the stock, I paid you 
 for, these three years !' — It is generally believed, that some 
 of the pictures, thus gladly parted with for a few pounds, have 
 since sold for hundreds. 
 
 Lionardo da Vinci used to design heads and figures, from 
 spots upon discoloured walls, and appearances in the fire. 
 Chatelain drew the rocks, in his landscapes, from lumps of 
 coal, which he arranged on the table before him. Gainsbo- 
 rough modelled a landscape of moss, clay, stones, and tin, 
 from which he fancied that he derived assistance. When Wilson 
 was painting the rocks and landscape of the Ceyx and Alcyone, 
 he consulted the broken surface and rich hues, of a large decayed 
 cheese, for ideas of form and colour. This anecdote I received 
 from Mr. Sykes, an Artist of merit, who now lives, beloved 
 and respected, in York ; and who, forty years ago, painted 
 pleasing portraits, in miniature and oil ; and small conversa- 
 tions, composed with much elegance of fancy. 
 
• . ... 
 
 In what is called the learning of his Art, architectural intro- 
 ductions, ancient ruins, and classic embellishments, he is sur- 
 passed by Gaspar and Nicolo Poussin, by Grimaldi 
 Bolognese, the Caracci, Domenichino, and by Claude. 
 But this circumstance, is no proof of natural inferiority in 
 Wilson. The majority of these Artists began to acquire that 
 species of knowledge early, and they continued their acquisi- 
 tions through the whole of their course. They lived upon 
 classic ground, among a People, who loved Art, and honoured 
 its Professors ; and wherever they turned, the fairest remains 
 of Grecian and Roman Art, met their eyes. Urns, and columns, 
 and statues, ruined temples, theatres and other public edifices, 
 the noblest monuments of ancient Architecture, invited them 
 to study, and furnished the most splendid materials of success. 
 
 Contemplating such objects continually, designing from them, 
 in different views, and under every effect of light and shadow, 
 they every hour acquired a higher sense of the highest order of 
 forms, or, in the school-boy's phrase, got them off by heart, and 
 had them ready, at all times, to pour upon the canvas in the 
 moment of composition. 
 
 If, in the celebrated passage from Shakespeare, we take 
 away 
 
 4 the cloud-capt towers, 
 
 * The gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples,' 
 by so doing, we strip 
 
 * The great globe itself,' 
 
 of its grandeur, and the description loses its elevation. In the 
 higher class of Landscape, the effect of Architectural pomp, is 
 precisely the same. Remove the ruined temples, palaces, and 
 columns ; and you strip the scene of its most solemn and imposing 
 feature. You exhibit a naked Nature, which however wild or 
 grand, will have lost its chief power over the heart. Deprive 
 Varley and Havell of their buildings, and you take the 
 crown from the brow of Majesty. Let a person of taste examine 
 the grandest landscapes of Nicolo Poussin, or any of the 
 Masters already mentioned, and he will find that like Shakes- 
 peare's ' great globe,' — they owe a main portion of their 
 imposing loftiness to the buildings, with which they are de- 
 corated. 
 
 Wilson did not enjoy any of these * early advantages, he 
 had the misfortune to be born in England, at a period, when 
 
 * It appears that this Artist's youth was passed in an obscurity so great, that 
 although, he hasnow been dead, little more than one fourth of a century, his 
 early history is already left to conjecture. Many have lamented that Reyjsolds 
 had not an abler Master than Hudson > but we have no certainty that Wilson 
 
27 
 
 Art was little understood, and less encouraged. His early 
 studies, as a Portrait Painter, were unfavourable to his ultimate 
 choice. To the disgrace of his country, it was reserved for the 
 liberality of two foreigners, Zuccarelli and Vernet, to 
 develop his talents, and to raise him into whatever share of 
 public notice he enjoyed. It is admitted that he commenced 
 his career as a Landscape Painter comparatively late ; and, 
 probably, his architectural studies followed, still later, not until 
 they first became necessary for the embellishment of his 
 compositions. 
 
 The eye, which, with an intuitive power, reflected the hues of 
 the rainbow, and the grandeur of nature, could not, by intuition, 
 become acquainted with artificial forms. His visit to Italy 
 was of short duration, but it is fair to suppose that he felt the 
 august spectacle, which Rome, and the surrounding country, 
 jpresent to an Artist, as forcibly as any of the great Landscape 
 Painters. 
 
 That he industriously studied the images of grandeur around 
 him is equally certain. All his works at that period, and, 
 subsequent, prove his acquirements. But, in the short residence 
 of two or three years, it was impossible that he could profit as 
 amply as Artists who had passed their whole lives surrounded 
 by those superior advantages. 
 
 I do not mean to imply that Wilson was poor in the species 
 of knowledge of which 1 speak. His superior pictures, as I 
 have recently observed, establish the contrary fact. It however, 
 appears to me, that his mind was not so abundantly stored with 
 the images, or forms of Art, as it was with grand impressions of 
 Nature. I do not think that his stock of the former was always 
 w ithin his reach ; or that he could supply himself from it, with 
 sufficient promptitude, in the moment of invention. On such 
 occasions he gave you the rich, the grand or sublime views of 
 nature, which he could command with facility, but those images, 
 or forms of Art, which he could not design extempore, he dis- 
 pensed with. There is, obviously, a wide difference between 
 the accomplished Scholar, who, from early discipline, has the 
 classics in his head ; and the Man of genius, who, from the 
 
 had ever any Master; nor have we any date to fix the commencement of his 
 practice as a Landscape Painter Barry, with a warm heart, has panegyrized 
 his independent spirit and his genius. Fuseli, with sounder criticism, has 
 defined his great powers, but neither have thrown a light upon h<s professional 
 career. Perhaps no country is so negligent of its fame as Britain. Wright 
 was, in the first instance, refused admission into the Academy. Since his 
 death, two editions, of Pilki ngton's Dictionary of Painters, have appeared, 
 which, in other points have differed, but have both agreed in one extraordinary 
 circumstance, the exclusion of his name from the records of Art ! 
 
23 
 
 lateness of his application, is forced to have recourse to them in 
 his Library. 
 
 Owing to this deficiency, he failed in his attempts to paint 
 * heroic landscape.' Sir Joshua Reynolds, adverted to this 
 circumstance, in one of his lectures, * Our late ingenious Aca- 
 demician, Wilson, has I fear, been guilty, like many of his 
 predecessors, of introducing gods and goddesses, ideal beings, 
 into scenes which were by no means prepared to receive such per- 
 sonages. His landscapes were, in reality, too near common 
 nature, to admit supernatural objects.' 
 
 The objection of the President here, is not to Wilson's 
 introduction of 4 ideal beings,' but to his landscape ? not being 
 prepared to receive such persons.' — If the landscape had been 
 clothed with ancient edifices, to transport the mind of the 
 spectator, to the early age and country of his ideal beings, 
 the introduction of the Apollo into the landscape of the Niobe, 
 which Sir Joshua particularly censured, would have been 
 perfectly consistent and worthy of a great Artist. 
 
 If we can suppose that this circumstance deprived some of his 
 pictures, of a due degree of embellishment ; it is probable that 
 it also contributed to the simple grandeur of others. An Artist, 
 whose mind abounds in wealth, is sometimes liable to overload 
 his composition. Nicolo Poussin, himself, the great 
 master of heroic landscape, has sometimes fallen into this 
 error ; and Gaspar, more frequently ; in some of his landscapes, 
 the objects are crowded, and the effect is enfeebled by abun- 
 dance. Bourdon has also, in many instances, encumbered 
 the midde-grounds of his scenery, with too great a cluster of 
 edifices. It was reserved for Marco Ricci and Paolo 
 Pan in i, to carry this defect to its utmost extent. These Ar- 
 tists, in covering their canvas, with a crowd of statues, obelisks, 
 tombs, temples, and theatres, have proved the extent of their 
 studies ; but evinced their want of judgment ; and, by the profu- 
 sion of their riches, have impoverished their effect. 
 
 It may be concluded, that an Artist who essayed the human 
 figure, without success, did not possess an acute eye to form. 
 But, in the forms of landscape scenery, which are general and 
 more easily accomplished, Wilson has been eminently suc- 
 cessful. I am inclined, however, to think, that his great power 
 Jay in the exquisite organization, by which, his eye appears to 
 have felt the visitation of colour, harmony, and effect, with 
 nearly the same vital sensibility, that an ordinary eye feels the 
 visitation of light and darkness. 
 
 If, other great masters possessed superior advantages of edu- 
 cation, Wilson enjoyed, in the highest degree, the power of 
 discrimination ; of seizing upon the grand features of nature, 
 
29 
 
 and tinging them with the genuine hue of the hour and season. 
 His objects exhibit the largest forms; his colouring and effect, 
 the simplest modifications, and the most expansive breadth ; 
 compatible with veracity. In the materials Of his composition, 
 in his mode of thinking and the handling of his pictures, he 
 differs essentially from Claude, but, in the expression of suq 
 and air, he is equal to that Artist, and often superior to every 
 other Master. 
 
 In whatever passed from his hand, whether a first lay-in of 
 tint, upon the canvas ; a slight sketch, or a finished picture ; a 
 local view, or a grand composition ; the subordination of the 
 parts is perfect, the objects are surrounded with atmosphere 
 and clothed in light. 
 
 As the detail of local colours, was incompatible with the 
 breadth of his masses, and the grandeur of his effect ; hrhis 
 superior compositions, his hues are general. But there is a 
 freshness, in the shadowy verdure of his landscape and a 
 living glow in his skies, which produce all the effect of detail 
 upon the eye. 
 
 In subjects purely local, with less grandeur, his colouring has 
 more sweetness ; more attention to detail, and more variety. 
 His best pictures of this class, in touch, in the lucid azure of 
 the skies, and in the dewy tints of the landscape, resemble the 
 pictures of Zuccarelli. In other respects, they are very 
 different. No Artist could give so many charms to the lovely 
 serenity of a rural scene, as that Italian ; but beyond the 
 soothing view of village or pastoral life, and the cloudless tranqui- 
 lity of a may-day, his bland imagination never, freely, wandered. 
 
 Although, in the form of his trees, in ideas of colour, and 
 composition, he varies materially from Titian and Rubens ; 
 in decision of touch and dauntless power of execution, he is 
 entitled to rank with these great masters. In commanding union 
 of tone, he, sometimes, resembles Francesco Bolognese ; 
 but so perfect was his sense of colour and effect, so quick the 
 impression of the whole scene upon his eye, so voluble and full 
 of character, his pencil, that his pictures appear as if they had 
 been produced without effort. In this, he is superior to 
 Claude, whose toil is visible, amidst all the beauty and 
 sublimity of his effect ; but the power, which gives birth to the 
 grandeur and sublimity of Wilson, is unseen. 
 
 Wilson and Sir Joshua Reynolds were not on the most 
 perfect terms. When the President proposed to the Academi- 
 cians to drink the health of Gainsborough, as 4 our best 
 Landscape Painter; 1 Wilson, in his turn, retorted the health 
 of Gainsborough, as i our best Portrait Painter? Wilson 
 was, however, liberal to his Brother Artists, and reverenced the 
 
30 
 
 powers of Wright of Derby, highly. I have learned, since my 
 having written the former part of this letter, that it was he who 
 proposed to exchange one of his Paintings for one of Wright's, 
 making use of the expressions, which I have already mentioned. 
 
 I have here, without time for arrangement, ventured to give 
 you my imperfect thoughts of this great Artist s powers ; and I 
 confess, although I have written the matter hastily, it has long 
 floated in my mind. I do not pretend to offer it as a guide to 
 you ; nor to claim your forbearance for its deficiencies ; but I 
 have frankly put you in possession of the ideas on which it is 
 founded. 
 
 It would have been easy for me to have escaped the imputa- 
 tion of error, under the cover of general terms. Any person 
 can say, what we, every day, hear said, 4 Wilson is the 
 grandest Painter; the most beautiful Painter; the sublimest 
 Painter.' But I was struck with the justice of your declaration, 
 that 4 general terms are the resource of Ignorance ; and the 
 means, by which, in ordinary conversation, the lowest Pretenders 
 to Virtu, seek to place themselves upon an equality with Persons 
 of real taste and discernment," 
 
 The attention, which you pay to the early Italian masters, 
 induces me to send you a description of the remarkable picture, 
 which I have already adverted to, in the possession of It. 
 Ash worth, Esq., near Manchester; and, although he has 
 many other valuable paintings, I must pass them in silence, to 
 make room for these details. 
 
 The picture is painted on a pannel, twenty inches and a half 
 in length, and fourteen inches high. This scene of divine love 
 and humility, is represented in a chamber. The pillars behind 
 the figures, the tesselated pavement, the contour and expression 
 of particular heads, immediately remind the spectator of certain 
 details, in the design of the celebrated last supper, painted by 
 Lionardo da Vinci, in the church of the Dominieians, at 
 Milan, and made known in every part of Europe, by various 
 Engravings. 
 
 Upon the socle of the seat on the left side of the picture, the 
 initial letters of Lionardo da Vinci's name, 4 L. D. V.' are 
 painted ; and upon the seat, to the right, 4 F. M. D. IV appear in 
 similar characters. Without any of the forced constructions of 
 Go Ri or Venuti, these four letters have been supposed a 
 continuation of the sense, from the initials of Lionardo da 
 Vinci's name ; and, as such, they are fairly interpreted 4 fecit/ 
 with the date, one thousand five hundred and one, 
 
 I am satisfied that you will not suppose me inclined to lay an 
 improper stress on this point ; although, in the generality of 
 collections, we meet with too many persons, who are led by 
 
31 
 
 such authorities. Names, dates, rumours, the condemnatiofi 
 of one, or the approbation of another, pass with them for 
 proofs, 4 strong as holy writ.' The high rank of a former, the 
 wealth of a present Proprietor ; the copper, the silver, the pannel 
 or the canvas, on which it is painted ; every thing but the picture 
 itself, is with them an important evidence. On the contrary, 
 with a man of true judgment, the picture is the main considera- 
 tion, and he looks for the name, or rather the spirit of the 
 master, in the invention, characters and composition of the 
 subject. 
 
 It is true that a signature, combined with obvious merit, and 
 known peculiarities of a master's style, is allowed to decide as 
 a corresponding proof. The name of John of Calcar, upon 
 certain pictures at iSaples, not only satisfied Henry Goltzius 
 that they were painted by that Artist ; but convinced him that 
 Other nameless pictures were the work of the same hand. This 
 is the more remarkable, as Goltzius had, before, pronounced 
 the latter to be from the pencil of Titian. The name of 
 Dullaerts, upon h is pictures, has rescued them from being 
 classed with those of Rembrant. The signature of Rembrant, 
 on a well known picture, in the Stadthouse at Amsterdam, 
 prevented Sir. Joshua Reynolds from ascribing it to Fer- 
 dinand Bol. The importance of an inscription, in some cases, 
 is also sufficiently proved by the uncertainty, which the want 
 of such a light has oiten produced. There are many celebrated 
 works of Art, the Painters of which remain wholly unknown ; 
 and others, upon which, the Artists and Critics, from Vasari 
 to our own time, have confessed themselves unable to determine. 
 Although it is universally known that Primaticcio and Julio 
 Romano painted the Frescoes in the Palazzo del T. at Mantua, 
 yet we are iuformed by Fuseli, the profoundest critic, and the 
 highest authority of Art, that no Connoisseur has been able to 
 discriminate the labours of the former. 
 
 You well know that the genuine works of Lion a r do da 
 Vinci are very rare. Pictures of the most opposite character 
 and pictures of no character at all ; some of extraordinary 
 merit, and others, which have little merit but that of being old, 
 hard, and highly finished, are affirmed to be painted by this 
 great master. These are principally heads, with some few 
 half figures. In all such cases, even among the best informed, 
 there must be a good deal of hesitation and difference of opinion. 
 Excepting the present instance, I do not, just now, recollect 
 having met with any general composition of figures, in this 
 country, acknowledged to be genuine, or attributed to hrs 
 hand. 
 
 The picture, which is the subject of these remarks, is evi- 
 
32 
 
 dently in the style of Lionardo da Vinci* and of his time ; and 
 it appears to me, there can be no doubt, that the inscription 
 is as ancient as the picture, and painted by the same hand. 
 
 I have no hesitation in saying, that I believe, this to be an 
 original picture. If you ask me upon what evidence I hazard 
 the assertion ; I simply reply, by the very best evidence, 
 which the nature of the case will admit of ; that is, the evi- 
 dence of the picture itself. Inquire of a Clerk in the Bank, 
 how he is satisfied that a note is genuine ; he answers* * by his 
 eye.' In like manner, by the long experience of my eye, and 
 the reflections arising from it, I form an opinion of a picture ; 
 without affecting to intimate, that what I may consider suffi- 
 cient grounds for my conviction, ought to be deemed sufficient 
 by another. 
 
 It would be tedious, here, to point out wherein I conceive 
 that the difference, between a copy and an original, consists. 
 I shall, however, briefly observe, that there is a tameness of 
 handling, in a copy, which results from the attention being 
 drawn off to the original, even while the hand is at work. 
 The necessity of being like in every part, creates, to a certain 
 degree, a dissimilarity in the whole. The hand hesitates, the 
 touch is cautious, and it is still further enfeebled, by being gone 
 over and over, in attempting to imitate the touch of the Master. 
 On the contrary, in painting an original picture, the stream 
 flows from the Artist's mind ; the hand is fearless ; the touch 
 decided ; the reflexes, forms, characters, and outlines, are un- 
 derstood ; and the transitions from shadow, to middle-tint and 
 local colour, defined with clearness, in all the gradations. I 
 speak now of a good picture. In a copy, there is a want of 
 clearness in the flesh-tints, and an uncertainty in the gradations, 
 produced by their being too much blended, in going over them 
 so frequently. This takes away, what Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 terms, ' their suppleness,' and gives them a hard and waxy 
 appearance. Owing to this, the best coloured pictures, such 
 as those of Titian and Rubens, which owe their brilliant 
 freshness and flower, to the lightness of touch and fluency of 
 pencil, are the most difficult to copy. I am aware, that there 
 have been instances of very astonishing copies, but the excep- 
 tions to the rule, do not overthrow the general fact ; that, 
 altogether, there is a heaviness of character, form, and effect, 
 from which, even a good Artist, cannot escape, if reduced to 
 the toil of copying. 
 
 I shall now proceed with my description of the picture of 
 which the subject refers to the text; * He riseth from sup- 
 per and laid aside his garments, and took a towel and girded 
 himself?—' After that he poureth water into a bason and began 
 
33 
 
 to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel 
 with which he was girded.' 
 
 The Painter, justly interpreting, that our Saviour had laid 
 aside only such of his outer garments, as were likely to prove in- 
 convenient, has represented Jesus, on his knees, in the centre of 
 the apartment, clothed in crimson. In the place of an ordinary 
 towel, a loose piece of white drapery is disposed round his 
 middle. 
 
 By this licence, a scanty form and unpicturesque appearance, 
 are avoided ; and the light, on his figure, is rendered sufficiently 
 conspicuous for the principal character. The precise moment, 
 of the scene, is distinctly marked by the folds of white drapery, 
 behind our Lord, being dilated, as if in motion on the air. In 
 an open scene we might attribute such an appearance to the 
 wind ; but it could not be produced by that cause, in a close 
 chamber. It will, therefore, perhaps, be hastily censured, as a 
 false circumstance, by those, who, always, see too little, or too 
 much, in a work of art, It is, however, evident, as none of the 
 hair, or drapery, of the other figures, is agitated, that the 
 Painter designed these folds in motion, from the sudden descent 
 of the sacred person in kneeling. The limbs have reached the 
 floor ; and the loose drapery, a lighter substance, follows more 
 slowly. From this, it appears, that the main action of the 
 representation, has only just commenced. 
 
 Our Lord supports the limb of Simon Peter, in the bason, 
 with his left hand ; and his right is employed in raising the 
 water of ablution. The attitude is simple and easy, but dig- 
 nified. He appears in the prime of life ; his face is in profile, 
 his body more turned to us, and the expression of his counte- 
 nance, is that of meek, affectionate reply, 4 What I do, thou 
 knowest not now : but thou shalt know hereafter.' 
 
 Simon Peter, the immediate object of Christ's attention, is 
 seen in front, habited in dark green. The white sleeve of his 
 under garment appears, and his middle is cinctured with a fold 
 of white linen. Of his morone mantle, which is thrown on his 
 seat behind, a portion falls, in well disposed folds, over his 
 knee. His left arm is not seen, but it is duly accounted for; 
 as that hand rests behind him, to support his body ; a balance 
 rendered necessary, by the opposite leg being somewhat raised 
 to place it in the bason. There is no studied elevation in his 
 countenance. It is that of a man of lowly occupation, such as 
 the disciples were before their vocation; and he looks, earnestly, 
 towards our Lord, struck with surprise, at so extraordinary an 
 instance of divine condescension. The expression is enforced 
 with anxious diligence ; and his right hand is laid upon his 
 breast, as if remonstrating ' Lord dost thou wash my feet,' 
 E 
 
34 
 
 The disciple, seated close beside Simon Peter, is also, seen 
 in front, arrayed in dark green, but of a much deeper shade. 
 His mantle, of a warm purple hue, is thrown over his shoulders, 
 and the whole of his person, excepting the head and hands, is 
 kept down, in strong shadow, from which the , drapery of the 
 preceding figure, relieves with great richness of effect. H J iS 
 venerable countenance ; the descending beard, parted in the 
 middle ; his eyes reverently directed towards our Lord, and his 
 raised palms, spread in astonishment; form an interesting spec- 
 tacle. We are struck with the pious solemnity, and simple 
 grandeur of his action, expression, and character. The face 
 was, probably, designed from nature, with some ideal eleva- 
 tion, yet, on a first view, it produces a recollection of antique 
 character, to which, no other head in the picture, bears the 
 stamp of affinity. 
 
 The lower part, of the disciple'last noticed, is intercepted by 
 another of the twelve, seated on the most advanced line of the 
 fore-ground. The under garment of this figure, is of a deep 
 orange colour ; his mantle, of a warm shadowy green, is thrown 
 across his arm and over his knees. The scowl upon his brow 
 and curl of his lip, more than the purse at his girdle, proclaim 
 him Judas. A constrained and contradictory position, such as 
 might be expected in a person agitated by an evil purpose, 
 marks the disorder of his mind. He is seen nearly in front, turn- 
 ed to the centre of the composition, leaning upon his left hand, 
 while his raised right, points towards our Saviour, although his 
 downcast eye, is averted from the conviction of his glance. 
 A sullen alarm of bad passions, struggles in his countenance ; 
 and he seems, malignantly, turning his mind from the act of 
 ineffable charity before him, to the deadly treason with which 
 he was so soon to repay his benefactor. His person is equally 
 agitated. One foot is raised, and the other extended, as if he 
 is about to shift from an uneasy seat. This action is productive 
 of abrupt angular forms. But, I conclude that the Painter, in 
 exhibiting the perturbation of guilt, judged it right to sacrifice 
 felicity of line, to characteristic movement and vigour of 
 expression. 
 
 . Behind Judas two Disciples are seated. Their heads, like 
 that of Simon Peter, exhibit, in something more than profile, 
 the cast of individual nature, with little, if any, ideal character. 
 The nearer figure sits with his back to that of Judas, but his 
 person is almost intercepted from view, by the latter, and his 
 face is earnestly turned round towards Christ. The habit of the 
 farther, is of deep crimson ; and all, but his breast and shoulders, 
 is concealed, by his situation. He is seen in front ; with his 
 
35 
 
 raised hands, clasped ; his head inclined on his shoulder, and a 
 corresponding fervour in his countenance. 
 
 There is a striking difference between the venerable figure, 
 with raised palms, seated beside Simon Peter, and this 
 Disciple. The dignified attitude and aspect of the former, 
 imply a sublime emotion of mind. In the agitation of the latter, 
 ihe Artist evidently intended to express the high wrought feel- 
 ings and action of enthusiasm, which is perhaps one of the 
 greatest difficulties of Art. 
 
 The modern French Painters, have tried every extreme of 
 violence, in attempting to force expression, beyond the due 
 limits of Art, and Nature ; they have out-GoLTZiusED Golt- 
 zius, without his vigour, learning, or originality; but amidst 
 all their bustle, they appear to doubt the effect of their swag- 
 gering ; and to beg the question — 4 Pray do believe us, we are 
 angry indeed !' 
 
 Like Nature's Journeymen they have torn every passion 4 to 
 rags'~Eye-balls bursting from their sockets ; nostrils dilated ; 
 lips convulsed, and every feature distorted ; the head flung 
 back ; the neck twisted ; clenched fists ; arms thrown abroad, 
 like the branches of a tree in a tempest ; and the body writhed 
 into strange postures, amidst the wild fluttering^ of drapery ; 
 constitute French ideas of expression, passion, fire, spirit and 
 genius. Their manner, in practice and principle, is a sin against 
 nature, from which a pure taste involuntarily turns with 
 abhorrence. 
 
 Many of our Poets, have fallen into this false conception of 
 character. Rowe's Heroes talk so loudly of their rage, 
 and grief, and love, that the Reader feels nothing. Bajazet 
 rants with as much frigid pomp, as any French Hero on canvas ; 
 and, fearful that all this declamation is to no purpose, he 
 condescends to inform the audience that he is, really, in a passion, 
 4 I tell thee. Slave, I have shook hands with Hope, 
 ' And all my thoughts are Rage, Despair, and Horror. 9 
 And again, 
 
 4 Braved by this dog, now give a loose 
 
 6 To rage and curse thyself, curse thy false cheating Prophet.' 
 
 This shew of violence, is the opposite to true Passion and 
 Nature. Men exceedingly disturbed, feel humbled ; and endea- 
 vour to conceal their internal agitation. Shakespeare's 
 characters do not affect or boast of, a tempest of passion. They 
 appear to restrain the storm ; but it breaks out, and their efforts 
 at restraint, produce a more powerful impression on our minds. 
 Thus the noble Moor, when 4 perplexed in the extreme,' seeks 
 to parry the probing questions of his false friend. 
 
36 
 
 lago, c I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.' 
 Oth. 4 Not a jot, not a jot.' — 
 and again he struggles to appear calm, 
 
 lago. ' My Lord, i see, you are mov'd.' 
 Oth. * No, not much mov'd.' — 
 
 How poor and tame appears Rowe's laboured declamation, 
 to the vehement burst of passion contained in the few words, 
 
 ' Fire and brimstone !' 
 which break from Othello, after Desdemona's speech to Lodo- 
 vico, concluding with these expressions, 
 
 4 For the love, I bear to Cassio.' — 
 
 Contrast the unnatural and disgusting violence of French Art, 
 with the native grandeur which appears in the pictures of the 
 President, West. I have not met with one forced or false 
 expression, in all the productions, which I have seen of this 
 great Master. Countenances, in which natural and ideal energy 
 are happily blended ; strokes of pathos, which excite the 
 imagination and touch the heart ; the tranquil yet spirited 
 movement of his figures, the dignified simplicity of his groups, 
 and the solemnity of the superior characters, give an air of 
 majesty to his compositions, which remind the Spectator of the 
 best eras of Art. 
 
 The near alliance of Wit and Madness, has been rendered 
 proverbial by the verses of Pope ; and it is as arduous a task 
 to draw an invariable line between passion and extravagance, 
 expression and grimace, in painting. Fuseli has noted the 
 inequalities of Lionardo da Vinci's genius, in his lofty con- 
 ception of character, and his study of caricatura; and Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds confessed himself, frequently, at a loss to decide 
 between the sublime and the ridiculous, in the works of 
 Michael Angelo ! 
 
 John clothed, in a vestment of deep crimson, and a mantle 
 of dark green, appears in the composition, on the off-side 
 of Christ, beside Simon Peter, conversing with two of his 
 fellow Disciples. Many eminent Artists have, erroneously, 
 represented Christ of an advanced age ; and lost the grace 
 and youthful dignity of the favourite Disciple, in tameness 
 and puerility. The person of John, in this picture, is, perhaps, 
 rather juvenile, but the turn of his head is easy, and his counte- 
 nance interesting. Seated beside John, in a vesture of dark 
 green, another disciple appears ; his elevated head thrown back, 
 in earnest colloquy with one behind ; who leans over, resting 
 on his shoulder, clothed in a garment of the same dark green, 
 and a deep crimson mantle. These heads and that of John, 
 are happily grouped and contrasted. The high, bald forehead, 
 acute profile, and pointed beard of the former, his penetrating 
 
37 
 
 eye and jewish character, so peculiarly marked, bear a strong 
 resemblance to some of the countenances in the design of the 
 celebrated last supper, by Lionardo da Vinci, at Milan. 
 
 The youthful disciple, James, stands to the left of Christ 
 in the composition, but nearer to the spectator, and intercepting 
 the termination of our Saviour's figure from view. His garment 
 is of a deep green, and the purple sleeve of an under vesture ap- 
 pears. He is represented, after having supplied the bason with 
 water, holding a vessel, fashioned like a modern pitcher, and 
 pointing to our Saviour. The lower part of his person is seen in 
 front ; the upper, in three quarter view, turned towards our Lord ; 
 his head in profile, but rather still more turned off in the same 
 direction, attending to the conversation of John, on the other 
 side of Christ. The attitude is, obviously, much studied ; and, 
 in such cases, there is a danger of apparent constraint ; for 
 after all, a studied flow of line and factitious forms of grace, but 
 ill supply the place of simplicity, in any picture. 
 
 His height, the broad, well-disposed folds of his drapery, and 
 his being the only standing figure, render James an important 
 object in the composition. The mild benevolence of his eye ; 
 the regular braiding of his golden locks ; the warm tone of the 
 flesh ; and his sanctimonious countenance ; form a style of cha- 
 racter, the resemblance of which, is often to be met with in 
 the paintings of Pietro Perugino and the earlier works of 
 Raphael. The figure, is, also, like one of the disciples, in 
 the design of the same subject, by Jerome Mutien, of which, 
 the French engraving is not uncommon in collections. 
 
 The expression of the countenance behind James, is meditative 
 and dignified ; the face kept down, in a very low tone ; the head 
 covered, after the fashion of a monastic cowl ; and the drapery 
 of the figure, of a dark purple, nearly lost in shade. Of the two 
 remaining figures, little below the eyes of one is seen, the lower 
 part of the face being intercepted by the near disciple, who is 
 seated with his back presented, in part, to the spectator, as if 
 about to rise, and his countenance turned off in fore-shortened 
 profile. The former, is clothed in a vest of deep red ; the 
 latter, in a garment of rich orange with a grey mantle. 
 
 There is nothing hard or dry in the execution. The draperies 
 are broadly folded ; and painted with so great a body of colour, 
 as to form a rough irregularity, on the surface of the picture, 
 perceptible at some distance. The main light is on the Christ ; 
 the second on the near figure with the grey mantle ; the other 
 lights are detached, and principally formed by the heads of the 
 figures. The picture possesses great force and brilliancy ; but 
 the formation of light upon light, to extend the masses, is not 
 systematically practised. 
 
33 
 
 . The flesh tints, are generally, of a mellow, sanguine hue. 
 The opposition and balance of colours, are carefully studied ; and 
 the warmest tints are introduced, but not the coldest ; although 
 some of the draperies approach near to a shadowy blue, yet 
 there is not any distinct blue, nor black in the picture. Eight 
 of the disciples, are wholly or partially, clothed in varied 
 dies of green; which sparkle upon the eye with an emerald 
 lustre. Rich yellow, ■ orange, red, and purple, compose the 
 other draperies. The crimson drapery of Christ, vies with the 
 ruby in brilliancy. The brightness, of all these tints, is mellowed 
 by depth of tone ; and by the powerful uuion of their shadows. 
 The low, warm hue, of the tesselated pavement, gives value to 
 all the lights : and the strong shadows of the figures, are har- 
 monized, by the dark olive shade which obscures the apartment 
 behind. 
 
 There are obvious inequalities in the characters and drawing ; 
 but, like all ancient pictures, this has, no doubt, suffered some- 
 thing, from time and repairs ; although, comparatively speaking, 
 it is in a high degree of preservation ; and, according to all we 
 read, and see, of what is attributed to his pencil, few Artists 
 were more variable than Lionardo da Vinci. For his 
 character drawn, with that masterly decision, which marks 
 whatever issues from his mind, I refer you to Fuseli's dicti- 
 onary of Painters, and his lectures. When I mention that Artist, 
 as late Professor of Painting to the Royal Academy, I lament 
 that he is not still a Professor in that institution ; for, with all 
 due honour to the high talents of his Contemporaries, we may still 
 ask, where can the country find one equally gifted for the 
 office ? 
 
 I confess that, twenty-five years ago, when I, first, saw some 
 of his works, I was not pleased with them. But I also 
 recollect, that I was not, then, pleased with the works of 
 Rubens and many other masters of the highest class. The 
 defect was not in the pictures, but in me ; my mind was then in 
 its childhood. In truth, I did not comprehend them. But, as 
 my understanding advanced to maturity, and as my acquaintance, 
 with art, enlarged, my respect for this Artist's powers grew, 
 proportionally. I do not affect to say that I am, yet, able to 
 subscribe to the whole of his opinions ; or to comprehend the 
 entire of his practice, but, I frankly own that whenever I doubt 
 him, I suspect myself. If all his other works were destroyed, 
 by any accident, 4 the death of CEdipus,' alone, would place his 
 name in the first class of Painters. 
 
39 
 
 At the period, when with the ardour of a * Scholar, he sounded 
 the depths of literature, his young Imagination wandered to the 
 tomb of Michael Angelo, held converse with his spirit, and 
 dared to soar into the same regions. It cannot derogate from 
 his just fame, to say that, like all his great Predecessors, he has 
 failed sometimes, because he had the courage to attempt much. 
 But what is deemed a failure, in Fuseli, would be success, in 
 other Artists ; and in his success, he reaches the loftiest eleva- 
 tion of Art. 
 
 Mr. Ashworth, the gentleman in whose collection this 
 picture is placed, has, among other valuable specimens of Art, 
 a very noble composition of the Crucifixion, called 6 the great 
 Calvary,' painted by Nicolo Poussin, from which a print 
 was engraved by Claudia Stella. As you must know the high 
 order of this design, from the engraving, it is not necessary for 
 me to enter into a detail of its merits. 
 
 Having made my arrangements for quitting Manchester, I shall 
 return to Hampshire in a week ; and I have, you will see, literally 
 followed your wish, to write ' without plan or order ; of the 
 dead and the living ; to ramble from town to country, and from 
 country to town ; to address you, as if you had not, yourself, 
 studied pictures ; but, never, to quit the favourite subject 
 of Art.' 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your respectful and obliged, 
 
 WILLIAM CAREY. 
 
 April 28th. 1809. 
 
 * Cowprr in the preface to his translation of the Odyssey, bears testimony 
 to Fuse li *s acquirements as a Scholar. ■ I cannot conclude without due acknow- 
 ledgements to the best critic in Homer, I have ever met with, the /earned and 
 ingenious Mr. Fu>eli. Unknown as he was to me, when I entered on this 
 arduous undertakine (indeed to this moment I have never seen him), he yet 
 voluntarily and generously offered himself as my revisor. To his classical taste 
 and discernment, I have been indebted for the discovery of many blemishes in my 
 own work, and of beauties which would otherwise have escaped me, in the 
 original. But his necessary avocations would not suffer him to accompany 
 me farther than to the latter books of the Iliad ; a circumstance which 1 fear 
 my readers, as well as myself, will regret with too much reason'. 
 
 Mr. Cowprr added the following note to the above pabsage ; 'Some of the 
 few notes subjoined to my translation of the Odyssey are by Mr. Fuseli, who 
 had a short opportunity to peruse the MS. while the Iliad was printing. They 
 are marked with his initial.* 
 
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